Rp: To market, to market

[shh_michael]

Date: 16 January 2005
Characters: Michael Corner, Orla Quirke
Location: Market
Status: Semi-Private
Summary: Michael and Orla run into each other and catch up.
Completion: InComplete

Not that the unusual cold snap was over, Michael found himself wanting to spend more time outdoors. Which is why he found himself at the market for the first time in ages

Comments

[shh_michael]

"Of knowing what you want. Of asking for what you want. You want to call that begging, I just call it taking a chance. Better that than being content with what people offer you. Christ, Orla, do you really think so little of yourself?" Michael shook his head, his frustration growing. You'd think she was Scots, as stubborn as she was. He tilted her chin up to meet his eyes. "My hands are tied here, there's only so much I can do to convince you that you're desirable without fucking everything up, but is there anything that will make you listen? Should I knock you upside the head with a bat?

She thought he did it out of pity. That certainly didn't gell with his memories of Weasley from school. The swamp, the fireworks, the complete lack of impulse control, the offer to stick a sharp object in Smith's ears to improve his hearing... Michael didn't think anyone could get either one of those mad twins to do what they didn't want to do. He took a chance and said, "Aye, I see. He was mechanical then. Selfish. Wham, bam, and thank you ma'am. Never told you you were beautiful. That you turned him on. Didn't ever meet your eyes, hold you close. Shouted out his old girl's name when he came, did he? Well, I'll just have to have words with him, I think. He really should have been taking care of you, making you feel special."

[shh_orla]

She squeezed her eyes shut. He was right. If she'd stopped her pity-party and calmly analyzed the facts, she'd have seen that by now. She opened her eyes to look at him, seeing the worry and impatience there. He made sense, she just didn't know what to think anymore. She said in a low tone, "I'm listening. Sorry for going all to pieces on you like that." She sniffed and swiped at her nose with the cotton, before attempting, with greater success, to conjure a hankie. She blew her nose, feeling a bit lighter in her head, but still dizzy. "May I have some more water, please?"

"He was wonderful." She whispered, more to herself. "I didn't know it could feel like that and now..." She sighed. She'd learn to live without. Her own fault. "He was none of things. Don't think I don't see what you're doing. And don't you dare go and talk to him. For all I know, you're the only person besides us who knows, and it needs to stay that way. Promise?" She'd gotten it off her chest, however conducive it had been, and now she was letting go, moving on.

[shh_michael]

"Dinna fash, yourself love," he said, chucking her chin and getting up to refill her water glass.

He smiled softly as her tone grew all cozy and intimate and female. Oh, yeah, she had it bad. Still, she seemed in a great hurry to write it off, didn't she? "And now you know what you've been missing and you won't be in such a hurry to settle for less."

"I promise, lass. I wouldn't have brought it up in the first place if you hadn't been so bloody determined to write it off as a disaster. Poor man's probably just as confused as you are. Give him time, will you?"