fic
Hark! Tis more of the fic that shall not be named (or really, shall be named, but only alluded too shamefully). Enjoy.
Title: Cannes This Time Of Year...
The Players: Em/Fassy - that has a nice ring to it.
Summary: Michael "meets" Emily.
Word Count: 2664
Notes: Lets just pretend that Michael presented his movie at Cannes this year. Also should probably point out, this is fiction. Don't know these people, just doing this for fun.
Back to the start | Previous Part
Michael felt more content with himself after his conversation with Mia.
It was true this girl had been plaguing his mind for the last couple of days. It was irritating and irrational how someone could have such a big impact on him and he didn't halfway like it.
Maybe that was it. Maybe it was the fact that he had seemingly had no impact on her whilst he was stuck having salacious dreams and pulling himself off in the shower like a fucking teenager.
But the conversation with Mia had helped. Had made this “Emily Browning” seem a little more real. A little less like the enigmatic figure from his dreams. The frustratingly poised person that he had met that night when he had been more than a little tipsy.
Then again, maybe it had just been the booze.
Either way he felt like he could let it go now. There was no need to try and meet her or dig up any more information about her like some sort of creepy old perve.
A thoughtful peace settled over Michael's mind.
It lasted for about the thirty minutes it took him to give Mia a ride back to her hotel on his hired Vespa.
Because then she was there again. Just.... there.
Michael nearly ran himself off the road. She was just sitting there, minding her own business in a roadside cafe. He'd only caught a glimpse of her as he sped past but he was sure it was her.
There was nothing for it.
A screeching of tires, some car-horns blared and some choice words were shouted at him in french but he didn't care. He pulled off his mid-road U-turn and too soon he was mounting the pavement and pulling up right next to her table.
She looked up clearly startled as he suddenly realised he didn't know what to say.
“Hello again” he said for lack of anything else entering his brain.
“Hello...” she eyed him curiously. She looked cute. Her hair was partially pushed back by a head scarf, and her tortoise shell sunglasses almost obscured her confused expression entirely.
It was then that Michael realised that she probably couldn't recognise him with his helmet on. Quickly his fingers flicked up to start battling with the buckles on the chin strap.
Meanwhile she was lowering her sunglasses to look at him properly, completely ignoring the odd looks they were getting from people walking by.
“Oh hello. It's you!” she exclaimed as soon as he had successfully extricated the helmet off and given his hair a shake, plastered to his skull with sweat as it was. “I almost didn't recognise you with the daylight and everything” she laughed.
“Heh yeah. I almost didn't recognise you without the garbage bins...”
Michael felt like slapping himself in the face. He could do better than this, why the fuck was he being so lame?! Would it be considered rude if he just rode away now?
Emily just laughed again, leaning back and crossing her legs, adjusting her pleated skirt to lay neatly over her knees. Fixing him with a look that left Michael with a feeling that sat uncomfortably inside his stomach.
“I mean, what I mean to say is, that we didn't get a chance to properly introduce ourselves the other night. I'm Michael-”
“- Fassbender. Yes I remember.” The expression she was giving him was not unkind or disinterested. But it lacked a certain something that unnerved Michael quite a bit. It was just so... closed off. Happily closed off. Like she enjoyed toying with him.
After a few moments of just looking at each other Michael fired back “Ya know, this is usually the part where you give me your name. Its like swapsies.”
The young woman's lips pursed together in silent amusement before she took off her sunglasses to reveal quite strikingly amber eyes. Not hazel, amber.
She held her hand aloft for Michael to grab, he was still seated on his vespa his mind noted belatedly, as he grasped her small fingers.
“Jane” she offered simply.
Michael's mind temporarily blanked out. A fake name! She was giving him a fake name for fucks sake?! Like he was some kind of crazed person she didn't want to give her particulars to. What was this girls problem! Why was she messing with his fucking head, like she has every right!
Luckily, Michael was a professional and he quickly morphed his momentary shock into a courteous smile.
“Well Jane, would you mind if I joined you?” he asked, leaning down over his handlebars, baring what he hoped was his most charming smile.
She seemed to consider him for a moment. It seemed she never spoke before thinking this girl, the exact opposite of Michael.
“Okay then” she said eventually.
Michael grinned his triumph as he backed his vespa towards the road, narrowly missing a young woman walking her dog on the way.
By the time his gaze wandered back up to her table she had replaced her sunglasses and lit a cigarette and was lounging back in her chair watching him. Possibly even checking him out Michael thought with smug amusement.
She offered one to him as he sat down which he accepted gratefully, this time a lighter was produced from her handbag to assist him.
“So,” she declared as he took his first drag, that sweet scent filling his lungs. “What do you do Michael Fassbender?”
“I'm a bartender.” he answered on his exhale without even thinking. He consoled himself with the fact that if she was allowed to lie, then he bloody well could to! “And you?”
He could see the smile in her eyes behind those smoky lenses. “I'm a politician.”
Michael snorted, unable to stop himself. “A little young aren't you?”
Emily simply toyed with the clip on her purse which sat on the table. “How old do you have to be to be a professional liar?”
Michael had no answer to this as he ran a hand through his hair. Luckily that was when the waitress arrived with Emily's cappuccino.
“Did you want something?” Emily directed at him. “My treat.”
Michael tried to gage her expression but she wasn't giving anything. He did so enjoy the curve of her mouth though as it took a sip of her drink. Snapping himself out of it he quickly gave his order to the waitress who nodded and left them alone again.
“You don't have to pay for me” he followed quickly as soon as she had disappeared.
“But of course I do” Emily said in a silly light voice. “Everyone knows that all bartenders are poor as dogs. Where as us politicians are filthy rich” she finished with an infuriatingly close-mouthed smile.
“You know you can just cut the bullshit love” Michael shot back, suddenly sick of the charade. “I know who you really are. You don't need to keep playing games with me!”
The woman across from him seemed unperturbed as she leaned forward, gracefully placing her elbows on the table, her hands curving beneath her chin, like she was fascinated. “Oh really? What do you know about me?”
Michael fixed her with a steely stare. “I know your name is Emily Browning, not Jane. I know you’re an actor like me. I know you're Australian and I know you are here promoting a movie for the festival cause I fucking saw you on the bleedin' red carpet just yesterday!!” he breathed heavily through his nose a few times. He did not know what had come over him. He was not someone who usually lost their temper. Very rarely in fact.
There was just something about this girl though. She had an unnerving talent for scratching her way under his skin and itching him from the inside. He was brought out of his reverie though by the sound of a low giggle rumbling through the hand of said girl across from him as she leaned her head into those elegant fingers.
“Oh dear. You don't know much about me at all it seems” she picked her cigarette up from where it had been laying in her saucer and sucked on it thoughtfully.
Michael was about to spit back a remark but she continued in that same steady, amused voice. “Don't worry though. I don't know much about you either. All I know is that your name is Michael Fassbender and that apparently you get your cock out in your movie.”
Michael had about two seconds to feel taken aback before he heard his own voice snapping back, “Yeah well I heard you show your vadge off in your movie too...”
There was a moment of silence as Michael wished he could pull his horribly childish comeback out of the air and stuff it back down his throat.
She looked at him and he felt powerless to do anything but look back at her.
It lasted a few seconds before she slowly removed her glasses and placed them down on the table.
“Okay then” she stated with a slight nod of her head. She sounded.... impressed?
Michael chuckled. “Okay then” acknowledging the common ground that they seemed to have finally settled on. However unorthodox it might be.
They both simultaneously took pulls on their smokes.
“You know it wasn't all completely bullshit” Emily said conversationally, grabbing her cup and sipping at it lightly. “Only half-truths. Jane is my middle name, and well, we are professional liars are we not?”
“I suppose so...” Michael noted how her accent slipped through a lot stronger now that she seemed to have relaxed into her natural self a bit more. Not that she hadn't appeared to be anything but exceedingly relaxed previously. “... kinda makes it sound so base and dirty though dontcha think?”
“It is dirty. Its downright fucking ridiculous that people pay us day in and day out to be somebody, become something that we are not. But I like it. I loathe liars in real life, but its a bit of a thrill to get away with it so harmlessly as a profession. I enjoy not being me for a little bit each day” she tipped a wink at him.
“How old are you?” Michael said leaning his chin in his hand, appraising her shamelessly. “You look too young to be having such profound opinions” he mused, his eyes lingering on those gorgeous cheekbones, those enchanting eyes.
He watched as she tilted her head back to exhale her breath of smoke in a quick understated rush. She levelled those enchanting eyes on him, that cheeky smirk back in place.
“How young do you want me to be?” she said in a low voice.
The tone in that simple statement embarrassingly, went straight to Michaels groin. She was playing with him again. He couldn't for the life of him decide whether he enjoyed it or not. He was halfway between wanting to ravage her and wanting to strangle her. He wanted to ruin her. He wanted...
Luckily the waitress chose that moment to reappear with his coffee and he was able to cross his legs discreetly as he thanked her and sent her on her way.
“I was only half-lying too” Michael offered as a way of steering the conversation in a different direction. “I used to be a bartender.... ya know, back in another lifetime.”
At this the women across from him gave a very undignified snort. “Oh dear. And I was just beginning to like you...”
Michael pulled a mock-hurt face. “Whats wrong with being a bartender?”
Emily just made another displeased face. “Well... you are a terribly pretentious bunch of people aren't you. Y'all think your God's gift whilst simultaneously judging us for every single thing we order. I mean christ! If I want a vodka-pineapple, give me a fucking vodka-pineapple, drop the attitude and stop staring at my chest while you're at it!”
Michael was already chuckling by the end of her tirade. “You wound me girl. I would never deny you a vodka-pineapple, nor laugh at your horribly uninspired, girly choice of drink..... to your face.”
“There ya go, there it is!” Emily gestured towards him huffily with her hands as if that was all that was needed. Though she looked amused to Michael's delight as she mumbled something about “fucking bartenders...”.
She had finished her cigarette now and was considering the dredges of coffee at the bottom of her cup. Michael felt his pulse quicken as he realised she might try and leave him again.
“Hey what are you doing this afternoon?” he blurted in what he hoped wasn't a desperate manner.
She looked up at him, carefully placing her cup back on the table surface. “What are you offering?”
What was Michael offering. He had no fucking clue. He could think of a few choice things that included a hotel bed, but he suddenly realised with stomach-dropping clarity that this girl was probably going to be too smart to fall for his usual routine. Way too smart. His shields were down and he was driving very blind right now.
“Well I have my motorbike here-”
“-scooter” Emily supplied unhelpfully.
“Yes my scooter” he amended in a flustered manner. “I could take you for a ride. I don't know Cannes terribly well but you can't swing a cat around without hitting something classic and beautiful.” He looked very pointedly at her in this moment. Because that is what she was. This Emily was a classic beauty.
To his utmost surprise, her cheeks flushed with colour. He'd made her blush. It made her look even more ravishing than before and his cock gave a very surreptitious twitch, reminding him just how frustratingly aware of his body this women could make him. At that moment he would give anything to kiss a path along those pink cheekbones, slide down over that neck, that collarbone, push that white blouse aside...
“I'm sorry. I really should go.”
Her words pulled him from his thoughts as thoroughly as a lightning strike straight to the brain.
“What--?” the word fell from his mouth.
“I have a thing I have to get to. Unfortunately it requires preparation time to make me presentable” she really did look like she wasn't too fond of the prospect, Michael noted as she shuffled around in her purse finally extracting some money to throw down on the table.
“Well where are you staying I can give you a lift” he was trying his utmost not to let the disappointment show in his voice.
She shook her head smiling. “I'm just across the road there. Thanks for sitting with me Michael. It was nice chatting with you. I hope I get a chance to see your movie. It sounds interesting.”
“Please...” Michael said moving in her way as she made to walk past him. He was past trying to hide his desperation. He just couldn't let her leave him again. “Please...” he repeated again, “this may be presumptuous, but please could I have your number.”
It would've been easy for her to avoid his gaze. Without the assistance of heels she came to way below his shoulder. To her credit though she lifted her eyes to meet his. Beautiful amber-blue looking up at him, filling him with a clenching sensation straight through his gut.
She didn't say anything. Of course she didn't say anything. Michael was getting used to this.
Instead she took a step back, pulling something from her bag. Michael saw her scribbling with a pen. Then her little fingers were curling around his wrist. Her sudden touch sent a bolt of electricity through his nerves. She lifted his hand and pushed something into it. Then she was patting his arm as she brushed by him to cross the road.
Michael looked down at his hand, where it had been left suspended in the air.
Her cigarette carton lay in it.
And scribbled on the side... were ten blessed digits.
---------
Hee. This story is such a loveletter to Emily. I'm really enjoying it. I'm hoping I'm not turning Michael into too much of a starry-eyed sop. I still want him to remain himself. But Emily is just such a cool cat. My attraction to her bleeds very easily through into Fassy. Anyway glad to finally write them into a scene together again. This whole interaction was basically inspired by these photos I once saw of Emily smoking at a cafe. How does she manage to make such a bad habit look so good??
Title: Cannes This Time Of Year...
The Players: Em/Fassy - that has a nice ring to it.
Summary: Michael "meets" Emily.
Word Count: 2664
Notes: Lets just pretend that Michael presented his movie at Cannes this year. Also should probably point out, this is fiction. Don't know these people, just doing this for fun.
Back to the start | Previous Part
Michael felt more content with himself after his conversation with Mia.
It was true this girl had been plaguing his mind for the last couple of days. It was irritating and irrational how someone could have such a big impact on him and he didn't halfway like it.
Maybe that was it. Maybe it was the fact that he had seemingly had no impact on her whilst he was stuck having salacious dreams and pulling himself off in the shower like a fucking teenager.
But the conversation with Mia had helped. Had made this “Emily Browning” seem a little more real. A little less like the enigmatic figure from his dreams. The frustratingly poised person that he had met that night when he had been more than a little tipsy.
Then again, maybe it had just been the booze.
Either way he felt like he could let it go now. There was no need to try and meet her or dig up any more information about her like some sort of creepy old perve.
A thoughtful peace settled over Michael's mind.
It lasted for about the thirty minutes it took him to give Mia a ride back to her hotel on his hired Vespa.
Because then she was there again. Just.... there.
Michael nearly ran himself off the road. She was just sitting there, minding her own business in a roadside cafe. He'd only caught a glimpse of her as he sped past but he was sure it was her.
There was nothing for it.
A screeching of tires, some car-horns blared and some choice words were shouted at him in french but he didn't care. He pulled off his mid-road U-turn and too soon he was mounting the pavement and pulling up right next to her table.
She looked up clearly startled as he suddenly realised he didn't know what to say.
“Hello again” he said for lack of anything else entering his brain.
“Hello...” she eyed him curiously. She looked cute. Her hair was partially pushed back by a head scarf, and her tortoise shell sunglasses almost obscured her confused expression entirely.
It was then that Michael realised that she probably couldn't recognise him with his helmet on. Quickly his fingers flicked up to start battling with the buckles on the chin strap.
Meanwhile she was lowering her sunglasses to look at him properly, completely ignoring the odd looks they were getting from people walking by.
“Oh hello. It's you!” she exclaimed as soon as he had successfully extricated the helmet off and given his hair a shake, plastered to his skull with sweat as it was. “I almost didn't recognise you with the daylight and everything” she laughed.
“Heh yeah. I almost didn't recognise you without the garbage bins...”
Michael felt like slapping himself in the face. He could do better than this, why the fuck was he being so lame?! Would it be considered rude if he just rode away now?
Emily just laughed again, leaning back and crossing her legs, adjusting her pleated skirt to lay neatly over her knees. Fixing him with a look that left Michael with a feeling that sat uncomfortably inside his stomach.
“I mean, what I mean to say is, that we didn't get a chance to properly introduce ourselves the other night. I'm Michael-”
“- Fassbender. Yes I remember.” The expression she was giving him was not unkind or disinterested. But it lacked a certain something that unnerved Michael quite a bit. It was just so... closed off. Happily closed off. Like she enjoyed toying with him.
After a few moments of just looking at each other Michael fired back “Ya know, this is usually the part where you give me your name. Its like swapsies.”
The young woman's lips pursed together in silent amusement before she took off her sunglasses to reveal quite strikingly amber eyes. Not hazel, amber.
She held her hand aloft for Michael to grab, he was still seated on his vespa his mind noted belatedly, as he grasped her small fingers.
“Jane” she offered simply.
Michael's mind temporarily blanked out. A fake name! She was giving him a fake name for fucks sake?! Like he was some kind of crazed person she didn't want to give her particulars to. What was this girls problem! Why was she messing with his fucking head, like she has every right!
Luckily, Michael was a professional and he quickly morphed his momentary shock into a courteous smile.
“Well Jane, would you mind if I joined you?” he asked, leaning down over his handlebars, baring what he hoped was his most charming smile.
She seemed to consider him for a moment. It seemed she never spoke before thinking this girl, the exact opposite of Michael.
“Okay then” she said eventually.
Michael grinned his triumph as he backed his vespa towards the road, narrowly missing a young woman walking her dog on the way.
By the time his gaze wandered back up to her table she had replaced her sunglasses and lit a cigarette and was lounging back in her chair watching him. Possibly even checking him out Michael thought with smug amusement.
She offered one to him as he sat down which he accepted gratefully, this time a lighter was produced from her handbag to assist him.
“So,” she declared as he took his first drag, that sweet scent filling his lungs. “What do you do Michael Fassbender?”
“I'm a bartender.” he answered on his exhale without even thinking. He consoled himself with the fact that if she was allowed to lie, then he bloody well could to! “And you?”
He could see the smile in her eyes behind those smoky lenses. “I'm a politician.”
Michael snorted, unable to stop himself. “A little young aren't you?”
Emily simply toyed with the clip on her purse which sat on the table. “How old do you have to be to be a professional liar?”
Michael had no answer to this as he ran a hand through his hair. Luckily that was when the waitress arrived with Emily's cappuccino.
“Did you want something?” Emily directed at him. “My treat.”
Michael tried to gage her expression but she wasn't giving anything. He did so enjoy the curve of her mouth though as it took a sip of her drink. Snapping himself out of it he quickly gave his order to the waitress who nodded and left them alone again.
“You don't have to pay for me” he followed quickly as soon as she had disappeared.
“But of course I do” Emily said in a silly light voice. “Everyone knows that all bartenders are poor as dogs. Where as us politicians are filthy rich” she finished with an infuriatingly close-mouthed smile.
“You know you can just cut the bullshit love” Michael shot back, suddenly sick of the charade. “I know who you really are. You don't need to keep playing games with me!”
The woman across from him seemed unperturbed as she leaned forward, gracefully placing her elbows on the table, her hands curving beneath her chin, like she was fascinated. “Oh really? What do you know about me?”
Michael fixed her with a steely stare. “I know your name is Emily Browning, not Jane. I know you’re an actor like me. I know you're Australian and I know you are here promoting a movie for the festival cause I fucking saw you on the bleedin' red carpet just yesterday!!” he breathed heavily through his nose a few times. He did not know what had come over him. He was not someone who usually lost their temper. Very rarely in fact.
There was just something about this girl though. She had an unnerving talent for scratching her way under his skin and itching him from the inside. He was brought out of his reverie though by the sound of a low giggle rumbling through the hand of said girl across from him as she leaned her head into those elegant fingers.
“Oh dear. You don't know much about me at all it seems” she picked her cigarette up from where it had been laying in her saucer and sucked on it thoughtfully.
Michael was about to spit back a remark but she continued in that same steady, amused voice. “Don't worry though. I don't know much about you either. All I know is that your name is Michael Fassbender and that apparently you get your cock out in your movie.”
Michael had about two seconds to feel taken aback before he heard his own voice snapping back, “Yeah well I heard you show your vadge off in your movie too...”
There was a moment of silence as Michael wished he could pull his horribly childish comeback out of the air and stuff it back down his throat.
She looked at him and he felt powerless to do anything but look back at her.
It lasted a few seconds before she slowly removed her glasses and placed them down on the table.
“Okay then” she stated with a slight nod of her head. She sounded.... impressed?
Michael chuckled. “Okay then” acknowledging the common ground that they seemed to have finally settled on. However unorthodox it might be.
They both simultaneously took pulls on their smokes.
“You know it wasn't all completely bullshit” Emily said conversationally, grabbing her cup and sipping at it lightly. “Only half-truths. Jane is my middle name, and well, we are professional liars are we not?”
“I suppose so...” Michael noted how her accent slipped through a lot stronger now that she seemed to have relaxed into her natural self a bit more. Not that she hadn't appeared to be anything but exceedingly relaxed previously. “... kinda makes it sound so base and dirty though dontcha think?”
“It is dirty. Its downright fucking ridiculous that people pay us day in and day out to be somebody, become something that we are not. But I like it. I loathe liars in real life, but its a bit of a thrill to get away with it so harmlessly as a profession. I enjoy not being me for a little bit each day” she tipped a wink at him.
“How old are you?” Michael said leaning his chin in his hand, appraising her shamelessly. “You look too young to be having such profound opinions” he mused, his eyes lingering on those gorgeous cheekbones, those enchanting eyes.
He watched as she tilted her head back to exhale her breath of smoke in a quick understated rush. She levelled those enchanting eyes on him, that cheeky smirk back in place.
“How young do you want me to be?” she said in a low voice.
The tone in that simple statement embarrassingly, went straight to Michaels groin. She was playing with him again. He couldn't for the life of him decide whether he enjoyed it or not. He was halfway between wanting to ravage her and wanting to strangle her. He wanted to ruin her. He wanted...
Luckily the waitress chose that moment to reappear with his coffee and he was able to cross his legs discreetly as he thanked her and sent her on her way.
“I was only half-lying too” Michael offered as a way of steering the conversation in a different direction. “I used to be a bartender.... ya know, back in another lifetime.”
At this the women across from him gave a very undignified snort. “Oh dear. And I was just beginning to like you...”
Michael pulled a mock-hurt face. “Whats wrong with being a bartender?”
Emily just made another displeased face. “Well... you are a terribly pretentious bunch of people aren't you. Y'all think your God's gift whilst simultaneously judging us for every single thing we order. I mean christ! If I want a vodka-pineapple, give me a fucking vodka-pineapple, drop the attitude and stop staring at my chest while you're at it!”
Michael was already chuckling by the end of her tirade. “You wound me girl. I would never deny you a vodka-pineapple, nor laugh at your horribly uninspired, girly choice of drink..... to your face.”
“There ya go, there it is!” Emily gestured towards him huffily with her hands as if that was all that was needed. Though she looked amused to Michael's delight as she mumbled something about “fucking bartenders...”.
She had finished her cigarette now and was considering the dredges of coffee at the bottom of her cup. Michael felt his pulse quicken as he realised she might try and leave him again.
“Hey what are you doing this afternoon?” he blurted in what he hoped wasn't a desperate manner.
She looked up at him, carefully placing her cup back on the table surface. “What are you offering?”
What was Michael offering. He had no fucking clue. He could think of a few choice things that included a hotel bed, but he suddenly realised with stomach-dropping clarity that this girl was probably going to be too smart to fall for his usual routine. Way too smart. His shields were down and he was driving very blind right now.
“Well I have my motorbike here-”
“-scooter” Emily supplied unhelpfully.
“Yes my scooter” he amended in a flustered manner. “I could take you for a ride. I don't know Cannes terribly well but you can't swing a cat around without hitting something classic and beautiful.” He looked very pointedly at her in this moment. Because that is what she was. This Emily was a classic beauty.
To his utmost surprise, her cheeks flushed with colour. He'd made her blush. It made her look even more ravishing than before and his cock gave a very surreptitious twitch, reminding him just how frustratingly aware of his body this women could make him. At that moment he would give anything to kiss a path along those pink cheekbones, slide down over that neck, that collarbone, push that white blouse aside...
“I'm sorry. I really should go.”
Her words pulled him from his thoughts as thoroughly as a lightning strike straight to the brain.
“What--?” the word fell from his mouth.
“I have a thing I have to get to. Unfortunately it requires preparation time to make me presentable” she really did look like she wasn't too fond of the prospect, Michael noted as she shuffled around in her purse finally extracting some money to throw down on the table.
“Well where are you staying I can give you a lift” he was trying his utmost not to let the disappointment show in his voice.
She shook her head smiling. “I'm just across the road there. Thanks for sitting with me Michael. It was nice chatting with you. I hope I get a chance to see your movie. It sounds interesting.”
“Please...” Michael said moving in her way as she made to walk past him. He was past trying to hide his desperation. He just couldn't let her leave him again. “Please...” he repeated again, “this may be presumptuous, but please could I have your number.”
It would've been easy for her to avoid his gaze. Without the assistance of heels she came to way below his shoulder. To her credit though she lifted her eyes to meet his. Beautiful amber-blue looking up at him, filling him with a clenching sensation straight through his gut.
She didn't say anything. Of course she didn't say anything. Michael was getting used to this.
Instead she took a step back, pulling something from her bag. Michael saw her scribbling with a pen. Then her little fingers were curling around his wrist. Her sudden touch sent a bolt of electricity through his nerves. She lifted his hand and pushed something into it. Then she was patting his arm as she brushed by him to cross the road.
Michael looked down at his hand, where it had been left suspended in the air.
Her cigarette carton lay in it.
And scribbled on the side... were ten blessed digits.
---------
Hee. This story is such a loveletter to Emily. I'm really enjoying it. I'm hoping I'm not turning Michael into too much of a starry-eyed sop. I still want him to remain himself. But Emily is just such a cool cat. My attraction to her bleeds very easily through into Fassy. Anyway glad to finally write them into a scene together again. This whole interaction was basically inspired by these photos I once saw of Emily smoking at a cafe. How does she manage to make such a bad habit look so good??