who's there?

[morethanfantasy]

*outside the university--a man with a flight jacket and messenger bag slung loosely over one shoulder, walking towards the park. it's a nice day, so when he gets there he sits on a bench, shrugs off the jacket and takes out his reading for class, today Emerson's Compensation. he tucks up his knees and balances the book awkwardly as he takes scrawly

Comments

[itmeans_arm]

*happens to be sitting on the other end of the bench, reading reports from his army, and glances over when Bernardo sits down*

[morethanfantasy]

*doesn't notice at first, but sees Forti as he turns slightly to get a pocket dictionary from his bag--on edge, but doesn't say anything and tries to keep working*

[itmeans_arm]

*smiles at him, just slightly*

[morethanfantasy]

*doesn't smile, tense* Hi.

[itmeans_arm]

*raises an eyebrow* Something wrong?

Typist: Is his arm gone entirely, or just injured?

[morethanfantasy]

No, sir. *he's not entirely sure how to address the prince of an enemy country*

Typist: Gone. Oh, I hope I don't make any really embarrassing mistakes.

[itmeans_arm]

*shrugs* Okay.

[morethanfantasy]

*goes back to his work, but after a while turns back* Sorry, sir, but what are you doing here? *has decided suddenly that since Forti's hanging out in a park in civilian clothes, this is OK, but can't shake the "sir" habit*

[itmeans_arm]

Enjoying the weather.

[morethanfantasy]

Fair enough. Denmark's nice, isn't it? *a bit cuttingly*

[itmeans_arm]

It's all right.

[morethanfantasy]

Hope you're not planning to stay much longer.

[itmeans_arm]

*turns and looks at him fully for the first time* Did my army do that?

[morethanfantasy]

You fucking bombed our base.

[itmeans_arm]

Ah. Sorry.

[morethanfantasy]

*disgusted, turns back to his book and writes furiously*