Something to Write About, Day One
Prompt: An imperfect fit.
[Responses can be left here as replies to this entry, or linked! Sorry I got to this so late!]
[Responses can be left here as replies to this entry, or linked! Sorry I got to this so late!]
~*~
He sighed and settled in. It was going to be awhile before he could get a word in, and he knew better than to interrupt her in the middle of a tirade.
Simply, she was throwing a fit. It had been a rough day for some reason or another, he could not be bothered to listen to find out. These fits were common. She would rant and rail and scream and shout, and once it was out of her system, she would be normal again. It was something he had grown to understand and expect from her.
It was, he thought, an imperfect fit. A perfect fit, he had grown to realize, involved not only screams and yells, rants, words, but also physical action. The perfect fits were those with the foot stomping (that he secretly thought was absolutely adorable), the pacing, and the slamming things down on surfaces that he knew she wished were the tender skulls of all those who had wronged her.
An imperfect fit, he knew, meant that she was only mildly upset. She saved the really good fits for when she was really, really furious. Those were the days when he knew he needed to pay attention, because she was doing far more than just letting off steam. Those were the times she needed him to help. To offer comfort or support or advice. Those were the fits to watch out for. These? The imperfect ones? They were just her steam valve, her maintenance vents. These were just fun to watch.
But even so, he was very careful not to show her how amused he really was. Just in case.
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