Certainly unexpected.

[_bridget_jones_]

Bridget had been spending more time in the compound lately than she had in a long while. While she and O-Ren had tentatively decided to still live together, they hadn't quite gotten things built yet. So she was still staying in the compound, making trips to the rec room for books when she was bored

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[fisherprice_tim]

Tim had to admit, really, that the breakfasts he had been eating while on the island were much better, in a nutritional sense, than the ones he had back home. It was one thing he found he could get used to.

Actually, he was pretty well getting used to most of it, and wasn't sure how he felt about it. On the one hand, it sort of made him angry that he'd gotten jerked out of the middle of his life and stuck on a crazy island. On the other hand, he didn't have to work at Wernham Hogg.

He hesitated when he caught site of Bridget in the rec room. After they'd parted ways the day he'd kissed her when they were walking back to the compound, he'd well and truly freaked out about it, albeit in a quiet sort of way that mostly involved his eyebrows performing amazing acrobatics while he watched, disturbed and mentally railing against his behavior, in the bathroom.

He hadn't meant to do it, true, but it had been nice, and he was...pretty sure she hadn't been...unhappy about it. At any rate, he couldn't help his expression lifting slightly

[_bridget_jones_]

Bridget only looked up when she saw someone's hands so close to her face.

"Oh, hullo," Bridget said, forgetting that her mouth was partially full of mango. She immediately swallowed, in hopes of making less of an idiot of herself. "Um...thanks." She smiled at him, feeling a little awkward, but that was sort of a normal occurance these days, wasn't it?

"I think...that maybe I've had enough of this book." She said, closing it.

[fisherprice_tim]

"What to expect when you're expecting," he read, looking down at it. He pulled a face.

"They always have the catchiest titles, don't they."

[_bridget_jones_]

"Almost as catchy as Kafka's Motorbike." She said, wishing very much that he hadn't caught sight of just what he was reading. At least he hadn't run away after she'd told him about the baby-- that was what men were supposed to do, right?

Oh, it's not mine, trala! Bye!