"Classy," Marion snorted from over the man's shoulder. She had entered the rec room in the hopes of finding something to do, something to read, and instead she had found a man ogling a bunch of pop-up ladies in very little clothing.
There certainly were a lot of very strange people on this island.
Ned, being Ned, did not just close the not-so-classy pop-up book when a woman's voice reached his ears. He slammed it closed, spun around, hid it behind his back and gave her a thoroughly embarrassed but trying to hide it look.
He never was very good at being subtle.
"I wasn't - it was just there, I picked a book out at random and that's what opened - popped up. Out." He gave her a strained smile. "I'm not a pervert."
Just the fact he felt the need to say something like that made Marion raise an eyebrow, and she looked up at him with something approaching a smirk.
"No big deal," she said. "Last time I tried to get something off that shelf it gave me Etiquette for Modern Ladies." Her expression clearly said what she thought of that.
Ned let out a sound that might have been a laugh in another life, and the attempt at a smile stayed on his face even as he turned and slid the pop-up book back among its (classier and more wholesome) brothers.
"There's, uh - there's not much on the shelf right now, unless you're a secret pop-up book fan," he explained needlessly.
It had never rained much down in Texas, but Carla Jean had come to find that she didn't much mind it. Months of nothing but that same bright sunshine had come to grate on her nerves, especially in the two months since Llewelyn died. Cold and inconvenient though it may have been to walk in the rain from her hut to the Compound, she definitely preferred the storm clouds. It felt less as if they were trying to force her to be cheerful
( ... )
"I'm not!" was the immediate response. Though Carla Jean could be considered something of a close friend outside of Chuck, Olive and Digby, that didn't make being caught red-handed (and red-faced) with a book aimed toward a more select audience that much better.
It might have made it worse, in fact.
Ned cleared his throat and closed the book, holding it behind his back awkwardly as he turned to face Carla Jean. "It was just - I picked one at random and this was it, that's all. Hi, Carla Jean how are you? Good? How about this rain, huh?"
The pie maker was not above making pleasant small talk to escape an embarrassing situation.
Ned's seeming so flustered was about as amusing as the book itself, and Carla Jean did let out a laugh then, albeit a short one. She'd still have called it progress. "S'alright," she replied easily, with a shake of her head. "Damn shelf never gives what you want to see. I know that." As for herself, she'd been given naught but books on grief and how to cope with it. She wanted nothing to do with any of them. Coping with her husband's death was something she was perfectly capable without the assistance of any goddamn self-help manual.
She didn't dwell on that, though. Any excuse for a lightened mood was fine by her, and she had no intention of doing anything to ruin that. "I'm alright, though, yeah," she continued, supposing she ought to answer his questions, even if they'd just been to change the subject. She was still grinning, anyway. "Kind of a mess out there. Ain't too bad, though. Could definitely be worse."
One thing could be said for Carla Jean; she was good enough to go along with Ned's feeble attempts at avoiding the conversation. He appreciated it very much, and relaxed slightly in relief.
He was, of course, still holding a pop-up book about pin-up girls - and if Ned ever relaxed completely, it only happened around Chuck under certain circumstances better left unsaid at this moment.
"Good," he said, and even managed a smile for a second. "About you being alright, not the rain. If Digby could talk," he pointed over to the corner where Digby was sound asleep, "he'd be complaining for days."
Like all avid readers and curious types, Charlotte Charles found the bookshelf with its never ending supply of new books and old favourites to be quite the treasure trove. There was always something to discover about it, be it wanted or unwanted.
Appearing at the elbow of Ned, she eagerly tried to get a look at what he was reading, her eyebrows raising in both wonder and mischievous delight.
"That has to be some book you're reading, though I have to say that it's not anymore interesting when it's popping up at you trying to say hello."
"It's not," said Ned, and even though he wouldn't look at Chuck at first, it wasn't hard to see how red his face and neck became as a result of having been caught red-handed.
Thanks to their time here, however, there wasn't much at all the pie maker had to hide from the girl named Chuck any more. He clutched the now closed pop-up book against his chest and turned to look at her. "There's no popping-up happening," he said, and a moment later realized just exactly what he'd said. "In the - the book. I mean, obviously it's a pop-up book and some things will pop-up, if they didn't then it wouldn't be a pop-up book..."
At the sign of Ned's visible discomfort, Chuck's smile turned ever so slightly into a bemused smirk. It was not merely the fact that the Piemaker was so obviously awkward at the idea of being caught, but the fact that she was in no way put off by it. Having discovered her Aunt Lily's collection of antique pornography on the cheese floor when she was a girl, she was more comfortable than most about such types of 'art'.
"Do things move? Things like that ought to move, have little tabs and secret pouches. How about that?" she asked curiously. "I mean otherwise it's just another book."
Ellie, after having Barney as a patient, had seen a whole lot when it came to the seedier sort of literature and magazines. That didn't stop her from staring in surprise when she headed over to say hello to Ned and caught sight of what he was looking at.
"Oh my," she said, pressing a hand to her mouth to hold back the laugh she knew was threatening to bubble up. She hadn't quite expected Ned of all people to be looking at that. "I see the bookshelf is giving some interesting things again?"
For a brief second, Ned flirted with panic, and he slammed the book shut (folding an unfortunate pin-up's pop-up in a way it wasn't meant to be folded). It was a only a second, however; the pie maker was rather talented at being able to panic for a short moment and still manage to hold something of a conversation.
"Interesting's one word for it," though not the first word that came to mind. He'd just rather not think or say such things around Ellie. "I just picked one at random, and this was it."
Ellie nodded, understanding, though it was hard not to be a little amused still at the expression on his face. It'd be mean to tease him.
"I guess I shouldn't try looking for any books myself, then," she decided, glancing at the bookshelf. She had a feeling it'd be more of the same, with her luck. "Might want to put that one away before someone gets the wrong idea, though."
"Now, I'm just sure those things have an age bracket on 'em," Daisy remarks when she first sees the very first up of that pop and she drapes an arm on the bookshelf nearby, studying him with curiosity. "So there's probably some other reason you look so enthralled."
"I'm not enthralled," the pie maker responded before his mind caught up with his mouth - the two had a rocky relationship - which he then shut with an almost audible click of teeth.
"Entertained, engrossed, intimately aware," Daisy starts to rattle off the synonyms, "curious, deeply involved, entranced, captivated, enchanted, you just pick one of 'em, honey, because I could keep going until you spring out of that splishy little river of denial you've got going on."
Ned had no snappy comeback for that, and he almost wished Emerson Cod were there to make one for him.
"There is no river of denial." He straightened a little, and lifted his chin. "Maybe a pond. No more than a stream, I think that much is allowed for any one person." Not that there was anything to be in denial about. "I was just looking. I saw one like it a long time ago."
Comments 39
There certainly were a lot of very strange people on this island.
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He never was very good at being subtle.
"I wasn't - it was just there, I picked a book out at random and that's what opened - popped up. Out." He gave her a strained smile. "I'm not a pervert."
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"No big deal," she said. "Last time I tried to get something off that shelf it gave me Etiquette for Modern Ladies." Her expression clearly said what she thought of that.
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"There's, uh - there's not much on the shelf right now, unless you're a secret pop-up book fan," he explained needlessly.
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It might have made it worse, in fact.
Ned cleared his throat and closed the book, holding it behind his back awkwardly as he turned to face Carla Jean. "It was just - I picked one at random and this was it, that's all. Hi, Carla Jean how are you? Good? How about this rain, huh?"
The pie maker was not above making pleasant small talk to escape an embarrassing situation.
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She didn't dwell on that, though. Any excuse for a lightened mood was fine by her, and she had no intention of doing anything to ruin that. "I'm alright, though, yeah," she continued, supposing she ought to answer his questions, even if they'd just been to change the subject. She was still grinning, anyway. "Kind of a mess out there. Ain't too bad, though. Could definitely be worse."
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He was, of course, still holding a pop-up book about pin-up girls - and if Ned ever relaxed completely, it only happened around Chuck under certain circumstances better left unsaid at this moment.
"Good," he said, and even managed a smile for a second. "About you being alright, not the rain. If Digby could talk," he pointed over to the corner where Digby was sound asleep, "he'd be complaining for days."
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Appearing at the elbow of Ned, she eagerly tried to get a look at what he was reading, her eyebrows raising in both wonder and mischievous delight.
"That has to be some book you're reading, though I have to say that it's not anymore interesting when it's popping up at you trying to say hello."
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Thanks to their time here, however, there wasn't much at all the pie maker had to hide from the girl named Chuck any more. He clutched the now closed pop-up book against his chest and turned to look at her. "There's no popping-up happening," he said, and a moment later realized just exactly what he'd said. "In the - the book. I mean, obviously it's a pop-up book and some things will pop-up, if they didn't then it wouldn't be a pop-up book..."
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"Do things move? Things like that ought to move, have little tabs and secret pouches. How about that?" she asked curiously. "I mean otherwise it's just another book."
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"Oh my," she said, pressing a hand to her mouth to hold back the laugh she knew was threatening to bubble up. She hadn't quite expected Ned of all people to be looking at that. "I see the bookshelf is giving some interesting things again?"
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"Interesting's one word for it," though not the first word that came to mind. He'd just rather not think or say such things around Ellie. "I just picked one at random, and this was it."
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"I guess I shouldn't try looking for any books myself, then," she decided, glancing at the bookshelf. She had a feeling it'd be more of the same, with her luck. "Might want to put that one away before someone gets the wrong idea, though."
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"There is no river of denial." He straightened a little, and lifted his chin. "Maybe a pond. No more than a stream, I think that much is allowed for any one person." Not that there was anything to be in denial about. "I was just looking. I saw one like it a long time ago."
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