fandomhigh | Library

The tables took a little more convincing

Anders headed down to the library right after Spy Tech, an ottoman trailing him like a bloodhound. "Stupid footstool, frak off," he grumbled.

"It could be worse," Isabel laughed. "At least it's only following you."

"You have no idea how relieved I am," Anders told her. "If it does anything more than that I can't be held responsible for furniture-cide."

"I don't think anyone would blame you. Cause anything more could possibly involve splinters. And ouch!" Not quite ready to sit in a chair that could possibly move, Isabel took a seat on the counter and pattted the spot next to her. "Come, sit. How are you doing?"

Anders boosted himself up onto the counter and shrugged. "I'm okay, I guess. Bridge won't let me out of his sight unless one of us is in class or he's got somewhere to be, and then he usually makes sure I'm not by myself."

If the ottoman could look pitiful about not being able to climb onto the counter, it was the picture of woe right about now.

"I'm sure it's frustrating, but it's probably a good idea, at least for while. You're more then welcome to hang out here with me for a while," Isabel offered.

The ottoman was very woeful. "There. Go fetch," Isabel said as she balled up a piece of paper and tossed it. "If that thing develops a mouth? I'm not getting down off this counter."

"If it develops a mouth I'm borrowing Zero's mallet," Anders said firmly as the ottoman scurried off after the paper ball. "And I'm thinking if I'd spent more time hanging out with my friends I might not have gotten myself into that mess in the first place, you know?"

The ottoman looked even more woeful now, because it couldn't pick up the paper ball. "Oh, knock it around a little and chase it," Anders said.

"Maybe, maybe not. But at this point does it matter?" she asked. "You learn from it and move on." Isabel thought about how that sounded and frowned. "Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to make light of it or anything. It's just...there's stuff that I did, or at least the person I was at one time did. I'm not proud of it and it would be easy to just dwell on it. But I've made a choice to move on. Otherwise I'd be miserable. And I don't want to see that happen to you."

"I'm doing my best to chalk it up as a learning experience," Anders said, smiling briefly, "but it's kind of tough right at the moment. Some people learn pretty quickly. Some of us need to be hit over the head with a baseball bat."

"That's the right attitude," Isabel smiled. "And after all, opening day is coming up. We could probably arrange something for you if you really need it."

"Like I haven't been keeping a countdown on my calendar," Anders scoffed mildly.

"I'd be surprised if you weren't," she admitted. "What do you think? Should StuCo arrange another trip?"

Anders gave her a mildly playful look. "Is the furniture in here alive today?"

Isabel smacked her forehead. "Yes, that was a particularly stupid question wasn't it? Right up there with is the grass green and do I like Tabasco."

"It was nice of you to ask anyway," Anders told her. "You know I'd love that, and wow, did the thought of it cheer me up already."

Somewhere across the room, the ottoman had skidded into a wall and fallen over onto its side, looking as stunned as a faceless piece of furniture could look.

"Well just keep in mind? Anything I organize that's sports related? I'm usually doing with you in mind," she smiled. "I know my target audience."

Isabel blinked and stared across the room. "That is one said semi-sentient piece of furniture."

"Oh, you so get a hug for that," Anders told her.

He sighed at the ottoman. "The 'be careful or you'll put someone's eye out' threat just doesn't carry as much weight with something that doesn't have eyes, does it?"

Isabel gave a long suffering sigh. "Well if you must. I suppose I can put up with a hug for a moment or two." But her eyes were laughing.

"Nope, I don't think so. But at least it's enthusiastic?"

"It gets points for effort, but it's gonna need a little more polish before it's ready to take the field -- not that kind of polish!" Anders called out to the ottoman as it straightened up, seemingly indignant, and tried to contort itself so it could buff imaginary spots off its own feet.

He leaned over and gave Isabel a quick but tight hug. "Have I thanked you yet? 'cause . . . yeah. Thanks."

[OOC: Have a good dinner!]

"You look fine Otto," Isabel laughed. "But I suppose I can give you a rubdown with some Pledge if it'll make you feel better."

She returned the hug, equally tightly. "No thanks needed. Friends look out for one another. I just wish..."

"You could've stopped it from happening?" Anders guessed.

"That," she nodded. "I mean god, I've talked to him how many times since Christmas? But I just wish I could figure out a way to save Bel. I mean, he's in there. But he's just broken. He wants us to kill him before anyone else gets hurt."

"Yeah, well, I can't believe I didn't stop to think there might be a reason he did a total U-turn on me out of nowhere on Christmas Eve," Anders replied, tossing another ball of paper toward the ottoman. "And Wyatt said there might not be a way to save him, which . . . really not wanting to think about that."

"How were you to know? People can change their minds," Isabel shrugged. She used her powers to send the paper skittering away from Otto. "I know, I talked to them and I've been trying to research. But I'm not coming up with any answers besides the obvious."

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