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Library - 2/7

Isabel walked into the library and immediately found herself surrounded by every chair in the room. All looking for attention. Rolling her eyes, she made her way to the main counter and sat up on it, out of reach while she finished her coffee.

It was going to be one of those kind of days.

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"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."

Anders sighed and watched Otto go haring off after the paper. "To which all I can say is, this sucks."

[OOC: And now I shut down and go home, whee!]

"Beyond sucks," she agreed. "I'm not ready to lose another friend."

Anders closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, me neither. Even if it would almost make things simpler, that way. What does it mean when you'd rather pick the complicated option?"

Isabel bumped against his shoulder. "It means your friends are important enough to you that you can deal with any embarrassment or whatever as long as it means they're safe."

"Huh." Anders mulled that over while he watched Otto bump repeatedly into the legs of a slightly fractious chair in its attempts to get to the ball of paper that had ended up underneath the chair. "Guess that makes me a little bit less of a jerk then, huh?"

"You were never a jerk," Isabel said firmly. "And if you argue with me, I'm pushing you off the counter and letting Otto maul you."

"Death by furniture? What a way to go," Anders said sorrowfully. He wasn't quite convinced of her words, but he nodded and said, "No arguments from me, then. You're okay, right? No weird aftereffects or horrible lasting trauma from the spell or anything?"

"It was a ferocious piece of furniture?" she offered. Although ferocious wasn't really word that could be applied to Otto. Friendly and fun-loving might be more appropriate.

"I'm fine. I was more frustrated then anything else."

"Good," Anders said. "Not that you were frustrated, just . . . good that you're okay other than that."

"Honestly? That was all Parker," Isabel admitted. "She started talking and somehow managed to convince him that more bodies on the pile would be a bad thing. If she hadn't been there. I'd probably be dead."

"That makes two of us," Anders said quietly. "He tried to come back for me, take me to Hell. If Parker and Bridge hadn't gotten there in time . . ."

"He did? When? Christ Anders. Now I get why Bridge wants someone with you. But he didn't hurt you?" she asked, turning to check him for injuries.

Anders smiled tightly. "Physically, I'm just fine."

"But emotionally he pushed every button you had and left you a battered mess?" Isabel guessed.

"Here comes the pitch, and she swings, and it's a high drive and it's outta here!"

The euphemism was somehow easier than just saying yes.

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