fandomhigh | Library, Sunday

Entry tags:

library

Library, Sunday

Face was maybe a little distracted this morning as he set up the various library displays this morning.

Or a lot, given that he'd had to put a number of books revolving around...certain subjects back on the shelves. Multiple times.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"All right," Cassandra said dubiously.

And now there was a problem: in order to read the actual text of the fanfiction Face had produced, she had to drag her chair in slightly closer. Which she did. Very, very carefully. "So this is the text you spoke of?"

Don't pay attention to Face. Do not.

"Pretty much, yeah," Face said. "It's just a case of looking through the summaries until you find something that sounds interesting and hoping the author is good enough to pull it off."

...not dirty.

"I see," Cassandra said. Though she did not quite. Not yet. "And you enjoy this particular piece?"

"Some of them," Face said pointing to part of the screen. "They write in a very similar tone and style to the books, while she writes a lot of 'what if they weren't separated right then?' stories, though her style is more...explicit." Cassandra was not the only one who was a bit pink around the cheeks today.

He jabbed at another name. "Avoid anything by him, he makes the shield-maiden all swoony and passive as she waits to be rescued, it's kind of creepy."

"Ugh," Cassandra said, succinctly. "She is not a victim to be rescued. She rescues not simply herself, but many others in the tale. Did he not read the books?"

"If he did, the point went sailing over his head."

"Why is it sometimes so difficult for men to believe that women can take care of themselves?" Cassandra complained.

Though really, her world was considerably better at gender equality in some areas; she'd just never run into the worse stuff on Earth before.

"Because some men are very stupid," Face said. "On the bright side, they usually end up regretting it."

"Our shield-maiden would certainly be happy to bash his face in with her shield," Cassandra said.

She sighed a dreamy sigh of epic shield-maidens which one could only aspire to be.

"That's be something to see."

Face sighed too. But not so much for fictional shield-maidens.

Cassandra was entirely and only attracted to men, but fictional shield-maidens rated far above men on any other scale, as far as she was concerned. And so she was smiling. "I do hope the author will write another book," she sighed, as her fingers slid to the keyboard and she tapped the scroll button the way Face had explained.

"I'm sure she wouldn't leave you unfulfilled." ...hanging, Face meant hanging.

... Did he just use that word?

Did he have to use that word?

Cassandra went immediately red again, though this time she was... somewhat prepared, in that she managed to more or less straight-face her way through the blushing. "I would hope so," she said. "Perhaps in the mean time, these works--" she gestured at the computer, "... will also be."

She didn't want to use the word, but she did.

"...Fulfilling."

He didn't meant to use that word.

"Exacting, some of them are very...fulfilling." He didn't mean to keep using it either.

A tiny bit of panic was starting to worm its way back into Cassandra's mask. "Are they?" she said, her voice pitching a little higher. "I am pleased you were... fulfilled."

Oh Maker.

"We'll they're not as fulfilling as the real thing," Why was he still using it? "But they scratch an itch."

Face, no.

"Yes."

Could Cassandra get any redder? Probably not. "I am glad your itch is scratched, in that case."

At least she'd stopped saying 'unfulfilled'?

"Yes, very...scratched."

Such poetry.

"...Good."

Cassandra was fighting a losing battle with herself. Despite considerable strain and effort not to do so, she slowly looked up.

"Good," she repeated.

This was the point where Face desperately needed to change the subject. "Good."

Sithspit.

"Yes," Cassandra said. "That is... that is what I said."

Well, it was.

"...You have beautiful eyes," she blurted a second later.

Oh, Maker. Abort. Abort. Perhaps if she kicked over his chair, he would be disoriented enough that she could flee? No, no, that was a terrible idea.

Well, it'd be an effective way to kill the mood, such as it was.

"Thank you," Face replied seriously. "You have more than a few beautiful features too."

It was a good thing Cassandra could not blush harder than she was already doing. "Thank you," she said. "...For the lesson. And the compliment! I should be going."

Or scrambling out of her seat, such as it was. At least with Anders she'd had anger blinding her; here there were no excuses.

Face nodded, eyes on her. "I'll be here if you need me."

Not the best way to phrase things, Face.

... no, not really. Cassandra froze up for a moment, all deer-in-headlights again. "I will keep that in mind," she said stiffly. "Goodbye."

Did she want to leave? She should, yes. Yes. Much like the dance. Except the dance was not a very smart thing to think about, considering how he ended it, and-- argh. Was he doing this on purpose? He must be. Perhaps she should call his bluff. If he was doing it on purpose. Or was he? No, no, that was a terrible assumption to make, and--

... she was halfway to kissing him on the cheek before she got a handle of that impressively runaway train of thought.

Library, Sunday

Re: Talk to Face

Re: Talk to Face

Re: Talk to Face

Re: Talk to Face

Re: Talk to Face

Re: Talk to Face

Re: Talk to Face

Re: Talk to Face

Re: Talk to Face

Re: Talk to Face

Re: Talk to Face

Re: Talk to Face

Re: Talk to Face

Re: Talk to Face

Re: Talk to Face

Re: Talk to Face

Re: Talk to Face

Re: Talk to Face

Re: Talk to Face

Re: Talk to Face

Re: Talk to Face

Re: Talk to Face

Re: Talk to Face

Re: Talk to Face

Re: Talk to Face

Re: Talk to Face

Re: Talk to Face

Re: Talk to Face

Re: Talk to Face