fandomhigh | Library, Sunday

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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.

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... 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.

Face was not responsible for the sex pollen, Cassandra, and he'd be a lot more witty if he was doing it on purpose.

As it was, he was very carefully not making any movements that might startle Cassandra while he waited to see if she was doing next.

It was Cassandra.

Finishing said kiss-on-the-cheek procedure was about as daring as she'd get; her lips barely brushed his skin before she was suddenly, almost magically, halfway across the room and to the door.

Ahem.

Face was very impressed with the physicality covering that distance in that time required.

Rubbing the spot she'd kissed, he grinned and waved with his free hand.

She looked over her shoulder, blushed again, gave a little wave, and then dashed out the door.

Not quite as gracefully as she might have liked.

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Library, Sunday

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