fandomhigh | Library, Sunday

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Library, Sunday

Despite the fact he way or may not have gotten fired on Wednesday, though he pretty sure it'd been a case of not, Face was back behind the desk today. Though in between checking and stacking books, he made a point of scrubbing out the coffee pot.

Just because Barry hadn't been responsible for the island going weird, it didn't mean that the pot was safe.

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Busy drinking caf from the freshly decontaminated pot that is.

"Ugh," Cassandra said.

It was not an ugh aimed at anything or anyone in particular, mind you. It was the ugh of a woman resigned to her own actions: taking a chair, setting it down by the desk, and sinking down in it.

It was also the ugh of someone who had finally given in and slept a lot.

Rather than be a cheerful morning person at her, Face held up his mug. "Need a cup?"

"Please," Cassandra said. Then she paused, and added, "What is it?"

Probably good to know. Much as she was reminding herself that the message she had received from him had been directed to the wrong device.

The message would likely have been even more ridiculous if he'd known he was leaving it on her comm.

"Caf," he said, fetching a clean cup an filling it. "A drink from my galaxy. Coffee's the closest thing to it they have here, but I prefer the taste."

He also brought over a handful of sweetener and milk packets.

That was not a reassuring idea, Face.

As it stood, she was mostly wondering who he was sharing private time with. ...Not that this was her business.

"I believe I've heard of coffee," Cassandra said. "But your caf will do, I suppose."

...himself, basically. More through lack of opportunity than willingness on his part.

"I'm flattered that my caf might reach the dizzying heights of 'will do'," he said, grinning. "Though you'd have to visit back home to get the really good stuff."

Cassandra let out a little snort. "I have a hard enough time finding my way to my own home," she said. She watched him, for a moment at least. "Were you aware that the local communication devices occasionally behave strangely? I should not have been surprised by it. The technology appears unreliable."

"Mine's easy enough to get to," he said. "I'm just supposed to be dead there."

Face shrugged. "I figured something was up when I started getting a bunch of strange messages, then radio confirmed it the next day." Beat. "Did you get the reply about the gourds? Because I don't actually have a gourd trick."

"No, you were contacting someone about something more private than that," Cassandra said.

As she picked up a book for the express purpose of hiding any trace of any blushing. Pre-emptively, that is, if being sardonic failed her.

"Oh, you got my message to Mara." He'd wondered where that one went. Oops. "That was only half serious."

"Mara?" Cassandra echoed. "She is the redhead, is she not?"

Face nodded. "I'd think you'd like her," he said, pulling his phone out, and flicking to his voice messages. "I'm not sure who she thought she was sending it to, but here's the message I got from her."

He pressed play.

Cassandra tilted her head. "So you were... making a joke? Or propositioning her?"

It was hard to tell.

"Not that this is any of my affair."

"If that message made you uncomfortable you had the right to bring it up," Face said and shrugged. "We're friends, friends talk to each other about this kind of thing."

Another shrug. "It was mostly a joke, I have enough reasons to think she'd find it funny. Though I wouldn't be heartbroken if she wanted to take me up on it."

"I am not uncomfortable," Cassandra specified, as she realized that she was, in part. "I was merely hoping to have the matter clarified. Thank you."

"Now I'm kind of curious what sort of reply someone else got instead of me," Face said. Because going there would surely end well.

Oh, look, that book was climbing up as she studied the synopsis on the back. "Mockery, of course," Cassandra said. "Your message was rather ridiculous."

Face clapped his hand dramatically over his chest. "A shot right to the heart."

"I am sure you will never survive this grave wound," Cassandra said dryly.

"Yeah, I'd say I'm done for," Face assured her.

"And you haven't even heard the full phrasing," Cassandra said, putting the book back down. "Your constitution is poor."

"I'm a former actor," Face said. "We're sensitive sorts."

Cassandra huffed out a laugh. "Sensitive. Yes. Of course."

Face nodded. "Also delicate."

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