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Library [5/1]

This is the last day Parker's going to be opening the Library. She has really mixed feelings about that. Partly because she'd like to hide under the Circulations Counter after some of the things she did this weekend.

The Library is open for all your research and book-return needs, 'cause today is also the last day of amnesty before Zero and her mallet are on a quest tomorrow.

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Angela is still around, and is headdesking repeatedly over the weirdness of being married.

Marty runs in looking he might have slept in his suit.

Well actually he did sleep in his suit. The fact that there might be dried cupcake batter all over it has escaped his attention.

As is the fact that he's still carrying a bottle of 409.

He stops when he sees Angela headdesking. Maybe the best option is humor.

"Hi Honey, I'm home." he says weakly.

Angela's cheeks were scarlet. "Hi, Ricky Ricardo," she said. "Wanna hear about my latest wacky scheme? We both pretend to be real little kids..."

"I'm pretty sure we weren't pretending," Marty said holding up the bottle of 409. "I still have this thing. And if I'm Ricky? Then you have some 'splanin' to do."

"I am a redhead," Angela said. And then she started to laugh because, really, what can you do?

"I wish could 'splain. That was almost weirder than being a boy."

"At least that could be explained but... geez we're married?" Marty said looking confused. "Does it count if you're under ten and it was officiated by a mountie? I don't think it does. Probably because we were minors. And not in Canada."

"God, I hope not," Angela said, and then realized how it sounded and totally tried to backtrack. "I mean, not that I don't want to marry you." Then she realized that might sound even worse."Or do want to marry you. Or ..."

She gave up. "Can we just revisit this whole subject in, like, six years, and hope we don't have to file for an annulment in the meantime? I'm guessing any wedding where the groom uses 409 to kill the cooties first cannot count."

Marty exhaled in a sigh of relief. "It's okay, I think we're on the same page."

He stops short a little and blinks a second before a small smile creeps across his face.

"So... you still see us together in six years or so?"

Oh, look. Marty found the one thing that would make Angela blush even redder, though she was relieved he wasn't planning a honeymoon. "Maybe?" she said. "Have you thought about after-graduation stuff at all?"

"I haven't thought about anything beyond this summer," Marty said a little embarassed of his lack of forethought. "Right now I can't think past this weekend. Unless you'd prefer not to go camping."

"Camping still sounds good," Angela said. "Sunday, right?"

She sighed. "I get not wanting to think too far ahead. This place is so strange it will just screw with any plans we make anyhow."

"Tell me about it. One day you're just a normal teenage reformed hitman. The next your a girl. The next your a wee-tiny reformed hitman with a fear of cooties," Marty said thoughtfully. "I'm thinking that someone out there has a sick sense of humor."

~~Marty then breaks the fourth wall and shouts obscenities at his mun before returning to character~~

"Sunday sounds good to me."

"Did you know you had been a hit man?" Angela asked idly. "Because I think my memory was really weird. Like, I knew you, but I don't think I got the boyfriend thing."

"And yes, this has been a very strange week. But hey, only a couple more weeks before we go on our vacation. Our long vacation."

"Yeah my memory was pretty muddled. I don't remember much of what I was though I do remember-"

A dark look went over Marty's face for few seconds before he shook it off. "Um, stuff."

He shakes his head then smiles. "I am soooo looking forward to our vacation."

Angela reached across the counter for Marty's hands as she bit her lip in concern. "Monsters, huh?" she said. "You really are safe. Really."

She did not add I hope.

Marty flinched a little at the mention of monsters but tried to cover it with a smile. "I know. So have you told your parents about our little trip? Heck, how do they feel about you being married?"

Marty? Change the topic of conversation? Never.

Angela laughed a little nervously. She had an idea who Marty's monsters were, but if he didn't want to alk about it...

"I didn't talk to them this weekend, so they haven't heard about the wedding yet. Which is good,'cause I think they'd be upset they weren't invited. But they're cool with the trip." She did not mention how much ~~handwavey~~ pleading that had taken. "My mom says I should travel while I'm young, right?"

"Right! Besides think of the educational places we'll go!" Marty said with an enthusiastic grin. "Okay probably none, but we'll sneak in a museum or two so you can tell your mom that."

"Science experiments," Angela said seriously. "Like, which of us can tan faster, and is the beach in Tahiti different from the beach in France."

She smiled, a little wistfully. "It was kind of nice to be a kid again, though. Even if I did spend the whole weekend riding a sugar buzz."

"I thought the cake batter in your hair was exceptionally cute," Marty brushing off a lock of hair from Angela's face. "I think you should bake like that more often."

Angela blushed. "Maybe I should," she said. "I can even read the boxes of cake mix when I'm this size."

"I loved your little suit. And you were so sweet when I kept crying on radio -- I think I might have needed an N-A-P."

"Well I can't stand to see a girl cry," Marty said wondering what other things he can say to make Angela blush. "I still want to find out who threw that shoe and that I had cookies to give to Barbossa to keep him quiet. And the next time you need a N-A-P? I will be more than happy to fill in as a pillow."

"You'd be my pillow? Be still my heart," Angela said, fluttering her eyelashes. "I have no idea who threw the shoe."

She giggled. "Have you heard the podcast yet? It's hysterical. Embarassing, but hysterical."

"Barbossa was insane last night too," Marty said thinking back with a chuckle. "I think he played Little-Bunny-Foo-Foo for 20 minutes straight. And are you mocking my ability to make like a pillow? I assure you my skills at being plush and comfy are not to be taunted."

"Well, the banthabell version of "Little Bunny Foo-Foo" is the best song ever," Angela said, attempting to look solemn but mostly seeming completely doofy. "And I'll take you up on that pillow thing sometime, definitely. Maybe I could be your blankie."

Library [5/1]

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