ladyfirestarter | (no subject)

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Charlie turns away from the little kitchenette's counter, and carries the two mugs of cocoa over to the couch.

"So you think it's helping, then? Cumulatively?"

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"Fallen angels."

There's a flash of memory, deja vu, but it's gone before he can hold it.

"Demons," she hazards.

"Close enough, I think."

She nods slowly.

"And you didn't want to tell him that," she observes.

"Not particularly, no."

He looks down into his cocoa, turning the mug in his hands.

"It didn't matter much, though. He didn't believe me. And he said -- he said, 'I believe they'll find you.'" Another wry smile. "And it hit home, which was the point."

Charlie nods, a little tight-lipped.

That wrath on his behalf is stirring again.

He catches an edge of it, and looks back up at her.

"I haven't seen him since then -- or heard him."

He's fairly sure he'd hear him a ways away, now.

"It was about a month ago. And I'm less vulnerable, now."

"If he bothers you again," she says softly, and doesn't finish the sentence.

Firm -- "If he bothers me again, I'll tell Security."

"...well, yeah, or you could tell Security."

Charlie's smile is wry, self-directed.

He returns the smile, briefly.

"You were going to suggest . . .?"

"Unwisely taking matters into my own hands," she says cheerfully, still wry.

A laugh. "A plan after my own heart. I knew I liked you for a reason."

She joins in the laughter.

"It really wouldn't be a good idea, though," she says. "With the No Violence rule."

He relaxes a little with the laughter.

"Probably true."

"And if he's just a talker, we can --"

She stutters to a halt in midsentence, the laughter falling away.

Blinking, he opens his mouth to ask what's wrong, but she shushes him.

He falls silent, watching her closely.

One of her hands is poised in the air where she raised it to hush him, hovering forgotten as she looks fixedly at the far wall; it's as though she's trying to listen to something, some distant sound just out of the range of hearing.

The impression's heightened when she says in very low tones: "Do you feel that?"

"Something's happening?" he murmurs, no louder.

She nods, still abstracted.

"Something..."

A sudden frown.

"Something's wrong."

"How so?"

Charlie shakes her head. "I don't know."

"Can you feel anything else?"

A long pause.

"No, but ... it's still there. Coming and going."

There's a tension starting in her posture, as she leans forward and puts down the near-empty mug.

"I don't know what's coming, but it might be a good idea to get you back safe before it starts."

Privately, Charles isn't sure that Milliways is safer than here.

But he nods agreement, straightening. "All right."

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ladyfirestarter - 2008-01-04 04:02 (UTC) - Expand

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