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kittydesadeThat's not really relevant to anything except that the commercial was on just now. I like that commercial. It amuses me so.
Okay, so, I got off my ass and forced myself to write a 1,000 word drabble. I think I'm just going to keep doing that until I can get back in the writing vein. And well, if I can't, the next entry will start out with a Ricky 3 quote.
“Have you ever noticed…” Amber started to ask with her mouth full, “That every time something bad happens there seems to be an awful lot of popcorn and brownies going around in this house?”
Merry pillowed her.
“No, seriously…” Amber ducked the pillow and kept munching, grabbing Merry’s bowl while her hands were occupied. “It’s like a bad habit or something. A chocolate habit. Mmmph…” Merry threw her a mock-glare as she stuffed her mouth full of popcorn and wrapped arms and legs around the bowl. “I swear, it’s like that thing they keep talking about how people eat more when they’re depressed. This house is the living epitome of it.”
“Yeah, but you don’t see any of us gaining a lot of weight,” Laurel said calmly, tossing popcorn at both the girls on the couch.
Merry gave up on trying to get her popcorn back, and sprawled over her end. “That’s because the guys eat it all. And all the guys who live in this house have hyperactive metabolisms. I swear, I don’t know where Dennis puts it all. Or Father, for that matter.”
Laurel snorted. “He’s congenitally stereoptyical. He has to maintain his image.”
Amber burst into giggles at the thought, inadvertently spraying popcorn crumbs everywhere. “Dammit, Laurel…”
“Maybe that’s it…” Merry mused, her feet propped up on the wall and her head dangling over the edge of the couch. “In that case I have no idea what Den’s excuse is. I’m going to explode in a pile of marshmallow and chocolate if I eat one more brownie…”
“Well, that’s not going to happen. All the brownies are gone.”
“What?!” Amber sat up and set the popcorn bowl aside, and Merry just plain fell off the couch. Laurel nodded, pointing at the empty tray.
“Dennis did a drive-by sneak in. Well, a walk-by sneak in.”
Amber and Merry exchanged a look and pounded off up the stairs. Eventually Laurel could hear them running through the ‘secret’ passage. “Dammit, Dennis…!”
Laurel chuckled, bringing out the five or six brownies she’d stashed behind her, and proceeded to munch calmly. Down the hall she heard the door open and close quietly, and then the sound of footsteps. Someone was home.
“Sebastian?”
“Hello Laurel.”
His voice was calm, even, no sign of anything untoward or disturbing that might have happened while he was on a three-day assignment with Erik. Not that he would deny anything if Laurel asked him. But it was somehow in Sebastian’s nature to take everything in easy stride, from Dennis’s arrival, full of incident, to Laurel’s stormy romances and the hysterics that followed. It was one of the things she enjoyed most about visiting the household. That and the sheer peace and quiet. It made a drastic change from her own home.
“Where are…” he came out from the kitchen with a tray of some random assortment of pasta noodles and the standard jar of tomato sauce; the quick and easy dinner.
“Upstairs.” Laurel rolled her eyes ceilingward. “Dennis stole the last brownie and Merry and Amber are chasing him down… as though they’ll want the brownie by the time everyone’s done with it.”
Sebastian smiled quietly. He did nearly everything quietly. “Well, I imagine it’s the principle of the thing.”
Laurel nodded, managing to keep a straight face. “Of course.”
“And how is your latest conquest?”
Laurel nearly choked on her brownie, thanking the powers that she hadn’t actually taken that gulp of milk she’d been about to drink. “My latest…”
“Well, your latest interest, then.”
She opened her mouth… closed it. Sighed and put down the brownie. Nothing really got by Sebastian for long, no matter how much he might act like it didn’t exist. He had the Victorian perception of scandal and incident, and the Victorian talent for passing by the most outlandish and conspicuous scenes without so much as raising an eyebrow or dropping a comment.
“I don’t know. Frankly, I’m not even sure it’s still a good idea.”
Sebastian nodded. Mercifully, since she was talking to the older man, that was the end of it. “Erik sends his regards. Not, of course, in so many words.”
She chuckled. “Considering Erik I imagine what he said was ‘grunt’… but the sentiment is appreciated. How is he doing?”
Laurel had expected the usual sigh and brief five-sentence summation of Erik’s rather insular life. She hadn’t expected the sobering expression and worried frown. “Not as well as usual, I’m afraid. There’s been an incident regarding his foster daughter, who’s away at university at the moment. She spent the summer at his home recovering from an assault…”
Rape, Laurel translated from the Victorian, and frowned too.
“… and he’s very worried about her. None of us really have any sort of idea what it might be like… being somewhat conspicuously absent of young women, except for you three.”
Laurel nodded slowly, reaching out and laying a hand on the other man’s forearm, trying to be comforting. “Would you like us to talk to her? Or at least some of us… it’s not … well. There’s not much to be said. But… it might help.”
Sebastian nodded slowly. “It certainly can’t hurt. And you three would certainly be a more sympathetic audience than a cluster of crotchety old men with more magic than sense. Thank you.”
More silence. Everything had been so tense, so chaotic lately, that their usual conversation topics seemed that much more trivial and unimportant, especially in the wake of Sebastian’s latest revelation. Laurel fiddled with her napkin, spilling the crumbs of the brownies into her lap, and stared at them. Perhaps, a small and distant voice in her mind seemed to say, she could read fortunes in them as though they were tea leaves. Not that she had ever been very good at reading the tea leaves. After a little while she stood up, brushing the crumbs into a napkin, and piled the dishes on the plate. Maybe it would all make sense tomorrow.
Okay, so, I got off my ass and forced myself to write a 1,000 word drabble. I think I'm just going to keep doing that until I can get back in the writing vein. And well, if I can't, the next entry will start out with a Ricky 3 quote.
“Have you ever noticed…” Amber started to ask with her mouth full, “That every time something bad happens there seems to be an awful lot of popcorn and brownies going around in this house?”
Merry pillowed her.
“No, seriously…” Amber ducked the pillow and kept munching, grabbing Merry’s bowl while her hands were occupied. “It’s like a bad habit or something. A chocolate habit. Mmmph…” Merry threw her a mock-glare as she stuffed her mouth full of popcorn and wrapped arms and legs around the bowl. “I swear, it’s like that thing they keep talking about how people eat more when they’re depressed. This house is the living epitome of it.”
“Yeah, but you don’t see any of us gaining a lot of weight,” Laurel said calmly, tossing popcorn at both the girls on the couch.
Merry gave up on trying to get her popcorn back, and sprawled over her end. “That’s because the guys eat it all. And all the guys who live in this house have hyperactive metabolisms. I swear, I don’t know where Dennis puts it all. Or Father, for that matter.”
Laurel snorted. “He’s congenitally stereoptyical. He has to maintain his image.”
Amber burst into giggles at the thought, inadvertently spraying popcorn crumbs everywhere. “Dammit, Laurel…”
“Maybe that’s it…” Merry mused, her feet propped up on the wall and her head dangling over the edge of the couch. “In that case I have no idea what Den’s excuse is. I’m going to explode in a pile of marshmallow and chocolate if I eat one more brownie…”
“Well, that’s not going to happen. All the brownies are gone.”
“What?!” Amber sat up and set the popcorn bowl aside, and Merry just plain fell off the couch. Laurel nodded, pointing at the empty tray.
“Dennis did a drive-by sneak in. Well, a walk-by sneak in.”
Amber and Merry exchanged a look and pounded off up the stairs. Eventually Laurel could hear them running through the ‘secret’ passage. “Dammit, Dennis…!”
Laurel chuckled, bringing out the five or six brownies she’d stashed behind her, and proceeded to munch calmly. Down the hall she heard the door open and close quietly, and then the sound of footsteps. Someone was home.
“Sebastian?”
“Hello Laurel.”
His voice was calm, even, no sign of anything untoward or disturbing that might have happened while he was on a three-day assignment with Erik. Not that he would deny anything if Laurel asked him. But it was somehow in Sebastian’s nature to take everything in easy stride, from Dennis’s arrival, full of incident, to Laurel’s stormy romances and the hysterics that followed. It was one of the things she enjoyed most about visiting the household. That and the sheer peace and quiet. It made a drastic change from her own home.
“Where are…” he came out from the kitchen with a tray of some random assortment of pasta noodles and the standard jar of tomato sauce; the quick and easy dinner.
“Upstairs.” Laurel rolled her eyes ceilingward. “Dennis stole the last brownie and Merry and Amber are chasing him down… as though they’ll want the brownie by the time everyone’s done with it.”
Sebastian smiled quietly. He did nearly everything quietly. “Well, I imagine it’s the principle of the thing.”
Laurel nodded, managing to keep a straight face. “Of course.”
“And how is your latest conquest?”
Laurel nearly choked on her brownie, thanking the powers that she hadn’t actually taken that gulp of milk she’d been about to drink. “My latest…”
“Well, your latest interest, then.”
She opened her mouth… closed it. Sighed and put down the brownie. Nothing really got by Sebastian for long, no matter how much he might act like it didn’t exist. He had the Victorian perception of scandal and incident, and the Victorian talent for passing by the most outlandish and conspicuous scenes without so much as raising an eyebrow or dropping a comment.
“I don’t know. Frankly, I’m not even sure it’s still a good idea.”
Sebastian nodded. Mercifully, since she was talking to the older man, that was the end of it. “Erik sends his regards. Not, of course, in so many words.”
She chuckled. “Considering Erik I imagine what he said was ‘grunt’… but the sentiment is appreciated. How is he doing?”
Laurel had expected the usual sigh and brief five-sentence summation of Erik’s rather insular life. She hadn’t expected the sobering expression and worried frown. “Not as well as usual, I’m afraid. There’s been an incident regarding his foster daughter, who’s away at university at the moment. She spent the summer at his home recovering from an assault…”
Rape, Laurel translated from the Victorian, and frowned too.
“… and he’s very worried about her. None of us really have any sort of idea what it might be like… being somewhat conspicuously absent of young women, except for you three.”
Laurel nodded slowly, reaching out and laying a hand on the other man’s forearm, trying to be comforting. “Would you like us to talk to her? Or at least some of us… it’s not … well. There’s not much to be said. But… it might help.”
Sebastian nodded slowly. “It certainly can’t hurt. And you three would certainly be a more sympathetic audience than a cluster of crotchety old men with more magic than sense. Thank you.”
More silence. Everything had been so tense, so chaotic lately, that their usual conversation topics seemed that much more trivial and unimportant, especially in the wake of Sebastian’s latest revelation. Laurel fiddled with her napkin, spilling the crumbs of the brownies into her lap, and stared at them. Perhaps, a small and distant voice in her mind seemed to say, she could read fortunes in them as though they were tea leaves. Not that she had ever been very good at reading the tea leaves. After a little while she stood up, brushing the crumbs into a napkin, and piled the dishes on the plate. Maybe it would all make sense tomorrow.
