#quill's random typing

[handwithquill]

So, this is my packing list for Rumbelle Con.

4 sets of underclothes 4 shirts 2-3 pairs of pants pair of pajamas Brush/comb toothpaste/brush deodorant hand lotion

My Mom keeps giving me a side looks, likes she thinks I'm not taking enough. but...it's only four days!

she goes to the DR for a week every year with the church and takes a checked bag and a carry on. I've always thought that was too much!

Sigh

[handwithquill]

Don't ask me what this is. I don't know. I was minding my own business, reading fic, when a scene pops in my head. It's amazingly clear and it's "just a scene". So I typed it up.

“You are such a fucking hypocrite!” He hissed.

“Wh—what?” She could feel the muscles in her face twitch as she felt her smile fall.

“A hypocrite! You come bouncing in her every morning, chattering like an excited chipmunk on speed, barfing rainbows and “spreading a little good cheer”. And if I say anything, that you need to calm down, be more serious, I get a lecture about how it's just how you are and I have to except that as we have to work together. But you! You get to tell me how to be! You get to tell me to cheer up, smile, be happy for once. You don't have to except that this is how I am. How I like to be!"

"But I-"

"No," he continues without hearing her, "I have to change for you! Here!” He threw the file down on her desk and he watched as her shocked eyes fell to it, before raising to his again. “Thank fuck that this project is done and you don't have to “work on fixing my grumpy attitude”

Turning on his heal, he stalked back to his own cubical, glad it was in the far corner, away from most others. Settling a pair of earphones on his head, he drowned out the idle chatter that sprung up as the others of the floor tried to get through their boring day, and started on the work that piled up when he got pulled for that stupid project.

He didn't know how much time had passed when he sat up to stretch. It had to be close to quitting time for the masses, but he still had quite a backlog that had to be finished by Friday. He had opened the next file when a shadow appeared in the opening of his cubical. He ignored it and it disappeared.

He ignored it when it appeared the next day as well.

And the next.

And the day after that.

He only realized it didn't appear the following day when it was back on Friday. This time she leaned in and placed a cup of shitty break room coffee by his keyboard. He finished the paragraph before he looked up.

She stood there, lip held between her teeth as her hand nervously twisted her own cup.

“Yes?”

“I'm sorry.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“You are right. No one should have be what they are not for someone else.” She opened her mouth again, hesitated, closed her mouth and turned away. He watched her take a few steps before she turned back. “I asked to work with you on this project.”

His eyebrow raised again.

“It's just, I know I'm new, but I love this job. I love working with everybody and you're always out here.” She waved to indicated the space between him and the nearest workspace. “You never join in any conversations and you never smile. Our work is amazing and you never smile. I thought—“ She shrugged. “I thought, maybe if we worked together, I could get to know you, maybe get you to smile. That's all I wanted.” she flashes a watery smile at him. “I'll, uh, see you Monday?”

She turns again and he watches her until the elevator doors hid her from sight.