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Dice Set #25: Purple and Teal
Drabble #262
II: try to say goodbye
Considering Martin’s track record, Duxford had gone almost freakishly well. The day had, fittingly, flown by, and Martin had enjoyed being able to share his extra knowledge - the stuff the information boards left out - with someone who listened with interest, not thinly-veiled boredom. (That would’ve been a win even if he didn’t really, really like her.)
All that remained now was to try and say goodbye without coming off as expectant or dismissive or clingy or aloof or dull or strange and God, was he supposed to kiss her, or—
She solved that one by kissing him first.
Old Dice Staging Methods: Batch #5
Drabble #267
VII: in sickness
She takes his hand. In public. Herc is so surprised that for a moment he forgets why they're here, and if he wonders if that was her plan.
When his name's called, he doesn't dare ask if she's coming in with him - just keeps their hands clasped, lets her follow.
"Whatever happens, Herc," she says, under her breath, as they go through the door. She doesn't add anything more - she doesn't have to. He hears it.
The doctor's tone is upbeat. Words like benign and operable ring out like silver bells. Herc squeezes Carolyn's hand, a silent celebration.
Drabble #263
III: find adventure anywhere
"There's a cliché about people who always know exactly how to cheer someone up, as if they're... psychic or something. But with you, I love that you don't always know. That even when it takes you hours to get a smile out of me... or Douglas, for that matter - you don't give up. You find a way."
"Let's see, what else? I love that you can find adventure anywhere, even when the rest of us are bored to tears. I love that you can't hear a bird singing in a tree without joining in. I love - well, you."
Drabble #266
VI: after the storm
"I'm sorry, Arthur. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."
He slips an arm through hers. "That's all right! I was getting in the way a bit. I might have shouted at me, too."
"No, you wouldn't."
"I might have! I can be quite scary sometimes."
She thinks back to the mostly-chocolate missile, the anger flashing in his eyes, and how even then it had all been for her, never himself.
"Maybe. But it's not as if I apologise often, Arthur, so just enjoy it, don't try and counter everything I say."
He mimes zipping his lips together. "Mnm-phhmnm."
Drabble #265
V: whimper
Where aeroplanes are involved, going out with a whimper is immensely preferable to a bang, because the former implies much less wreckage and passenger death than the latter. Whimpers don’t give you third degree burns, as a rule, or slam you into the side of a mountain.
But nevertheless… MJN cannot end here.
Douglas will not have it.
He summons every ounce of his cunning, and breaks out into a run towards the one man he wants to be furthest away from, as long as he lives.
“Mr Shappey!”
He’s going to go down fighting, or he’s never going down.
Drabble #264
IV: reflection
“Hmmm.”
“Can you tell it’s you?”
“Well, based on context, yes. It’s just… this wasn’t really what I meant.”
“Wasn’t it? I can rub it out, it’s only dust. I’ll wipe it really carefully so there’s still a bit left to draw the new one with.”
“…I’m going to have to spell this out, aren’t I?”
“What, underneath?”
“No, no. Arthur. When I say I want to be able to see my face in something, I mean it should be clean enough to see my reflection. It’s not a request for a portrait.”
“Oh! Well next time, just say that!”
