sixwordstories | (no subject)

[ a steady tapping echoes from across the room, bare fingertips on partially gloved hands a blur over the keyboard of a worn-in laptop. she does not look up as she addresses him. ]

Your body mass is at least twice my own, for keeping warm.

[ one hand skims over the touch pad, scrolling. ]

Yet you seem to complain enough for two people.

Edited 2012-03-08 05:57 (UTC)

[He just stares over at her, silent for a moment, sullen. Cold. His shoulders are still shuddering every now and then from the cold.]

You've got less of you to warm up.

[Because that logic totally works.]

And you don't hear me complaining. [ she leans over to adjust a signal jamming device — and then announces, simply, as if happy to make the situation worse, ] It will freeze tonight.

[ the next moment sees tekla clicking her mouse, probably to close a document, before standing up and crossing to the grate. the fire there is sputtering, nearly dead; she shoves in a block of wood from the small waiting pile, tosses a page or two of crumpled newspaper in after it, and stokes it back to some semblance of life. once finished, she moves wordlessly back to her seat with one meaningful, flat glance at him. it clearly translates to, There. You big baby. ]

[Her last comment gets him huffing out a sigh of resignation, all but defeated by this consistently sucky weather. He's not made for the bitter cold of the countryside, he's used to warmed concrete and car fumes, steaming grates and central heating.

All in all, he's a little... soft.]

When hasn't it frozen over night?

[There might just be some sulking going on as he slinks like a dejected dog over to the fire, bending down in front of it to warm his hands.]

[ tekla quirks one bleached, judgmental eyebrow at him. ]

If you'd rather go back...

[ she can tell he wouldn't, but she seems to be in the mood to bait him. just a little. ]

I've got a job to do.

[And he takes his work seriously. As much as he's got the opportunity to spend his time out here twiddling his thumbs and just lying about the end result, he can't help his own drive to want to carry on.]

Would you rather go back?

[ she turns back to her computer as she replies, curt, matter-of-fact. ]

Of course not.

Then I suppose we're in this together.

[Tucking his hands under his arms as he carefully slides onto the floor, still directly in front of the fire, muttering out as a sarcastic sort of afterthought;] Lucky you. [Because he's feeling sorry for himself okay :c]

[ tekla is silent again, the quick whisper of keys tapping the only response to his sarcasm for several moments. ]

...You should eat something.

[ You'll feel better, would be her unspoken logic. she can only hope he'll catch on and, consequently, stop whining at her. ]

[A soft grunt is about the level of his agreement, legs and arms crossed, shoulders hunched, while he peers off towards the open kitchen.]

Did you want anything?

[ she has a small suspicion that, if she assented, he'd try to cajole her into fetching his food for him, hunkered dolefully down on the floor as he is. her idea of a meaningful snack is a cup of coffee and two or three Lucky Strikes. so, instead, Tekla lifts up her half-full coffee mug as a simple indication that she's more than fine, eyes still on the screen. ]

[Oh fine, he's getting up, with a groan of effort as he pushes himself upright and steps away from the nice warm fire. Thankfully the kitchen is right by them so he's never straying too far from the fire. While he's up he puts the kettle on and drags out some cheese, cucumber and rye bread, dutifully slicing it all and plating it in his own time.]

There's more than enough for two.

[ while he works away, she pulls out one cigarette from the pack laying neglected next to her laptop, fishing her lighter out of her pocket soon after. it's lit and lifted to her mouth in a moment, held between her lips as she speaks. ]

Good, [ is apparently her smartass reply, ignoring the invitation, ] apparently you need all the fat you can pack on in this weather.

I thought I could do with cutting down. [Not that he's big, but he's getting to that age where he's got to start being more careful with all this food and cigarettes. Speaking of...]

Got a spare one?

[Padding over to the table, plate in hand, eyeing up the cigarette at her lips.]

[ she likes that he isn't really the type to be fazed by her digs. maybe it's a reward for that when, after taking a drag of her own cigarette, she consents to tapping the pack against one hand and sliding out another for him. she doesn't even ask how he's managed to run out before her when she extends the cigarette toward him. ]

[He takes it with a lazy smile, all gratitude and shivers as he drags out his own lighter from his pocket flicking it with a quivering hand, cigarette between his lips.]

Normally I wouldn't condone smoking indoors...

[ she raises her pierced eyebrow at him again, slowly exhaling a plume of smoke around a mocking suggestion she knows he won't take: ]

You can always open a window.

[Mikael scoffs in return, choking out a heavy plume of smoke as he does so.] Not fucking likely. Did I forget to mention I'm cold?

[ tapping ash lightly into the cheap, plastic tray sitting by the pack of cigarettes, she returns to her work with the slightest derisive twitch at one corner of her lips. it's more expression than she's shown in at least the past several hours. ]

You're like a child.

[He'll take what he can get, mirroring the minor quirk of her lips to allow a rather more noticeable smirk to creep up at the corner of his own, cigarette still dangling loosely from between the curl of amusement. Leaving his food for the moment (eating will come after his cigarette) he drags his chair around towards her, trying to get a look at the laptop without getting too close, while rubbing a hand thoughtfully against a few days worth of stubble that's gracing his jawline.]

[ she doesn't visibly stiffen or even lean away from him, and she doesn't angle the monitor out of his line of sight, but she does seem much more still than she was a moment ago, cigarette still poised over the ashtray. ]

Don't you have your own share of the work to finish.

[He barely notices what he's doing until he catches onto her reactions, used to the close quarters and leaning over one another's shoulders in journalism. Within seconds he's withdrawing, though without making a scene, nothing more than a silent understanding.]

No harm in comparing notes.

And your notes? Perhaps you'd like to give me a look.

Can't you look at those yourself? [A vague wave at her computer. He's onto you, little hacker.]

[ so much for that. she tries another tactic. ]

There is one thing I can't decrypt. Your chicken-scratch, handwritten notes.

[Oh, well that? That gets a soft snort of amusement, a well meant laugh that only lasts mere seconds, while his gaze flicks towards a stack of well-worn notebooks.]

Foiled at last, hm?

[ he thinks he's bested her, does he? she fixes him with eyes narrowed just the slightest bit, albeit not exactly sour. the laughter doesn't provoke her as much as it might have, once. ]

Annoyed, I think, is the better term.

[He can't help but be amused by the mild glare, smiling in return as he stubs out his cigarette and stretches to reach one of his notebooks.]

You don't want to know what half of this say.

[ she chooses not to comment on his assumptions about what she does or does not want. exhaling a not-at-all irritable puff of smoke, she says instead: ]

And why is that. Do they contain a collection of personally written fanfiction?

[ her derision barely conceals the level of interest she holds while watching his movement toward the notebook with sharp eyes. ]

Precisely that.

[Who this fanfiction about is to remain forever a secret.

But he sees her watchful gaze, keen and catlike, choosing to lower the notebook onto the table and place a hand on top of it.]

You're an info junkie, you know that?

(Lisbeth barely even feels the cold. Propped up on the kitchen counter, her feet in the sink and the window partially open, she takes a long drag off her cigarette, exhaling in a thin, curling stream) It won't last.

[Mikael's been trying to distract himself with the board for the past hour, holding on to some vain hope that keeping his mind occupied will somehow warm him up. So far it hasn't worked, but he's nothing if not determined.

The fire is already stoked, the open window probably isn't helping.]

You weren't even here for the worst of it.

(no subject)

just going to confuse him for great justice mmk.

he might just manage... maybe :|a

haha ^__^b

as long as there's someone to complain to

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