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Rosalind Lutece

Doctor of physics, professor at Recollé University.

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Not with money. With favors. Or dares, or exchanges . . .

[Now the rice is done. She tugs it off the burner and glances over at him curiously.]

Anything that was low stakes enough that we didn't mind losing, but high stakes enough that we'd be invested in the first place. Now what?

Ah. Now you'll want to put it on a plate and spread it out to sit and cool a bit, while you work on the rest here.

[Which is a distraction he's grateful for, because favors or dares or exchanges sounds like one of those things that maybe someone like him shouldn't be getting into with someone like her in the middle of an already-emotional night.]

I'll bet you were a devil when it came to dares. You have the creative mind for it.

Certainly she ended up getting to know some of our neighbors better. I liked--

[Ah. She hesitates, then focuses a little too hard on the plate and spreading the rice out evenly.]

Well. I was fond of getting her to do things, yes. Hers were more along the lines of my doing her homework for her.

It's a good thing we're not exchanging dares and favors, then. Surely it's a conflict of interest of the highest order, to have a professor doing my homework for me.

[Hopefully that will make her laugh, anyway. With the rice done, he starts getting together the things they'll need to properly fry it for the omurice.]

And I really can't think of anything I'd have you do, anyway. So I suppose I'd be a rather poor sport at that sort of wager.

[She doesn't laugh, but she does smile, so that's something.]

Really? And here I thought you were far more creative than that.

...On a night like this, it'd feel like taking advantage of you.

[Which is decidedly not worth laughing about, but it's earnest in its honesty.]

Would a game like that really serve as a distraction for you?

. . . no. Not tonight.

[She finally meets his gaze.]

I was simply curious, that's all. Speaking more of in the hypothetical, not . . . not anything that we ought to do tonight.

Mm. I see. But I still think we should play rummy — for bragging rights, if nothing else, and with a side of comfort food to accompany it while we do.

[Her face looks so wrong with gray eyes. It's such a slight and inconsequential change, except that somehow it still manages to change everything.]

All right. Though I hope you're not preparing yourself to brag; I'm very good at this game, Fawkes.

[A few seconds pass, and she smiles again: tiredly, yes, but fondly.]

Simply because you beat me in video games is no indication of how you'll fare now.

What fun would a game be if I weren't playing to try to topple a worthy opponent?

I'm looking forward to matching wits with you.

Edited 2017-06-04 20:32 (UTC)

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