Wherein a word or phrase can be the start of something fun and wonderful.
Some are simply stand-alone ficlets or drabbles. Some link up with published stories. Some end up previews for things yet to come.
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"Gonna be late."
It was an observation that he didn't appreciate being highlighted. Particularly by the one making it. He draws in a deep, controlled breath, exhaling slowly as he turns his head to silently glare at Solomon.
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It was Solomon riding shotgun this trip. Solomon that had chosen the route. Ergo - it was Solomon's faultthey were currently hemmed in by vehicles. Tinted windows and bulletproof glass aside their current situation was like presenting those who might wish her ill a gift wrapped present.
Wisely, Solomon keeps his mouth shut, refraining from digging his hole any deeper.
"Wow, Sol. I think you got Mr. Stoic to blow a little steam out of his ears just then."
Her fingertips press into his shoulder where she grips the seat-back of his seat to pull herself part of the way into the space between the two front seats. He barely resists the urge to turn further so that he can issue a glare in her direction, too. But he shakes free of the urge and sits back in the driver's seat again, facing forward. He feels doomed to stare at the back of the range rover that hasn't moved - nowhere to go - for the better part of half an hour.
Her voice now originates closer to his ear. Clearly she's unbuckled. "Do us a favor and breathe. We'll get there when we get there."
How reassuring.
He tips his head down, letting his eyes slide to examine her fingernails, bright against his dark suit, but not allowing his focus to drift further. Dangerous enough, the way she's sitting. Curves twisted just so. It would be easy to let his resolve slip again, as close as they are. Swallowing, he presses his teeth together for a second, "Please sit back, miss."
He can feel the way she's staring at him but refuses to lift his eyes to meet hers. He waits her out, until she huffs and pushes off his seat, rocking him slightly as she settles into the seat behind him again. "Right," she says, "So very necessary for how fast we're going. How dangerous."
He knows what faces she's making without needing the aid of the rear view mirror to confirm them. He'd laugh about it, snap something right back at her, but after what passed between them on his birthday... He's trying to keep distinctions clear in his head.
Instead, he presses his lips together, pursing them before daring to speak, "It's for your safety, mi–"
"Sol," she interrupts, talking over his reply, "You're the reasonable one. Make him stop calling me that."
Solomon, already in the hot seat over the chosen route, knows better than to attempt anything of the sort. He just laughs and shakes his head.
