Imagine Requests - Gally

Distant Mountain (for MemeQueen1542)

Requested by: MemeQueen1542 

Enjoy! ^U^

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"Curro, hand it over," Gally demands in that deep, haughty tone I've grown to know and despise.

I glare up at him. Why is he always so impossible?

"No," I reply.

"Curro!" Gally's voice is taking on an edge, even more than usual. He steps closer, holding out his hand. I pull back, shaking my head and clutching the object close, out of his reach.

"You two a' it again?" I turn at Newt's familiar, thickly-accented voice as he approaches from the direction of the garden. "Ever consider givin' it a rest sometime?"

"She took my knife!" Gally declares, returning the glare I'm giving him without looking Newt's way.

"I guess that's a no," Newt mumbles, ladling out some fresh water from the bucket beside the Med-jack hut.

I look for an escape, but Gally is blocking my way with his boots firmly planted in the trodden grass. Figures. I know he's doing it on purpose. I also know that he won't move until I hand over the knife, but that's not happening.

"Newt!" Gally prompted, still barring my path.

I glance over as Newt drags a hand across his mouth and replaces the ladle. "What?"

"You're second in command," Gally reminds him.

"Really?" Newt looks surprised. "Wow. You should've told me that ages ago. I could have got a lot more done around here."

I don't bother holding back the chuckle that escapes, feeling even more pleased at the disgruntled expression the situation provokes from Gally. He's on the verge of furious. I find it amusing.

"Make her give it back!" he shouts.

Newt sighs, then turns to me. I retreat a step, still clutching the knife tightly, and shake my head at the silent prompting in his kind eyes.

"No," I state.

"She's as stubborn as a jacked griever!" Gally hollers.

"Slim it!" I yell back.

"Curro," Newt entreats.

I can tell that Newt is trying to calm the situation--like he always does. It's not that I'm ungrateful. Out of all the boys in the Glade, Newt is the only one who is patient enough to maintain a decent conversation with. But, even though I appreciate Newt's kindheartedness, I'm not about to hand over the knife that I worked so hard for to that red-headed oaf of a Slinthead barring my way.

"No," I repeat, shaking my head. "I..." I risk a glance at Gally before returning my gaze to Newt. "I need it."

"What could you possibly need my knife for?" Gally growls.

"That's none of your business!" I snap back.

The lines in Gally's forehead deepen, and he opens his mouth to respond, but Newt cuts in before he has the chance.

"Just let her hold on to it for a while," he suggests. "She'll give it back when she's done."

"Oh sure, let her take it," Gally gripes. "It's not like I need it or anything."

"You'll give it back when you're done?" Newt checked, staring at me.

I consider this. When I'm done. That's such a loose term. Done with my project or done needing it in general? Because a knife is always handy to have around...