Resembling Cutlery on the Sofa || Jerane
It wasnât a derogatory laugh that he sent her way - it couldnât be, not when it was accompanied by a smile that dazzled her and caused stars to appear in her vision. He seemed to be relatively entertained by the choice of nickname that she had decided to give him, which was much better, she noted, than the original label she had decided for him upon meeting him. Back when he was discussing dreaming about hamburgers. Her delicate fingers, so different from the lethal talons they transformed to when upset, reached for the fork and the knife, her heart throbbing madly. How could it be that she was afraid to be judged for her somewhat odd eating habits? She couldnât help that she didnât want to eat like an animal just because she exploded into one.
"Thatâs the one," she said quite happily as she positioned the fork as one would a writing utensil in her right hand. âI donât know how many imaginary friends you do or donât have, but I like how it sounds." She pressed the back of her left hand, which held the knife as though it were a breakable instrument in her fingers, against her cheek, feeling the proverbial reddening warmth that seemed to have set in. âOh, did you? Oh, wow.. you didnât have to be so lovely, you know." In fact, it was him being so lovely which was so fascinating to her in the first place. He was continuously intriguing, with his lack of brash mannerisms and his seeming to not be intimidated by her own.Â
She listened to the way that his voice poured over her ears and coated them in a liquid sugar, her feet curling in on themselves as she set about performing her little rituals, secretly hanging on every word that he said. Usually she wouldnât be so quick to listen to someone that had the voice that could soothe the most angry of souls, but since she was one of those who harboured anger deep in her bones, so deep that it was more of a second skin than a separate emotion, it was much simpler to let herself be pulled into tranquility. âPaperworkâs boring," she offered as she started dissecting the meat upon her place, slicing it into elongated, vertical pieces, and consequently pulling the blade through them horizontally, creating small little cubes. âIâm in charge of all that stuff, paying attention to the little details and such, at my job. Not to mention that with school, thereâs tons of things to write and submit and all that."
It was almost odd speaking of her every day life and not fretting about her mutation exploding, or about a training session that went awry, or wondering what had happened when she looked around at the destruction of a room after a blackout. All of that devastation and all of those elements of that life seemed incredibly far away whilst she was in this safe haven. But it was quickly brought back to her attention when he casually mentioned the lights. She froze a little bit, a slice of meat speared into the tongs of her fork, which she promptly brought to her lips, and as she made her that, when she placed it in her mouth, it didnât touch the skin there, for that was one of the worst coated sensations in the entire world, she thought over what she could say. The truth? Yes, the truth. That was always the better option. âYeah, I heard about that. Except my news source told me that there were multiple ones." A little bit of a roguish grin appeared as she chewed, relishing in the different tastes that accosted her mouth. âThis is delicious. Who knew Christopher Robin was a chef?" The compliment was inserted casually into the middle of her speech. âThoseâre all pretty ridiculous theories, you know. But I mean, I guess if enough people are coming forward about it, maybe there is actually something to investigate? I dunno where youâd start; thereâs no evidence left behind."
The only reason she knew that - sheâd been one of those to arrive in the flashing lights, naked and confused, immediately injected with tranquillisers so as to prevent an unwarranted transformation. But the irony of the situation was that it had angered her more to be shot up with the medication than it would have if she had been left alone. She had been exhausted, disoriented, and ill; the last thing she had been thinking about was that familiar characteristic rush of annoyance and the shedding of her human skin to senselessly rip apart civilians. And yet there was another reason she liked him - he didnât seem to mind that she had cheerfully mentioned socking someone in the stomach. Or the face. Or whatever she had said. âI dunno if I threw it properly or not, but it certainly did the job. It broke his nose and not my fingers." She still remembered the rivulets of crimson on her knuckles from it. Sheâd washed her hand for an hour. âI mean, always room for improvement, I guess. Did feel like I was socking a boulder and not someoneâs face."Â
You much prefer ripping it off instead of punching it. And Iâm still not sure why you just didnât do that. Then the world would be rid of another nuisance.Â
She smiled through the shot of pain that travelled through her skull. âOh, I donât really like umbrellas anyway, even though I hadnât been expecting it to open up and weep outside like no tomorrow." She prodded another little cube of chicken and placed it in her mouth, meeting his gaze across the table. When the irises connected, it was as though there was no distance between them at all, so strong was the magnetic field that wanted to pull them together. The tension in the atmosphere snapped and crackled, and she quickly trained her eyes away, focusing on the way that the dark velvety liquid in the glass shifted this way and that ever so slightly. Grape juice wasnât nearly as intensifying to the senses as his eyes were. A small girlish giggle escaped at the progression of her thoughts. How silly she was. But her mind had wandered, as it always did. âAnd yes, Iâm in university." Theyâd decided at the facility that even though sheâd looked more like a high school student, she needed to be somewhere that would keep her much busier than those assignments would. âIn a dormitory. Of sorts. Ridiculous nonsense, I tell you. Not interested in the whole âcollege experienceâ thing but it seems to just bombard you from all sides."
"And as for being good to meâŚ" she continued this as more of an afterthought than anything, her eyes roaming around the dinner setting and the apartment and finally coming to rest on his face. âI think youâre doing a fine job of that already."
Christopher watched her as she gently picked up her fork and knife. She held them as though she was going to break them in between her tiny fingers. Deciding that he would ignore it - not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable - he continued to listen to her speak as he ate his dinner. Laughing gently, he raised his fork up and pointed at her gently. "Christopher Robin knew that he was a chef, little bird. And don't you forget it." He smiled and went back to his meal. Funny that she knew how there had been several sources. Not very many people knew about it unless they were family or close friends to someone from the station. Her eyes held his gaze and neither of them dared to drop the hold that they held over each other. The only analogy that he could come up with was the static cling of your clothes coming out of the dryer when you didn't put a dryer sheet in with your load. It wasn't romantic to say the least, but that's how he felt. He just wanted to be close to her. As close as possible, but he knew he wasn't going to be able to do that - not with food and knives in between them.
"If anyone saw anything, that would be where we would start. Also, there would be abnormalities around the neighbourhood. Or so we hope. Either way, now that there have been enough people voicing a concern, we have to investigate. And we have to investigate every little detail before we rule it a cold case." Chris shook his head and looked down at his food. "You don't want to hear about this. It's really quite boring and stupid, even to me. I didn't join so I could chase stupid rumours about UFOs and people who can time travel." He rolled his eyes and pointed to her plate. "Are you sure everything's alright? I'm sure I could make something else if you're not feeling up to it." He smiled genuinely across the table at her and leaned on his elbows. She was honestly one of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She didn't even realize how beautiful she actually was, and that just made her so much more attractive. Inhaling deeply, he reached for his drink to occupy himself for a few moments so he could regain his composure.Â
"What are you studying at University?" He was curious. Surely it had to be Psychology or Sociology of sorts, for she knew people - or at least himself - so well that he pin pointed almost every bit of his personality in a 10 minute conversation. "As for your punch, maybe you'd watch to come by the station? I could always teach you a few pointers while I'm at work." He couldn't stop himself from smiling at her. He couldn't help it. Something about her just made him smile. The genuine kind of smile, not the kind that he used on occasion to get his way. "I'd hate for you to break your wrist trying to punch someone out." Laughing, he nodded. "It does feel like punching a boulder and not a face, punching someone in the nose. While it does a lot of damage, usually people avoid the face because of how solid it is." Chris shrugged his shoulders and finished off the last of chicken, leaving his with his cheesy pasta.
He smiled as he looked up at her, their eyes connecting once more as she mumbled her confession about him doing a fine enough of a job of being good to her. "I hope you mean that and aren't just saying it because you want to make me feel better. I don't usually do this. I don't invite people over to my place. I don't usually feel true... Intimacy." Chris stumbled across his last few words and couldn't help but look down at his almost empty plate and scowl at himself. You are 26 years old. Get your shit together, Jericho. Seriously. This is pathetic. "Thank you, by the way." Chris mumbled as he looked up at Allison again. "For coming over. I was worried you wouldn't come."














