“I’m always on all fours, trying to squeeze into those tight spaces.” She laughs lightly as her hands flutter about in explanation, like she isn’t pouring all of this horrible innuendo out into the air. “You wouldn’t believe the kinds of things this gal has to tinker with; stuff you wouldn’t even think existed!”
“Hah.” His voice finally cracks, privately piecing together ‘dog’ and ‘all fours’ and ‘style’. That was what O’Brian had called it, right? Dog-style? Dogged-style? “You oughta… um…”
“Hm?” She interrupts, catching his eye as she chastely licks leftover orange juice from the cleft just above her upper lip.
“I was saying,” He pauses warily, glancing at the kitchen door as he hears Freddie groan loudly—the usual sound that follows ‘Do your chores.’ or ‘How is school?’. “You oughta talk to Wally Mack about borrowing some knee pads.”
It is her turn to draw a blank, though she manages to look confused in such a way that Herman feels idiotic and inadequate to the world. He nearly glares at her.
“He’s the uh… Well isn’t he the new couch for the Little League?”
“Yes.” She snorts in disgust, reminding Herman that Wally Mack isn’t very well liked by Freddie and Kate. “But what does that have to do with anything, Mr. Gomez?”
He curls his toes at the last note: Mr. Gomez. He likes the sound of it, or maybe the way she says it. Not like a teenage girl talking to her boyfriend’s dad, more like a young woman teasing a colleague.
At this point, however, the whole conversation has been upended by his odd way of approaching social interactions—perhaps it’s the married man attempting to befuddle this girl’s strange fascination with him, before she becomes embarrassed by rejection.
“Well, suppose you wore knee pads to your next fix-‘er-up,” He leans forward with a smile, his previous awkward manner lightening a tad as Freddie re-enters the room with a redness to his face that speaks frustration in it’s usual volumes. What a guy… “Don’t those ballplayers wear kneepads Freddie? Well, anyway, don’t you think that if you wore some, you could end a work day with less pain and… more gain!”
Freddie groans once more, leaning over to let his forehead fall against the table loudly. “Pop, come on!”
“What?” Herman frowns, attempting to make himself heard over Kate’s booming laugh. “I think that’s a great idea, what do you think Pep?”
Pepper blinks upon her address, touching a hand to her neck and letting her mouth bob open in confusion.
“I think it’s marvelous.” Kate finally comes up for air, her face as red as her lipstick and her eyes watering. “Just swell, Mr. Gomez. Truly.”
“You think so?” Herman smiles back at her, raising his brow at Freddie. “See pal? She thinks so.”
“It’s just—!” Freddie looks to be about to bust a damn vein, he’s so busy whirling his head between his father and a giggling Kate that he doesn’t seem to be breathing too well. “Do you have to talk like that dad?”
“Talk like what?” Herman sighs, watching with a touch of disappointment as Kate stands up in a flurry and straightens her vault suit with plucks and tugs. Most things get fixed around her and Herman finds himself growing dangerously accustomed to Pep’s momentary calm and Freddie’s beaming face. It’s all fleeting right before his eyes, though: Freddie is getting overtly flustered by his embarrassment and Pepper’s getting meek and grey again at his side, her eyes following Kate’s movements with exact precision. “I was just saying—,”
“Well!” Kate’s voice is thunder as she throws her hands up in dramatics. “I’m off! I promised my dad I’d help him with the auto-doc; try to get it up and running again and all that.” She turns to Freddie before he can protest. “You wanna walk me home?”
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timeasmymeasure
Criminal 2b/?
Date: 2012-07-13 09:12 am (UTC)“Hah.” His voice finally cracks, privately piecing together ‘dog’ and ‘all fours’ and ‘style’. That was what O’Brian had called it, right? Dog-style? Dogged-style? “You oughta… um…”
“Hm?” She interrupts, catching his eye as she chastely licks leftover orange juice from the cleft just above her upper lip.
“I was saying,” He pauses warily, glancing at the kitchen door as he hears Freddie groan loudly—the usual sound that follows ‘Do your chores.’ or ‘How is school?’. “You oughta talk to Wally Mack about borrowing some knee pads.”
It is her turn to draw a blank, though she manages to look confused in such a way that Herman feels idiotic and inadequate to the world. He nearly glares at her.
“He’s the uh… Well isn’t he the new couch for the Little League?”
“Yes.” She snorts in disgust, reminding Herman that Wally Mack isn’t very well liked by Freddie and Kate. “But what does that have to do with anything, Mr. Gomez?”
He curls his toes at the last note: Mr. Gomez. He likes the sound of it, or maybe the way she says it. Not like a teenage girl talking to her boyfriend’s dad, more like a young woman teasing a colleague.
At this point, however, the whole conversation has been upended by his odd way of approaching social interactions—perhaps it’s the married man attempting to befuddle this girl’s strange fascination with him, before she becomes embarrassed by rejection.
“Well, suppose you wore knee pads to your next fix-‘er-up,” He leans forward with a smile, his previous awkward manner lightening a tad as Freddie re-enters the room with a redness to his face that speaks frustration in it’s usual volumes. What a guy… “Don’t those ballplayers wear kneepads Freddie? Well, anyway, don’t you think that if you wore some, you could end a work day with less pain and… more gain!”
Freddie groans once more, leaning over to let his forehead fall against the table loudly. “Pop, come on!”
“What?” Herman frowns, attempting to make himself heard over Kate’s booming laugh. “I think that’s a great idea, what do you think Pep?”
Pepper blinks upon her address, touching a hand to her neck and letting her mouth bob open in confusion.
“I think it’s marvelous.” Kate finally comes up for air, her face as red as her lipstick and her eyes watering. “Just swell, Mr. Gomez. Truly.”
“You think so?” Herman smiles back at her, raising his brow at Freddie. “See pal? She thinks so.”
“It’s just—!” Freddie looks to be about to bust a damn vein, he’s so busy whirling his head between his father and a giggling Kate that he doesn’t seem to be breathing too well. “Do you have to talk like that dad?”
“Talk like what?” Herman sighs, watching with a touch of disappointment as Kate stands up in a flurry and straightens her vault suit with plucks and tugs. Most things get fixed around her and Herman finds himself growing dangerously accustomed to Pep’s momentary calm and Freddie’s beaming face. It’s all fleeting right before his eyes, though: Freddie is getting overtly flustered by his embarrassment and Pepper’s getting meek and grey again at his side, her eyes following Kate’s movements with exact precision. “I was just saying—,”
“Well!” Kate’s voice is thunder as she throws her hands up in dramatics. “I’m off! I promised my dad I’d help him with the auto-doc; try to get it up and running again and all that.” She turns to Freddie before he can protest. “You wanna walk me home?”