"Cain-A-Gram" - PG-13 - Finished!
Sep. 28th, 2008 11:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Written at the prompting of erinm_4600's plot papay, Steve.
Working title: "Steve, the awesome, and his side-kick, Wyatt"
It was all Steve's fault.
Steve who always had extra money. Steve who always went out to a party, rather parties, every weekend. Steve who had girls throwing themselves at him.
It really started last Friday. At five am Wyatt started the day with a 13 mile run, then he pulled a double shift at the stable. It was nearing 11:00pm when he got back to the room, and there was Steve just getting ready to leave.
Steve looked back at Wyatt, “You look awful!”
Wyatt flopped onto his bed, “I feel awful.”
From his vantage point, Wyatt watched as Steve combed his hair. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?” Steve replied as he grabbed a bottle of cologne.
“That.” Wyatt sat up. “You're family has just as much money as mine has, but I'm busting my ass trying to make tuition while you party every weekend.”
“You have to bust your ass 'cus your job pays you peanuts,” Steve turned away from the mirror and looked at Wyatt “Where as I make 75 plat an hour, plus tips.”
Wyatt nearly swallowed his tongue. “75 plats an hour!”
“You're in good shape, right?”
Wyatt nodded.
“I'll talk to my boss. He's always looking for new guys.”
___________________________________________________________________________________
Three days later Steve handed Wyatt a card with the name “Vincent Demilo” on it. “Stop by after class. He'll see if you're up to snuff.”
But now, as Wyatt climbed the dimly light stairs to the fourth floor, he realized that Steve had never said exactly what it was that this Mr. Demilo did. It couldn't be anything too shady, could it? They were training to be Tin Men, Steve wouldn't risk that, would he?
Wyatt walked down the dirty, pea soup colored, hallway until he came to number 412. There was a sign on the door that said “Demilo's Agram Service”. With a lump in his throat, Wyatt knocked.
The door opened a bit and a hard faced woman looked at him, “What'd'ya want?”
Wyatt swallowed the lump, “Steve sent me.”
The woman looked him over and Wyatt felt the lump that had been in his throat regroup in his stomach. “I can see why. Come on.” She opened the door the rest of the way and Wyatt could see a room full of boxes. “Vinny's in the back.”
Before Wyatt could move, the door to the back office open, “Rita!”
The lump grew as Wyatt looked at Mr. Demilo. He was a short, greasy, looking man who's nod to respectability came from the hat, suit coat and tie he was wearing, but it fell short due to the fact under the coat he was wearing a only a thin cotton undershirt.
“What!” The woman next to Wyatt yelled back.
“I got a delivery and the kid skipped out.” Vinny said. “Who's this?”
Rita put a hand on Wyatt's arm and squeezed it, “Steve sent him.” Wyatt felt the lump grow even bigger. He should have just stuck to mucking out stalls.
“Then he can make the delivery.” Vinny said as he walked over to a box and pulled out a... stuffed papay?
Wyatt watched in amazement as Vinny tossed the toy to Rita, who tied a large purple bow into it.
“Here kid. Vinny handed Wyatt a scrap of paper with an address scrawled on it and a type-written card.
“Some loser needs to make nice with his girlfriend, you take the toy to this address, say that speech, and I pay you 25 an hour.”
The lump suddenly vanished; he only made 9 at the stables. This is what Steve did? Piece of cake!
___________________________________________________________________________________
The week started out a little rough; the girl who got the stuffed papay ripped its head off and pulled the stuffing out while calling her - most definitely ex - boyfriend some very interesting and colorful names.
But after that the week quickly got better. So better in fact that on his way to the office on Saturday afternoon Wyatt was singing.
Wyatt walked into the main room and spotted Vinny's son, Antoine, making up a package.
“Hey, kid.” Wyatt said cheerfully. “Your dad in the back?”
“Yeah, but he's taking care of something. He'll be out soon.”
Wyatt swung a chair around and straddled it, leaning his arms on the back. He went back to singing under his breath as he watched Antoine finish the package. A few minutes later Wyatt was surprised to hear Vinny yell at him, “Why didn't you tell me you could sing?!”
Wyatt stood up, “You never asked.”
“I've been goin' outta my mind trying to find a replacement for Alex, and here you are singing like a little birdy.” Vinny shoved a bundle of clothes at him. “Go into my office and change.”
Wyatt was confused, “Wait, what?” What Vinny had said sunk in. “Look Mr. Demilo, I'm really glad you gave me this job, but there's no way I'm gonna put on a funny hat and sing to anyone. Not even for 25 plat.”
“Of course not.” Vinny said. “The guys who wear the funny hats get 50.”
___________________________________________________________________________________
Wyatt ran a finger along his collar, the damn thing was choking him. Or maybe it was the situation he was in that was choking him, not only did he have to sing a telegram, but the telegram was to the same girl that decapitated the stuff papay earlier that week.
Wyatt climbed the steps and rang the bell, the door was open by a girl of about 12. “Telegram for Miss Smith.”
The girl giggled, then called back into the house, “Adora! There's a man in a funny hat for you!”
Wyatt reached down and picked up the large basket full of chocolate, holding ready for the moment when the honey haired young woman came to the door.
“Telegram for Adora Smith from Markus Zero.”
The woman took the basket and Wyatt cleared his throat, “ You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off you. You'd be like Heaven to touch. I wanna hold you so much.”
Miss Smith put the basket down.
“At long last love has arrived. And I thank God I'm alive. You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off you.”
Her eyes were as wide as half plat coin.
“Pardon the way that I stare. There's nothing else to compare. The sight of you leaves me weak. There are no words left to speak,”
She was laughing now.
“But if you feel like I feel, Please let me know that it's real. You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off you.”
Laughing! At him! This was Steve's fault... somehow.
Wyatt took a deep breath and belt out, “I love you, baby, And if it's quite alright, I need you, baby, To warm a lonely night. I love you, baby. Trust in me...”
After the third 'baby, Miss Smith had sprung into action and slammed both her hands over Wyatt's mouth. “It's not that you're a bad singer, and it must take a lot of courage to sing to random strangers, but please...” she slowly removed her hands. “I just don't want to here it.”
Wyatt nodded and started to walk down the stairs when Miss Smith called to him. “But you really do need to lose the hat!”
___________________________________________________________________________________
“OH!” The other guys at the table let out a groan when Wyatt reached the end of the story.
“I got out of the singing after two hours.” Steve said.
“What?!” Mike nearly spit his beer out, “I had to wear that damn hat for three months.”
“That's 'cus you still looked more like a string bean then man.” Steve said.
“A deformed string bean.” John added. “And you kept singing the wrong songs.”
Wyatt laughed and took a swig of his beer. This was everything he had wished for when he came to Central City; a chance to met some friends and have some fun while he worked to become a Tin Man.
“Call me whatever you want, just get me another beer!” Mike waved his empty bottle at John.
“Oh! Me too!” Steve said.
“Alright, alright, I'm goin'.” John groused as he stood up. “You too Wyatt?”
“Nah, I'm good.” Wyatt watched as John made his way to the crowded bar.
“This is the life, isn't?” Wyatt looked back to Steve. “It sure beats shoveling shit all day.”
It was almost 40 minutes later when John came back, and in the company of several, tipsy, young ladies.
“I have beer and girls!” The girls laughed, the guys cheered, but Wyatt didn't really know what to do.
The girls spread out around the seating area, mostly on the laps of the guys sitting down.
“Hi, I'm Mari.” Was that her hand? What was she doing putting it...
Wyatt stood up quickly, “Here. You can have my seat.” His plan backfired when Mari grabbed his suspender as she sat down and he fell practically on top of her. Wyatt swore to never wear them again, only belts for him from now on.
“Erin? Erin!” Wyatt heard a voice right behind him. “I want to go home.”
Wyatt managed to get his suspenders untangled from Mari's hands and stood up to see the girl in Steve's lap talking to the girl who wanted to leave. “Erin, you promised that if I wasn't having a good time we would both leave so I wouldn't walk home alone.”
Wyatt could see his chance and he seized it. “I was just about to go myself, miss. I'd be happy to walk you home.”
“Wyatt's a real boy scout.” Steve said. “He's been nursing one beer all night, so I'm sure he'll get you home safe and sound.” The girl in Steve's lap giggled. “Are you a boy scout too?” Steve said something into her ear that caused her to respond with a quick kiss for Steve and a curt “Bye!” for her friend.
Wyatt stepped back so there would be room for the lady to get out, so he wasn't looking at her as he asked, “Where do you live?”
“Oh, I think you know how to get there.” Wyatt looked up to see Miss Smith of the decapitated papay and the chocolate basket.
___________________________________________________________________________________
Steve was in a good mood. First there had been that girl in the bar last night, and again this morning, then his favorite coffee shop had just brewed the dark roast he liked as he walked in, oh, and Wyatt the boy scout, mister always-awake-by-half-past-five, was still asleep at noon. There was also the fact that afore mentioned boy scout hadn't come back to the room until sometime this morning. Yup, good sex, great coffee and enough material to tease Wyatt for a week, Steve was in an awesome mood!
“Oh god, my head...”
He he he. Was it bad that he was enjoying Wyatt's pain?
“Good morning there, sweetheart.” Yeah, he was bad.
Wyatt groaned and pulled the covers over his head. “I ain't your sweetheart.”
“So, maybe I was wrong about you. Here I thought you'd walk the young lady safely to here door, then run back here and study or something. But instead I come back to find that my roommate hadn't slept in his bed last night.”
Wyatt's arm snaked out from under the blanket.
“Tisk, tisk, Cain. That's not a polite thing to do with those fingers.”
“I swear to the unnamed god, if you don't let me sleep for another hour I will use those fingers to dig out your eyes.”
Steve laughed, “No you won't. If you maimed a fellow cadet, you'd be kicked out so fast your hair would straighten.”
Wyatt sat up. “Says you.”
“Well, I do have a second cup of coffee here. But only for nice roommates who share about why they were out all night.”
Wyatt let out a snort of disgust, “Like I'd tell you...”
“I'm not asking you to compromise your status as a gentleman or hers as a lady,” Steve crossed his ankles “but a simple rating 1-10 is all I'm asking for.”
“Well...” Wyatt used both his hands to scratch his head “Her mother's pie was a 10, the chairs in her father's study were a 7, the words I got in edge-wise were 3 and the guest room bed was a 1.”
Steve straightened up, “You're telling me that you walked her home, had pie and coffee with her parents and spent the night sleeping on a hard bed under a lace duvet?”
Wyatt pulled on a pair of boxers and stood up, “That about covers it.” He twisted to the side and Steve winced as he heard nearly a dozen pops and cracks.
___________________________________________________________________________________
Two days later and Wyatt was really falling into the groove of working for Mr. Delimo. Not only was the pay better and the work easier, Wyatt had more time to study.
Of course it was kind of hard to concentrate with Miss Smith looking at him like that.
Article 7-B Joint Living-Working Quarters for Artists, or General Residential Occupancy of Loft, Commercial or Manufacturing Buildings
It wasn't like he had bothered her.
§ 276. Definition of an artist.
He had been sitting here studying when his forehead started to itch.
As used in this article, the word "artist" means a person who is regularly engaged in the fine arts,
He looked up and there she was.
such as painting and sculpture or in the performing or creative arts,
Sitting two tables away from him with a group of girls
including choreography and filmmaking, or in the composition of music on a professional basis,
And she was just... looking at him
and is so certified by the city department of cultural affairs and/or state council on the arts.
Frankly, Wyatt was a little creped out.
___________________________________________________________________________________
“You could have called!”
“Excuse me?” Wyatt turned around and looked up the library steps.
“You know my name and my home address, you could have looked up my number and called.” Miss Smith said.
“Oh.” Wyatt thought about this for just a second. “And also the fact that you are currently single.”
“Yes, that too.”
Wyatt climbed up a few steps. “But there is the fact that I came to have this information as part of my work. It could be seen as an abuse of power if I used it for personal reasons.”
From her spot two steps above him, Wyatt could look directly into Miss Smith's eyes. When she grabbed the back of his head Wyatt discovered she was also at the perfect hight to kiss him.
“Do you think it would it be alright for you to use that information now?” She asked.
Wyatt nodded absently, “Uh huh.”
___________________________________________________________________________________
“Wow.” D.G. said softly. “That's how you met Adroa?”
Wyatt nodded his head then looked around the cabin. D.G. had offered to help him go through the things there but instead she had ended up prying old stories out of him.
“Okay, but that still doesn't explain...”
Wyatt spun around and snatched the silver cloth she had found tuck away on the top shelf of the closet from her hand.
“You tell no one! You hear me? No one!”
D.G. nodded her head and walked over to other side of the room. They worked in silence for a few minutes, but then D.G. started to hum. After a bit the humming turned into softly singing.
“Let me do a few tricks. Some old and then some new tricks. I'm very versatile.”
“What are you singing D.G.?” Wyatt asked.
“A song from 'Gypsy'.”
Wyatt felt like knocking his head against the wall.
“What's Gypsy?”
D.G. turned around and smiled at him.
“Oh. It's a musical about this famous woman named Gypsy Rose Lee.”
“What was she famous for?”
The smile widened and Wyatt knew he had just walked right into her trap.
“Her strip tease.”
Working title: "Steve, the awesome, and his side-kick, Wyatt"
It was all Steve's fault.
Steve who always had extra money. Steve who always went out to a party, rather parties, every weekend. Steve who had girls throwing themselves at him.
It really started last Friday. At five am Wyatt started the day with a 13 mile run, then he pulled a double shift at the stable. It was nearing 11:00pm when he got back to the room, and there was Steve just getting ready to leave.
Steve looked back at Wyatt, “You look awful!”
Wyatt flopped onto his bed, “I feel awful.”
From his vantage point, Wyatt watched as Steve combed his hair. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?” Steve replied as he grabbed a bottle of cologne.
“That.” Wyatt sat up. “You're family has just as much money as mine has, but I'm busting my ass trying to make tuition while you party every weekend.”
“You have to bust your ass 'cus your job pays you peanuts,” Steve turned away from the mirror and looked at Wyatt “Where as I make 75 plat an hour, plus tips.”
Wyatt nearly swallowed his tongue. “75 plats an hour!”
“You're in good shape, right?”
Wyatt nodded.
“I'll talk to my boss. He's always looking for new guys.”
___________________________________________________________________________________
Three days later Steve handed Wyatt a card with the name “Vincent Demilo” on it. “Stop by after class. He'll see if you're up to snuff.”
But now, as Wyatt climbed the dimly light stairs to the fourth floor, he realized that Steve had never said exactly what it was that this Mr. Demilo did. It couldn't be anything too shady, could it? They were training to be Tin Men, Steve wouldn't risk that, would he?
Wyatt walked down the dirty, pea soup colored, hallway until he came to number 412. There was a sign on the door that said “Demilo's Agram Service”. With a lump in his throat, Wyatt knocked.
The door opened a bit and a hard faced woman looked at him, “What'd'ya want?”
Wyatt swallowed the lump, “Steve sent me.”
The woman looked him over and Wyatt felt the lump that had been in his throat regroup in his stomach. “I can see why. Come on.” She opened the door the rest of the way and Wyatt could see a room full of boxes. “Vinny's in the back.”
Before Wyatt could move, the door to the back office open, “Rita!”
The lump grew as Wyatt looked at Mr. Demilo. He was a short, greasy, looking man who's nod to respectability came from the hat, suit coat and tie he was wearing, but it fell short due to the fact under the coat he was wearing a only a thin cotton undershirt.
“What!” The woman next to Wyatt yelled back.
“I got a delivery and the kid skipped out.” Vinny said. “Who's this?”
Rita put a hand on Wyatt's arm and squeezed it, “Steve sent him.” Wyatt felt the lump grow even bigger. He should have just stuck to mucking out stalls.
“Then he can make the delivery.” Vinny said as he walked over to a box and pulled out a... stuffed papay?
Wyatt watched in amazement as Vinny tossed the toy to Rita, who tied a large purple bow into it.
“Here kid. Vinny handed Wyatt a scrap of paper with an address scrawled on it and a type-written card.
“Some loser needs to make nice with his girlfriend, you take the toy to this address, say that speech, and I pay you 25 an hour.”
The lump suddenly vanished; he only made 9 at the stables. This is what Steve did? Piece of cake!
___________________________________________________________________________________
The week started out a little rough; the girl who got the stuffed papay ripped its head off and pulled the stuffing out while calling her - most definitely ex - boyfriend some very interesting and colorful names.
But after that the week quickly got better. So better in fact that on his way to the office on Saturday afternoon Wyatt was singing.
Wyatt walked into the main room and spotted Vinny's son, Antoine, making up a package.
“Hey, kid.” Wyatt said cheerfully. “Your dad in the back?”
“Yeah, but he's taking care of something. He'll be out soon.”
Wyatt swung a chair around and straddled it, leaning his arms on the back. He went back to singing under his breath as he watched Antoine finish the package. A few minutes later Wyatt was surprised to hear Vinny yell at him, “Why didn't you tell me you could sing?!”
Wyatt stood up, “You never asked.”
“I've been goin' outta my mind trying to find a replacement for Alex, and here you are singing like a little birdy.” Vinny shoved a bundle of clothes at him. “Go into my office and change.”
Wyatt was confused, “Wait, what?” What Vinny had said sunk in. “Look Mr. Demilo, I'm really glad you gave me this job, but there's no way I'm gonna put on a funny hat and sing to anyone. Not even for 25 plat.”
“Of course not.” Vinny said. “The guys who wear the funny hats get 50.”
___________________________________________________________________________________
Wyatt ran a finger along his collar, the damn thing was choking him. Or maybe it was the situation he was in that was choking him, not only did he have to sing a telegram, but the telegram was to the same girl that decapitated the stuff papay earlier that week.
Wyatt climbed the steps and rang the bell, the door was open by a girl of about 12. “Telegram for Miss Smith.”
The girl giggled, then called back into the house, “Adora! There's a man in a funny hat for you!”
Wyatt reached down and picked up the large basket full of chocolate, holding ready for the moment when the honey haired young woman came to the door.
“Telegram for Adora Smith from Markus Zero.”
The woman took the basket and Wyatt cleared his throat, “ You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off you. You'd be like Heaven to touch. I wanna hold you so much.”
Miss Smith put the basket down.
“At long last love has arrived. And I thank God I'm alive. You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off you.”
Her eyes were as wide as half plat coin.
“Pardon the way that I stare. There's nothing else to compare. The sight of you leaves me weak. There are no words left to speak,”
She was laughing now.
“But if you feel like I feel, Please let me know that it's real. You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off you.”
Laughing! At him! This was Steve's fault... somehow.
Wyatt took a deep breath and belt out, “I love you, baby, And if it's quite alright, I need you, baby, To warm a lonely night. I love you, baby. Trust in me...”
After the third 'baby, Miss Smith had sprung into action and slammed both her hands over Wyatt's mouth. “It's not that you're a bad singer, and it must take a lot of courage to sing to random strangers, but please...” she slowly removed her hands. “I just don't want to here it.”
Wyatt nodded and started to walk down the stairs when Miss Smith called to him. “But you really do need to lose the hat!”
___________________________________________________________________________________
“OH!” The other guys at the table let out a groan when Wyatt reached the end of the story.
“I got out of the singing after two hours.” Steve said.
“What?!” Mike nearly spit his beer out, “I had to wear that damn hat for three months.”
“That's 'cus you still looked more like a string bean then man.” Steve said.
“A deformed string bean.” John added. “And you kept singing the wrong songs.”
Wyatt laughed and took a swig of his beer. This was everything he had wished for when he came to Central City; a chance to met some friends and have some fun while he worked to become a Tin Man.
“Call me whatever you want, just get me another beer!” Mike waved his empty bottle at John.
“Oh! Me too!” Steve said.
“Alright, alright, I'm goin'.” John groused as he stood up. “You too Wyatt?”
“Nah, I'm good.” Wyatt watched as John made his way to the crowded bar.
“This is the life, isn't?” Wyatt looked back to Steve. “It sure beats shoveling shit all day.”
It was almost 40 minutes later when John came back, and in the company of several, tipsy, young ladies.
“I have beer and girls!” The girls laughed, the guys cheered, but Wyatt didn't really know what to do.
The girls spread out around the seating area, mostly on the laps of the guys sitting down.
“Hi, I'm Mari.” Was that her hand? What was she doing putting it...
Wyatt stood up quickly, “Here. You can have my seat.” His plan backfired when Mari grabbed his suspender as she sat down and he fell practically on top of her. Wyatt swore to never wear them again, only belts for him from now on.
“Erin? Erin!” Wyatt heard a voice right behind him. “I want to go home.”
Wyatt managed to get his suspenders untangled from Mari's hands and stood up to see the girl in Steve's lap talking to the girl who wanted to leave. “Erin, you promised that if I wasn't having a good time we would both leave so I wouldn't walk home alone.”
Wyatt could see his chance and he seized it. “I was just about to go myself, miss. I'd be happy to walk you home.”
“Wyatt's a real boy scout.” Steve said. “He's been nursing one beer all night, so I'm sure he'll get you home safe and sound.” The girl in Steve's lap giggled. “Are you a boy scout too?” Steve said something into her ear that caused her to respond with a quick kiss for Steve and a curt “Bye!” for her friend.
Wyatt stepped back so there would be room for the lady to get out, so he wasn't looking at her as he asked, “Where do you live?”
“Oh, I think you know how to get there.” Wyatt looked up to see Miss Smith of the decapitated papay and the chocolate basket.
___________________________________________________________________________________
Steve was in a good mood. First there had been that girl in the bar last night, and again this morning, then his favorite coffee shop had just brewed the dark roast he liked as he walked in, oh, and Wyatt the boy scout, mister always-awake-by-half-past-five, was still asleep at noon. There was also the fact that afore mentioned boy scout hadn't come back to the room until sometime this morning. Yup, good sex, great coffee and enough material to tease Wyatt for a week, Steve was in an awesome mood!
“Oh god, my head...”
He he he. Was it bad that he was enjoying Wyatt's pain?
“Good morning there, sweetheart.” Yeah, he was bad.
Wyatt groaned and pulled the covers over his head. “I ain't your sweetheart.”
“So, maybe I was wrong about you. Here I thought you'd walk the young lady safely to here door, then run back here and study or something. But instead I come back to find that my roommate hadn't slept in his bed last night.”
Wyatt's arm snaked out from under the blanket.
“Tisk, tisk, Cain. That's not a polite thing to do with those fingers.”
“I swear to the unnamed god, if you don't let me sleep for another hour I will use those fingers to dig out your eyes.”
Steve laughed, “No you won't. If you maimed a fellow cadet, you'd be kicked out so fast your hair would straighten.”
Wyatt sat up. “Says you.”
“Well, I do have a second cup of coffee here. But only for nice roommates who share about why they were out all night.”
Wyatt let out a snort of disgust, “Like I'd tell you...”
“I'm not asking you to compromise your status as a gentleman or hers as a lady,” Steve crossed his ankles “but a simple rating 1-10 is all I'm asking for.”
“Well...” Wyatt used both his hands to scratch his head “Her mother's pie was a 10, the chairs in her father's study were a 7, the words I got in edge-wise were 3 and the guest room bed was a 1.”
Steve straightened up, “You're telling me that you walked her home, had pie and coffee with her parents and spent the night sleeping on a hard bed under a lace duvet?”
Wyatt pulled on a pair of boxers and stood up, “That about covers it.” He twisted to the side and Steve winced as he heard nearly a dozen pops and cracks.
___________________________________________________________________________________
Two days later and Wyatt was really falling into the groove of working for Mr. Delimo. Not only was the pay better and the work easier, Wyatt had more time to study.
Of course it was kind of hard to concentrate with Miss Smith looking at him like that.
Article 7-B Joint Living-Working Quarters for Artists, or General Residential Occupancy of Loft, Commercial or Manufacturing Buildings
It wasn't like he had bothered her.
§ 276. Definition of an artist.
He had been sitting here studying when his forehead started to itch.
As used in this article, the word "artist" means a person who is regularly engaged in the fine arts,
He looked up and there she was.
such as painting and sculpture or in the performing or creative arts,
Sitting two tables away from him with a group of girls
including choreography and filmmaking, or in the composition of music on a professional basis,
And she was just... looking at him
and is so certified by the city department of cultural affairs and/or state council on the arts.
Frankly, Wyatt was a little creped out.
___________________________________________________________________________________
“You could have called!”
“Excuse me?” Wyatt turned around and looked up the library steps.
“You know my name and my home address, you could have looked up my number and called.” Miss Smith said.
“Oh.” Wyatt thought about this for just a second. “And also the fact that you are currently single.”
“Yes, that too.”
Wyatt climbed up a few steps. “But there is the fact that I came to have this information as part of my work. It could be seen as an abuse of power if I used it for personal reasons.”
From her spot two steps above him, Wyatt could look directly into Miss Smith's eyes. When she grabbed the back of his head Wyatt discovered she was also at the perfect hight to kiss him.
“Do you think it would it be alright for you to use that information now?” She asked.
Wyatt nodded absently, “Uh huh.”
___________________________________________________________________________________
“Wow.” D.G. said softly. “That's how you met Adroa?”
Wyatt nodded his head then looked around the cabin. D.G. had offered to help him go through the things there but instead she had ended up prying old stories out of him.
“Okay, but that still doesn't explain...”
Wyatt spun around and snatched the silver cloth she had found tuck away on the top shelf of the closet from her hand.
“You tell no one! You hear me? No one!”
D.G. nodded her head and walked over to other side of the room. They worked in silence for a few minutes, but then D.G. started to hum. After a bit the humming turned into softly singing.
“Let me do a few tricks. Some old and then some new tricks. I'm very versatile.”
“What are you singing D.G.?” Wyatt asked.
“A song from 'Gypsy'.”
Wyatt felt like knocking his head against the wall.
“What's Gypsy?”
D.G. turned around and smiled at him.
“Oh. It's a musical about this famous woman named Gypsy Rose Lee.”
“What was she famous for?”
The smile widened and Wyatt knew he had just walked right into her trap.
“Her strip tease.”
no subject
Date: 2008-09-29 03:30 am (UTC)Cain is just too gullable sometimes. ^_~
no subject
Date: 2008-09-29 03:10 pm (UTC)In a way I'm kind of sad that I chickened out of writing that bit. It would have been awesome to watch.
no subject
Date: 2008-09-29 03:48 am (UTC)My!Steve's ego has expanded ten-fold, just FYI.
Out of curiosity, what does Your!Steve look like? I figure I should have a face to go with the
sexname ;)Oh... Natalie... *has Gypsy on the brain now...*
no subject
Date: 2008-09-29 04:04 am (UTC)Side note: The guy who played Link on Broadway played Sir Harry to Zooey's Lady Larkin in "Once Upon a Mattress". Just FYI.
no subject
Date: 2008-09-29 12:31 pm (UTC)*goes with Henry Winkler*
:D
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Date: 2008-09-29 02:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-29 02:52 pm (UTC)That.
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Date: 2008-09-29 03:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-29 03:20 pm (UTC)*gigglesnort*
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Date: 2008-09-29 03:24 pm (UTC)Te he he he!
Snort!
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Date: 2008-09-29 03:26 pm (UTC)But, if he's just holding a photo of Zac, I'm beginning to think that Steve might just look like
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Date: 2008-09-29 05:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-29 06:53 pm (UTC)