Doug and Marie-Ange, backdated
Dec. 27th, 2006 02:00 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsBackdated to immediately before Amanda goes to find Doug. If you'd wondered just why Doug was pounding the crap out of a heavy bag and destroying his knuckles? Marie-Ange asks him about the kiss. And Doug is a -rat bastard- about it.
Doug had cabin fever, and he was starting to go more than a little bit stir crazy. He knew it was getting bad when he started to get bored with World of Warcraft. He'd updated all of his custom-written UI mods, gone through every single dungeon in the game, and joined player-versus-player battlegrounds until his brain began to practically dribble out his ears. The quarantine needed to be over, and soon.
Marie-Ange had taken the hangover cure tactic of lying on the sofa motionless with a washcloth on her face quite seriously. She hadn't moved for well over two hours, and it was only now that her stomach decided to announce it's empty state with a loud "grruughhggghghghgh." Groaning, she rolled onto her side, and looked around the room. No Amanda, no Mark, no Sarah, she wasn't sure where they'd gone, and the only other person was Doug in the corner on his laptop.
Well, at least she didn't have to endure teasing about her stomach noises.
Doug hunched down behind his laptop as the noise and stirring form reminded him of the room's other occupant. He'd been trying to avoid her since the Truth or Dare game, but that was a bit difficult to do when you were quarantined in an apartment building together.
The empty-stomach feeling was irritating enough to overcome the headache she still had. Marie-Ange sat up, leaning heavily against the back of the sofa, and stretched. "Doug? Would you like some pizza?" She asked quietly. "I am going to go get some so that the elder god in my stomach can be sated.."
"Pizza's fine," Doug replied quietly and concisely. It would be rude not to say anything, even if he didn't entirely feel like talking.
With an eyeroll in Doug's direction, Marie-Ange stood up, and walked towards the door, pausing just before leaving the room. He wasn't talking, and she knew what that meant. Something was eating away at Doug, had him gnawing on his thoughts like a puppy. And he'd go around and around in circles until someone broke it. She glanced up at the doorway, where the mistletoe no longer was, and 'ahem'd' quietly to get Doug's attention. "What was that, the other night?"
Doug's head shot up from his laptop, his eyes a little wide from the abruptness of Angie's question. She was giving him one of those looks he'd never quite been able to read. The same sort of look she'd given him that had led to him kissing her, in fact.
But Doug was far from ready to talk about things. And because they'd known each other and been close for so long, Doug didn't even need a mutant power to know the exact thing to say to get her to leave him alone.
Dropping into a dead-on mimicry of Garrison's Canadian accent, he shrugged and said "Oh, I'd give it aboot an 8.6 or 8.7, eh?"
Marie-Ange turned away before Doug could see any of the expression on her face. Dismay, and hurt, and utter disappointment that she couldn't hide away with one of her little tight frowns. "... I'll go heat up the pizza.." She said quietly, silently grateful that her voice didn't break, and disappeared down the hall.
Doug grimaced and closed his laptop. Grabbing a pad of paper, he scrawled "Not hungry" on it and tossed it on the table. Leaving the room, he headed towards his apartment. This called for wrap gloves, his iPod, and the heavy bag. "You can be a real whirling son of a bitch sometimes, Ramsey," he muttered darkly to himself.
Doug had cabin fever, and he was starting to go more than a little bit stir crazy. He knew it was getting bad when he started to get bored with World of Warcraft. He'd updated all of his custom-written UI mods, gone through every single dungeon in the game, and joined player-versus-player battlegrounds until his brain began to practically dribble out his ears. The quarantine needed to be over, and soon.
Marie-Ange had taken the hangover cure tactic of lying on the sofa motionless with a washcloth on her face quite seriously. She hadn't moved for well over two hours, and it was only now that her stomach decided to announce it's empty state with a loud "grruughhggghghghgh." Groaning, she rolled onto her side, and looked around the room. No Amanda, no Mark, no Sarah, she wasn't sure where they'd gone, and the only other person was Doug in the corner on his laptop.
Well, at least she didn't have to endure teasing about her stomach noises.
Doug hunched down behind his laptop as the noise and stirring form reminded him of the room's other occupant. He'd been trying to avoid her since the Truth or Dare game, but that was a bit difficult to do when you were quarantined in an apartment building together.
The empty-stomach feeling was irritating enough to overcome the headache she still had. Marie-Ange sat up, leaning heavily against the back of the sofa, and stretched. "Doug? Would you like some pizza?" She asked quietly. "I am going to go get some so that the elder god in my stomach can be sated.."
"Pizza's fine," Doug replied quietly and concisely. It would be rude not to say anything, even if he didn't entirely feel like talking.
With an eyeroll in Doug's direction, Marie-Ange stood up, and walked towards the door, pausing just before leaving the room. He wasn't talking, and she knew what that meant. Something was eating away at Doug, had him gnawing on his thoughts like a puppy. And he'd go around and around in circles until someone broke it. She glanced up at the doorway, where the mistletoe no longer was, and 'ahem'd' quietly to get Doug's attention. "What was that, the other night?"
Doug's head shot up from his laptop, his eyes a little wide from the abruptness of Angie's question. She was giving him one of those looks he'd never quite been able to read. The same sort of look she'd given him that had led to him kissing her, in fact.
But Doug was far from ready to talk about things. And because they'd known each other and been close for so long, Doug didn't even need a mutant power to know the exact thing to say to get her to leave him alone.
Dropping into a dead-on mimicry of Garrison's Canadian accent, he shrugged and said "Oh, I'd give it aboot an 8.6 or 8.7, eh?"
Marie-Ange turned away before Doug could see any of the expression on her face. Dismay, and hurt, and utter disappointment that she couldn't hide away with one of her little tight frowns. "... I'll go heat up the pizza.." She said quietly, silently grateful that her voice didn't break, and disappeared down the hall.
Doug grimaced and closed his laptop. Grabbing a pad of paper, he scrawled "Not hungry" on it and tossed it on the table. Leaving the room, he headed towards his apartment. This called for wrap gloves, his iPod, and the heavy bag. "You can be a real whirling son of a bitch sometimes, Ramsey," he muttered darkly to himself.
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