Kurt and Monet
May. 12th, 2007 09:12 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsKurt attempts to distract Monet from everything.
Monet was sitting in the kitchen, absently tearing a piece of paper into ever tinier shreds, text book on the table in front of her - she still had exams this week and next, hard as it was to concentrate. She stabbed at her calculator with a pen only to have the pen snap in two with the impact. The calculator began to display nonsense.
"Fuck! Fucking fuckety fuck!" She hurled the stupid, fragile, too-easily broken calculator at the wall.
Kurt flinched as the little machine hit the wall next to his head, since he'd just been coming into the room, then bent to pick it up. What was left of it, anyway "...hello, Monet."
"Hey, Kurt. I ah, wasn't trying to throw that at you. I was just. Yeah." Monet shook her head and swept the little fragments of her pen together and began fiddling with them, rolling a couple of the larger ones between her fingers. "How are you?"
"I know", he assured her. "And I am as well as may be expected... I think I should be asking that question of you, more.
"I'm fine. Absolutely fine." Monet was completely expressionless as she stood up and walked over to the stove, picking up the percolator and tipping coffee grounds out of it. "Would you like a cup of coffee? I've got good stuff, real Italian espresso and a proper percolator. It's so much better than the American crap." She took a moment to feel proud about the fact that she sounded cheerful when she spoke.
It was quite an act, and acknowledged by the master of pretending nothing was wrong, really. He didn't call her on the lie yet, though. "Coffee would be nice, yes. Especially real coffee."
"Great." She managed a small smile. "What do you know about what's going on right now?"
He returned the smile, faint and strained as it was. "Little more than you do, I am afraid. I can tell you that everything possible is being done to find those who took them and bring them home safely."
Monet gave a short laugh. "I'm so glad to know they're not doing a half-arsed job at it. We'd have to, to give them all decaf instead of real coffee if they were doing that." There'd been nothing in the papers - Australian or American since this had happened. "At least Dad's keeping it out of the news. Either that or his editors really like Paris Hilton."
Kurt nodded. "Between your father and Jennie's father, I do not think you will see a mention of this on the news anytime soon. And, of course, it may just be that they have not heard of it. Unless they are watching Marius all the time..." He trailed off, not seeing any need to finish that sentence.
"They never watched Marius because he was. No, IS boring and they usually found out I'd done something stupid if and when I got taken home by the police or when I went to the Logies or that time I was a guest at the Brownlows. Do you, I missed the Logies this year? I'm very sad about that." Monet wiped away an imaginary tear.
"The... Logies?" he asked, half in genuine puzzlement (he didn't watch television much), half seizing on another subject that might distract her, however briefly, from her brother's absence.
Monet blinked at Kurt for a moment. "Oh, baby. I'm going to have to take you next year. The Logies are ... special. It's like the Oscars but for Australian TV. Everyone votes, I mean, everyone - people write in, and nominate actors. And then the most popular person, and that's normally Rove," she expanded slightly at Kurt's slightly confused look, "Rove has a talk show and everyone loves him because his wife died. Well, the most popular person gets the Gold Logie. And everyone connected to TV at all comes and gets blind drunk by the end of the night because there's free booze. Oooh! And there's always a bunch of really confused celebrities from overseas. I think we got Jessica Alba and Avril this year."
He blinked right back, though his expression cleared quickly as her explanation continued. And at least the attempt at distraction seemed to have worked. "It sounds like quite an experience, as nights out go."
"It is. I think they started as a joke, actually, but then everyone realised they were so much fun and all that. Besides, you have to wear formal gear and laugh at footballers who've come in tuxes and be creeped out by Bert Newton."
"And who is Bert Newton?" he asked, oddly fascinated by her whole recital on the subject.
"Oh wow. Where do I start? I think Bert's been around since we got tv. He looks like he's made out of plastic. His face never moves. It's scary. And he's been on every Australian show ever made, pretty much."
"Ah, so... even more alarming in person?" he asked with a faint smile. "And hired continually perhaps because of that factor."
"Something like that. Do you have milk or sugar?"
"Neither", he told her, trying to think of other things they might talk about that weren't the situation and the lack of things to be done about it. "I grew used to taking it strong, black and early in the morning, back in the camp."
"Dude. Do you want indigestion or something?" Monet poured two cups and added milk to hers.
"I have heard it said, by others here", he admitted. "But so far, it has never happened. Perhaps my stomach is built differently, along with the rest of me."
Monet shook her head. "I think it's because you must secretly like pain." She waggled her eyebrows at Kurt.
Kurt chuckled, glad to see her seeming distracted enough to make jokes. "Well, to listen to some of the comments made about the team's uniforms..." Amazingly enough, he managed to deliver this line without blushing.
"It's really amazing that they've managed to find that many people with bondage fetishes all in one place. Is it in the enterance exam? Must like pain, bondage gear, and leather?" She laghed softly.
"Perhaps it should be. Though you would be surprised how many former students of the school - perfectly normal, mostly - end up joining the team after their graduation."
"And they go from being perfectly normal bondage loving types to your sort of bondage lovers. It's all very strange. I think you put something in the water." Monet looked at her coffee. "Oh god, and I've been drinking the water. This is so your fault, if I ever start wanting to wear that much leather, rather than, oh, pretty, attractive pieces of leather."
"I will be happy to take the full blame", Kurt told her solemnly. "Unless of course you meant you as in the whole team."
"I'll have to think about that one."
Monet was sitting in the kitchen, absently tearing a piece of paper into ever tinier shreds, text book on the table in front of her - she still had exams this week and next, hard as it was to concentrate. She stabbed at her calculator with a pen only to have the pen snap in two with the impact. The calculator began to display nonsense.
"Fuck! Fucking fuckety fuck!" She hurled the stupid, fragile, too-easily broken calculator at the wall.
Kurt flinched as the little machine hit the wall next to his head, since he'd just been coming into the room, then bent to pick it up. What was left of it, anyway "...hello, Monet."
"Hey, Kurt. I ah, wasn't trying to throw that at you. I was just. Yeah." Monet shook her head and swept the little fragments of her pen together and began fiddling with them, rolling a couple of the larger ones between her fingers. "How are you?"
"I know", he assured her. "And I am as well as may be expected... I think I should be asking that question of you, more.
"I'm fine. Absolutely fine." Monet was completely expressionless as she stood up and walked over to the stove, picking up the percolator and tipping coffee grounds out of it. "Would you like a cup of coffee? I've got good stuff, real Italian espresso and a proper percolator. It's so much better than the American crap." She took a moment to feel proud about the fact that she sounded cheerful when she spoke.
It was quite an act, and acknowledged by the master of pretending nothing was wrong, really. He didn't call her on the lie yet, though. "Coffee would be nice, yes. Especially real coffee."
"Great." She managed a small smile. "What do you know about what's going on right now?"
He returned the smile, faint and strained as it was. "Little more than you do, I am afraid. I can tell you that everything possible is being done to find those who took them and bring them home safely."
Monet gave a short laugh. "I'm so glad to know they're not doing a half-arsed job at it. We'd have to, to give them all decaf instead of real coffee if they were doing that." There'd been nothing in the papers - Australian or American since this had happened. "At least Dad's keeping it out of the news. Either that or his editors really like Paris Hilton."
Kurt nodded. "Between your father and Jennie's father, I do not think you will see a mention of this on the news anytime soon. And, of course, it may just be that they have not heard of it. Unless they are watching Marius all the time..." He trailed off, not seeing any need to finish that sentence.
"They never watched Marius because he was. No, IS boring and they usually found out I'd done something stupid if and when I got taken home by the police or when I went to the Logies or that time I was a guest at the Brownlows. Do you, I missed the Logies this year? I'm very sad about that." Monet wiped away an imaginary tear.
"The... Logies?" he asked, half in genuine puzzlement (he didn't watch television much), half seizing on another subject that might distract her, however briefly, from her brother's absence.
Monet blinked at Kurt for a moment. "Oh, baby. I'm going to have to take you next year. The Logies are ... special. It's like the Oscars but for Australian TV. Everyone votes, I mean, everyone - people write in, and nominate actors. And then the most popular person, and that's normally Rove," she expanded slightly at Kurt's slightly confused look, "Rove has a talk show and everyone loves him because his wife died. Well, the most popular person gets the Gold Logie. And everyone connected to TV at all comes and gets blind drunk by the end of the night because there's free booze. Oooh! And there's always a bunch of really confused celebrities from overseas. I think we got Jessica Alba and Avril this year."
He blinked right back, though his expression cleared quickly as her explanation continued. And at least the attempt at distraction seemed to have worked. "It sounds like quite an experience, as nights out go."
"It is. I think they started as a joke, actually, but then everyone realised they were so much fun and all that. Besides, you have to wear formal gear and laugh at footballers who've come in tuxes and be creeped out by Bert Newton."
"And who is Bert Newton?" he asked, oddly fascinated by her whole recital on the subject.
"Oh wow. Where do I start? I think Bert's been around since we got tv. He looks like he's made out of plastic. His face never moves. It's scary. And he's been on every Australian show ever made, pretty much."
"Ah, so... even more alarming in person?" he asked with a faint smile. "And hired continually perhaps because of that factor."
"Something like that. Do you have milk or sugar?"
"Neither", he told her, trying to think of other things they might talk about that weren't the situation and the lack of things to be done about it. "I grew used to taking it strong, black and early in the morning, back in the camp."
"Dude. Do you want indigestion or something?" Monet poured two cups and added milk to hers.
"I have heard it said, by others here", he admitted. "But so far, it has never happened. Perhaps my stomach is built differently, along with the rest of me."
Monet shook her head. "I think it's because you must secretly like pain." She waggled her eyebrows at Kurt.
Kurt chuckled, glad to see her seeming distracted enough to make jokes. "Well, to listen to some of the comments made about the team's uniforms..." Amazingly enough, he managed to deliver this line without blushing.
"It's really amazing that they've managed to find that many people with bondage fetishes all in one place. Is it in the enterance exam? Must like pain, bondage gear, and leather?" She laghed softly.
"Perhaps it should be. Though you would be surprised how many former students of the school - perfectly normal, mostly - end up joining the team after their graduation."
"And they go from being perfectly normal bondage loving types to your sort of bondage lovers. It's all very strange. I think you put something in the water." Monet looked at her coffee. "Oh god, and I've been drinking the water. This is so your fault, if I ever start wanting to wear that much leather, rather than, oh, pretty, attractive pieces of leather."
"I will be happy to take the full blame", Kurt told her solemnly. "Unless of course you meant you as in the whole team."
"I'll have to think about that one."
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no subject
Date: 2007-05-12 03:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-12 06:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-12 10:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-13 12:30 am (UTC)I think Monet will have to go to the Brownlows, possibly with Marius.
What's the NRL equivilent? They'd have something, wouldn't they? And it's probably the next really large scale event on the calender unless there's a wedding or something.
no subject
Date: 2007-05-13 12:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-13 12:38 am (UTC)