Log: Illyana and Jake, today

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Jake miscalculates vis-a-vis Illyana's appreciation of glitter.

The door banged open with little attention to maintaining a peaceful work environment. The irate blonde who entered didn't even bother to speak before she leaned across the desk and, with one quick movement, smacked Jake smartly on the nose with the Sunday Times. "You glittered me," she accused. "I spent half an hour at the mall looking for these stupid khakis, and now I might as well be wearing Jubilee's whore pants."

"Hey!" Jake yelped, flinching back from the strike. He blinked up at Illyana. "Ow," he complained, although it wasn't heartfelt. "You like glitter!"

"Who told you that? Was it Clarice? I bet it was Clarice." She contemplated Clarice's fate murderously for a moment, then turned her attention back to him. "What about me would even lead you to believe that? We've worked together for -- " (okay, so she hadn't really been paying attention) -- "a couple of weeks or a month or something."

"Okay," Jake said, wrinkling his nose in a way that looked suspiciously like he was trying to make sure it wasn't broken, "you apparently used to like glitter? And it's been three months. Almost four." Oh god. Had he really been here that long?

"Whatever, four months, one month, same thing," Illyana said dismissively. She focused her scowl on him again. "And when did I ever like glitter? Definitely not four months ago, or three months ago, or this afternoon. There has never, in fact, been a time when I liked glitter."

Jake pretended to think. "No, I certainly remember glitter. And Harry Potter. Granted, it's been a few years, but I'm pretty sure I'm remembering it right."

It was possible that Illyana's skin suffered a condition commonly known as 'blushing', only, of course, half-demon hell queens didn't do that. Particularly not their ears. "I did not read Harry Potter," she said, "and -- and -- I didn't like glitter. Ever. You're just lying because you were jealous of my idiot brother." Logic barely entered Illyana's conversations at the best of times, so it was obvious she was going to ignore the faulty linkages in there here and now.

Jake blinked at her for a moment, then burst out in uproarious laughter. "First of all," he said when he regained enough breath to speak again, holding up a finger to count, "did too--nyah." He stuck out his tongue, then held up another finger. "And second of all, jealous? Of Piotr?! Look, it's clear, if terrifying, that you stole all of the good things out of your family's gene pool and left him with very little besides big and pretty. And I'm prettier than he is. So I'm not sure what, exactly, I'm supposed to have been jealous of."

Illyana glared at him. "Everyone knows you wanted to date Warren," she said, neglecting to mention that everyone was pretty much Piotr's old journal entries that Jennie and I read when we're drunk. "So, obviously, you're . . . " Damn, what was it Oprah had called it? "Transferring your old frustration to me. And also. You're obviously dishonest. Because you put glitter into a file folder."

Jake laughed again. "I--what? Really? Warren?" He shook his head, beyond amused. "I really don't think your latent attempts at cockblocking have anything to do with why I never dated Warren. Although I will admit that the glitter might have been slightly dishonest. Even if you did like it."

She should have known better than to trust her idiot brother's judgment, even when it could have made sense. Rather than admitting defeat, she scowled. "I never did. And don't. And -- why are you even victimizing me? I never did anything to you. Except possibly as a child, but I don't even remember that. And you probably deserved it. Probably it was karma."

"Probably," he agreed cheerily. "Karma is a bitch, or so I'm told." He tilted his head as if he were trying to make up his mind about something. "I can bribe you with baked goods to make you feel better?"

Illyana seemed to be considering hitting him again, and then sighed. "You'd better. I'm never going to be able to wear these again." She paused. "Maybe Mark will want them."

"You could have them washed?" he offered as he stood, extending his arm for her to take if she wanted.

"They're always going to have had glitter on them," she said moodily ignoring his arm largely because it didn't occur to her why he was extending it. "It would be like wearing clothes that someone got their blood all over. Only worse."

He gave up on being at all chivalrous and instead took Illyana by the elbow and steered her towards the door. "Woe," he replied. "I'll have to buy you some sort of extra-fancy baked goods to make up for it. Possibly something with an artful flower done out of fondant."