Felicia and North; Car Wash Montage
May. 4th, 2015 11:02 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsFelicia comes back to the mansion after work to find North washing his motorcycle.
Forever thankful that someone had put the forethought to pave the side path from the front vehicle round about to the back entrance - which went through the kitchen and directly into residence, as opposed to meandering through offices and sitting rooms in a never ending IKEA like trap of hallways - Felicia's heels clicked against the not cobblestone or gravel as she made her way around. Movement caught her eye, as well as the sound of water, and she deviated into the outdoor garage area, pausing for a beat before crossing her arms.
"What. No. We need to talk about this."
A soapy rag was dragged along a leather seat, coming to a rest on the back end of the black with green detailing Kawasaki Ninja. The man washing the motorcycle straightened, a salt and pepper brow raised inquisitively.
"Yes?"
"No. You cannot do the soapy bending thing, it is just mean when you," Felicia started to answer, covering her babble with a cough and a gesture at, well. All of him. "Not when you look like this. Unless there is a video being made. Is there a video being made? I think my phone will take slow motion close-ups, hold on," she continued, turning to dig in her bag.
He frowned, glancing down at his plain undershirt and sweats and back up at his newest colleague, slightly disconcerted but not nearly as oblivious as he would need to be to not understand Felicia was saying. Shifting his shades further up his nose bridge, David grabbed the rag and dropped it into the pail by his feet, ready to avoid her camera if it came down to that.
"I do not take pictures, Ms Hardy. Or videos." Calm down, he wanted to say. "Job hazards, you understand."
"What about if I kept it just for- fine," Felicia replied, ending her phone quest at his continued stare, and focusing her full attention back on him. "I can respect that. But you must know how much you look like a music video right now. If I listen really carefully I can hear "Cherry Pie" playing somewhere, possibly my head."
North snorted and shook his head, not quite understanding the reference but getting the gist just fine. He shifted again, torn between amusement and some level of discomfort. He was suddenly reminded of someone else from another time, all blue skin and sass. "You understand that I am just washing my motorcycle, ja?"
"And when I wear glasses and the button up, pencil skirt, heels combo I'm just picking up a pen." Felicia levelled him with a long stare, then rolled her eyes. "For fuck's sake, stupid attractive men and their stupid faces... Just don't come crying to me when you have a shrine of gifts outside your door from lovesick teenagers. They all have credit cards these days, they will send you sparkly sex toys."
He quirked a brow, apparently having settled on amusement. "I do not think the colour of sex toys actually matter in the grander scheme of things. But if it makes you feel better, I promise not turn up at your door in tears."
Tilting her head slightly in acquiescence, she shrugged one shoulder none the less. "Doesn't mean I don't still prefer not to have sex with something out of the 'Twilight' franchise." Felicia held up a hand, still towering over the crouched man, in her heels. "Yes, yes, you are very German and above knowledge of such things, but let's not pretend you don't know exactly what I mean."
But the man merely returned her one arm shrug, grabbing the rag and wringing it out in the bucket before standing and turning to face her, a placid expression on his face. "If you are worried about what it looks like while using it, perhaps it is not being used right."
"Yes, you've said that, but I'm a basic black sort of girl," Felicia replied, gaze trailing up his form as he rose, flicking it down again and then back up once he reached full height, only a couple inches taller with this particular pair of shoes. "Or are you looking to offer some assistance?"
"Unfortunately," he said, a corner of his lips ticking up for a second. "I have sat through all the mandatory sexual harassment talks. Not to worry, Ms Hardy. I am sure the students have themselves well in hand, though I do appreciate your concern."
"Indeed." Felicia chuckled, ducking her head slightly. "Well, we're coworkers now, Mr North," she said, not bothering to hide her teasing tone as she adopted his overly formal use of honorifics. "Making sure you have things, as you said, well in hand, is the least I can do."
He crouched to mop at the mudguard, but not before acknowledging her words with a fairly formal dip of his head, tempered by the crinkle at the corners of his eyes -- it was all in the microexpressions, really. "I hope you enjoy tax accounting and law."
"In the top five of my class, while harbouring a secret identity. I think we're good," she replied, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder as she shifted. "I'm not doing your grunt work, though. Let me make that perfectly clear. I don't care what I look like, what parts I have, I will help you if you need it, but I am not picking up the shit you don't feel like doing."
"I do, however," she continued, quirking the corner of her mouth. "Make a very good coffee run. Sometimes I'll even pick you up something, if you're nice."
"Payroll is worse," David said bluntly. "As are our insurance issues. We can always discuss work division when we are both in the office, where the coffee machine would make for a fairly short coffee run." It probably would not take her long to learn that many of them had coffee in place of blood during crunch times. "Though I do like pastries from the corner store."
He glanced up from where he was now scrubbing at the wheel rims. "Of course, these are only our cover stories. You do not have to touch the actual paperwork if you do not want to." Mostly creative outsourcing employed, although he now had to take over some of the creative doctoring of accounts in Remy's marked absence.
Felicia shrugged, calmed, and looked at her nails. "It'll be fun. I like number puzzles. And apple fritters, if it ever comes up."
"I will take extra care to remember that," he promised quirking a smile now as he stood to grab the pail and toss the dirty water into the drain. "Have you met everyone on the team yet?"
With a quieter smile, Felicia replied, "More or less. Not all of the conversations have been as in depth and nice as ours, but between Adrienne's birthday and getting my desk set up, I seem to of at least set eyes on everyone. It's a decent mix, as far as teams go. Especially considering the size."
"Yes," he agreed, turning on the outdoor tap to start re-filling the pail. "The diversified skillsets make division of work easier -- we do not have to go out in full force each time something comes up." Given that they were a small group covering a large area of work. divide and conquer often was the only feasible tactic to employ. "I hope you are settling in well then."
"I did some renovating. It helped." Felicia fidgeted a bit, continuing, "I mean, it's still better than being Charlie. It's mostly me. This me just apparently works on teams. I'll get used to it."
"If it helps, we do not live in each other's pockets," he said idly. He understood that teamwork could be a very foreign concept. But then, he had also been in the military.
David gestured for her to step back, then walked around the motorcycle to toss the clean water over it, suds flowing down the sides. The pail went back under the tap.
"Idiom use and everything. If I didn't know better I'd think you kept up the whole accent thing just for the sex appeal." Felicia smiled, taking a second step away from the pooling water.
He laughed. "If I did not know better, I would think you want something from me." Which was a possibility he had not ruled out yet, really. "Would an American accent make you feel more at ease?"
Felicia let her face school into a few small, different expressions, temples pulling back, eyebrows hinting upwards, as she slowly blinked in the resting conversation beat. One corner of her mouth slid ever so slightly to the right as she took a breath. "With you?" she asked slowly. "You don't make me nervous, Mr North. Or are you projecting a little this afternoon?"
The corner of David's lips lifted into an easily missed smirk, turning off the tap and hefting the full bucket up to rinse off the bike again. "Perhaps. Does it matter?"
"It does," she replied simply, the other side of her mouth turning up as he slid casually into the more subtle consonant differences between the two accents. "I'm just not sure what I'd do in response with the knowledge yet."
"You let me know when you do," he said, grabbing a dry rag to towel down the bike.
Forever thankful that someone had put the forethought to pave the side path from the front vehicle round about to the back entrance - which went through the kitchen and directly into residence, as opposed to meandering through offices and sitting rooms in a never ending IKEA like trap of hallways - Felicia's heels clicked against the not cobblestone or gravel as she made her way around. Movement caught her eye, as well as the sound of water, and she deviated into the outdoor garage area, pausing for a beat before crossing her arms.
"What. No. We need to talk about this."
A soapy rag was dragged along a leather seat, coming to a rest on the back end of the black with green detailing Kawasaki Ninja. The man washing the motorcycle straightened, a salt and pepper brow raised inquisitively.
"Yes?"
"No. You cannot do the soapy bending thing, it is just mean when you," Felicia started to answer, covering her babble with a cough and a gesture at, well. All of him. "Not when you look like this. Unless there is a video being made. Is there a video being made? I think my phone will take slow motion close-ups, hold on," she continued, turning to dig in her bag.
He frowned, glancing down at his plain undershirt and sweats and back up at his newest colleague, slightly disconcerted but not nearly as oblivious as he would need to be to not understand Felicia was saying. Shifting his shades further up his nose bridge, David grabbed the rag and dropped it into the pail by his feet, ready to avoid her camera if it came down to that.
"I do not take pictures, Ms Hardy. Or videos." Calm down, he wanted to say. "Job hazards, you understand."
"What about if I kept it just for- fine," Felicia replied, ending her phone quest at his continued stare, and focusing her full attention back on him. "I can respect that. But you must know how much you look like a music video right now. If I listen really carefully I can hear "Cherry Pie" playing somewhere, possibly my head."
North snorted and shook his head, not quite understanding the reference but getting the gist just fine. He shifted again, torn between amusement and some level of discomfort. He was suddenly reminded of someone else from another time, all blue skin and sass. "You understand that I am just washing my motorcycle, ja?"
"And when I wear glasses and the button up, pencil skirt, heels combo I'm just picking up a pen." Felicia levelled him with a long stare, then rolled her eyes. "For fuck's sake, stupid attractive men and their stupid faces... Just don't come crying to me when you have a shrine of gifts outside your door from lovesick teenagers. They all have credit cards these days, they will send you sparkly sex toys."
He quirked a brow, apparently having settled on amusement. "I do not think the colour of sex toys actually matter in the grander scheme of things. But if it makes you feel better, I promise not turn up at your door in tears."
Tilting her head slightly in acquiescence, she shrugged one shoulder none the less. "Doesn't mean I don't still prefer not to have sex with something out of the 'Twilight' franchise." Felicia held up a hand, still towering over the crouched man, in her heels. "Yes, yes, you are very German and above knowledge of such things, but let's not pretend you don't know exactly what I mean."
But the man merely returned her one arm shrug, grabbing the rag and wringing it out in the bucket before standing and turning to face her, a placid expression on his face. "If you are worried about what it looks like while using it, perhaps it is not being used right."
"Yes, you've said that, but I'm a basic black sort of girl," Felicia replied, gaze trailing up his form as he rose, flicking it down again and then back up once he reached full height, only a couple inches taller with this particular pair of shoes. "Or are you looking to offer some assistance?"
"Unfortunately," he said, a corner of his lips ticking up for a second. "I have sat through all the mandatory sexual harassment talks. Not to worry, Ms Hardy. I am sure the students have themselves well in hand, though I do appreciate your concern."
"Indeed." Felicia chuckled, ducking her head slightly. "Well, we're coworkers now, Mr North," she said, not bothering to hide her teasing tone as she adopted his overly formal use of honorifics. "Making sure you have things, as you said, well in hand, is the least I can do."
He crouched to mop at the mudguard, but not before acknowledging her words with a fairly formal dip of his head, tempered by the crinkle at the corners of his eyes -- it was all in the microexpressions, really. "I hope you enjoy tax accounting and law."
"In the top five of my class, while harbouring a secret identity. I think we're good," she replied, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder as she shifted. "I'm not doing your grunt work, though. Let me make that perfectly clear. I don't care what I look like, what parts I have, I will help you if you need it, but I am not picking up the shit you don't feel like doing."
"I do, however," she continued, quirking the corner of her mouth. "Make a very good coffee run. Sometimes I'll even pick you up something, if you're nice."
"Payroll is worse," David said bluntly. "As are our insurance issues. We can always discuss work division when we are both in the office, where the coffee machine would make for a fairly short coffee run." It probably would not take her long to learn that many of them had coffee in place of blood during crunch times. "Though I do like pastries from the corner store."
He glanced up from where he was now scrubbing at the wheel rims. "Of course, these are only our cover stories. You do not have to touch the actual paperwork if you do not want to." Mostly creative outsourcing employed, although he now had to take over some of the creative doctoring of accounts in Remy's marked absence.
Felicia shrugged, calmed, and looked at her nails. "It'll be fun. I like number puzzles. And apple fritters, if it ever comes up."
"I will take extra care to remember that," he promised quirking a smile now as he stood to grab the pail and toss the dirty water into the drain. "Have you met everyone on the team yet?"
With a quieter smile, Felicia replied, "More or less. Not all of the conversations have been as in depth and nice as ours, but between Adrienne's birthday and getting my desk set up, I seem to of at least set eyes on everyone. It's a decent mix, as far as teams go. Especially considering the size."
"Yes," he agreed, turning on the outdoor tap to start re-filling the pail. "The diversified skillsets make division of work easier -- we do not have to go out in full force each time something comes up." Given that they were a small group covering a large area of work. divide and conquer often was the only feasible tactic to employ. "I hope you are settling in well then."
"I did some renovating. It helped." Felicia fidgeted a bit, continuing, "I mean, it's still better than being Charlie. It's mostly me. This me just apparently works on teams. I'll get used to it."
"If it helps, we do not live in each other's pockets," he said idly. He understood that teamwork could be a very foreign concept. But then, he had also been in the military.
David gestured for her to step back, then walked around the motorcycle to toss the clean water over it, suds flowing down the sides. The pail went back under the tap.
"Idiom use and everything. If I didn't know better I'd think you kept up the whole accent thing just for the sex appeal." Felicia smiled, taking a second step away from the pooling water.
He laughed. "If I did not know better, I would think you want something from me." Which was a possibility he had not ruled out yet, really. "Would an American accent make you feel more at ease?"
Felicia let her face school into a few small, different expressions, temples pulling back, eyebrows hinting upwards, as she slowly blinked in the resting conversation beat. One corner of her mouth slid ever so slightly to the right as she took a breath. "With you?" she asked slowly. "You don't make me nervous, Mr North. Or are you projecting a little this afternoon?"
The corner of David's lips lifted into an easily missed smirk, turning off the tap and hefting the full bucket up to rinse off the bike again. "Perhaps. Does it matter?"
"It does," she replied simply, the other side of her mouth turning up as he slid casually into the more subtle consonant differences between the two accents. "I'm just not sure what I'd do in response with the knowledge yet."
"You let me know when you do," he said, grabbing a dry rag to towel down the bike.
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