Amanda, Manuel - Thursday afternoon
Mar. 9th, 2005 06:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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xp_logsManuel's father might be responsible for Pete leaving, but Amanda can't stay away from Manuel forever. And this time it's Manuel who takes charge.
It might have been coincidence or design that had Manuel taking a break from his Independent Music Study project at around the same time Amanda's last class finished. And the fact he was taking said break in the student rec room, sprawled gracefully in an armchair with a copy of the financial section of the newspaper, in line of sight or anyone coming up the stairs and heading for the girls' part of the student wing, was again purely by chance. Amanda had asked for space, and he'd given it - he'd have to be headblind to miss the turmoil her emotions were in despite her shielding of the link - but he'd been worried about her. Things seemed to be settling down now, however, with her resuming classes and not hiding out in the stables constantly; perhaps it would be a good time to reassure her he was here when she needed him. And if it wasn't a good time, well, the stock figures he was looking at were more than enough to keep him entertained, for a while at least.
Amanda climbed the stairs with a sigh, hoisting her book bag a little more securely on her shoulder. She'd made a point of asking her teachers for make-up work to cover the classes she'd missed, and al Rashid hadn't exactly been helpful, failing her on a pop quiz and assigning her two extra chapters of translation on top of the homework he'd already assigned. It was times like this she missed having Nate as her Arabic teacher.
Passing the rec room, she spotted a familiar pair of long legs clad in black slacks, stretching out from one of the arm chairs, and she paused in the doorway. A sudden sense of longing, of need for comfort overwhelmed her, drowning out the guilt and fear of the previous week, and she acted on it, approaching Manuel's chair soundlessly. Dropping her bag by the chair, she curled into his lap without warning.
Manuel had felt the emotions down the link, but still the sudden appearance of a wytchbrat in his lap came as a surprise. Not an unpleasant one, 'though. Putting aside his newspaper, he wrapped his arms around her, dropping a kiss on the head resting limply against his shoulder. "Hello to you, too," he said with a hint of a smirk. "Long day?" His raging libido was put on hold, at least for now - Amanda's emotional state was as fragile as the fine crystal wineglasses on his father's table, and that wasn't what she wanted. At least, not yet.
"Long week," came the slightly muffled reply. Amanda had wrapped her arms around Manuel's neck, pressing her face into his shoulder. "I'm sorry t' be a complete nutter 'bout those photos," she said, out of the blue. "I wasn't thinkin' straight."
"That was obvious," Manuel replied, careful to keep the trace of irritation he'd felt with her neuroses out of his voice and off the link. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," came the surprising reply. Lifting her head, Amanda looked at him with serious blue eyes. "You said it all, in yer email. I believe what you said." There was a certain amount of solemnity in her tone, almost ritualistic, like she was participating in one of her pagan ceremonies. "No more gettin' jealous over you an' Lee, I promise."
"I'll hold you to that promise," Manuel told her, but with a slight smile. She'd regained her senses, apparently. He kissed the corner of her mouth, trying to ease the sad droop of it. "I'm not going anywhere," he said with a certain amount of bitterness he couldn't hide. "So you can stop worrying about it already."
"I'll try," Amanda replied, the barest hint of a smile appearing where he'd kissed. She was so tired of worrying, of being scared, of feeling guilty. And she missed Manuel so much over the week, even as she knew she couldn't face him. It wasn't fair - all she'd wanted was someone to love, who loved her, and instead she'd gotten the equivalent of a target painted on her life. Not Manuel's fault, but she couldn't even talk to him about it. Alphonso's legacy lived in the bones of Manuel's face, the way he moved his head, a certain manner of talking and smiling. The man was Manuel's flesh and blood, and she couldn't destroy what they had by telling him what it cost.
"I know you will." He couldn't push, not when she felt so... murky dull grey-brown. "Have you been eating during this self-imposed exile of yours? It doesn't look like you have." To illustrate, he shifted his arms around her and lifted her slightly off his lap. "You're lighter. And you were too light already."
"Not really," she admitted, hanging her head a little like a chastised child. "Wasn't hungry."
"The Bottomless Pit of Brighton not hungry?" he teased, raising his eyebrows in mock horror. "Should we be heading for the bunkers awaiting the arrival of the apocalypse?"
Again that faint hint of a smile, failing to lift the sadness in her eyes. "It does happen, sometimes. Haven't been usin' the magic much, so I haven't needed t' eat as much as usual."
"Well, I prefer my women with some meat on their bones, so you will just have to try," he told her, tone still teasing, but with a hint of command to it. "You asked me to help you look after yourself, so I insist. Go and get your jacket and I'll make arrangements to get a ride into town. You need a change of scenery, and the kitchen isn't fit for food preparation yet any way. You up for Thai again? It wasn't too expensive, even if the service was crap."
Amanda opened her mouth to protest she didn't feel like going out, that she was too tired, but the thought of escape, however temporary, was too tempting to resist. With an obedient nod, she began untangling herself from Manuel's lap, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek as she did. "Thank you."
"You can thank me later," he told her with a brief leer and a quick squeeze of her ass as she clambered off him. "I'll come get you in fifteen minutes." There was no option of refusing.
"Yes, dear," Amanda said meekly, but there was a hint of her old mischievous grin as she scooped up her book bag and left to do as she was told.
It might have been coincidence or design that had Manuel taking a break from his Independent Music Study project at around the same time Amanda's last class finished. And the fact he was taking said break in the student rec room, sprawled gracefully in an armchair with a copy of the financial section of the newspaper, in line of sight or anyone coming up the stairs and heading for the girls' part of the student wing, was again purely by chance. Amanda had asked for space, and he'd given it - he'd have to be headblind to miss the turmoil her emotions were in despite her shielding of the link - but he'd been worried about her. Things seemed to be settling down now, however, with her resuming classes and not hiding out in the stables constantly; perhaps it would be a good time to reassure her he was here when she needed him. And if it wasn't a good time, well, the stock figures he was looking at were more than enough to keep him entertained, for a while at least.
Amanda climbed the stairs with a sigh, hoisting her book bag a little more securely on her shoulder. She'd made a point of asking her teachers for make-up work to cover the classes she'd missed, and al Rashid hadn't exactly been helpful, failing her on a pop quiz and assigning her two extra chapters of translation on top of the homework he'd already assigned. It was times like this she missed having Nate as her Arabic teacher.
Passing the rec room, she spotted a familiar pair of long legs clad in black slacks, stretching out from one of the arm chairs, and she paused in the doorway. A sudden sense of longing, of need for comfort overwhelmed her, drowning out the guilt and fear of the previous week, and she acted on it, approaching Manuel's chair soundlessly. Dropping her bag by the chair, she curled into his lap without warning.
Manuel had felt the emotions down the link, but still the sudden appearance of a wytchbrat in his lap came as a surprise. Not an unpleasant one, 'though. Putting aside his newspaper, he wrapped his arms around her, dropping a kiss on the head resting limply against his shoulder. "Hello to you, too," he said with a hint of a smirk. "Long day?" His raging libido was put on hold, at least for now - Amanda's emotional state was as fragile as the fine crystal wineglasses on his father's table, and that wasn't what she wanted. At least, not yet.
"Long week," came the slightly muffled reply. Amanda had wrapped her arms around Manuel's neck, pressing her face into his shoulder. "I'm sorry t' be a complete nutter 'bout those photos," she said, out of the blue. "I wasn't thinkin' straight."
"That was obvious," Manuel replied, careful to keep the trace of irritation he'd felt with her neuroses out of his voice and off the link. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"No," came the surprising reply. Lifting her head, Amanda looked at him with serious blue eyes. "You said it all, in yer email. I believe what you said." There was a certain amount of solemnity in her tone, almost ritualistic, like she was participating in one of her pagan ceremonies. "No more gettin' jealous over you an' Lee, I promise."
"I'll hold you to that promise," Manuel told her, but with a slight smile. She'd regained her senses, apparently. He kissed the corner of her mouth, trying to ease the sad droop of it. "I'm not going anywhere," he said with a certain amount of bitterness he couldn't hide. "So you can stop worrying about it already."
"I'll try," Amanda replied, the barest hint of a smile appearing where he'd kissed. She was so tired of worrying, of being scared, of feeling guilty. And she missed Manuel so much over the week, even as she knew she couldn't face him. It wasn't fair - all she'd wanted was someone to love, who loved her, and instead she'd gotten the equivalent of a target painted on her life. Not Manuel's fault, but she couldn't even talk to him about it. Alphonso's legacy lived in the bones of Manuel's face, the way he moved his head, a certain manner of talking and smiling. The man was Manuel's flesh and blood, and she couldn't destroy what they had by telling him what it cost.
"I know you will." He couldn't push, not when she felt so... murky dull grey-brown. "Have you been eating during this self-imposed exile of yours? It doesn't look like you have." To illustrate, he shifted his arms around her and lifted her slightly off his lap. "You're lighter. And you were too light already."
"Not really," she admitted, hanging her head a little like a chastised child. "Wasn't hungry."
"The Bottomless Pit of Brighton not hungry?" he teased, raising his eyebrows in mock horror. "Should we be heading for the bunkers awaiting the arrival of the apocalypse?"
Again that faint hint of a smile, failing to lift the sadness in her eyes. "It does happen, sometimes. Haven't been usin' the magic much, so I haven't needed t' eat as much as usual."
"Well, I prefer my women with some meat on their bones, so you will just have to try," he told her, tone still teasing, but with a hint of command to it. "You asked me to help you look after yourself, so I insist. Go and get your jacket and I'll make arrangements to get a ride into town. You need a change of scenery, and the kitchen isn't fit for food preparation yet any way. You up for Thai again? It wasn't too expensive, even if the service was crap."
Amanda opened her mouth to protest she didn't feel like going out, that she was too tired, but the thought of escape, however temporary, was too tempting to resist. With an obedient nod, she began untangling herself from Manuel's lap, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek as she did. "Thank you."
"You can thank me later," he told her with a brief leer and a quick squeeze of her ass as she clambered off him. "I'll come get you in fifteen minutes." There was no option of refusing.
"Yes, dear," Amanda said meekly, but there was a hint of her old mischievous grin as she scooped up her book bag and left to do as she was told.
