Eve watched Flynn dance around the room, the promise of a breakthrough lending speed and energy to determined research. He was made of such contradictions: formal suit over sneakers; worn leather satchel and a flower on his lapel; honest reactions written across his face even as secrets lurked at the corner of his mouth; hands flapping as passion overflowed mere words, but martial experience giving the motions a strange grace; lines etched at the corners of his eyes and - as epiphany struck - the exuberant joy of a child. Flynn dashed off after his mystery, and Eve followed hers.
Word Count: 100
Notes: This will be a set of strict drabbles from Eve's POV, one for each of the five senses, all Eve/Flynn. All five are already written, and I should be posting one a day. Sorry for the lack of Eve in this chapter; that does get better, but I was having too much fun with the contrasting pairs.