It was with an inane sort of surrender that Claire finally gave him a reaction. Her slender fingers pressed so harshly upon the pen that crimson ink bled through the crisp folds of the packet before her.
"Do. You. Mind?
"What's up?" he blinked, grinning.
"Quit staring. It's seriously putting me on edge."
"A cat may look at a queen," he laughed.
"Get back to work," she seethed through gritted teeth. "Before our supervisor comes in and lays into both of us just because I couldn't keep you in line."
"I'm doing no harm," he whistled simply, arms lazy against his desk, fingernail slinking quietly across his notepad.
"You've been antagonizing me all week. Patronizing me. Me specifically out of everyone here, Hope. I've tried to keep professional about this, but I've had it. Leave me alone."
"You know what they say about assuming," he trilled, all dimples and gleaming teeth. "It makes an ass out of you and m-"
She brought her palm down viciously against the tabletop, leaving papers unsettled, tracing ripples across the top of her – miraculously un-toppled – mug of coffee.
"What is your problem?" she breathed, fuming.
He was, uncharacteristically, silent for a precious few moments.
"Say," his once-idle fingers drummed against the arm of his chair. "Come out with me Saturday. New movie. Closest theater's horribly overpriced, but we'd manage."
"I," eyes closed, slender hands kneading her temple, visage resigned and weary. "Am done with your jokes. I don't know what you've got against me, but I'm petitioning for a reorganization of a staff first thing tomorrow."
She stuffed her things haphazardly into her pack and the chair screeched as she rose.
"Leaving so soon?" his notepad was finally open, but he was tracing a hand-turkey.
"You can be someone else's headache," she bit back.
The swing of a door, a rush of wind pushed briefly into the stifled office, and she was gone.
Her heels clicked against asphalt as she approached the end of her driveway. She dug in her pocket before growing suddenly rigid.
"Keys," she muttered. "Keys, keys, I'm sure they're-"
She sighed.
But they were always in her pocket. Which meant they were probably on the floor of the office. She could go back and search, if she weren't so certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that no one would be there at this time.
In no mood, especially after her wonderful day, to deal with any of this, she rummaged through her pack as a last, desperate resort.
And blinked at the crumpled notepad paper now sitting in her hand. Frayed at the edges, an accompanying scrawl, keys jangling cheerfully along its margin, torn like a shark's row of teeth.
You're pretty when you're angry, but also kinda absentminded. I'm telling you, I'm a lot shier than you think.
-Hope
She thought back to the past week, re-evaluated herself, him, every interaction, every mote of teasing.
And she groaned.
"That theater really is expensive," she mumbled. "Oh well."
Author's Note: I've been wanting to contribute something to the FF13 archives for a while now, especially involving these two, because face it, I'm a squealing obsessed lame Hoperai shipper just like the rest of you, heheh. I've finally finished the playthrough of all three games after, like, a year, so it's high time I did something about this crazy urge to post a a fic about it. Until I work through something a little more involved and fleshed out, have this little cheesy oneshot of the pair. And if they seem a little OOC, that might be because this fic wasn't originally about Hope and Lightning, haha.
I might - God forbid - continue this with a smattering of other interconnected chapters detailing their continued interactions, if people really want it. Maybe. Blech.
Let me know what you thought! I craaaave feedback. :]
