10
oOo
That Electric Feeling
oOo
Pick-Axe Blonde Ale
Keweenaw Brewing Company
Clear and straightforward, greatly improved with a meal.
oOo
It was odd having strangers walking around her house. At first the construction crew seemed as awkward as her, sneaking to and from the bathroom, the kitchen, the front door. She was perched in the middle of the apartment on a couch, laptop on her knees and a mug of tea at hand. No one disturbed her, no one engaged in any kind of conversation unless she started it. They passed as if there was a wall between them. Spencer stayed in her spot following them with her eyes at most.
Well, Barsad still snickered and winked at her, but she wasn't sure just yet how to interpret his behaviour.
The work, after the first day, was surprisingly silent and admirably well-organized. Bane worked with his men, lending his considerable height and strength to further the tasks with efficiency worthy of an android. After the demolition on day one they set on taking down lighter fixtures, cleaning the walls off of drywall and exposing the wiring.
Bane's sleepy eyed foreman did venture out at one point, bringing back bags of styrofoam containers and a welcoming whiff of middle-eastern cuisine.
Spencer felt her stomach knot in a sympathetic cramp. She forgot to eat all day yesterday. Absorbed in pretending she didn't pay any attention to the workers, somehow she managed to spew out some thirty pages of text. Not bad at all, provided it would be comprehensible. She couldn't remember a word, and she was supposed to work on Billie, not on another thriller.
Today was not much better.
With a sigh she strolled to the kitchen to inspect the contents of her fridge. Mustard, mayo, ketchup, some partly dried out sliced cheese and butter. She sighed again. Freezer was more accommodating, with two cups of frozen cream of mushroom soup and some meat ragu in portions.
"Pasta it is," she murmured to no one in particular, resigned to her fate.
Fifteen minutes later she was perched on the windowsill, vividly green bowl with her meal in hands, observing the park on the other side of the road.
"Excuse me." Rumbling voice caught her off guard, just when she was slurping in a ribbon of tagliatelle. She didn't suck hard enough, startled, and reflexively brushed in stray sauce and pasta with quick stroke of her tongue. Inelegant. Chewing the food, she sent Bane a questioning look.
"I hope we didn't disturb your work."
"You're surprisingly silent, really, so no worries. What is it?"
"There is a problem with wiring on the ceiling. I will be needing additional resources to complete the design you requested. I may have an alternative, using existing network with minimal changes. If you'll approve of my idea."
"Sure, let's take a look," she said. Before she could shift to move down the windowsill, he raised his hand with a smile.
"It's not that urgent. Finish your lunch please, I'll wait."
"I really don't have anything better to do," she confessed, her conspiratorial tone openly teasing.
She was delighted to see him smile.
"I'll make myself tea and keep you company then, if you don't mind."
"Sure, be my guest," she smirked, tucking back into her pasta.
"It's imperative to maintain regular intervals between meals," he explained.
It was oddly comforting to Spencer, seeing this big and burly man navigating her kitchen with ease, delicately assembling everything he needed for a good cup of tea. Or two, since she noticed he prepared twin mugs, her favorite pair of unglazed anthracite gray clay with bright yellow insides.
Granted, most things were plain to see or in obvious places, but still he looked deceptively at home making their drinks.
How long since she had a man living with her?
"I'm never concerned about that," she said in response to his last sentence, because she wanted to hear more of his voice.
Bane narrowed his eyes with a frown, propping on his hip on a counter by the stove, hands folded over his chest, waiting for the water to boil. The position only accentuated his build.
"That is unwise. Proper nutrition is key to healthy body and mind."
"I guess you could say that this," she raised the bowl a bit, "is too fattening?"
"What's that, bolognese?"
She hummed, nodding, while she chewed through another mouthful.
"Portion size seems reasonable, given your height and weight, also I gather you prepared it from scratch, save for the pasta?"
"Even the pasta," she corrected.
He gave her an appeasing, excessive frown, his sinful lips twisted into an upside-down 'U'.
"It seems appropriate. You could cut on carbs if you'd switch to whole grain."
"No way. It tastes like cardboard."
"That it does," Bane smiled. "However, you could still mitigate the additional carbohydrate intake with some exercise later on."
The kettle whistled and he silenced the sound raising it over the flame before he extinguished it. He poured the water with concentration visible in his eyes, as if the task required any thought at all.
Spencer swooped down, and stood by the sink to wash the bowl. Meanwhile Bane watched as the tea steeped in a glass pot, delicate leaves slowly unfurling from tight curls they were previously contorted in.
"I hope you don't mind me perusing your stash of tea so freely."
"Of course not, why would I?" she asked, incredulous.
He watched her straighten out the tea towel she used to dry her hands, then shook his head a bit and turned back to the pot.
"It's an impressive collection. I'm sure some of those blends are difficult to obtain."
"Only a few. But, if the tea is not enjoyed, what's the point of buying it?"
"Indeed."
"This looks about ready," she noted.
He nodded and poured the oolong into the cups, the same one she prepared for him when they first met. Delicate and fragrant aroma rose with steam towards the ceiling.
"Shall we?"
He inclined his head in a little bow, prompting her to lead the way. Spencer started towards the entrance, wishing her kitchen would be a tad more narrow or cramped. She had an overwhelming urge to rub on him, like a cat, as she went.
Ridiculous, of course.
Mugs in hand they scaled the corridor. The crew was finishing the break, lazily gathering emptied boxes from the lunch, chatting over last bites. Spencer smiled again when they turned their heads towards her, Bane looming closely behind.
"Two minutes," he said.
All nodded and wordlessly moved out. The foreman shot Spencer a look she couldn't decipher. He hung out by the entrance, leaving a few hushed words with Bane before he too went away.
They are all oddly soft spoken.
"What I had in mind here is this," Bane said, pulling her out if her musings, "Instead of an overhanging bar here, right above the bed, we could make two clusters on each side here." He produced blue chalk and marked the spots with short and sure scratches of the stick. "That way you won't have the lamp hanging too low over your head. Especially with added height from the bed and the steps. As it happens, this part of the ceiling is housing a construction beam that can't be disturbed, so to achieve what you had in mind previously we'd have to lower the ceiling, further shrinking the space for the lamp. Perhaps a very flat one could work here."
"Damn, I already picked the hanging one." She looked to the sides, measuring where Bane sketched new position of the lights. "I'll have to look again then, since there's no choice really with the ceiling. I'd hate to have a guest crank his head when getting up."
She grinned, and immediately blushed.
What the hell prompted her to say that?
"That would have to be a pretty tall guest," Bane murmured blandly.
"Or I could be in danger while, um, exercising."
Oh fucking fantastic Spence, keep dropping hints like a buck dropping shit.
He sputtered into his drink, the swig he was taking when she started speaking ending up in a puddle on the floor. Spencer was surprised to be on the receiving end of a suddenly outraged stare.
"What?"
Bane recovered pretty fast, his face again a solid slab of indifference. He seemed to ignore her question and the double meaning of the activity he himself suggested back in the kitchen.
But now she knew something was lurking behind his facade of indifference.
"I can help you with acquiring new lamps. Show me what you've chosen originally, tomorrow I'll take you to a place where they have similar things."
A snort behind him heralded return of the crew led by the foreman. The man exchanged a cryptical look with Bane again. This time, Spencer had a slightly better idea what it might have conveyed.
"Okay, if you don't mind, that would be a tremendous help." She smiled and sipped her oolong, looking up pensively. "After all, we'd hate for anyone to sustain an injury in the bedroom."
The foreman chortled again.
"Are you unwell, brother?" Bane asked, tone implying that if he wasn't ill now he could be - very, very soon.
"I'm good. Back to work?"
"Oh, I'm in your way," Spencer smiled and sauntered away. "So, Mr Bane, would you like to see the lamp design now, or after you've finished for the day?"
"After, if it is all the same to you, Ms P."
"Of course."
She could swear she heard another snort as she left, followed with a loud thump.
Well, well, well…