Disclaimer: I own nothing
Being totally ignored by Ronan sucked but being in the centre of his attention was much worse! Kagome slowly took another sip of the bubbly liquid, looking at her companion from the rim of the glass. The escaping gas tickled her nose and she wondered humourlessly if a strategically placed Achoo will press him into revealing what was bothering him.
For the last day, or what passed for a day in this sunless, dark space, his intense stare followed her every move, rise and fall of the chest, a tremble of the hand, a stumble on the floor. His attention hung on her every word whether she reported on the activity (or the lack of thereof) from her duty time on the dashboard or described the nuances in the taste between the different types of chocolate, one of the most important food groups in the whole Galaxy that she fiercely craved.
He might have though he was pretty covert in his attention but years of observing the minuscule changes in youkais' body language taught her how to spot who is paying attention to whom or what whether they were watching, listening or sniffing. She also had a highly acute sixth sense developed both in fighting and avoiding unwelcome suitors, so she understood that the crawling army of imagined ants was simply a signal from the primal part of her brain that screamed. Attention! Predator is hunting. Be that for meat or bride. She did not know what Ronan's reasons were but she was perfectly aware of his fixation.
With each passing hour this new behaviour became more and more annoying causing her to be in the state of hyper self-conscious that brought her only stress and stiff muscles. Her stomach turned into a knot and she was unable to swallow much food which only worsened her mood. The constant scrutiny made her feel like a child who knew it misbehaved but couldn't understand when and how it really happened. And like a child she could either opt to remove herself from the line of observation, hiding in a tiny space or she could embrace her playful side and annoy Ronan in the process. Tit for tat. She smiled mischievously nearing his chair in exuberant skips.
Supporting one of her forearms on the back of his chair she leaned further, squinting her eyes at the monitor. Very close to his ear she asked "Eeee, what's up Doc?" slurping loudly, almost wishing she has had a carrot for authenticity or at least few straws to magnify the annoying sound.
He disregarded her question as always when it did not suit him to answer and it angered her greatly because who does he thinks he is?! First, he ignores her completely, then he fixates and now when she wants something he ignores her completely again. His bipolar attitude was exhausting so she decided to channel her inquisitive, exuberant, energetic but most of all irritating five year old persona. She crouched next to his arm chair and holding it possessively, she balanced on the balls of her feet, asking one question after another, not giving Ronan the time to answer. What, why, how were followed by who, which, where and when? She increased the speed of her speech and with each fired question his nervous tick became more prominent. Instead of relenting, she added childish idiosyncrasies like, ne ne? and shook the armchair. His focus dwindled and the spidery calculations have been appearing in a much slower pace. Finally, he abruptly stopped, turning in her direction and cocking his head to the side asked "what are you doing?"
Having his focus exactly where and when she wanted, on her own terms, her face took upon a serious expression as she supported her bottom on the other chair's arm, looking at him from above. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost. But smiled internally imagining him with a young daughter. He would be completely helpless and so adorable in his helplessness when a small princes would twirl him around her chubby, little, soft finger. She shrugged not commenting on her actions. Indicating him with a finger she asked "what's your problem?"
He looked at her face again with this searching, seeking expression, his mouth pressed into a thin line. "You know, you and I " Kagome started gesticulating at him and then her in a quick succession "are in this together. Talk."
In a clipped, ominous tone he launched into a lengthy explanation about needs and supplies, chances and strategies, variables and options. Followed by probabilities, statistics, success' and failure's rates backed by meticulous calculations delivered in a precise, dry percentages.
"So you want to tell me that your long days of depressing silence, your hot and cold moods, it was all about a con?"
He clicked displeased at such oversimplification.
Tsch. A titter escaped her and she covered her mouth with one hand. Still half giggling, half trying to keep a composed face, failing utterly, she trembled. All her worries, all her stress just for that?
Ronan glared at her annoyed, his anger rising. No one ever dared to laugh at him! "Do you have better idea, Terran?" he spat the last word as an insult.
"In fact I do" she said calmly, her eyes twinkling merrily remembering Miroku's constant but extremely successful machinations "facts and figures are fine and good and most of your ideas have merit but the secret of a good con lies in perception, in the heart, not in the mind" she confidently delivered, lifting the geometrical model and turning it around for closer inspection. "Let's transfer your tactics into something more, plausible."