12. Silver

They were glittering, shimmering threads of light.

You were sitting in that chair with your head tucked under, blue eyes on the page in concentration, oblivious to the world and its discrepancies. I could tell that you had no desire to be bothered. As I contemplated harassing you, I could almost hear your protests in my consciousness, rattling my brain while you told me to get lost. In fact, if I hadn't known better I'd have sworn you were already out of your chair at that point, howling your head off and ordering me to shut up.

Maybe it was that hilarious image that made me want to bother you despite the predicted consequences.

It was almost as if you knew what I was planning, because you turned around with that tight-lipped glare of yours and fixed me with a look that could have melted the polar ice caps had we been on Earth.

"If you're thinking about distracting me," you growled characteristically, "Then forget about it and save yourself the physical pain. I have too much paperwork to deal with you and your distractions."

I couldn't help the fiendish smile that curled my lips just then. "Oh really. And just what distractions do you mean?" I laughed and watched you blush and turn away.

"You know what I mean, jackass."

I only laughed harder, and you got mad. Before I knew what to expect you'd shoved your chair away and stormed across the room to meet me with a sneer.

"Watch it, Elsman, or I'll give you something to laugh about."

It was so like you. So threatening, and so like you. I'm afraid I adore you a bit too much when you get that way, Yzak.

Your silver hair flashed at me, a physical interpretation of the anger that bolted through you. I think you meant to be intimidating, but the gesture was lost as I was caught again, ensnared in that wraithlike entity that is you.

And so when I didn't reply, you went back to sit down and I followed you, and I reached out to mess with those long silver threads.

"Just what are you doing?" you barked, jerking your head away, "Get your fingers out of my hair, you wretch." But I kept playing with it, those endless strands of tinsel slipping through my fingers, and you started chewing on your lip.

"You know I like that way too much," you grumbled, trying valiantly to get back to your duty even while my fingers tossed about the too-perfect pieces. "Will you quit messing it up!"

"Beauty queen," I snickered, and you clamped your mouth shut. "Can I braid it?"

"No. You may not." You paused and raised an eyebrow. "Please don't tell me you know how to braid hair."

I returned your skeptical stare. "Only one way to find out."

"Don't even think about it." You recoiled at my wolfish grin.

"Then let me play." Afterward I watched you shiver as my fingers brushed the back of your neck.

"Arrgh! Fine, but keep quiet so I can finish this paperwork, damn you!"

All I did was chuckle. I won again.

I know your work is important to you, but sometimes I enjoy getting you ruffled. And what better way to ruffle you than to tousle your perfect head of alluring, silver hair? What can I tell you, Yzak? I'm a sneaky cad.

So maybe if you want me to stop you should cut it.