Guys, before you read on, watch this: youtube watch?v=Icu3mLaqsdk. I'm sure you'll love me for that.
Twenty-Six: Moment of Passion
"You're wasting the LEP resources for baby research? Just what are you up to—planning to have a crunchball team with Caballine?"
Foaly's rapid fingers froze on his keyboard. He was so focused on his activity that he hadn't noticed Holly entering the OpBooth. His technicians didn't even bother to inform him, which they would regret on their payday. He swallowed dryly, very much wishing he hadn't finished his carrot a few minutes ago so that he could have something to chew on.
The elf stood by his flank, eyebrows raised.
There were two ways to respond at being caught in the act: either cover up what you were doing, which was rather like fighting a losing battle, or justify it, which had a higher success rate in history. Especially Fowl history. Foaly decided to go for the latter.
"Ah," he said, straightening up and tilting his head towards the other fairy casually. "It's for you actually. I'm being the nice best friend that I am, finding out ways to support you, healthwise, on whatever repercussion that may come up because of your 'moment of passion' with Artemis."
Holly looked confused. "What are you talking about? The only repercussion that'll come up is a good grilling from a higher-up as to why I didn't include that so-called 'passion' in my report, which I already have answers for—" She paused abruptly, and stared at the centaur as she came to a realisation.
Baby research.
Her eyes widened.
"How old are you, thirty?" she yelled, grabbing both sides of her head and then fisting them down to her sides. "I can't get bloody pregnant by a kiss!"
Foaly turned around to face Holly. His eyebrows were scrunched. "A kiss?" he said incredulously.
"Yes! A kiss!"
"… a kiss. So, the moment of passion… was just a kiss? Not, you know—"
"What? NO!" Holly, following the centaur's train of thought, blanched and looked horrified. "You thought… me and Artemis… back in time…" she stuttered weakly, shaking her head. She brought a hand to her face, pressed the balls of her palm against her forehead, and squeezed her eyes shut.
"Oh gods," she whispered. She looked up at the centaur and grimaced in disgust. "Oh gods. I'm going back to my office." Blinking several times, she turned back to the exit door and walked away numbly, leaving the centaur to stare at her retreating form.
I knew it was inevitable that I'd write something about Foaly's (innuendo-filled) quote. It's been running in my head since yesterday.