A Short Interlude, Take 2:

Same deal: Do not own. Do not sue...But I want Dante's coat! NOW!

The Number One Rule In Life:

And all the world was right again.

She was lying on the floor of the small living room/den area of the upstairs apartment over the office. She'd been lying there for over an hour, transfixed by the scenes on the TV happily blasting away human angst and over-done drama.

He'd found her there earlier, and saw she hadn't moved from her position of lying on her belly, chin in her hands, long blonde hair fanned out over her back, and down toward her knees, three inch heeled, booted feet kicked up happily, clicking aforementioned boot heels together. It was driving him toward insanity, that incessant, "click, click, click." He'd come up there with every intention of telling her to cease and desist, because he couldn't think, but was caught up by the obviously raptured expression on her face, and the occassional sniff, and the swollen, red eyes.

She'd been crying.

She had a tissue balled up in one hand and occassionally blew into it. She had a small smile of absolute abandonment, and he found it...Somewhat, no make that, very attractive actually. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair as the "click, click," of her boot heels kept going and again distracted his mind away from attraction, toward annoyance. It made his right eye twitch to the rythm she'd set.

"Click, click, click." Oh it was so tempting to...

He bit his lower lip with determination and rounded off with a kick that would have made a soccer player cry with pride, or envy, toward her feet but pulled back just before connecting. Nothing. No reaction whatsoever. Except for another watery sniff, a blow of the nose, and a dreamy sigh.

Christ on crutches! The insidious sound of her boot heels resounded through his brain. His gaze locked onto her boots as they came together again. For the millionth time. Once each tenth of a second. He hadn't been timing it, hadn't been counting the clicks, he tried to convince himself anyway. But at that moment, that sound was the enemy. The enemy must be vanquished, in the name of his sanity. With a snarl he grabbed her feet and she jumped a foot off the floor.

"You SCARED ME!" The look of accusation was all too obvious, as she spun onto her back and glared at him, but then turned her attention back to the TV, as soon as the commercial, going on about some sort of "New, Improved and can't live without cleaning product" ended. Craning her neck backwards at what had to be a chiropractor's nightmarish angle, "You did that on purpose!"

"You were driving me up a wall." That was snarled out between clenched teeth.

She waved a hand toward him, as dismissively as a queen shunning a lower life form, and her attention was again drawn into the TV. Once again she assumed the position, and boot heels met.

He snarled feraly at her, "TRISH! For the LOVE OF ALL THAT'S HOLY OR NOT STOP THAT!"

"Stop what?" She was paying him no real attention.

Once again he grabbed her feet and held them, "That. If you have a heart, take pity on me."

"Sorry, didn't realize," she said distracted. Another sniff, "Oh...No! Not those two! NO! It CAN'T be! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" She wailed as if she'd lost a long lost relative or friend.

He ran a hand over his face, "And once again, the world as we know it, is coming to a horrific end. I will not say it. I refuse to be drawn in enough to ask. No it's not gonna happen." Satisfied he'd made his point, he released her feet and left her to her show. Click, click, click. With each repeat of that sound, his body started to twitch, convulsively. "Shit!" he muttered and stalked back toward the den.

"Trish?" Nothing, just another sniff, a sigh and..."Trish?" A bit louder, he saw her twitch slightly, hmmmm, "Ooooooooh Trishy?" He sing-songed, and saw her tense, and turn a glare that would have had him in deli-thin slices on the floor. And once again she turned back, attention sucked into the vortex of daily afternoon TV drama. He reached for the remote that was on the floor at her side.

"Touch that and die the most horrid, insidious, atrocious death ever brought upon a life-form on this planet, in this galaxy, or known universe." It was said with the tone of voice that a rabid rottwieller may have had, if it could talk. He reached forward a bit more and was rewarded with a snarled snap of teeth toward his hand. He jumped out of the way in time. And he noticed she'd started to glow, yellow lightning was snapping off her.

"Oh ok, fine, I'll leave the remote alone, Your Highness."

"You do that. Now go, Infidel." Satisfied she watched him step away cautiously and settled back down.

"Wait, Infidel?" He turned and watched as she shrugged and continued watching the ongoing drama. "You've been watching CNN again?" A shrug. And a very threatening growl. He raised his hands in defeat and walked out grumbling.

She smiled satisfied. "Rule one: Never, EVER come between a woman and her afternoon soap operas."