December 14:th - The Cloak Is Not Well Behaved Today

A note before we start: Hello, my dear readers!

We are now at the halfway mark of this series, and thank you all so much for your enthusiasm! Especially to those of you who have commented, followed or favourited. Your support means a lot! Inspiration is crucial to keep up with such a tight writing schedule as every day, and nothing helps so much with that as good readers, so thank you again!

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Stephen swore as he looked down at the text alert. One of the things he decidedly hadn't liked with Christine, especially when he'd just hurt his hands, was that she sometimes was somewhat entitled. He was not one to speak, of course, the person he had used to be had been enormously arrogant, and for all he knew, he might be plenty arrogant still. That did not in any way make it less annoying when she made decisions over his head. How he was positive she did it only for his own best, didn't take all of the irriation away, either.

He sighed, and got dressed, sticking to his signature blue robes. Christine wrote that she was coming off the night shift at ten am, and was coming over with West to talk together about Stephen's future career. What part of "I am happy where I am" did she not get, exactly? Seriously, he knew she was far smarter than this.

After breakfast, he called his cloak down from where it was sulking near the cieling, probably missing its friend the carpet (there was a joke in that statement somewhere, but he couldn't be bothered to make it, even internally) and sat down with a book to await the arrival of two people he really didn't want to see today. Or ever again, possibly.

Because of course, Christine hadn't given him any choise in the matter, at all. He had seen it coming for a while now, but he finally knew for sure, that the two of them would never make it. It was probably his fault - was definitely his fault, actually - but they had gotten their chance and had let it slip out of their hands. They were too different now, their values and ideals completely separate. It was over, and it would stay over. When thinking about it, he realised he did not even miss her that much any more. He had, in the beginning, but he was not sure when it had begun to fade. He only knew that it was.

Stephen rose at the knock on his front door, not thinking much of it as the cloak draped itself across a chair instead of coming with him, and steeled himself before opening one of the large, gate-like double doors to the Sanctum.

Nick looked just like he had the last time Strange had seen him, in the OR; the same as ever. Christine looked tired. Stephen ignored his former colleagues' reactions to his clothing. Shock for West, disapproval for Christine.

"Come in" he invited them, not bothering to be bad-tempered about it. He was beyond snark at this point. He noted that Christine gave his Cloak a disapproving look where it lay, making West look as well, but he ignored it, politely asking them both to sit down.

Halfway through a Christine-lecture about how he could teach now, which he presumed West was supposed to support, as another neurosurgeon, he realised that West was staring at the back of his chair. There was nothing there. It was only when West moved his eyes to a bookcase, that Stephen realised the prank. The cloak had moved, and West was desperately trying to remember if he hadn't seen the cloak in the chair. Stephen held back a smile, and went back to peacefully ignoring Christine.

Some minutes later, when West had almost gotten over the cloak-moving-incident, Christine changed tone. "Stephen? How about we go into the kitchen? Wouldn't that be more comfortable?" Perhaps hoping to get his attention by moving from the larger sitting room, drawing him away from the proximity of his books, Christine got up without waiting for his reply, only to stop short, disoriented. Where she had been sure the door had previously been located, there was now a heavy, maroon, velvet drape. She had never seen it before. Neither had Stephen, but he recognised a crimson sliver behind it, and he appreciated the "hand" given him by his cloak.

"Actually" he suggested smoothly "you must be beat after a long shift. I am sure you both want to go home and rest. How about we speak later on? In the new year, maybe?" His Cloak, of course, chose that moment of attracting the eye of West by gently flowing in a non-existant breeze, in yet another location. The brain-surgeon practically fled, barely even stammering an agreement to the conventient excuse offered him by Strange before leaving, giving a bemused Christine no other choise than following.

"Thank you" Stephen told the empty room as he shut the door behind them, not doubting that the cloak, no matter where it had gotten off to, heard him perfectly well. He spent the rest of the day reading, caressing his cloak gratefully when it deigned to accompany him. Even Sorcerers needed a good wingman, and he had the best one.

Or, the cloak just doesn't like West much. It is a very intelligent cloak.

I wrote this rather high-handed behaviour on Christine's part working from the theory that as a person inclined to take care of people too much, she might take decisions "for the good" of others, and on occasion be a little annoying that way, if she is sure her decision is better for them than their is. Like Stephen and her conviction that he is deluded. I hope that makes sense.

I do not own anything you recognise - I don't even know where some of it is from!

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