Missing
Author's note: So many potential uses of "missing", so little drabble space.
I growled at the words on the paper before crossing them out. Again. My pencil was down to a nub, too.
With a sigh, I crumpled up the paper and dropped it in the trashcan next to the desk. It missed, darting abruptly to the side.
I blinked, picked it up, and tried again.
Same damned thing. It darted to the side as if it'd been blown. What the hell?
I glanced up, looking for freak draft sources, and found one lounging regally in the chair next to mine, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.
That was Goblin Kings for you. Presumptuous and unpredictable.
Without taking my eyes from him, I picked up the crumpled paper and dropped it over the trashcan again.
He flicked his gloved fingers, producing a directed air burst with the faintest glittery sheen. The paper ball darted jauntily to the side for the third time.
I raised an eyebrow meaningfully. "Your Highness, the point of our non-contact agreement?"
"What of it?"
"You seem to be missing it."
He reached over to pick up my pencil, letting his finger drag across the tip of the pencil stub. "Well, this is certainly missing its point."
I rolled my eyes and held out my hand for the pencil. "You can't just do this."
"Why not? I missed you." He somehow made placing the pencil in my hand something shockingly intimate. "You should visit me more often."
"You mean like ever?" I studiously ignored how much my hand tingled from his touch.
"Yes. That would do nicely."
"I'll think about it."
"Do."