(no subject)

[herr_bookman]

Hunched over a table full of papers is a boy, holding a newspaper in his split-knuckled hands and furrowing his brow at the headline:


GREAT BATTLE BEGINS
German Armies Struggle to Enter France

Autor skims the front cover, the back, and a single page in the middle. Then he folds it up and reaches for the next one.

He probably wouldn't mind a distraction.

Comments

[herr_bookman]

Autor blinks. "I can make cookies," he says hesitantly. "And a damn fine chocolate croissant."

He gives her a side-eye. "Not that I would ever need to pay you back. Because if you teach me a lesson, it won't be one I'll be asking for willingly."

[creator_raven]

Raven's grin is fairly incandescent by this point. Joyful, even.

"Those, I am thinking, are by far the best kind."

She darts forward at that, pressing a smacking kiss against Autor's mouth.

Then she vanishes in a swirl of black feathers, and a high, mocking caw.

Some things really do not change.

Other things, however --

They do.

[herr_bookman]

Seven seconds after Raven slammed her lips on his own, Autor sits on the floor where the chair dumped him of its own accord, blushing and wide-eyed and trembling with rage.

Then he sneezes.

Anyone looking to learn frustration-tinted swearwords in five languages may tune into that corner of the bar for the next three minutes.