To rix_scaedu‘s commissioned prompt in the My-Hobbies-Ran-Into-Each-Other-And-I-Blew-My-Gas-Money-Budget Emergency Fundraiser
After: Fridmar & Love
“That was a lovely speech you gave Ana.”
“You were not intended to hear it. Come in, then, Mikhaíl, rather than keep talking in the hallway.”
“Oh, but that’s all I wanted to say.” Looking innocent and entirely unbelievable in it, Mikhaíl the Linden-flower stepped into Agmund’s office and shut the door. “It was a lovely speech.”
“It was what she needed. Sit, then.”
“Woof.” Mikhaíl levered itself gracefully into chairs that had not been designed for its tail. “Yes, of course. What she needed, what Doug needed. A pity she doesn’t trust me, but, considering her antecedents, I’m not surprised. And I am Doug’s grandmother, as much as he glowers and tries to forget it.”
The Daeva wanted something, and Agmund would have no peace until he gave it. Whatever it was. “Doug glowers because he hurts. He glowers less when Anastasia is around.”
“You’ve noticed that, too? Of course you have. But yes, your answer was good, perfect for the situation and for both of them. All three of them, but that’s another story.”
Agmund did not rise to the bait. For one, he knew what the Daeva was talking about. For another, it wasn’t why Mikhaíl was here. “Da. It makes them happier.” Twist that one, horn-head.
“And a happier teacher is, in general, a useful teacher. Better for his Students. Better for his co-workers.”
“Maybe Luke we should be getting a girlfriend next.”
“Mmm.” And now it was the Daeva’s turn not to show anything. “Maybe. But it was not Luca I was thinking of.”
“Never it is Luca you are thinking of.” And if Mikhaíl could read the sarcasm or not, there would be a message there.
“Mmm.” The Daeva’s eyes focused on the wall for a heartbeat, and then back to Agmund they swung, undeterred. “What about you?”
Agmund had been expecting the attack. “And what about me? Doug is not my type, nor I his.”
“Of course not. Men.” Mikhaíl’s hand wave covered all of the gender in one dismissive gesture. “Agmund, when is the last time you loved, yourself?”
Agmund had been expecting this, and still didn’t want to answer it. He tried a dodge, knowing that in this form of combat, Mikhaíl was more skilled. “I do not ask you about masturbation, Mikhaíl. Do not ask me.”
“Very cute, Agmund. When’s the last time you loved someone else?”
“This is also not your business.”
“And here I am asking.” The Daeva leaned forward, undeterred.
“I am not in love with you, Mikhaíl. You are not my type, either.” Drop it, his tone said.
No way, Mikhaíl’s eyes said.
“Of course not. But there was Xanthia…”
“No, there was not. There was never Xanthia, because there was Hemlock for Xaviera.”
“What about Penstemon?”
“Rather occupied, and not interested. And again, you presume.” He leaned back and pushed against his desk. Go away, nosy Daeva.
“I know you, Agmund.” Mikhaíl leaned forward. Not going anywhere, grumpy bear.
“You know what you choose to see, what you think you see. There is nobody, Mikhaíl.”
“And if there truly was, I would go away.”
“This I will believe when I see it.” Agmund wanted to relax, but it felt as if Mikhaíl was circling for another angle of attack. Did the Daeva know?
“And then there is Fairuza.” Yes, damn its eyes. It knew.
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