#ill try and pair everyone who has their long quiets interacting together :D

[dismas-n-dismay]

Now introducing: The Long Pile!!

Draw and rb this with ur own little Long Quiet design and I'll put em all on a canvas together like one big collab :]! I'll basically have this open for like...ever or until I get tired of adding Long Quiets to a canvas

[everlarkficexchange]

Let Us Lay In The Sun

Written by: @knittingbutch

Prompt 87: Katniss and Gale are about to get married and while Katniss isn’t entirely sure if she really wants to marry Gale, she does nothing to stop the preparations. While Peeta, realizing (s)he can’t just let Katniss go, does everything to stop the wedding and tell Katniss his her feelings for her. Peeta thought (s)he’s a hopeless case the day before the wedding until… (it’s up to you how it will end, but hopefully it’s hea) [submitted by anonymous]

Author’s Note: I took this and gender flipped Peeta in this story, so it’s WLW everlark  Content Warning: actually pretty light on homophobia but the d slur is used in a mostly positive way, written by someone who personally reclaims the slur.  Wordcount: 3067  OTHER NOTE: part one of ???

Part One:

  “Katniss! What in the world are you doing out here in this?” asks the baker, as though it wasn’t entirely obvious when she threw the door open that she knew who was knocking. Katniss honestly isn’t entirely sure how many people besides her come to the back door to trade. It’s hard to imagine any of the merchants approaching the back door like this, at least. Gale joked, when they used to trade with Peeta’s father, that it was because the baker wanted to hide his association with Seam Folk. That doesn’t seem to be the case with his daughter. Still, the hunters tend to sneak around.

“Come inside! Come inside!” fusses Peeta.

“It’s fine,” mumbles Katniss, and the baker just barely manages to stamp back down the urge to pull her into the warmth of the bakery herself. “Just a little rain,” she continues, though she’s hunched against herself and holding her shoulders up so rigidly that Peeta can tell it’s just to try to keep herself from shaking too visibly. Peeta’s lips pull together skeptically. If anything, the just a little rain has kicked up even more since she opened the door. Katniss fumbles when she goes to move her game bag off of her shoulder – her fingers must be going numb. The baker tries to swallow back her panic.

“Are – are you trading or not?” asks Katniss. “Yes,” says Peeta. “Come inside. Please, before you catch your death.” Katniss’s lips curl down into a scowl, though they quiver. “I’m fine,” she protests again. “No squirrels today. But I have so– s- s-” she snaps her mouth shut so hard that Peeta can hear her teeth click. Peeta’s hands twitch uselessly at her sides.

“Come inside,” she says a third time, measured. As though she isn’t fussing over Katniss Everdeen at her door with blue lips. And then, though the words burn on their way out, she tries to sound unconcerned when she adds, “You’re letting all the heat out.” It’s more like her mother than she ever likes to sound. But, as Peeta suspected, it removes the idea that it’s some kind of favor, not standing by and letting her catch some awful illness from staying out there in the rain.

  Katniss blinks, but as Peeta suspected she might, she takes a step into the kitchen and Peeta closes the door soundly behind her, too relieved and too close to Katniss. Once the wind and rain is locked out, she crosses the kitchen to turn on the burner just under the kettle on the stove. “I’m going to be right back,” she says, not bothering to qualify where she’s going. Katniss will just try to convince her that she’s fine. It isn’t hard to find something that might fit Katniss – because she’s so small. She picks a yellow sweater she’s always been fond of and a pair of thick pants, though she knows it’s pushing her luck to hope that Katniss will change at all.

Katniss has inched much closer to the oven by the time Peeta returns, though she’s still scowling, as if she thinks maybe the baker won’t notice.

“You’ve got to get out of your wet clothes,” says Peeta, still aiming to sound decisive as she unceremoniously shoves the stack at Katniss. “Go on. I won’t let you catch your death on my watch.” The hunter rolls her eyes, moving her soaked braid from her back to the front of her sodden sweater, and makes no move to take the clothes. “I’m fine,” she snaps, though her voice is tight. Her teeth are still chattering, Peeta thinks. “You’re not,” Peeta says. “You need dry clothes. I’ll hang your things over the radiator.” “I told you I’m fine,” Katniss says, though she does finally snatch the clothes from Peeta’s hands. “And I told you I won’t let you catch pneumonia,” Peeta reminds her brightly. “We can talk price once you’re dry. Not before.”

Before Katniss stomps off into the attached bathroom, Peeta passes her a hand towel and focuses on readying the tea. The two of them have been trading for the better part of a year, now, since she took over the bakery. But she hasn’t had Katniss inside the bakery before, let alone by herself.

“Have you been out all day?” asks Peeta, pretending like her hands aren’t shaking as she goes back to rolling out the dough for the sugar cookies. It’s been pouring since she woke up. “I just mean … I didn’t think I’d see you.” “Well, here I am,” Katniss returns drily.

“And without your shadow,” Peeta jokes.

“My shadow?” repeats Katniss, sounding more than a little bit irritated.

“You know,” says Peeta, swiping the kettle off the stove when it howls and pouring it into the mug. “Tall and scowly – usually hangs around over your shoulder,” she says, already regretting committing to the bit of not remembering Katniss’s fiance’s name. Katniss scowls, though she does accept the tea. “Gale?” she asks. “Yeah. He’s busy. Do you want the rabbits or not?”

“I do,” Peeta says. “What are you looking for?” The trade itself is fairly quick, which isn’t surprising. Despite the baker’s best efforts, she and Katniss aren’t exactly friends. Which is made all the more obvious when the next knock comes at the back door. The shadow himself. “Gale, hi,” Peeta says, noticing how much less drenched the older man looks. “I was just finishing up with Katniss. Would you like–?” “Prim said you never came home,” he says, addressing Katniss right over Peeta’s shoulder. “What the fuck are you doing out in this?” “I’m trading,” says Katniss. “I thought you were–” “Doesn’t look like you’re trading,” Gale mutters, and Peeta stiffens.

“I wanted her to have a chance to warm up,” Peeta interjects. “And I knew the Undersees wouldn’t be crazy about her looking like she’d just swum up from the lake.” That part is a lie, but one that she thinks might help them save face with Katniss’s fiance. Gale laughs drily, and Peeta doesn’t hear Katniss approach until she’s right behind her.

“Gale,” she says. “It’s fine. Let’s not do this here.” He goes to protest, and she sighs heavily enough for him to shut up.

“Thank you, Peeta,” she says, though she sounds annoyed again. “I’ll see you next week,” Peeta says, stupidly, and waits at the door while they leave, hearing them begin to bicker almost immediately.

…

“So when’s the wedding?” Peeta asks a couple of weeks later, trying to sound casual while Katniss counts her squirrels. She doesn’t respond for a long while, and Peeta’s heart races furiously in her chest. Stupid. That was a stupid thing to ask. Gale Hawthorne – and half the district, probably – already has his suspicions about her. She really did just mean to be friendly, but now, Katniss probably thinks – “Because if you need a cake,” Peeta continues, though she knows she’s digging her own grave. “I’m your girl.” Katniss looks up, at this. “I don’t think Gale wants a cake.” “I tend to think everyone wants a cake, always,” Peeta tries to joke. “But you know him better than I do.” Katniss’s lips purse at this, and Peeta regrets it desperately.

“You two have been together a long time,” she mentions, like it’s casual. This is common knowledge, right? “It must be nice. Being in love with someone like that.” Katniss’s lack of response feels almost pointed. Peeta washes her hands even though they aren’t dirty. “After my birthday,” Katniss says, sounding as if she’s talking about the date of a surgery she’s dreading rather than her wedding. “That next Sunday.”

…

Katniss and Gale come together the next week and the week after. Peeta doesn’t even bother trying to make small talk.

…

It’s decided. Gale Hawthorne absolutely hates Peeta Mellark. Peeta spends weeks trying to work out why that is – and why it seems to be seeping into all of her interactions with Katniss. Sure, they were never friends, but everything seems to be so strained now. Peeta isn’t sure she’s really that transparent. Yes, she’s been infatuated with Katniss for longer than she’s known to use that word to describe it, but she’s also hardly managed to learn something about her in the twelve years they’ve known each other. Or, more accurately, known of each other. Peeta isn’t sure Katniss even realizes they went to school together.

“Are you going to make your bread tonight?” Peeta asks the friday before the toasting, just to torture herself. “For the Toasting. Not that I don’t like the extra business, but I always think that’s such a nice tradition, when–” “No.” Katniss’s voice is blunt.

Peeta swallows, trying to busy her hands with the dishes while Katniss finishes unpacking her game. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to overstep.” It’s quiet for a beat. Two.

“I just – am friends with other people I trade with,” Peeta continues on the third. “If it makes you uncomfortable, we don’t have to be.” “Gale won’t be coming with me anymore.” Her voice is flat.

“Yeah?” asks Peeta. Is he really intimidated by some Merchant Dyke? She wants to ask, but doesn’t. Katniss looks unsure. “Just –” she says. “You know mine are better than his. If he comes by, he’s gonna try to pass off some scrawny shit because he thinks you won’t know better. Just wait and buy from me if he does.” Oh. “I always sort of had the impression you two were partners,” Peeta says carefully, and Katniss laughs, dry and bitter.

“Things change.”

ii

Gale Hawthorne arrives three sundays later with a leather band on his left ring finger and a game bag over his shoulder. Peeta has to try to school her features, since she had been smiling already when she opened the door, expecting a different hunter, but it seems rude to let it fall completely. “Hello,” she tries evenly, wondering how on earth he wouldn’t already know about her loyalty to Katniss. Has he ever said more than a word to her before? “Good afternoon.” The band on his finger makes her heart kick up, nearly panicked. Did they go through with it after all? She had heard gossip about their breakup, and Katniss hasn’t mentioned him at all, but she also knows the rumor mill isn’t to be trusted. After all, there are about four boys she would be dating right now if the Cartwright matriarch said anything remotely true. He nods. “You like squirrels, right?” he asks, leaning against the doorframe. “Had a good haul today.” “Where’s Katniss?” she asks, and something she can’t name flashes across his face.

“Katniss … isn’t out with me,” he says. “That’s strange,” Peeta continues, wiping her hands off on her apron. “She told me she’d be back by, after we traded last week.” It’s a lie, but one that she figures will end up being true either way. “Is she feeling all right?” Gale sighs through his nose, clearly trying to come up with something to say.

Peeta blinks. “I think I’ll just wait until Katniss comes by.” This earns her a scoff. “Yeah. Of course you will.” “I’m sorry?” she asks.

He shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says, pushing himself up from the doorjamb. “Just isn’t surprising, is all. Everyone’s seen the way you stare at her.” “I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” Peeta says carefully. “You know you won’t have any luck, right?” asks Gale. “I tried for years. There’s something wrong with her.” “Hey. Don’t–” Peeta starts.

“Actually, maybe you will,” he says. “Maybe that’s the problem all along, and she doesn’t even like dudes. That’d be my luck, huh?” “Stop,” Peeta says. “You need-” “Look, it’s not like it fuckin’ matters,” he says. “Have fun with the ice queen.” And then he turns on his heel and almost directly collides with Katniss, who has been watching silently all along. She looks closer to wounded than Peeta has seen on her, though that seems to shift into something angrier when she sees the band around his finger. He stills for a moment. Pauses, as if he’s about to say something to her, and then stomps away. Peeta turns, leaving the door open but trying to busy herself with her baguettes. Katniss doesn’t come in.

… “Why were you defending me?” It’s Katniss in the doorway, three days later. Looking wounded, still, but mostly baffled. “Because he’s a dick,” Peeta says, and then bites her bottom lip. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” Katniss rolls her eyes. “What do I care?” she asks. “I’m an ice queen, right?” “You’re not,” Peeta says instinctively. “Come inside.” She glances off to the side. “You know about some big rainstorm I don’t?” Peeta smiles. “Come inside,” she says again. “Did you bring me anything?” “Depends,” Katniss says tersely. “What did you buy from him?”

“Nothing,” Peeta says. “Though I think now is as good a time as any to tell you that the squirrels aren’t actually my favorite.” Katniss pauses for a moment. “Oh,” she says. “Right. I know your father liked them–” “I’ll eat them, obviously,” Peeta continues. “But you may have spoiled me on the rabbits that one week.” “I can bring more rabbits,” says Katniss. Peeta manages to convince her to take a pastry from the stales basket before they start their trade and thinks of what Gale was saying, about the way she looks at Katniss, and forces herself not to watch as she tries the danish.

“Seems like Gale moved on awfully fast,” Peeta observes, though she regrets it immediately. Thankfully, Katniss is wrapped up in the sweet pastry and hardly even pulls a face. “It wasn’t like that,” she admits. “We were just – doing each other a favor.” “He didn’t look at you like you were doing him a favor,” Peeta says.

Katniss rolls her eyes. “He said we were doing each other a favor,” she amends. “What was the favor?” Peeta asks. “The housing benefit once you get married?” Katniss pauses, licking the crumbs from her lips before she admits, quietly, “Custody of my sister.” Oh. “She’s in the Community Home, right?” Peeta asks, and Katniss narrows her eyes.

“How did you know that?” “It’s not that big a District,” Peeta says softly. “They don’t let you get custody until you’re married,” Katniss says. “And Gale was – hoping I would change my mind, I suppose.” “But you didn’t.” “Obviously,” Katniss says, eyes landing on the pastry basket again. Peeta nudges it towards her and she frowns. “I wondered if I could bring one for my sister.” “Take as many as you want,” Peeta says. “Really. They can’t be sold.” Katniss’s hand darts out for a slightly burnt blueberry muffin. “I usually pass ‘em around to the kids playing out in the square after close,” Peeta admits. “It’d make my mother furious.” “Not like she’s here to care,” Katniss says distractedly, picking off part of the top of the muffin. “She can go be a witch in Two.” She doesn’t realize what she’s said until a moment later, and her hand flies to her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have said that.” “What do I care?” Peeta echoes. “Who knows, maybe the change of scenery made her nicer.” Katniss gapes. “Do you really believe that?” “No,” Peeta admits. “But it doesn’t hurt to pretend sometimes.” She makes for a white paper bag and dumps the contents of the reject basket into it. “Take it. For Prim.” The look on Katniss’s face is all the evidence Peeta needs that the answer would have been no without the second half of the request.

iii

It takes three months for Peeta to work up the nerve. Katniss mentioned weeks ago that her parents used to make bread pudding – that she hadn’t had it in years – and Peeta spent ages working out her plan. The entire dish was for the hunter, of course, but Peeta made sure to cut out a couple of servings first, just so that Katniss wouldn’t suspect that it was made for her.

The plan worked. Katniss refused the food at first – she always did, though less and less every time Peeta managed to convince her that it was a favor, helping her get through the food.

“You know,” Peeta says, aiming for casual and missing it when it comes out all hoarse. “Gale isn’t your only option, if you need to get married to get Prim out of the Community Home.”

Katniss coughs. “What?” she asks.

“I just mean –” Peeta continues, but cuts herself off, turning to focus on the dishes in the sink instead. “I just mean that I could help. I have an extra room upstairs and I could–” “What?” asks Katniss, the stool Peeta keeps back here for her scraping against the floor as she stands. “You could, what? Take care of me?” It’s clear in the edge in her voice what she means. That she’s heard this before, that she isn’t impressed. “No,” Peeta croaks. “No, that’s not what I’m saying.” “What are you saying?” challenges Katniss, and Peeta feels all of three inches tall.

“I just – I –” she stammers, fingers tightening around her sponge. “No. That’s not what I mean,” she says. It’s quiet for a beat, though she can tell Katniss is seconds from leaving. “I just – I could use a hand around the bakery,” she says. “And – I know it’s killing you, having Prim there. So I – I just thought–” “And what about when you find someone you actually do want to marry?” Katniss interrupts again. “I won’t.” A bitter laugh. “I’ve heard that one before.” “No, Katniss–” Peeta continues.

“I learned my lesson already. I just–” “I won’t find anyone else!” bursts from Peeta without her consent. It’s quiet for a moment and then she speaks again, much more measured. “How long until the little one turns eighteen?” “Four years,” Katniss spits, still sounding angry, and then corrects herself. “Three and a half, more like.” “Four years,” repeats Peeta. “Fine.” “I don’t–” “I won’t even look,” says Peeta. “No dates. No–” “Some merchant boy will come sniffing around and–” “No boys ever,” Peeta says, a little more firmly than she means to. “And no girls, either. Not until after Primrose is safe.” When she turns to look over her shoulder, Katniss is gone.

[ragewerthers]

“Do You Dare Risk All?” Chapter 2

Summary:  Of course he should've known better than to think their altercation would go unnoticed. He just hopes that the kings summons doesn't make things worst between Cartus and himself.

A/n: This chapter is a little shorter, but I have been wanting to get this joke out of my head for DAYS!!! I hope that everyone enjoys this chapter and hopefully Cartus is going to continue warming up to Cor!

You can read on AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18612211/chapters/44423086

Enjoy! :D

Word Count: 2077

------------------------------

Standing outside of the throne room, Cor took a few deep breaths.

Earlier this morning, upon entering the Citadel he had gotten a summons from the King in regards to an… altercation the previous evening.

Of course there was going to be a summons.

He hadn’t exactly done a fantastic job of hiding his annoying antics toward Cartus.  No doubt there were many in the Citadel who assumed that he was nothing but a bully to the man.  If you coupled that with the possibility that someone heard the commotion yesterday and mistook it for a fight rather then his face taking the brunt of an ill timed door slam then it was inevitable that this was going to lead to some sort of meeting or another.

Taking a deep breath, Cor pushed open the doors leading into the throne room and made his way inside.  The sound of his boots echoed off the walls of the room, his eyes focused forward as any good soldier should do when facing a superior.

It was no surprise to see Clarus standing beside Regis as the man sat on his throne.

What was surprising was seeing Cartus standing at the foot of the stairs leading up to the two men, as well.

It shouldn’t have been as big of a shock, but then again Cor had assumed that he was the only one who was going to get a lecture today.  He’d been prepared to own up to his earlier failings, but now he worried that somehow he’d managed to get Cartus into trouble as well.  He made his way closer, standing just beside the other man, but not allowing himself to look at him.

“Your Majesty,” Cor said, eyes locking onto Regis as he brought his hand up to his chest, bowing before him.  “You summoned me?”

“I have, Marshal.  And I believe you have been made aware of the reason for this summons?” Regis asked, his expression betraying nothing of his thoughts and making Cor feel all the more like he was a child getting ready to be reprimanded.

“I have,” he said simply, standing up a little straighter and resting his hands behind his back, ever the military man.  “It is in regards to what occurred yesterday between myself and Car-... Scientia.”

Cor noticed a slight shift in the Advisor standing next to him, but didn’t look his way, instead staying focused on Regis who had quirked an eyebrow at his slight slip up.

“That is correct.  An altercation which led to bloodshed as I’ve been told.  Now.  The Advisor has given his side of the story and I will extend the same courtesy to you before we proceed onto how to handle this matter,” the King said simply, Clarus standing stone faced beside him.

Cor could feel the Shields sharp eyes on him and it only added to the grim feeling that was growing in his chest.

However… he knew who was in the wrong here.  He knew who was the instigator.  He knew what he had to do to make things right.

“I have nothing to say in my defense, your Majesty,” he began, refusing to try and come up with some sort of excuse for himself or his behavior.  “What occurred yesterday was my fault entirely.  Had I not been bothering Scientia then there would have been no altercation.  I have… been less than tactful in my interactions with him.  I know that I have not shown myself to be in the best light in regards to him.  I am hoping to amend that in any way I can and unfortunately my attempts yesterday led to a… minor altercation as you are well aware.  It was rightly deserved.  However, whatever course of action you are going to take on this matter, I ask that you pardon Scientia in the matter.  I am the guilty party here.  Not him.”

The room was quiet for a moment after he spoke, Regis looking between the two men before giving a small nod.

“Very well then, Leonis.  As you have admitted to being the catalyst to the events yesterday my judgement shall fall only on to you,” he said, Cor taking a deep breath as he awaited what the King would do.

“Considering what transpired, I feel it is only fair that you are hereby stripped of your title.”

Cors eyes instantly widened at that.  Sure he had been an asshole and deserved some sort of comeuppance, but being demoted back down from Marshal seemed like an incredibly heavy price to pay!

“You shall no longer hold the title of ‘the Immortal’.”

Now Cor was just confused.  He wasn’t losing the title of Marshal or his rank.  He was losing his… nickname?

“Sir?” he questioned, unsure exactly where the king was going with this.

It appeared that his expression was far too amusing for Regis to keep from letting his lips quirk up slightly, a look of barely held mischief now clearly visible in his eyes.

“I’m afraid you lost that title yesterday when you were taken down in a… rather unconventional way,” he said, this time a smile was clearly starting to spread across his features.  “From this day forth… Cartus’s office door shall now hold the title… of ‘Door the Immortal’.”

And that was all it took.

As soon as the words were said, a snort escaped Cartus and he instantly brought his hand up to cover his mouth, his shoulders shaking with barely contained mirth.  Cor found it to be one of the most precious things in the world and precious was not a word he used in his vocabulary.

Clarus and Regis were close to follow, both man instantly laughing and shattering the ominous atmosphere that had been present in the room only a few minutes prior.

Cor stood there in absolute disbelief.

“..... What?!” he gaped, looking from Cartus to Regis and trying to figure out what was happening.

Regis was the first to recover, wiping away a few tears of mirth from his eyes as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees and looking far less kingly and much more like the twenty something year old he was.

“You really thought we were going to just let you go about your day without saying something?” he asked, laughter still threatening to escape him as the idea of Cor getting taken out by a mere door was far too hilarious.  “I thought Clarus was going to crack a rib earlier when Cartus told us.”

The aforementioned man was only just getting himself under control, little chuckles still escaping him as he tried to catch his breath.

“Oh my gods, but it was the greatest thing I’ve heard all morning!” he said in the tone of an older brother hearing of his younger brother making an idiot of himself.  Far too much glee for Cor’s liking.

Folding his arms over his chest, Cor glared at the head of the Amicitia household.

“You really want to go there, Clarus?  Didn’t you trip over the tent peg at camp on our way to Accordo and go head first into Cid’s toolbox?  Or the time you closed the door on your cloak and nearly strangled yourself?”

“Hey!  These cloaks are a death trap and you know it!” Clarus shot back, his own eyes narrowed now as he and Cor had some sort of glare off.

Regis leaned on one of the armrests, chin resting in his hand and rolled his eyes at the pair.

“Cartus, may I ask you to bring your door here so it can knock some sense into, what is supposed to be, Insomnia’s best and most advanced fighters?” he asked, making the Advisor crack up again.

Cor and Clarus both turned to Regis, their twin looks of dismay making him chuckle once more.

“I think my door would be much safer where it is at the moment, your Majesty,” Cartus said with a light smile at seeing the two other mens faces.

Regis nodded in amusement and turned to his Advisor.  “I think you’re right,” he chuckled before clapping his hands together.  “Well.  Seeing as this matter has been settled, I think I’ve wasted everyone’s time long enough.  Though I do hope I won’t be hearing about anymore of these… altercations?”  His eyes immediately found Cors and the young Marshal had the decency to look ashamed.

“It won’t happen again,” he promised, the earnestness in his face making both Regis and Clarus chuckle a bit more.

“That’s all I needed to hear.  Then I shall let you both return to your duties,” he said and before long Cor found himself walking back out of the throne room, Cartus by his side.

“I can’t believe them!  All of that for some… some… stupid joke!” Cor rambled, caught somewhere between impressed at the theatrics of it all and embarrassed that his shame was now so widely known.

Cartus chuckled and shook his head.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.  I thought it was very informative.”

“Informative?!  How in all of Eos was that informative?” Cor asked in slight disbelief as they made their way toward the elevators.

“It showed me a different side to you, Leonis,” Cartus said with a little shrug making Cor huff a bit.

“Is that right?  The embarrassed side?  The pathetic side?” he guessed.

“The good side,” Cartus said with small smile playing over his lips, instantly making Cor pause in his tracks as he looked over at the man.

Cartus stopped as well, looking over at the Marshal and smiling a bit more.

“I saw a man ready to own up to his mistakes today.  The Cor I thought I knew was one who would’ve found a way to make the entire thing my fault somehow.  Leave me to pick up the mess and take all the blame.  The Cor I saw today… would’ve kicked the other Cors arse,” he chuckled and Cor found he couldn’t stop himself either.

“Yeah, well… the other Cor was a prick.  I told you… I… I like you Cartus.  I’m done acting like some playground bully to get your attention.  You didn’t deserve half the stuff I put you through and… I really do hope that I make things right between us,” he said softly.

Cartus regarded the man for a moment after he spoke making Cor feel like he was being weighed and measured in that moment.

He probably was.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this… but I honestly think I believe you,” Cartus said with a little smile and if Cor was seeing things right he could’ve swore the man’s ears were just a little pinker then they had been earlier.

Sadly he didn’t get a chance to focus on the new detail as Cartus’ phone went off and both man were instantly brought out of whatever thoughts they had lost themselves to.

Pulling his phone out, Cartus glanced over the text and gave a deep sigh.

“I’m afraid I have to hurry or I’ll be late to my first meeting,” he said and went to make his way to the elevator before pausing and turning back to Cor.  “If you’d like I’m available for lunch today.  It’s always much more enjoyable with company, though I hope you don’t mind it being held in my office?”

Cor was momentarily thrown by the offer, but luckily his mind quickly snapped back and he smiled.

“I don’t mind.  I’ll… see you around noon then?” he asked and the smile he received in return made his heart beat in double time.

“It’s a date,” Cartus said before his cheeks instantly flushed up.  This time there was no mistaking.  “But not an actual date!  I mean… it’s a scheduled event that has been planned involving two people, but… as I said I’d rather we get to know each other better and...”

Cor chuckled and waved his hand slightly.  “It’s alright, Cartus.  I understand,” he promised and Cartus seemed to relax slightly at that and nodded.

“Oh.  Okay.  Good,” he said awkwardly before his phone went off again and he groaned.  “I’ll see you this afternoon.  Until then, Cor,” he said with a final little nod, turning back around and getting into one of the elevators.

As the Advisor disappeared to his first meeting of the day, Cor realized he’d never been so happy to have been hit in the face by Door the Immortal.