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it's. only. her. cinnamentality.
and you couldn't tame it if you tried
Fanfiction - Experiment Log #4: Pick-up Lines. 
18th-Nov-2013 02:14 pm
fanfic is srs bsns
Title: Experiment Log #4 - Pick-up Lines.
Fandom: You know, why do I keep bothering...
Pairing: ...to fill out this section these days?
Words: 829.
Summary: Let the record show...that Pao-Lin once felt compelled to randomly insert bad pick-up lines in conversation.
Rating: Hey, baby, I’m G for Good In Bed. /eyebrow waggle
Notes: The only thing I’m sorry about is that this is more of a vignette than a proper fic. But I guess after the last installment in this series, something short and silly is called for.

The game that Hubert describes is apparently called Col here on Earth.



“Hey, Hubert, are you a dictionary? ‘Cause you just gave me the definition of ‘gorgeous’.”

Hubert does a double-take. “Excuse me?” That was not how he’d expected to be greeted when Pao-Lin opened the door to her apartment.

Pao-Lin, for her part, looks about as confused as he feels at the moment, hands over the mouth and eyes wide. At Hubert’s inquiring glance, she simply shakes her head. “S-sorry,” she mumbles. “I don’t...well, anyway, I just wanted to know if you had a band-aid, because I skinned my knee when I fell for you — no wait I swear that’s not what I meant!”

He only exhales with resignation. “I suppose it’s time for another experiment again.” He glances down at the sketchbook and pencil pouch cradled in his arm. “This will make our drawing lesson difficult, if not impossible.” He’s a little disappointed; he’d wanted her opinion on a picture he’d been working on.

Pao-Lin nods. She looks as though she wants to say something, but instead she simply steps aside and gestures at Hubert to come in as she heads for the living room couch. Hubert wipes his feet on the doormat and closes the door behind him before going over to join her, setting his art supplies on the coffee table as he sits down. With a smile, Pao-Lin throws her arms around him in a hug.

“...it’s nice to see you too,” he manages awkwardly, patting her arm. “Even if the circumstances are a little...odd. I suppose we’ll have to find some other way to pass the time.”

“I could sit on your lap and talk about the first thing that pops up,” she suggests after a second’s pause, sounding as though she’s just let out a breath she’d been holding.

A blush burns Hubert’s cheeks at that, despite knowing that she currently has no control over her words and probably doesn’t even have any real idea of the nature of the things she’s implying. “That won’t be necessary,” he says quickly, turning away to adjust his glasses in a familiar nervous gesture. His gaze falls on his sketchbook and pencil pouch. An idea occurs to him. “Why don’t you try writing things down instead?”

Pao-Lin takes Hubert’s sketchbook and flips to the back of it for a clean page. After digging out a pencil, she begins writing out a couple of test sentences, things like ‘this is a test’ and ‘the sky is blue’. But somehow she still seems compelled to tack on suggestive phrases, which debunks Hubert’s theory about the act of writing disrupting the verbal-based Shift currently affecting her. The bright side is that, with a visual cue, it’s easier for him to comprehend her actual intended words. Still...

“Do you prefer communicating this way, or would you rather speak?” he asks.

‘this is fine but not as fine as you,’ she writes.

“In that case, let’s continue finding an alternate activity for the day. Have you gotten a new TV yet? Perhaps we could watch a movie.”

She draws a giant X on the paper, then follows it up with: ‘what about a game in bed

Hubert looks out the window, where the light sprinkles from earlier have since exploded into a full-blown rainstorm. “Well, if there’s no other recourse, I suppose the Rec Center is an option...” Going out in this weather will be unpleasant, though, even with current company.

Pao-Lin swiftly sketches something out.

Hubert tilts his head. “You wish to play noughts and crosses?”

‘tick tack toe,’ she corrects him.

“But this is the game where each player attempts to claim a row of their symbol on the grid, right?”

She nods.

He stares down at the page, only vaguely considering the suggestion. If they’re to play a childish game, he’d rather not play one he’s mastered enough to consistently win or at least force a draw on. “I have a better idea,” he says, taking the sketchbook and pencil from Pao-Lin and turning the page to draw something of his own.

Pao-Lin peers over, curious.

“This is called ‘Mapmaker’ where I’m from,” explains Hubert, putting the finishing touches on an abstract doodle of interlocked shapes and random intersecting lines. “You and I each select a color, and we take turns coloring in a section. The only stipulation is that no two areas of the same color are allowed to touch. The first person unable to make a qualifying move loses the game.” This is even more unsophisticated than noughts and crosses, but it features an element of randomness that will at least make things acceptably interesting for the moment.

Pao-Lin, always so delighted by the simplest things, beams at him. ‘I wanna be ur lover green!’

Hubert finds a green colored pencil for her in his pencil pouch. He takes a purple one for himself, and the two set themselves to mapmaking.
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