Storytime
The air is chilly, it's only 5 AM and the room's window is ajar. Of course she's already up, of course she's already in the midst of experiments, and of course at the moment she touched her dear flower blooms, she forgot everything else in the world - time, wind, and with it, date and place. Nothing exist when she's working.
AKIM : Ink ?
He calls, to no avail. He got up early to surprise her this morning, to find an empty bed. The trail is easy to follow : an emply tray and a barely touched cup of coffee was taken from the kitchen to be left next to the sink in the bathroom, from the bathroom a toothbrush is now living her displaced life in the living room near a booknote, and from the booknote he knows where to find her. Another idea stuck at night and she had to pursue it. Shall he disturb her ? He approches, hiding the letter he holds behind is back and gently taps her shoulder.
AKIM: Hey, Ink ?
She yelps a soft scream that scares the chameleon she probably doesn't even knows is near her neck and trying to eat a butterfly nested on her sweater. Akim takes a step back.
AKIM: Sorry ! I didn't mean to...
INCARNAT: No, no, I'm sorry, I didn't hear you enter, sweet mint !
She takes off her old headphones, leaving in the air a very loud and yet muffled music, then cut it. Her state is just so typical of her : she put on glove to be safe, then put on a watch to remember the hour, limiting safety, then put on music to concentrate, making her watch moot. At least she remembered to put pants on. She smiles, then frowns.
INCARNAT: I woke you up again, didn't I ?
AKIM: Not at all. I...
He looks behind her, on her desk, and it's a nightmare of papers, tools, mangled flowers and various juices, with sticky notes and various drawings. Some liquids are gently bubbling, some are not so gentle, one is on the cusp of revolt and the honey-like smell of it all is slightly corrupted by a certain amount of an oily, throat clinging burnt perfume.
He can't help but to feel discouraged. They already had this conversation : she works too much, love her work too much, and today ? Today was supposed to be their day, their day alone, and here they are : on Valentine's, she's leaving him for work again. Maybe he should leave too...
AKIM: Sorry, I... I'll leave you to it.
INCARNAT: Come on, I know it's ugly, but not that ugly !
Her bigger smile makes him stops a little, hesitating between a slight anger - is she moking him ? - and curiosity. And then, she turns over, to present him with... Something.
INCARNAT: I was hoping to wake you with a breakfast in bed, but I thought I had time to make cupcakes, and...
What she's presenting is perhaps the most hideous pastry ever known to man. The colour is an odd thing between deep brown and light blue, the shape is visibly trying to be a heart but is more akin to a crushed stone with the texture to match, and the odour is the love-child of sickly sweet and profound bitterness.
A silence fall, and after a couple of seconds, he start to make a gesture to take it.
INCARNAT: Nonononono noooo ! You don't have to try it ! It's, it's fine, really, we...
AKIM: Well, now, I want to try it.
INCARNAT: Please don't ! I don't know what came wrong, maybe the magnoliopsida extract was instable when I added...
She yelps again as he almost grabs the coloured thing, then she flees, Akim grabs her by the waist and it's only because his hand is still holding tight on his letter that she manages to escape, running around her desk with him purchasing her until she dunks her creation in the trashcan with the same joy and victorious face as an olympic athlete.
INCARNAT: THERE ! Gone.
Her smile evapores as she looks at him and the half of a pretend cupcake he have in hands, and she's all flustered when he glups the thing in one bite.
INCARNAT: ...How is it ?
AKIM: It's... Kof ! It's...
INCARNAT: It's awful, isn't it ?
AKIM: Acquired taste is more like it.
He coughs again, she coughs too. They look at each other a second more, and then they laugh together a big, hearty laughter. Then her eyes finally fall on the enveloppes he clings to, and she solfty asks.
INCARNAT: And... What's that ?
AKIM: It's, herm, it's...
His fingers play a little on the paper, and he finally admits.
AKIM: Poetry.
A pause.
AKIM: You really don't have to read it.
Her eyes become thin daggers as she squints, then looks at her gloves and the blue-brown sticky mystery that stains them. Then she declares.
INCARNAT: Let's negotiate that over pancakes, minty-love.
AKIM: That's a deal, Inky.
