Young Writers Society

A new voice joined the conversation to say, “Oh?  Is that what you told them back at the command post when they asked for a commander report?  That my death was the obvious conclusion from my sudden disappearance in a flash of light, that familiar glowing blue beam, and the high-pitched ringing that happens when a stun bomb is set off in the vicinity of a squadron.”

Glenn had been roused at some point in their conversation, leather jacket hanging loose from his shoulders and his hair slightly damp from the rain.  Robe tried to hold back certain thoughts as he looked at the soldier.  The word that came to the top of his brain to describe the situation was “hard”, and that just made his cheeks flush even more.It was easy to slip away from the gaze of Garner and Harry.  In the few moments where Robe had been in the room with the two of them, the tension was always stretched tight across the length, and suffocating to anyone else who tried to engage.  Maybe that was all in how they were meaning it to be.  They had things to discuss – confidential matters – and they wanted everyone else to stay out.

“And what would you have told them if the same thing had happened to me, Glenn?  Would you have informed the same people who kidnapped, the ones taking a witness statement about me, that I was taken by a Federal ship?”

“Yeah like you would ever manage to get kidnapped.  We both know that you would have killed every body on the ship and commandeered the vessel, if they even managed to get their hands on you,” Glenn’s hand slammed against the table, his voice rising with every statement.  Robe was more and more tempted to step into their conversation, to pull the two of them apart and fix the situation.  But he found himself naturally sinking back into the shadows with no wish to be trampled in a bloody accident.

“And what leads you to that conclusion?  Your massive intellect or the assumptions made with your dick as you try to get a new boyfriend?”

“Because, as you so loved to remind me, I’m just a human.  Just a simple human who couldn’t possibly escape the custody of thirty armed rangers and had to be rescued by a frog woman with a single toothpick.”

Glenn finished out the statement with a near laugh and Robe watched Harry’s eyes light up at the mention of the toothpick.  He soon found himself under the impression of a memory Harry had once told him.  The talk had been about MacGyver situations, after a brief explanation to Will of who MacGyver was, and the familiar questioning of what reboot humans were on now.

Robe found the words slipping out as he asked, “So you weren’t lying about the toothpick thing?”

Harry and Glenn both turned about their heels at the same time with looks pointed towards Robe’s position.

“You honestly thought that I would lie about something like that.”

“Yeah, you honestly though she would lie about something like that?”  Glenn added support, a joking wink sent Robe’s way, and an abrupt turn in questioning to Harry.  “The only things she lies about are the cases where she’s found in the wrong, and Harry will gladly tell you that it doesn’t happen very often.  I assume that even five hundred years later you’re still always finding a way to be the hero.”

“Someone always has to be the hero, Glenn.  Better me than anyone else risking their goddamn lives and reputations for the pursuit of nothing!"  

While Glenn had just barely begun raising his voice, Harry had flat out shouted the beginning of her rant.  It brought the attention of the other party occupants, the usuals hanging around now that the party was trickling out.  Jud and Will came first, Will brandishing a heavy looking pan and Jud still casually smoking his cigar.  They maintained the position of witnesses and Robe was soon surprised by Harding's voice calling up the elevator shaft to say, "What the hell are you doing?"

Bart's three eyes took on a glare that could madden anyone in the room.  They fell to silence as he walked among the crowd, more of the first floor office workers now present at the commotion.  

"I leave for a goddamn hour to get out of the rain and call my husband to tell him that I might not make it home tonight.  So that he wouldn't be worrying about my absence but knowing that I would be safely be sleeping in the offices."

Bart moved further into the room, judgement sweeping across to all of them present.

"And you just revert to killing each other?"  His hat landing swiftly upon his head, hair falling down to cover the eye and his ears.  "This is the shit that I've spent five years slowly to build my reputation to get into?  This is the promotion that I've wanted?  To get to be a second floor detective in a dead man's office that's never been cleared."

Just as Robe thought that perhaps the situation couldn't get worse, Jud stepped forward.  There was no need for any of the current events to be happening, but for some reason this always happened when Harry was around.  People would start fighting over the emotions that had been bubbling through their heads for years, but it never took full effect until her presence was known.  Until she had the time to crush someone's heart into a fine powder and make it into ink.

Robe watched as Jud put his cigar down in an ashtray, slowly bringing an arm down to Bart's and saying, "Harding, calm down."

"Why?  Why the fuck would I do that now?"

"Because you got the job," Jud started pulling Bart into the next room.  "Let's go to my office and talk about it.  Harry you're coming too."

As quickly as the people had flood into the room, they filtered back out and most went their way home.  Robe waited until the area was sufficiently clear and brought Glenn back down for another kiss.  He pushed them against the kitchen island with a silent prayer for the architecture skill in its construction.

Robe decided to be bold in this moment and ask, “How do you feel about that drink, Major? Perhaps back at my apartment?”

“That sounds perfect.”

Somehow, they both managed to ignore all that had happened. The confrontations that took place in the kitchen and far too many discussions than either would like to bear. Perhaps Robe wouldn’t get a relationship out of this, but he could deal with some good sex.