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Scraps and Scribbles X: What I Wrote at Work Edition
I'm really sorry for spamming your f-lists. I'm almost done for the night, I promise. Anyways, here follows Ghost Hunt thoughts that really kind of didn't go anywhere.
Taniyama Mai hated her birthday. There were just too many broken promises and forgotten birthdays in her past for her to want to celebrate it. Her friends usually got her something, and a cake, but they actually celebrated it the day after. The day of, it was gift, present, let Mai have her alone time.
--
“Oh, Mai, we have to postpone our first visit to the Nara woman’s house. Something’s come up.”
“Postpone it? To when?”
“The following Friday – her case isn’t urgent, anyways. And that Friday was one of the original dates we had been considering anyways.”
“I can’t do that Friday.”
“You can’t- What?”
The routine of the day had been ruined. Normally, this was when Naru would dictate all of the things Mai needed to do, and Mai would grumble and complain the whole time, and whoever was watching at the time (usually, at least half of the SPR consultants, as Bou-san had referred to himself, simply because this was the best time to hear about all the juicy cases sand decide which ones he needed to book gigs around and which ones sounded too boring to contemplate) enjoyed the entertainment. But Mai never actually … well, it was like she didn’t have a life out of SPR, and was always available. What was different this time?
“Are you suggesting we change our schedule and the client’s around to fit yours?” Naru inquired dryly.
Mai gave him a funny look. “No,” she said, as if it were obvious. “You can go ahead without me. You don’t need me or anything, right?”
“Well, no,” Naru admitted grudgingly.
“Why can’t you go?” Bou-san whined. “It’ll be boring without you.”
“I already have plans,” Mai shrugged.
“What plans?”
“I’ve got a date with my boyfriend,” Mai said, as if she not had dropped a bombshell. “We’ve already had to reschedule three of our dates because of SPR business – I promised him there wouldn’t be any more.”
“Wait, you have a boyfriend?” Bou-san asked incredulously.
Naru
----
Mai’s first date had been with a boy from her school. He had been shallow, callow, and self-centered, and complained about his restrictive parents almost the entire time. Mai left in the middle because she couldn’t take it anymore.
The first boy Mai accepted a second date with, well … the second date never happened because of SPR business. She didn’t have a way to call him and tell him she wouldn’t be able to show up, and he didn’t care enough to ask. Perhaps it was better that way.
Mai’s first real boyfriend had been someone from one of their cases. He had been older, in his second year of university, and had pushed her out of the way of a falling brick during the case. Then, he found out she was still in high school (which, by the way, she hadn’t realized he hadn’t known) and broke up with her for her own good. He was too old for her, he said, but she knew he meant she was too young for him.
Mai’s next boyfriend and first long-term relationship had also been a boy in his second year of university, but Mai was in her last year of high school by then. He was sweet, and intellectual, and they had widely different interests, but they was okay, because both were interested in hearing about the other’s passion. He didn’t understand why Mai would work at a ghost-hunting agency, but then, thought he understood when he talked to someone who’d been involved in one of the cases SPR took that disproved the ghost story. That one had been the result of some obscure scientific phenomenon Naru had some passing familiarity with, and so her new boyfriend believed that all their cases involved science.
Mai didn’t disillusion him. It was easier that way.
----
“Naru, I need to talk to you.”
“Not now, I’m busy,” Naru said, as dismissively as always.
“No, you’re not,” Mai rolled her eyes. “We haven’t had any cases in the last two weeks, and you’ve finished all your paperwork. I have a case. I am now a client. I need to talk to you.”
----
After two years of working at SPR, Mai had had enough. She stalked into work one day, located Naru in his office, walked in, and slammed the door shut. What happened then nobody knows but Mai and Naru, though Lin certainly wondered when Mai stormed out in a whirl of what was possibly tears five minutes later and didn’t come back until the next day.
Indeed, Mai looked much more composed the next day, but Lin noticed that her shirt was more low-cut than normal (not scandalous low-cut, not even close, but lower than her normally conservative polos) and that she wore a necklace that rested right where her chest started to curve, which he only noticed because she started playing with it when she was bored, especially when Naru was around. Also, her skirt was two inches shorter, which he only noticed because she started developing a habit of hopping on tables and desks, in a way that seemed to shorten her skirt still more, and this too was especially evident when Naru was around.
And Lin wouldn’t have remarked on this, either, if Naru had not also been developing the oddest behaviors. He would need some paperwork, and instead of ordering Mai to fetch it for him, would reach around her so his arm was across her chest and his face was next to hers, and his lips would whisper in her ears, and then Lin decided that Mai and Naru weren’t just flirting with each other, they were playing some sort of scandalous game, and he was going to retreat to his office until it was over.
Honestly. Why couldn’t they just get a room?
Lin’s retreat lasted three days, when the whole crew decided to drop by unannounced for a visit. Lin had thought that Mai and Naru wouldn’t continue the game in such a public venue but he overestimated their reserve.
He was in the middle of conversing with John about a more obscure case of possession he’d come across in some historical records, when Mai bent over to pour Naru his tea. John had been sitting right next to Naru, and looked over without realizing what his poor eyes would witness, and Lin hadn’t even noticed until John’s eyes looked away immediately and his face turned red.
Their game was subtler than usual but the looks they exchanged were far more heated. Poor John was a priest, and not accustomed to such worldly thought, and he seemed so discomposed, he didn’t have much clue what was going on, but Lin was hyper-sensitive to the goings-on of Naru and Mai. Every seemingly-innocent innuendo, every time Mai drew attention to her cleavage by playing with her necklace, every time Naru muttered something in French that only Lin could understand and only Mai could guess at – Lin had enough.
Taniyama Mai hated her birthday. There were just too many broken promises and forgotten birthdays in her past for her to want to celebrate it. Her friends usually got her something, and a cake, but they actually celebrated it the day after. The day of, it was gift, present, let Mai have her alone time.
--
“Oh, Mai, we have to postpone our first visit to the Nara woman’s house. Something’s come up.”
“Postpone it? To when?”
“The following Friday – her case isn’t urgent, anyways. And that Friday was one of the original dates we had been considering anyways.”
“I can’t do that Friday.”
“You can’t- What?”
The routine of the day had been ruined. Normally, this was when Naru would dictate all of the things Mai needed to do, and Mai would grumble and complain the whole time, and whoever was watching at the time (usually, at least half of the SPR consultants, as Bou-san had referred to himself, simply because this was the best time to hear about all the juicy cases sand decide which ones he needed to book gigs around and which ones sounded too boring to contemplate) enjoyed the entertainment. But Mai never actually … well, it was like she didn’t have a life out of SPR, and was always available. What was different this time?
“Are you suggesting we change our schedule and the client’s around to fit yours?” Naru inquired dryly.
Mai gave him a funny look. “No,” she said, as if it were obvious. “You can go ahead without me. You don’t need me or anything, right?”
“Well, no,” Naru admitted grudgingly.
“Why can’t you go?” Bou-san whined. “It’ll be boring without you.”
“I already have plans,” Mai shrugged.
“What plans?”
“I’ve got a date with my boyfriend,” Mai said, as if she not had dropped a bombshell. “We’ve already had to reschedule three of our dates because of SPR business – I promised him there wouldn’t be any more.”
“Wait, you have a boyfriend?” Bou-san asked incredulously.
Naru
----
Mai’s first date had been with a boy from her school. He had been shallow, callow, and self-centered, and complained about his restrictive parents almost the entire time. Mai left in the middle because she couldn’t take it anymore.
The first boy Mai accepted a second date with, well … the second date never happened because of SPR business. She didn’t have a way to call him and tell him she wouldn’t be able to show up, and he didn’t care enough to ask. Perhaps it was better that way.
Mai’s first real boyfriend had been someone from one of their cases. He had been older, in his second year of university, and had pushed her out of the way of a falling brick during the case. Then, he found out she was still in high school (which, by the way, she hadn’t realized he hadn’t known) and broke up with her for her own good. He was too old for her, he said, but she knew he meant she was too young for him.
Mai’s next boyfriend and first long-term relationship had also been a boy in his second year of university, but Mai was in her last year of high school by then. He was sweet, and intellectual, and they had widely different interests, but they was okay, because both were interested in hearing about the other’s passion. He didn’t understand why Mai would work at a ghost-hunting agency, but then, thought he understood when he talked to someone who’d been involved in one of the cases SPR took that disproved the ghost story. That one had been the result of some obscure scientific phenomenon Naru had some passing familiarity with, and so her new boyfriend believed that all their cases involved science.
Mai didn’t disillusion him. It was easier that way.
----
“Naru, I need to talk to you.”
“Not now, I’m busy,” Naru said, as dismissively as always.
“No, you’re not,” Mai rolled her eyes. “We haven’t had any cases in the last two weeks, and you’ve finished all your paperwork. I have a case. I am now a client. I need to talk to you.”
----
After two years of working at SPR, Mai had had enough. She stalked into work one day, located Naru in his office, walked in, and slammed the door shut. What happened then nobody knows but Mai and Naru, though Lin certainly wondered when Mai stormed out in a whirl of what was possibly tears five minutes later and didn’t come back until the next day.
Indeed, Mai looked much more composed the next day, but Lin noticed that her shirt was more low-cut than normal (not scandalous low-cut, not even close, but lower than her normally conservative polos) and that she wore a necklace that rested right where her chest started to curve, which he only noticed because she started playing with it when she was bored, especially when Naru was around. Also, her skirt was two inches shorter, which he only noticed because she started developing a habit of hopping on tables and desks, in a way that seemed to shorten her skirt still more, and this too was especially evident when Naru was around.
And Lin wouldn’t have remarked on this, either, if Naru had not also been developing the oddest behaviors. He would need some paperwork, and instead of ordering Mai to fetch it for him, would reach around her so his arm was across her chest and his face was next to hers, and his lips would whisper in her ears, and then Lin decided that Mai and Naru weren’t just flirting with each other, they were playing some sort of scandalous game, and he was going to retreat to his office until it was over.
Honestly. Why couldn’t they just get a room?
Lin’s retreat lasted three days, when the whole crew decided to drop by unannounced for a visit. Lin had thought that Mai and Naru wouldn’t continue the game in such a public venue but he overestimated their reserve.
He was in the middle of conversing with John about a more obscure case of possession he’d come across in some historical records, when Mai bent over to pour Naru his tea. John had been sitting right next to Naru, and looked over without realizing what his poor eyes would witness, and Lin hadn’t even noticed until John’s eyes looked away immediately and his face turned red.
Their game was subtler than usual but the looks they exchanged were far more heated. Poor John was a priest, and not accustomed to such worldly thought, and he seemed so discomposed, he didn’t have much clue what was going on, but Lin was hyper-sensitive to the goings-on of Naru and Mai. Every seemingly-innocent innuendo, every time Mai drew attention to her cleavage by playing with her necklace, every time Naru muttered something in French that only Lin could understand and only Mai could guess at – Lin had enough.