Characters: Angrboða/Riley (griefbringer ) & Pothos/Eric (yearnling ) Date/Time: Backdated to the afternoon of September 15. Rating: PG13? There's swearing! Yes! Warnings: Swearing? Summary:After this. Eric puts on his White Knight suit and goes to assist with his Batman lock picking kit! Which he breaks! BUT HE BROUGHT WINE. Feelings are shared, questions answered, naughty things go bump in the night.
Voluntarily offering yourself up to help a damsel in distress wasn’t exactly Eric’s modus operandi but when the princess is the Frost Wench (or any version thereof) and she’s injured, cold, and, well, in distress... he changes factions and hops on board. It took him awhile, not really wanting to go find his car in the school lot and figure out if it had gasoline or not, so he took off on his bicycle, ye olde mode of transport, and peddled in the direction of her house, summer scarf flapping in the breeze.
Breaking and entering wasn’t a particular skill set he had, but Eric had a bag with items to potentially use. His favorite is a childhood lock pick set, acquired when he was 8 and trying to be Batman, used rarely when he realized his doors at home were never used, but saved for nostalgia. Assuming his parents hadn’t skimped and gotten him a real one, it might be in use. Otherwise, he had a few other random items and, worst case scenario, a blanket and wine. For some reason, those were the first to go in before anything else. The glass clinked loudly when he pulled to a stop at the curb of Riley’s abode, rusty brakes squeaking and alerting all neighbors that he was here and destroying any option of being a thief, except of hearts.
Sauntering to the door, Eric shifted the bag to his shoulder so he could open it and reveal his first marvel: a gel pack for her hand. “Hey-o. Brought you gifts’n’shit.”
-
Admitting that she wanted -- no, needed -- help was awkward enough as far as Riley was concerned, but admitting something like that to the same guy who'd spent time and effort thinking of ways to insult her made the confession even more galling. However, upon realizing she was suddenly without the powers that she'd considered a part of her for longer than she cared to remember Riley was feeling off-kilter and would take all the assistance that she could get. An offer of a jacket from Kaden, saying straight out to anyone who commented that she was a moron and locked herself out -- this wasn't typical Riley behavior, but nothing about this was all that typical.
Sitting on the steps outside her house wearing a pair of cut-off shorts, a t-shirt, and flip-flops, Riley was doing her best to calm down. Being angry hadn't improved her anything about this situation, in fact it had only made things worse. Her hand was throbbing painfully, and despite not being swollen she'd broken enough bones in her life to recognize the signs of a possible fracture when she felt one. Once Eric arrived and they got into her house she'd wrap an ace bandage around the hand, and that would have to do until she could get to the Wellness Center. She was mentally bitching about how ridiculous this was and wondering why Reeve wasn't answering his fucking phone when she heard Eric's arrival.
Standing up as he approached, eyes instantly going to the scarf around his neck, Riley resisted the urge to say something like 'took you long enough' by reminding herself that he was here to help. Instead, she raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Gifts'n'shit? Thanks, I didn't bring you anything. I'd apologize, but I didn't know we were exchanging shit." She took the gel pack from him, gesturing at the door. "So, you wanna work your magic and let me in?"
-
“Well, you know, ‘items a helpless maiden may need’ didn’t really, uh, suit you. You’re only temporarily helpless, if I’m correct,” he grinned, setting the bag down at his feet, careful to avoid breaking the bottle. The scarf, as summery and classy as it might be elsewhere, was on purpose. Unwinding it from his neck, he gazed at the faded red of it before moving to drop it on Riley’s head, “Use this to hold it in place, or you’re going to be pretty useless when I end up boosting you into a window.”
Knowing his joking may not go far, he stared at the door. It might be a problem, Batman lock picking set or not. His internal man child is yelling at him for offering his skills, when the only magic (or lack of) he had is to make people fall in love, and in this particular scenario, even if he could, making someone love their front door doesn’t exactly make it open sesame. And for once, it was probably a good thing he couldn’t make people infatuated with objects. No one knows what he could do to be a jerk for a little while.
Just to make sure, he tries the door knob, giving it some pushes to make sure that yes, it is actually locked and she didn’t magically turn into a weak muscled girl who can’t open doors without aid. Once assured, Eric pulled the Batman set from his bag. It was a simple black case, Batman logo no where on it but, in his little kid mind, it was something Bruce Wayne owned so, clearly. Batman. He kneeled at the door, aware he was dirtying his favorite jeans. “Look, if I manage to break your lock with this, don’t break my neck. It’s been awhile, and quite frankly, the only magic I---well, let’s not go there, Frosty, but,” Eric mutters, putting part A with piece B into tab C.
-
His comment caused an actual smile to alight on her face, briefly. “Temporarily helpless, I like that,” she responded, slightly amazed that she didn’t feel like throttling him yet. Maybe whatever had affected her abilities was also rendering her idiotic, which would explain why when Eric’s scarf was draped on her head she didn’t make a move to hit him, instead just standing there looking up at him with a baffled look on her face as she did what he said and wrapped the fabric around her hand without arguing.
Stepping back to allow him better access to the door without being in his way, she watched as he inspected the door. Rolling her eyes when he tried the doorknob, she once again bit her tongue and reminded herself that he was being cool and helping her, and he could easily turn around and bike his ass back home if she started acting like the bitch queen of Blackburn Crescent before he let her back into her house. Which reminded her, she probably owed him a legitimate thank you for actually doing this.
Hovering behind him, shifting from foot to foot in an effort to warm herself up, Riley was doing her best not to get her hopes up. The lockpicking kit he pulled from his bag reminded her of the type of thing spies carried around with them in the movies, which helped ease the fear that his idea of breaking and entering involved throwing a rock through a window and then boosting her through it. Any plan that didn’t involve her having to spend money she didn’t have was a good one in her book. “If you break the lock then you’re waiting for the professional locksmith with me, alright double oh dillweed?” Riley shot back, the insult one of the less-caustic ones she’d ever said.
-
Eric was aware of Riley’s proximity, but she probably wasn’t aware that while one part of his brain was focusing on the door knob, the other was thinking about tickling her behind the knees. Because that’s just how everything up there worked, though his attention was diverted back when he heard something, something both wondrous and magical all at the same time, the click! of a lock being opened.
Triumphant, he leaned back and patted Riley on her thigh, closest to the front as possible, while still holding the lock picker inside the lock with his other hand. Some small part of his conscious was telling him that touching her is probably an unwanted gesture, but he did just save her day. Mythically he may not have been a prince, but now he was feeling elevated and proud of himself.
“No need to call the locksmith, m’lady, I do believe you’ll find that I’ve done and---oh, well,” he started then stopped, looking at the pick he had just removed from the door lock. Half the end was broken off. Nothing clattered to the ground, which only meant one possible outcome: it was still inside the door. “Huh. Guess they didn’t make these things to last,” he paused and threw his head back to look up at her, still down on his knees, “Do you want to use my phone or yours?”
-
No, Riley definitely was not aware of what was going through Eric’s mind, which was probably a good thing. She wasn’t as strong as her powered self, but she was still able to do damage and wouldn’t have hesitated to crack him upside the head broken hand or no if he tried to tickle her. She was ticklish, but there were only a few people who had ever discovered that and were able to walk away without a few bruises for their efforts.
Flabbergasted when she felt Eric’s hand patting her thigh, Riley stared down at that hand for a good few seconds before deciding to give him a pass this time since from the sounds of it he’d just proven his worth. Sighing in relief that she’d finally get to put on some decent clothes, she reached down with her good hand to ruffle his hair, stopping short of saying ‘good boy’ as that would be demeaning.
She was debating taking a shower, imagining the hot water and glorious steam already, but the she heard what he’d said. “You broke it?” Riley asked, disbelief evident in her tone. “But I thought you...” she bent down to peer at the lock, expecting it to spit out the other piece of the pick at any moment. “Shit.” She closed her eyes for a moment, clearly frustrated. “Fuck, I don’t even know the number for a locksmith.” Now she felt a little like crying. “You know, this wouldn’t have happened if I’d just quit smoking months ago.”
-
Having his hair touched was nice, but Eric was fully aware of the thin ice and egg shell combination under his feet at the moment. He just failed his hero duties, now Mulan will never make a man out of him and Snow White will never get a happy ending, or some other sappy relative Disney story. “Crap,” he exhales, looking at the broken tool and then casually throwing it into the bag, not wanting to litter but also not wanting to throw it out, either. Memories and all that fine stuff. “I’m... well, I wasn’t expecting that, but I think I can call up a locksmith, if you want,” he offered, feeling a little embarrassed now that the reality of his failure was setting in.
Failure isn’t an option for him, and he just did, dashing the hopes of a princess who clearly, from top to toe, just wanted to get inside and be a happy camper. With a frustrated grunt, Eric didn’t move far before plopping down on his rear a few footsteps away, pulling his bag over and digging through it to produce the blanket. “I didn’t think we would need to use this, but it’s yours, if you want it while we wait. There’s wine, but I can’t tell if you will want to hit me over the head with it or drink it. I won’t argue if it’s the more gruesome option.”
-
Honestly, Riley was more bothered by the fact that all of this could have easily been prevented if she’d just thought to bring her keys, or to check and see if the door was locked before closing it. She couldn’t hold it against Eric, not even if she really wanted to, because that portion of her brain that actually did care on some level understood that he was only trying to help. “Eh...” she started, pacing a bit. “It’s alright, you did your best, or something. I dunno.” She paused. “Yeah, I guess I’m gonna need a locksmith. Or I’ll need to find someplace to stay until Reeve or Cyrus can let me in,” she muttered, hating that she had no idea where her roommates were.
Sitting down next to him, she nudged him with her elbow before taking the blanket from him. “You brought a blanket, even though you didn’t think you’d need it? Were you a fucking boy scout or something?” Laughing at her own lame joke, Riley unfolded the blanket and held out on end to him. “Looks like it could be big enough to share, if you’re willing to keep your hands to yourself.” Not that she thought he even needed the blanket, since he was dressed far more appropriately than she was, but she wanted to share. “How ‘bout you call that locksmith, we can pop open the bottle of wine, and you can make good on staying with me until I can get back inside?”
-
“You... could always come back with me, but you’d have to sit on the handle bars, and I can ride my bike with no handle bars, but, um, campus...” Eric wavered and drifted, figuring keeping her company here was better than hauling her rear back and forth, even if that second trip could potentially involve a vehicle. Taking the corner, he grinned and pulled it a little to cover his legs. She was right, he had planned ahead and wore a flannel. It wasn’t an excuse to not keep another warm though. “Not a boy scout, just really prepared. My brothers and I would escape the hell of PMS in the house by camping in the fields for a weekend or two. I didn’t really get the whole honor system and badge shit.”
Pulling out his cell phone, he did a search for local smithys and scrolled through, selecting one with the best reviews to call, waiting impatiently for the operator or someone to answer---and they did, so Eric rattled off information pertinent and recieved a time estimate as well as cost. Since he did break it, he figured he might as well as pay for some, if not all, of it. It was not nearly as fun as a real date, not that this was. Maybe he had had plans for it, planning with the blanket and wine and maybe it was sheer dumb luck the pick broke.
“So,” phone now put away, it’s impolite to have out in company, “thirty minutes. Think we can kill this grocery store special by then, angrykins? Look, it doesn’t even need a cork screw. Just a wire pull. So you can’t break my nose or your other hand or something.” OK, so he really did think ahead.