[Truth be told, it isn't, like, truly shocking when Felix's car gives up the ghost. The check engine light has been on for the better part of a month? Which means that Ingrid has been fussing at him for the better part of a month, asking when he intends to take it to the shop , but here's the thing: Felix is busy. He's always busy! He didn't, doesn't, have time to waste sitting in some gross-smelling lobby.
But then Annette calls out of the blue, asking for his help with moving the last few items from from her uncle's home to her new apartment in Fhirdiad, and it's amazing how much time Felix suddenly has. Truly. Who cares that her uncle lives all the way out in who-knows-where-ville? It's fine, as he tells her during the first few hours of their drive. It's whatever. It wasn't like he was doing anything, anyway, so no, he doesn't need any of the (many) baked goods Annette brought with her. He suspects the savory ones are from Mercedes, a sort of "I'm sorry I had a last minute shift change and couldn't drive Annette myself" offering, and that's... well, you know. He doesn't mind driving Annette through this unfamiliar part of Faerghus; he doesn't mind that Annette takes control of the auxiliary cord, like, immediately, absently humming along with her many favorites when she thinks he isn't paying her any attention, because Annette is...
...Listen: Felix doesn't mind Annette. Just. In general.
And all he can do is hope that Annette, ah, doesn't mind him, because his car breaking down a good two and a half hours into their trip is... a pain. Thank the Goddess for his old man's AAA membership; they only have to sit by the side of the road, counting cows, for thirty minutes before someone shows up to tow his car to the nearest town—and then it's just a matter of bickering with the mechanic, who insists that, as it is now past five, he can't do a damn thing about it until the next day? And then bickering with the clerk at the town's one and only motel, because how is it his fault that there's some agricultural fair going on in the next town over? He needs two rooms. Two. Or at least a room with two beds, because while his friend is standing outside the front entrance, presumably letting her uncle know that plans have changed, he knows that his friend would prefer her own! Space!
So, naturally, when Felix turns the key—the actual key, holy shit—to their room a solid ten minutes later and allows Annette to step inside first, this is what they have to work with: one shitty television, one armchair that has certainly seen better days, and, most importantly, one bed. Lovely. Felix takes a deep breath.]
There's a conference nearby, [he abruptly, oh-so awkwardly offers as he, too, steps inside.] About... cows. I don't know.
[He didn't ask for further details. He couldn't care less about cows—but he cares quite a bit about how Annette is taking this, hence the sidelong glance he spares her as he comes to a stop near the bed. Their bed? Huh. Time to look down at it, critically, as he places a hand on his hip.]
[ There were forty-five cows, for the record. Not forty-four. She'll die on this hill, thanks.
After she dies trying to inject a single word edgewise during this stupid phone call with her uncle. He's a good man and she loves him very much (she may or may not have repeated this mantra a ton after she and her mom had moved in with him years ago) but the way he constantly criticizes her for every little thing that doesn't go absolutely right.....ooooh! How could you trust someone with a car in need of such repair, Annette and Why didn't you simply arrange your schedule to match Mercedes' work shifts, Annette? But she had, she had!!! It's not her fault Ashe had twisted his ankle trying to save that (honestly really cute) kitten stuck in a tree and had to take three days off work.
She doesn't realize she's started imitating her uncle, silently mouthed words and all until one of the motel customers pauses, suitcase still in his hand, to stare at her with deep regret. Oh.
Anyway, he's finally run out of things to say, thank all the Saints, and she's mumbling some soothing and appropriately chastised nonsense into the phone before finally hanging up. Just in time, because there's Felix waving the key - a....literal key? okay, sure - to their room and motioning for her to follow him. The prospect of having a bed to collapse face-first into is more than enough motivation for her legs to get going down the hallway and up the creaky flight of stairs to their room.
Their single room. With a single bed.
Hm.
She can feel Felix watching her, and explaining something about cows, but she is honestly too busy trying to mentally put together the pieces of two people and one bed. ]
This is...fine. It's fine? [ Is it though? ] I mean, it's just a bed. One bed.
[ One bed that might fit two people if they like, lie down very close to one another. Get nice and comfy. Which wouldn't be a problem if it was Mercedes next to her, or even Ingrid. But it's Felix here instead and Felix likes his space. Annette would love to give him that space!
She glances at him, and a nervous bubble of laughter escapes. ]
And you can have the bed! For driving all day. [ Two and a half hours, but close enough. ] I'll just...sleep on the floor, or something. I'm used to it, you know. I used to pass out on the table all the time back when I was studying for finals, I'm sure sleeping on the floor won't be that much different.
[ The armchair would have been her first pick if her eyes hadn't immediately zeroed in on a suspicious stain right on the seat. No thanks. ]
[Funny how their minds go to such similar, yet different, places. Felix looks down at the bed and thinks: Huh. Well. Sharing a bed is nothing new, really; like, growing up with Dimitri, Sylvain, and Ingrid meant all four of them frequently sharing someone's space for naps, or story-time, or Just Because—and that's carried over in small ways, now that they're grown. How many times has Felix fallen asleep on his shitty couch during their monthly b-movie marathons (tm) and woken up with, like, Ingrid's foot planted against his face, or Sylvain's arm hooked about his leg? Highly annoying, but totally normal.
But Annette is not—she doesn't have to put up with him, is the thing. She isn't obligated to, and thus Felix shoots her a Look when she laughs, when she brings up the floor. That carpet has seen some shit over the past decade, which Felix is willing to bet has rarely included a vacuum cleaner. Lovely all around.]
Dimitri slept in a bathtub, once.
[And suffered a sore back for the next week. Felix isn't exactly eager to repeat that mistake—and besides, that was just something stupid to mutter in the moment? To buy Felix enough time to bring a hand to his temple, absently scratching at a spot that does not itch before he lifts it in a sort of half-shrug, half-wave.]
Look, it's—you're not sleeping on the floor. Don't be ridiculous. [A huff!] We can sleep in shifts, or... put a pillow between us. I don't know. It's not like you take up that much space.
[ Dimitri slept in a bathtub once is enough to prompt her to wander away from the bed and towards the tiny bathroom connected to the left wall. A mistake, because as soon as she opens the door, she's faced with the sight of—a giant spider, scuttling through the open doorway and around her foot.
She shrieks, jumps backward, and somehow manages to move her feet far enough - and fast enough - that she's clutching Felix's wrist a scant two seconds later, as though he's the only thing that'll save her from a terrible and dramatic death via spider. The spider, oblivious to her panic, moseys its way casually across the carpet and up the lamp in one musty corner.
Ugh. She hates spiders. ]
You know what? Let's figure out the bed problem over dinner. You said something about a fair, right? Cows?
[ Fairs mean food, and food means she can forget - even temporarily - about the host of problems piling up in front of her. Maybe they'll get lucky and a room will have opened up by the time they're done. Maybe they'll get lucky and the spider will suddenly decide to go on a vacation to a different room. And maybe a hole will open up in the ground, because she's just realized she's still holding onto his wrist.
She lets go of him with alacrity, and tucks her hands behind her back. ]
You can, uh, go freshen up first if you want. Since you've been driving all day.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the very creative roadtrip (tm)
But then Annette calls out of the blue, asking for his help with moving the last few items from from her uncle's home to her new apartment in Fhirdiad, and it's amazing how much time Felix suddenly has. Truly. Who cares that her uncle lives all the way out in who-knows-where-ville? It's fine, as he tells her during the first few hours of their drive. It's whatever. It wasn't like he was doing anything, anyway, so no, he doesn't need any of the (many) baked goods Annette brought with her. He suspects the savory ones are from Mercedes, a sort of "I'm sorry I had a last minute shift change and couldn't drive Annette myself" offering, and that's... well, you know. He doesn't mind driving Annette through this unfamiliar part of Faerghus; he doesn't mind that Annette takes control of the auxiliary cord, like, immediately, absently humming along with her many favorites when she thinks he isn't paying her any attention, because Annette is...
...Listen: Felix doesn't mind Annette. Just. In general.
And all he can do is hope that Annette, ah, doesn't mind him, because his car breaking down a good two and a half hours into their trip is... a pain. Thank the Goddess for his old man's AAA membership; they only have to sit by the side of the road, counting cows, for thirty minutes before someone shows up to tow his car to the nearest town—and then it's just a matter of bickering with the mechanic, who insists that, as it is now past five, he can't do a damn thing about it until the next day? And then bickering with the clerk at the town's one and only motel, because how is it his fault that there's some agricultural fair going on in the next town over? He needs two rooms. Two. Or at least a room with two beds, because while his friend is standing outside the front entrance, presumably letting her uncle know that plans have changed, he knows that his friend would prefer her own! Space!
So, naturally, when Felix turns the key—the actual key, holy shit—to their room a solid ten minutes later and allows Annette to step inside first, this is what they have to work with: one shitty television, one armchair that has certainly seen better days, and, most importantly, one bed. Lovely. Felix takes a deep breath.]
There's a conference nearby, [he abruptly, oh-so awkwardly offers as he, too, steps inside.] About... cows. I don't know.
[He didn't ask for further details. He couldn't care less about cows—but he cares quite a bit about how Annette is taking this, hence the sidelong glance he spares her as he comes to a stop near the bed. Their bed? Huh. Time to look down at it, critically, as he places a hand on his hip.]
This is the last room.
[Sooooo... how we feelin'...]
no subject
After she dies trying to inject a single word edgewise during this stupid phone call with her uncle. He's a good man and she loves him very much (she may or may not have repeated this mantra a ton after she and her mom had moved in with him years ago) but the way he constantly criticizes her for every little thing that doesn't go absolutely right.....ooooh! How could you trust someone with a car in need of such repair, Annette and Why didn't you simply arrange your schedule to match Mercedes' work shifts, Annette? But she had, she had!!! It's not her fault Ashe had twisted his ankle trying to save that (honestly really cute) kitten stuck in a tree and had to take three days off work.
She doesn't realize she's started imitating her uncle, silently mouthed words and all until one of the motel customers pauses, suitcase still in his hand, to stare at her with deep regret. Oh.
Anyway, he's finally run out of things to say, thank all the Saints, and she's mumbling some soothing and appropriately chastised nonsense into the phone before finally hanging up. Just in time, because there's Felix waving the key - a....literal key? okay, sure - to their room and motioning for her to follow him. The prospect of having a bed to collapse face-first into is more than enough motivation for her legs to get going down the hallway and up the creaky flight of stairs to their room.
Their single room. With a single bed.
Hm.
She can feel Felix watching her, and explaining something about cows, but she is honestly too busy trying to mentally put together the pieces of two people and one bed. ]
This is...fine. It's fine? [ Is it though? ] I mean, it's just a bed. One bed.
[ One bed that might fit two people if they like, lie down very close to one another. Get nice and comfy. Which wouldn't be a problem if it was Mercedes next to her, or even Ingrid. But it's Felix here instead and Felix likes his space. Annette would love to give him that space!
She glances at him, and a nervous bubble of laughter escapes. ]
And you can have the bed! For driving all day. [ Two and a half hours, but close enough. ] I'll just...sleep on the floor, or something. I'm used to it, you know. I used to pass out on the table all the time back when I was studying for finals, I'm sure sleeping on the floor won't be that much different.
[ The armchair would have been her first pick if her eyes hadn't immediately zeroed in on a suspicious stain right on the seat. No thanks. ]
hi i'm alive again
But Annette is not—she doesn't have to put up with him, is the thing. She isn't obligated to, and thus Felix shoots her a Look when she laughs, when she brings up the floor. That carpet has seen some shit over the past decade, which Felix is willing to bet has rarely included a vacuum cleaner. Lovely all around.]
Dimitri slept in a bathtub, once.
[And suffered a sore back for the next week. Felix isn't exactly eager to repeat that mistake—and besides, that was just something stupid to mutter in the moment? To buy Felix enough time to bring a hand to his temple, absently scratching at a spot that does not itch before he lifts it in a sort of half-shrug, half-wave.]
Look, it's—you're not sleeping on the floor. Don't be ridiculous. [A huff!] We can sleep in shifts, or... put a pillow between us. I don't know. It's not like you take up that much space.
[Small...]
welcome back to the land of the living
She shrieks, jumps backward, and somehow manages to move her feet far enough - and fast enough - that she's clutching Felix's wrist a scant two seconds later, as though he's the only thing that'll save her from a terrible and dramatic death via spider. The spider, oblivious to her panic, moseys its way casually across the carpet and up the lamp in one musty corner.
Ugh. She hates spiders. ]
You know what? Let's figure out the bed problem over dinner. You said something about a fair, right? Cows?
[ Fairs mean food, and food means she can forget - even temporarily - about the host of problems piling up in front of her. Maybe they'll get lucky and a room will have opened up by the time they're done. Maybe they'll get lucky and the spider will suddenly decide to go on a vacation to a different room. And maybe a hole will open up in the ground, because she's just realized she's still holding onto his wrist.
She lets go of him with alacrity, and tucks her hands behind her back. ]
You can, uh, go freshen up first if you want. Since you've been driving all day.