A joke with no punchline.
No punchline, but possibly some punching, because Carol had just about had it.
2
KEENAN
“That’smychair.”
Keenan swiveled and rocketed up out of his pilfered chair, to face the most gorgeous woman he’d ever met.
She had one hand on her curvy hips and was holding a glass of wine in the other, her head tilted in clear challenge. Bright brown eyes flashed behind owlish glasses in a scowling face under golden waves streaked in white. She was wearing a tight, festive red dress that did nothing to disguise her generous figure. As he stood, her gaze followed him up fearlessly. And up, and up.
Keenan was used to terrifying people, so he appreciated her courage. She didn’t even step back, just kept regarding him as he towered over her.
“My apologies,” he said gruffly. “HR said they would requisition me a chair, but they weren’t able to find something before the weekend. I didn’t think anyone would be working tonight and planned to return it by Monday.”
Her face softened, probably doing the math of his size and the frailty of the standard office chairs. “I can see why you’d think that,” she said more gently. “I wasn’t actually planning to work tonight, I was just…”
She seemed to deflate, glancing towards the faint noise of merriment from far across the building.
She wasescaping.
Keenan knew the feeling. When the Becoming happened, it seemed like everyone got glamorous magical upgrades. He wasn’t sure what kind of sense of humor stuck him with being a troll when his friends became shifters or witches. But overnight, he’d outgrown his closet, his car, and even his keyboard. He’d thought to bring the custom board for his oversized fingers, but he hadn’t thought about needing a chair until they presented him with his temporary cubicle and a chair that would surely collapse the first time he sat on it.
The woman rallied. “You’re new here, then?”
“I’m an accountant,” Keenan growled. Maybe he’d gotten a dud of a Becoming form because he was the most boring of all possible people to start with. “They needed an emergency audit before year’s end, so I’m on a temporary contract to get things in order.”
She laughed, with the tiniest tease of humor possible. “I guess it doesn’t surprise me that their records are in disarray,” she said. “I’m a programmer, and I’ve spent the last six months trying to untangle the mess that the guy before me left. Documentation is not this business’s strong suit.”
Keenan accidentally laughed out loud, and the woman did startle back then. Sharp troll teeth were not the most comfortable things to see. He closed his mouth at once, wishing he could suck his curled-up canines in so easily.
But she didn’t flee, at least. “I’m Carol,” she said, taking a bracing sip of her wine. “Like the holiday songs.”
“I’m Keenan,” he returned.
“Are you an orc?” Carol asked, then she seemed to realize that might be rude. “I’m sorry, that’s--”
“I’m a troll,” Keenan said wearily. “As introll the ancient yuletide carol…”
“Who are you callingancient?” Carol asked sharply.
“Oh, I didn’t mean…I’m--”
She really did laugh, then, a bold, whole-body laugh that made her cleavage do very distracting things as she leaned over to support herself on the cubicle desk. “Don’t apologize,” she said. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard this week.Troll the ancient yuletide carol.”
Keenan had to suck in his breath, because when she looked up at him again, her eyes were crinkled in laughter and she was so beautiful and lush that he very much wanted to see how to turntrollinto a verb and take her right there on the chair that he’d stolen from her.
He chuckled with her, careful to keep his teeth as concealed as possible. “So, what are you?” he asked.
“A programmer,” Carol said, but she knew what he was asking and Keenan realized at once that the question had caused her discomfort. She sighed. “I’m not magic,” she said. “I didn’t Become anything.”
Keenan’s brow furrowed. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Lucky.”
