“And yet, I could not figure the damned thing out,” he chuckles to himself.
Continuing, I point to the reservoir, “This just needs to be full of clean water. Then you hit this button here to turn it on.” Leaning over the counter, I grab a k-cup off the little decorative tree, open the holder and plop it in before remembering, “Oh. I didn’t grab a mug. They’re in that cupboard right there if you wanna get me one.”
If I wasn’t nervously clenching every muscle in my body, I would be in hysterics over the mug he chose. One of my personal favorites; it’s a simplistic cartoon rendition of a gargoyle covered in chocolate and the phrase “Monster Fudger” beneath it. The smirk on his face gives him away.He picked that one on purpose.I glare up at him, once again caught in the wonder of how his eyes could possibly be so vibrantly green.
“Bares a bit of a resemblance to me, I think,” he grins, holding it out to me.
“He’s much more handsome,” I respond, but we both know I’m lying. As monstrous as his larger form is, it is equally beautiful. I place the mug in the drip tray and press the brew button. “Then we wait.”
Once it’s finished, I hand him the mug, and he takes a sip. He makes a pinched face, and I laugh as I turn to make my own cup, “Is it not good?” I ask.
“It is… different, I suppose. You mortals used to make it far less potent,” he tries to force down another small sip.
“I’ll grab you some creamer,” I pause, looking at the fridge. Do I really want to get any closer to that thing than I have to? My throbbing head answers with a resounding yes.
As I pour creamer into both of our mugs, he watches his coffee with trepidation. But when he finds the courage to try it, his eyes light up, “That’s delicious!” he nearly shouts. As I grab my coffee and begin to walk towards my coffee table, he halts me, “But still, you must eat. This is not sustenance enough for a human.”
“I’m really not hungry,” I may have been a minute ago, but the reminder of what is currently sharing space with my hash browns has my stomach ready to revolt.
He steps his giant body in front of me, “You need to eat, Little Dove.”
“Buddy,youneed to back the fuck up,” before I spontaneously combust.
Leaning down, he says, “If you recall, I have warned you once about your atrocious language. It is unwise to speak to me that way, and I might have to punish you for it.”
I’ve had just about enough of his policing, so instead of thinking clearly, I double down. “Listen. In your time, maybe you got away with bossing women around, but now you don’t get to. So if I want to say fuck, or asshole,” I give him a pointed look, so he knows I mean him, “or evencunt, I will.”
The growl coming from his chest should probably scare the shit out of me, but it only emboldens me to continue, “You do not get to let yourself into my home, and then think you get to have afuckingopinion about myfuckinglanguage. Are we clear?”
Oh shit, he is seething.“We are. You are a terribly vulgar woman who doesn’t know when to leave well enough alone.” He looks like he’s ready to say something else, then the tension leaks out of him, and he snickers, “but also one who requires food immediately, if the grumbling in your stomach is any indication.”
Fucker.
“I’ll just order something. I’m not getting into,” I tip my chin towards the freezer, “that.”
I grab my phone out of my pocket, and he stares at it in wonder. I quickly put in my usual order for the cafe around the corner. I get caught up in my job more often than I care to admit, and might even be on a first-name basis with their delivery girl.
“Will you teach me about your little box, too?” I start choking on the sip of coffee, trying to tamp down the ideas the double meaning in his words gives me.No, I will not be teaching himanythingabout my box.
Calming my racing thoughts, I hand my phone to him. “It’s a phone. It basically contains all the knowledge in the known universe, but mostly we use it to send each other funny videos and nudes.”Why did I say that? I’ve never even taken a naked picture, much less sent one.
“What is a video?” Realizing this man is going to need an entire lesson on the history of television, I guide him over to my TV and turn it on.
“These moving pictures are videos. They can be watched on this,” I point to the tv, “that,” I gesture to Caspian’s hand that’s dwarfing my phone, “or a computer,” he opens his mouth, and I stop him with a raised hand, “which I will show you later.”
Seemingly pleased with that answer, he asks, “May I sit there?”
“Be my guest.” He gives me the brightest smile I’ve seen from him yet, and I have to tamp down on the butterflies attempting to take flight inside me.
After a moment, he says, “We have much to discuss, Bel. But I prefer you be fed first, so I will wait. Did you use your little box to summon food?” Again with that phrasing.
“Please don’t call it that,” I’m barely containing the laughter now. Before he can ask why, I spit out, “Little box is like- colloquial for vagina.”
“Oh.” For a second, he seems chagrined, then his grin is back before he states, “I prefer cunt,” halfway through the sip I’m taking, making me choke again.
“Now who’s being vulgar?” I sputter between coughs.He definitely did that on purpose.
“Well, if I live in the modern world now, I must adjust to its customs,” he responds in a comically dramatic voice, still holding back the smile on his face.
