Strange Times
folder
Wei� Kreuz › General
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
50
Views:
4,091
Reviews:
22
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Wei� Kreuz › General
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
50
Views:
4,091
Reviews:
22
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Weiß Kreuz, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
8
“Can I come?”
“…if you wanted to die…”
“I could have saved you the trouble and said something? Saved you all this work at housebreaking an unruly telepath?” Schuldich shifted his indolent lounge into something a bit more indecent and smiled sweetly. It was like some unholy juxtaposition between Dick and Jane and Playgirl, and really, it was more than Aya was wired to deal with. Bad enough Schuldich had taken to finishing Aya's sentences in a constant attempt to get under his skin...
So he chose to ignore it. It was a tactic that either got Schuldich to pout silently in a bid for attention or it would backfire tragically as Schuldich would attempt something even more outrageous, something impossible to ignore. Against all precedent, Schuldich shrugged with a sort of “your loss” expression and went back to watching a hideously unfunny sitcom.
“I’m leaving. Don’t leave the apartment. I will be back as soon as Omi is done with us.”
“Who died and made him team captain?”
There wasn’t an adult or logical response to that jibe.
Schuldich dodged the shoe that Aya launched right before closing the door. At least it hadn’t been anything edged or pointy this time. A move from lethal to blunt and annoying meant Abyssinian was reacting more out of habit than actual intent to kill. He was still reacting, so it was still fun. Breaking Abyssinians cool really was the best feeling ever.
Almost as good as when he got Crawford frustrated.
His brain started running into dangerous territory. Which meant it was time to give it something constructive to do.
Like piggyback in Abyssinians brain when he went to his little club meeting.
After all, he had to learn the secret handshake if he wanted to play too.
A Schuldich without motivation or direction was a dangerous Schuldich. He could feel an insistent little itch in the corner of his brain, a warning that things were losing the nice, shiny discipline that Crawford had instilled in and demanded of his team. Schuldich couldn’t afford to lose that edge, that definition.
The alternative was anything but pleasant
“…if you wanted to die…”
“I could have saved you the trouble and said something? Saved you all this work at housebreaking an unruly telepath?” Schuldich shifted his indolent lounge into something a bit more indecent and smiled sweetly. It was like some unholy juxtaposition between Dick and Jane and Playgirl, and really, it was more than Aya was wired to deal with. Bad enough Schuldich had taken to finishing Aya's sentences in a constant attempt to get under his skin...
So he chose to ignore it. It was a tactic that either got Schuldich to pout silently in a bid for attention or it would backfire tragically as Schuldich would attempt something even more outrageous, something impossible to ignore. Against all precedent, Schuldich shrugged with a sort of “your loss” expression and went back to watching a hideously unfunny sitcom.
“I’m leaving. Don’t leave the apartment. I will be back as soon as Omi is done with us.”
“Who died and made him team captain?”
There wasn’t an adult or logical response to that jibe.
Schuldich dodged the shoe that Aya launched right before closing the door. At least it hadn’t been anything edged or pointy this time. A move from lethal to blunt and annoying meant Abyssinian was reacting more out of habit than actual intent to kill. He was still reacting, so it was still fun. Breaking Abyssinians cool really was the best feeling ever.
Almost as good as when he got Crawford frustrated.
His brain started running into dangerous territory. Which meant it was time to give it something constructive to do.
Like piggyback in Abyssinians brain when he went to his little club meeting.
After all, he had to learn the secret handshake if he wanted to play too.
A Schuldich without motivation or direction was a dangerous Schuldich. He could feel an insistent little itch in the corner of his brain, a warning that things were losing the nice, shiny discipline that Crawford had instilled in and demanded of his team. Schuldich couldn’t afford to lose that edge, that definition.
The alternative was anything but pleasant