practical acquaintance

[tielan]

I didn't get as much written for NaNo as I hoped, but that's okay. I won't be at hockey tonight because of the foot, and I'll have time to do some solid writing.

So long as the cats don't decide that my lap is fair game.

Anyway, a practical acquaintance with bees has hit the 30K mark...

She started off down the cross-corridor, moving without hesitation, without pause.
“Hill?”

“There’s something…” She hoped he wouldn’t demand an explanation. At this moment, she wasn’t sure she had one that would make any sense. No, this was a pressure in her spine that pushed her forward – two cross-corridors, a door half-open, another corridor, then the exercise room, the medical station, and the—

She pulled up short, Rogers stopping a hair’s breadth behind her.

“What is it?”

Izzy’s bootsteps echoed behind them. “You’d better have a damned good reason for running off, Hill, commander or no—”

The words were fuzzy, Maria crossed over to the window – one of the few windows that were unbarred – and stared out and down at the courtyard. No snow, she thought, staring down at the tree in full-flower. Beneath the canopy of puffy pink blooms they’ll shed like confetti in the autumn breezes people’s legs were visible – smokers taking a break— movement in the room behind her—

A hand on her arm jerked her back to the present, to the window with it’s wintry scene outside. Then she was pulled around to face Steve. “Hill.” His eyes raked her face. “You’re fugueing again.”

“I—” She hesitated, and then caught movement – she must have caught movement, because otherwise she wouldn’t have yanked—

He staggered, off balance, but caught at the wall before he crushed her between him and the cupboards.

Glass shattered and Isabelle swore, but a moment later yelled, “I’m fine. What the hell—?”

Maria could see it in her head, the long thin barrel of the rifle, the scope with its crosshairs, the line of sight down to the window— “Stay back!” But when she tried to move past Rogers, he blocked her.

“If he’s still out there—”

“Wait.” She eased past him, paused, still out of sight of the shooter, and then spun past the window using Rogers as a springboard. She got two shots off before she was past the opening. The next bullet twisted the window frame on its way into the cupboard. Off-target – enough time—

“Exit stage left,” she told Isabelle, who sprinted for the door and slammed through ahead of Maria.

I find action so much easier to write than relationship development. :/

Comments

[hickumu]

Cats are one of the greatest foes to any successful NaNo. *eyes Hobbes* It's like they know. It's like they send out little kitty memos.

[tielan]

My old cat was old and liked to snooze comfortably on the router while I wrote. (It overheated the router, but, hey, what was that compared to a successful NaNo?)

These days? When one stops, the other stretches herself out and comes to take over. *grr*

[hickumu]

Very, very few things equal a successful Nano.

It's like they feed off of human frustration as much as they feed off computer heat. *shakes fist at uncaring feline*

(In the immortal words of Calvin and Hobbes, "kitties are solar-powered". Someone just forgot to tell their fur.)