Chapter Text
1. In which Sha is a strange sort of conversationalist
“And so you built a pillow fort.”
Juan's only response to this question was the steady, baleful gaze of glowing yellow-green eyes, peering at him from the shadow of the couch cushion construct.
“In the middle of the living room.”
The eyes blinked.
“Because….?” Said Juan in an exaggeratedly patient tone.
“…Mr. Juan, if you are going to insist on pointing out the painfully obvious, then I really do not see the point in conversing with you.”
“Right, silly me for bringing it up. Did you steal ALL of the pillows and cushions in the apartment for this? That was rhetorical, so don’t give me that look. I’m making coffee, you want some?”
“…extra sugar please?”
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2. Like you know anything about song writing, Sha.
“…you are aware that you rhymed Tank with tank? Four times?”
Juan stopped writing, and attempted to cover his notes with one hand and gently push the over-inquisitive cured witch away with the other. “It’s a work in progress, damn, quit reading over my shoulder! Also one is referring to the infected, the other the armored tank for which they were named…”
Sha just dodged around the hand and peered closer. “Which is not at all a stupid idea to use more than once, I’m sure. Also, you are rhyming ‘do’ with ‘due’ and ‘dew’. Also, is that…you rhymed ‘things’ with ‘things’, really? And PLEASE do not tell me you have a something ‘teen’ with ‘in-between’ in there. And…really, Mr. Juan, really, quoting the incredible Hulk?”
“What part of ‘work in progress’ are you struggling with here?”
“The part where you committed any of this to paper.”
“THEY ARE PLACEHOLDER LYRICS, I’m working on the melody right now!…damn, this is why I normally don’t work on this stuff at home…”
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3.Juan has concerns. Sha has conversational derails.
“Are you gnawing at your bandages again?”
Sha jumped, and sat on his mutilated hands guiltily. “No.”
“Mage-y! Three times this week, three times we’ve had to go back to have those things changed because of this! The Mads are threatening to wire your jaws shut, or put one of those cone things on you…”
“I know. I did hear them.” Muttered the cured witch, staring at the floor. “Especially Dr. Lisa. She got especially descriptive.”
“And yet somehow, here I find you.”
“They just get hot ok. And my fingers itch. And I am bored. And hungry. And are those pastries, did you go by Miss Smoker’s shop without me?”
Juan held the brown paper bag up as high as he could, suddenly finding himself having to fend off the small red-head. “Maybe I did, but that’s not the point, we aren’t done talking about your hands ARE YOU SERIOUSLY CLIMBING ME.”
“No shouting, please. We have spoken about my hands, there is nothing new or interesting to be said on that subject. I distinctly smell turnovers in that bag, can we not talk about that instead?” Sha reached for the goodies, only just missing by a fingertip---err, Distal Phalange length.
“It’s pastry. That’s not a conversation, that’s a dessert menu!”
“Conversation…hmm…ok, did Miss Smoker give you a hard time again? You only ever have that expression on your face after especially trying times with Miss Smoker. “
“…Let’s talk about pastry.”