Chapter Text
Bi-decker groaned in defeat as the tiny screw slipped from her fingers, dropping to floor and rolling away under the desk she'd commandeered.
Wonderful.
She’d felt like she was being rushed all day. They'd gotten delayed during her shift that morning and they'd tried (and failed) to make up that time. And that would have been fine if she didn't have a meeting with the yard office, sorting out details about Arrow's working form (which had absolutely dragged). Not to mention she'd have to go and collect Arrow after training was over for him today, which she was likely to be late for if she didn't figure out what to do about her glasses. He was old enough now that he'd be alright on his own for a bit, but she still fretted over the thought that something might go wrong while he was alone.
“Do you need any help?”
Bi-decker paused in her frantic search through desk drawers for anything that might be useful in her current dilemma: tape, glue, maybe a paperclip she could jam through the hinge just to keep things together. Glancing up, she could just tell through blurred vision that it was Craig, one of the newer office workers. It ran in her mind that he dealt with something like safety compliance; nothing she'd had much call to deal with, especially since he'd started working there. But she'd seen him often enough in passing, made sure to say hello to him when he passed, like she would with anyone else around the yard.
Bi-decker wasn't sure what he thought of her, if he even thought about her at all. He'd never been rude, or hostile, or anything like that. But he always seemed to look away, and stammer or mumble out his reply to her if he said anything back to her at all. He wasn't mumbling now, at least.
She'd asked some of the others about him.
“I, er…I have a repair kit?” He offered, pushing his own glasses up the bridge of his nose.
There was that stammer. Maybe he was just shy?
She offered her glasses out to him, and he took them gently, carefully, walking them over to his desk. She followed, dragging one of the larger chairs over, one of the heavier duty ones meant to hold up to a trainfolk's larger and denser build.
Bi-decker studied him as he focused his full attention down on her glasses. Craig wasn't particularly tall. He was maybe a little shorter than the shortest coach she knew, and a good foot shorter than herself. And he was balding. She could see the way a spot on the back of his head caught the fluorescent light as he worked. And…
And she was trying to talk herself out of him.
Which was silly. He was a human, they were completely different species. you didn't need to talk yourself out of a human, because neither of you were interested in each other.
Usually.
He probably wasn't interested in her, anyway.
“There we go,” he said. He held up the glasses, the temples flipped open, and leaned forward to slide them on her face. She'd had to duck down a bit, sure, but it was nice of him, when he could have just handed them back instead.
And then his hand was lingering on her cheek, and his eyes were on hers. Her breath caught for a moment, and she could hardly bring herself to look away. “Beautiful,” He said, so quiet that she barely heard him.
It was a little bit romantic.
And that was such a silly thing to think! Stars, her mind was going to the weirdest places today.
Craig pulled his hand away suddenly, blushing a deep red, as he looked down, looking intensely interested in the tiny screwdriver he'd just been using. “I – Sorry, shouldn't have…” He stammered out.
“It's…don't worry about it,” Bi-decker said hastily, standing up. “Thank you, Craig. For your help.” She tapped the corner of her frames as she backed away, even though part of her wanted to linger. “I should go…Arrow'll be waiting for me.”
“Right,” He said, nodding, glancing back up at her, smiling at her, just a little. “I'll see you around?”
“See you around.”
She really hoped she did.