"It's alright," he reassured. "No need to worry." *** She looked surprised, getting the ingredients. "Really? That's all?"
She sighed, frowning at him before a small laugh escaped her mouth. "People aren't normally able to resist it," she said primly. "If they really like me, they start getting explicit commands. You must really not be a fan." She got off the hood, looking up at him. * * * "For this type of pasta. And some water."
"Apparently," she said with a small shrug. "I mean, I've never felt it myself, of course, but my exes have all told me that as the relationship progresses and people fall in love, they start getting told to hold my hand, or touch my hair or something. It becomes extremely hard to resist." She paused, giving him almost a sheepish smile. "You must not like me." * * * "Crazy, right? And so simple," he said, rolling up his sleeves.
He frowned, looking at the ground. "I.. see. Well, don't worry. I do like you." *** She nodded, standing beside him and watching.
She laughed slightly, folding up the blanket. "My powers don't lie, Mr. Audra." * * * He made a well of flour on the counter and cracked the egg in the center, pulling the flour in to combine them into a flat dough.
He hesitated slightly. "I know. But the thing is.. It was telling me to do things." *** She watched from aside, her gaze curious.
Her entire expression shifted from playfulness to genuine surprise. She was silent for a moment before clearing her throat, folding the blanket over her arm. “We should probably get going,” she said quietly. “You have a meeting at 8:30 tomorrow morning, Mr. Audra.” Her words were gentle, but they held a reminder: when the night was over, they still had to go to work together. *** “You don’t have a pasta roller, do you?”
He wasn't expecting a good reaction, but he also wasn't expecting it to be quite so.. disappointing. He withdrew into himself, going to the door. "Very well. Let's go." *** She looked up at him. "..No. Do we need one?"
She watched him, looking extremely uncomfortable before getting into the driver’s seat, starting up the car. *** “Nah. We can just use a rolling pin.”
Her hands were tight on the steering wheel before she spoke. “It’s not real, Mr. Audra,” she said after a minute. “Don’t give it any thought.” *** He rolled his sleeves up.
He raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm perfectly fine. I can figure it isn't real." *** She peered around his arm at the pasta. "Do you like cooking, Gideon?"
She fell silent but his curt words, her brow furrowing. The warmth in his head had completely left, but he could tell she was hurt. *** “I like the idea of it, for sure. It generally makes a mess, though.”
He looked over at her, his words hesitant. "Why do my words hurt you? If it means nothing, then why do they hurt you?" *** "It's pretty easy to clean."
She only shook her head, her brow furrowed. “What’s your address, Mr. Audra?” *** “Not if you’re me.”
She nodded, not saying anything as she turned to drive towards his house. *** “I just make huge messes.”
