The usual (refrigerator doors).
Wednesday, 26 September 2012 17:51![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flint_garouSame-old, same-old.
26 September, 2012
The moon is in the waxing Gibbous (Galliard) Moon phase (73% full).
*Ding!* The elevator doors disgorge Nick. He wanders into the break room, carrying a case of Coke, and checking to make sure there's no brawls or gunfights before coming in.
Flint is standing at the kitchen sink, splashing his face with water. The teen's dressed in his usual, jeans and a sweatshirt, though the sweatshirt's open. At the sound of someone else coming in, Flint straightens, and offers Nicodemus a half-wave and a grin, before he takes the empty glass and goes to the freezer to get some ice, filling the glass with ice water. As he does this, he seems thoughtful, then offers, "Evening, Nick. How're you?"
Nicodemus heads over to the fridge and places the 24-pack cube of Coke on the counter—leaving it up to someone else to find space in the fridge for it. "Same-old, same-old. What's up with you?"
Flint drains the one glass of ice water and gets a second, looking at the sodas and at the fridge. Again, it takes Flint a long moment to answer. "Not too much. Doing the usual around the house. I made scale models of the…" There's a pause, and then Flint continues, "Bookshelf, and the table." The words that Flint says are careful, slow and deliberate, and the entire effect makes him seem more grown-up. "How was the trip?"
Nicodemus lifts a shoulder in a non-committal gesture. "It was nice getting to see some friends down in San Fran, but… I guess we've drifted apart somewhat. Grown distant." He looks impressed. "Industrious. I've got an appointment to look at a van tomorrow, and I might buy it if it's in good shape and I can haggle the guy down a bit. How soon do you need lumber?"
The second glass of ice water, Flint drinks more slowly, and eventually sets it down, taking about half of the sodas out and fitting them into the fridge here-and-there. The rest of them go in an underneath cabinet with the rest of the soda. Flint nods, and purses his lips. "Iunno. W-whenever?" He pauses, and is silent, one finger held up, and then glances over to Nicodemus when he does finally speak. "It would be nice to get it sooner. But I have small boxes that I'm working on otherwise. And of course, my duties here and such."
Nicodemus nods absently, distractedly. "I'll see what I can do to get things moving, then. Hopefully I'll get a good deal on this van and there'll be no need to keep looking for a suitable one."
The fridge creaks as Flint closes it the last time, going for more ice for a third glass of water, and abruptly, Flint scowls at the fridge and sighs. After he's gotten water and moved over to the table, he says, "I need to figure out how to fix that." Pause, a long pause, the length of a sentence. "Do you know anything about fixing refrigerator doors?" he asks the kin, though tone says Flint wholly expects the answer to be 'no'.
Nicodemus eyes the fridge dubiously. "Not really, no. WD-40? Or a silicone spray lubricant instead of an oil-based one?" Either seems feasible for fixing a squeak. "I've got to run a few more errands. See you around?" He starts heading for the exit, as if he's about to depart.
Flint nods absently. "Could… I think we have WD-40, but. That's been… done," Flint says. "If you get a chance would you pick up the." The deliberateness is still there, as Flint talks. "The silicon-based one? Then I can try that. I slammed the door open too hard, once, and it hasn't quite been right since then." Then Flint moves over to the couch, taking the water with him, to where his Kindle Fire can be seen with earphones attached to it. "Email me when you have the van, and we'll arrange a time that works for you, for the lumberyard? Please?"
"No problem," Nick says. "Later, Flint." He heads out, this time taking the stairs down.
26 September, 2012
The moon is in the waxing Gibbous (Galliard) Moon phase (73% full).
*Ding!* The elevator doors disgorge Nick. He wanders into the break room, carrying a case of Coke, and checking to make sure there's no brawls or gunfights before coming in.
Flint is standing at the kitchen sink, splashing his face with water. The teen's dressed in his usual, jeans and a sweatshirt, though the sweatshirt's open. At the sound of someone else coming in, Flint straightens, and offers Nicodemus a half-wave and a grin, before he takes the empty glass and goes to the freezer to get some ice, filling the glass with ice water. As he does this, he seems thoughtful, then offers, "Evening, Nick. How're you?"
Nicodemus heads over to the fridge and places the 24-pack cube of Coke on the counter—leaving it up to someone else to find space in the fridge for it. "Same-old, same-old. What's up with you?"
Flint drains the one glass of ice water and gets a second, looking at the sodas and at the fridge. Again, it takes Flint a long moment to answer. "Not too much. Doing the usual around the house. I made scale models of the…" There's a pause, and then Flint continues, "Bookshelf, and the table." The words that Flint says are careful, slow and deliberate, and the entire effect makes him seem more grown-up. "How was the trip?"
Nicodemus lifts a shoulder in a non-committal gesture. "It was nice getting to see some friends down in San Fran, but… I guess we've drifted apart somewhat. Grown distant." He looks impressed. "Industrious. I've got an appointment to look at a van tomorrow, and I might buy it if it's in good shape and I can haggle the guy down a bit. How soon do you need lumber?"
The second glass of ice water, Flint drinks more slowly, and eventually sets it down, taking about half of the sodas out and fitting them into the fridge here-and-there. The rest of them go in an underneath cabinet with the rest of the soda. Flint nods, and purses his lips. "Iunno. W-whenever?" He pauses, and is silent, one finger held up, and then glances over to Nicodemus when he does finally speak. "It would be nice to get it sooner. But I have small boxes that I'm working on otherwise. And of course, my duties here and such."
Nicodemus nods absently, distractedly. "I'll see what I can do to get things moving, then. Hopefully I'll get a good deal on this van and there'll be no need to keep looking for a suitable one."
The fridge creaks as Flint closes it the last time, going for more ice for a third glass of water, and abruptly, Flint scowls at the fridge and sighs. After he's gotten water and moved over to the table, he says, "I need to figure out how to fix that." Pause, a long pause, the length of a sentence. "Do you know anything about fixing refrigerator doors?" he asks the kin, though tone says Flint wholly expects the answer to be 'no'.
Nicodemus eyes the fridge dubiously. "Not really, no. WD-40? Or a silicone spray lubricant instead of an oil-based one?" Either seems feasible for fixing a squeak. "I've got to run a few more errands. See you around?" He starts heading for the exit, as if he's about to depart.
Flint nods absently. "Could… I think we have WD-40, but. That's been… done," Flint says. "If you get a chance would you pick up the." The deliberateness is still there, as Flint talks. "The silicon-based one? Then I can try that. I slammed the door open too hard, once, and it hasn't quite been right since then." Then Flint moves over to the couch, taking the water with him, to where his Kindle Fire can be seen with earphones attached to it. "Email me when you have the van, and we'll arrange a time that works for you, for the lumberyard? Please?"
"No problem," Nick says. "Later, Flint." He heads out, this time taking the stairs down.