Can You Hand Me That Back? [Tag:Christian]

[doriangray]

It was far too easy for Courtney to get lost in Lewis Library at Baum Academy. She'd simply find a good book, forget about her classes, and read for the remainder of the day. Luckily, today wasn't that sort of day. Luckily, she was actually doing some homework, but her mind wasn't completely focused on the Statistical Formulas to get... Jadda Jadda Blah. No, her mind was choosing between NO Quarterv or Another Fine Myth. Both were by Robert Asprin, yet so completely different.

Murder Mystery versus Humor Fantasy.

That was like making her decided Sour or Sweet. She knew she wanted both, but she only had time for one.

By this point, Statistic problems were being pushed the the back of her mind while books were flooding her thoughts. She was far to distracted now. "I'll take a small break..." A smile crossed her lips as she abandoned her desk by the window. "I'll just... take a peek." Her tongue caressed her lower lip slowly as she made her way to the Sci-Fiction/Fantasy shelves.

She had already found The St. Charles House by Stephen Banister, a murder mystery centered in Austin, Texas, by the time she made it to the isle. She sighed a bit when she rubbed a finger over a rather large layer of dust. It cling to the books and now her finger, like a leech unwilling to release from its host. She wanted to wipe the shelves clean, when her eyes found a book that wasn't covered in dust. In fact it looked new. She nearly burst with joy as her fingers gripped the paper spine.

Morticai's Luck by Darlene Bolesny was printed on the spine.

This was it. This was the book that would occupy her time for the next few days. In her joyous moment of pure happiness, Courtney didn't notice that their was a rather short step stool in her path. She felt the cool metal on her shin as she made contact rather hard. She felt and the book flew from her fingers. She shrieked aloud as she hit the floor, but her mind was on the book that was laying open. She could only imagine the damage and it made her heart ache a bit. She tried scrambling to her feet, but the lump on her shin caused her to fall back down.

[CHRISTIAN REICHENBACH]

Everything was computerized these days, including records. Such a tragedy, really. Sneaking into a basement to peak at the little notes and quirks about his temp parental units (ie teachers) would have been far more exciting than simply hacking into the school system. And, come on, not even one encryption to break into. Just a stupid firewall or two...

Honestly, why was he even bothering?

Because he was bored. Because his school might as well be Alcatraz for how interesting it was. Well, no. Alcatraz would be more interesting, wouldn't it? The constant fear of being shanked or cornered in the shower room would at least offer a little bit of excitement. This was just... tragic. We wanted to weep. Big, wet, fat, tears of boredom.

He skimmed a few pages of information, the boredom over took, and he clicked out. Not admitting defeat, but simply deciding that he would find something more worthy of his time.

And, by happenstance, that something fell into his lap.

Almost literally.

A book, a crude little paper back, fell into his lap; a yelp of pain in the near distance. How curious. Leaning back in his chair, he balanced on the back legs, trying to see who the clumsy little bit was. And what an angelic little bit she was. Big eyes, long long hair. He half expected her to offer a bit of apple pie and light a firework, she looked so all American. He held back a chuckle at her expense as she fell back on to the cheap and rough carpet of the library floor, the pain in her leg inflicting it's harsh being on her person.

How tragic.

Deciding to go with this happenstance of fate, he put the chair on all fours, and mosied lazily to the girl. Christian didn't ever run, or rush, or try. Not unless there was something significant in it for him. Right now, this only had the slight, vague, promise of being interesting, as oppose to being genuinely fun.

Christian was rather easy on the eyes. His hair had that artful, roll out of bed, quality too it, and was a nice wheat in color. His eyes were a round, thoughtful blue. His jaw was angular and sharp, and his shoulders were broad for his frame. Christian dressed nicely, with layers of thick fabric, but was still able to move well. It seemed to add to a certain amount of swagger he held. He examined her closely, offering no sugar coating in his dissection of her being. Nothing too impressive. She had an elegant Claire Dane's quality about her, he supposed. Not much in the chest region, though he did note she had reputable assets from behind.

Leaning down on one knee, he flashed her his best smile. "Lost your book?" He looked down at her legs- nice legs- and gave a concerned little pout at the bruise forming already on her porcelain skin. Ah, yes, a good parable has been found. She was like a porcelain doll. Now, why was this porcelain doll off her shelf? Didn't she know she could break? "As much as you think I might just be trying to flirt, I feel as though I should still offer." His strange, accentless voice, had a soft lilt of humor to it. "Do you want help to a chair? I promise to use all my third semester health class training to offer for first aid." Christian's hand hovered lightly over her purpling skin, feeling the heat from the spot that must be most uncomfortable.

He gave her a maximum of two hours before he wiled her, as Christian would do. Hell, maybe here, in the library. Now, that sounded fun.

[doriangray]

Courtney barely had time to feel the real pain of the slowly forming bruise before someone came to aid her. She kept her eyes eyes on the spot that had swelled a bit and was now turning colors. She made a face of disgust at her leg while the guy spoke. Wait... He had her book?! Her head turned allowing her hair twirl around, she tucked a bit behind her ear before eyeing her book, then the guy holding it. He had a killer smile... and nice eyes, gorgeous actually,... and his hair... Courtney brows furrowed a bit, and her eyes went to slits.

"Could I have it back, please?" She asked, her voice a bit... stand-offish, as her tongue licked the edges of her lips. She liked to ogle over cute guys from a distance, but when they approached her she immediately grew suspicious. the last time a cute guy approached her, it was to stick a wad of gum in her hair. That was last year. He was a Junior... in high school. She now avoided eye contact with all guys that were presumed... 'above her.'

She returned her gaze back to the book in his hand. He spoke again.

Court cringed a bit. She wouldn't doubt that he'd flirt with her. He seemed too casual about everything. "Actually, I would have thought you were being a gentleman, but now, I see you have an ulterior motive to your approaching me and offering me help." Court rolled her eyes as her tongue rubbed her upper lip unconsciously.

Court took a deep breath and stood up, but her shin was killing her. She stumbled back a bit, but her hand clutched the shelf of the bookshelf. She kept her eyes off of the guy's face, as she limped her way back to her seat. She made and attempt at grabbing the book.

[CHRISTIAN REICHENBACH]

Here's what he's wearing if you're curious.

Well, she was a strange one, wasn't she. His eyes watched as her peeked from the corner of her lips. Pretty little lips. She watched him nervously, as if expecting him to do something cruel. This was odd, as Cristian had made it a point not to receive any sort of reputation. Perhaps she was a little jaded? Had some young, strapping, youth, picked on this little jade and porcelain doll? Broken bits of her? Christian loved broken toys. That way you could fix them to be anything you like. What did he want this pretty little bit to be? What service could she be to his toy chest.

With the stubbornness of a very attractive mule, she hobbled away, not without trying to steal her precious book. Ah, so that was what she was after. He pulled the book just out of her reach, eyes dancing a little in amusement. "No, no, no. Not until you let me help you." Christian insisted, his lips- far too wide for his face, but still holding a strange elegance- pulled into a grin. At her hobble, Christian came up to her from behind, one arm touching the back of her midback, the other touching the back of her leg only for a second- just one second- before scooping her into a bridal style position in her arms. "I insist."

Seating her carefully on one of the cheap tabletops, Christian sank to his knees, examining the bruise. He had enjoyed, perhaps a bit much, finding shakes in the wounds of comrades and enemies alike. The paperback book, some boring cheap thing no doubt, was shoved into his deep back pocket, playful eyes telling her he was not done helping. It looked- the bruise, not the book- like a flower of some sort. Not like a daisy, or something ridiculous like that. Far too common of a flower for this little bit. A hyacinth, or an iris. Something mature, perhaps sophisticated. Or able to be molded into something sophisticated. Half made 1910 Armagnac. She needed the rest of the ingredients, before it would give any pleasure to indulge.

She had the face of someone who was incredibly stressed. Outside she was his little porcelain doll- she was already claimed as a subject of at least mild interest to Christian Reichenbach- but on the inside she seemed to be a bunny boo, overstimulated by the big bad school.

Lifting her delicate leg gently, not even enough to make her leg rest at a ninety degree angle, he examined closely. "You got yourself rather good there, Konijntje." His fingers grazed over the skin discoloration, feeling the delicious heat of the wound on the very tips of his fingers. The impulse to push down was great, but he resisted. He didn't want to hurt the little Bunny. "No blood, blood flow to your leg still looks fine. Worst of it is that it'll be tender. Some ice and elevation would do, I think- but where to get ice in a library... Ah." Lowering her leg carefully, the little scamp dotted with a swiftness to the soda machine.

Now, usually, he hated soda. He didn't like the way the carbonation made his nose feel. But, it was useful right no. Pushing down on one of the buttons, he lamented the sacrificed dollar, hoping the girl would be worth it's loss. He could have very well hacked it, but alas, he was in her line of sight. And, being the jaded-bunny-porcelain-doll that she was, he was still on probation.

Returning, he held up the soda bottle by it's neck, and knelt at her feet again. Taking her foot gently by the ankle, Christian raised the injured leg, keeping his eyes on the abrasion, and away from up her darling little skirt. All in good time, after all, all in good time. Gentle as a hummingbird, he touched the purple hyacinth that had stained such lovely skin, with the chilled plastic container. "Ah, there we are, Konijntje, there we are. Though, I am in a great amount of doubt that your name is, in fact, Konijntje." He flashed her a smile, looking up to her eyes. "I'm Christian Reichenbach."

The man who is about to change your life, Konijntje.

Oh, what fun this game would turn out to be. What fun, indeed.

[doriangray]

Courtney looking cute.

The way that he watched her was beyond a sense of creepy. She only wanted him to hand her book back, but he was being obnoxiously troublesome. She had survived without the assistance of some boy after much worse accidents. She didn’t understand the mindset of guys, especially the horny, teenage ones that occupied her school. She had called him out on his strategy to try and get her naked in the copy room, but he still felt it necessary to try and woo her. He must have found her stupid or ditzy. Those girls that played hard to get, but really wanted him to be overly persistent. Yeah, that’s the type of girl that he must have pinned her for, but he was sadly mistaken. No, really meant no in Courtney’s case.

She tried being nice and lady-like about it. She was simply going to hobble away from him, while a taking her book in the process, yet he denied her. He was playing difficult again, and Courtney was slowly growing impatient with him. She just let him have the book, but then he touched her. She froze, but not before he swept her into his arms. She seriously must have looked pathetically fragile now. Anyone looking at them would see a fragile girl being carried by ’Prince Charming.’ She wiggled a bit as he brought her to a table.

She kept her face stern as she set her down and went to examine her leg. “It doesn’t hurt, ya know. It is more numb than painful.” She stated matter of fact. Her eyes found her book shoved tightly into his back pocket. It was all scrunched up and the spine was bending. She gave him her dirtiest look before making a small ‘Hmph,’ noise and turning away from him. She’d let him do whatever, then she’d get her book back, then the world will go back to normalcy.

He spoke again as his fingers traced over the bruise. *Konijntje?* She thought, trying to place the word’s origin. It sounded familiar, but Courtney couldn’t properly place it. He started talking, well babbling, about no nonsense. Stuff that she already knew, and she was about to interject, but he was off. This was her time to escape. She eased off the table a bit, but her eyes found his. He had only retreated to the nearby soda machine, which was placed near her escape door. She slid back on the table and eyed her bruised leg with a new sadness. She was going to play her part of the injured princess in need of some male attention.

He returned and placed the cold plastic of the soda bottle on the bruise. It eased the numbness a bit, but the slight pressure made her wince and cringe a bit. “It hurts… a bit.” She stated sheepishly as she tucked her hair behind her ears. She looked at him and offered him a small smile before he spoke again. “Ryan McHenry.” She stated as the smile stayed on her face. She wasn’t actually going to give this guy her name, and hopefully the fact that her middle name(well shortened version of it) was also a boy name would freak him out a bit. He couldn’t go around telling people that he had sex with a Ryan.

She was going to let him think that he was in control.

[CHRISTIAN REICHENBACH]

She was being deliciously evasive. Oh, how enjoyed this dance. This girl, this 'Ryan' wouldn't make it too easy for him. Christian did oh so enjoy a challenge, and he knew he had to play it right. It was a game of chess, but instead of one board, they were using many. Several levels, each careful, each effecting the other levels. She didn't want a hero, she wanted someone different. Someone who did not want simply to get in her pants. Deep down, she probably wanted a great romance, like she reads in her precious books.

With a heavy sigh, looking quite pained by her cruelty, Christian set the cold bottle of soda down on the table, and looked up at her. "You truly believe my only intention right now is to get into your pants, Ryan?" Ryan would hardly be her name. And he was determined to get her to admit her true name. Standing, he took the book from her pocket, and placed it in her hands. "Then I apologize. It was not my intention at all." A somber face, he left her, going to a table a ways away.

The seating was another chess move. Far enough away that it would appear that he thought he was out of her line of sight. And, for the most part, he would be. From a nearby shelf, Christian pulled a book, to put his seeming interest in. The Catcher in the Rye. Yes, he had read it. Had it near memorized. But, that was perfect. If she inquired, he could discuss what he read 'so far'. A sad expression was on his odd face, his widely spread lips formed into a sad little pout. Not one that would appear play acted, but one that look genuinely hurt. Like he was stung by her assumptions of him, right though they may be.

He imagined bedding her. Her pale flesh beneath his golden tinted body, moaning, biting her lip. He wondered if she was a scratcher. The quiet ones, yes, they were the ones to truly indulge in bacchanal activities. Release the deeply seeded repression, and you had some real fun on your hands. Whispering, sighing, moaning, screaming his name. That would be a great deal of fun. At first in a bed, then perhaps to other places. See how daring she was. There was nothing like some exhibitionism to wake you up in the morning.

None of his thoughts touched his face. His curious blue eyes moved along the words, his shoulders slumped, his head bowed in defeat. A scorned good boy, to the minds eye.

And so he stayed, letting the guilt settle in her. She'd have a momentary victory, and be quite pleased that she has her book back. But she wouldn't be able to help to be curious about the youth who left so easily. Who accepted her icy bitchness with a heavy sigh, but a quiet nod. She'll think she found herself a kindred spirit, someone else who is not quite like everyone else. Who's mind was on bigger things than merely sex.

Which was half true.

Christian was a masterful multitasker.

[doriangray]

This games that they were playing was actually quite fun. Their little exchanges were something that Courtney had never really experienced before, especially with a guy of this… magnitude. He knew all the right things to do to make Courtney actually want to stay, even if she presumed that he was only in it for the hopeful booty call. She had tried her best to stay unfazed by his remarks, yet they chipped away at her shiny armor. She offered him a name, but he didn’t seem too pleased. Actually, he looked rather upset, even hurt. Then he spoke, which a clear sign that he wasn’t buying her ‘fake’ name.

She took her book back, but she was quite stunned by his actions. Had that really happened? She wasn’t sure exactly what she had done. Her mind’s wheel slowly turned as she slid off the table, grabbing the bottle, and collapsing in the seat. She would read and just… Her eyes betrayed her as they stole a glance over towards the boy. He looked sad enough, and he seemed completely defeated. When was the last time that she had a cute guy approach her, that wasn’t out to stick gum in her hair?

She shook her head and went to reading. The first paragraph had to be enough to suck her into the book and delve her mind into the book, but like a soft murmur she looked up towards him. She had only gone off what most of the other high school guys were after, but assumptions were never a good idea. She set the book down and tapped on it idly as she thought of the proper way to reintroduce herself to him. Hell, he’d probably ignore her, or give her the cold shoulder. Oh, there was nothing worse than the cold shoulder in Courtney’s mind. Hypocritical, since it was her favorite tool. Nope, she would attempt to mend whatever she had broken. At this point, he looked like a little boy who had just been denied a toy.

Courtney grabbed the soda and her book and cautiously approached Christian. She looked around as if someone would she that she had caused this guy such distress. After reaching him, Courtney stood for an awkwardly long second before tapping his shoulder. “The Catcher in the Rye. Good choice.” She offered him a smile before sliding into the seat closest to him. She huffed a bit as her mind searched for the proper words, “Look, I am sorry?” She threw that apology into the air… It was either a hit or a terrible miss. “I’m Courtney. Ryanne’s my middle name, and I use it on guys that I presume aren’t worth my time.” Her eyes widened a bit as she just attempted that she thought Christian wasn’t worth her time. Moments earlier he wasn’t, but now he seemed to be worth a few spare minutes. “Let’s start over. Clean slate. I can even go bump my shin again, if that will help?” Oh, now she was offering to injury herself for the sake of making a guy smile. Damn. She was a wreck.

[CHRISTIAN REICHENBACH]

It didn't take long. Shorter than he thought about. He was already on the thirtieth page, when he felt her hand on his shoulder. When he smelled her (a faint strawberry cream smell), and felt her white blond hair brush against his jacket. He looked up, as if shocked to see her, but pleasantly so. His lips curled into a pleased smile. "Yes, it's very good so far. Does it end well?" Indulge her liking of books, Christian. Let her feel like she's got the upper hand in the conversation.

Oh, God, an apology. It was glorious, truly beautiful. He only wished it were a tangible thing, so he might bathe in it. His smile shrank, not displeased, but intently. Listening to her words carefully, nodding graciously, seemingly completely removed of bitterness for her previous rudeness. "I wouldn't hold it against you, Courtney. I know the sort around here." He motioned around, eyes a little disdainful of their surroundings, though the smile never fleeted away. "But, please, don't hurt yourself again. One injury is sufficient, and I much like a clean slate better." Carefully, he looked at his page number, and set the book down on the table.

She was rather pleasant on the eyes, wasn't she? Her cheekbones indicated good breeding, her hair looked very soft to the touch. He bet she tasted like fine silk and sweet sweat. Probably whatever lotion she used. "Does it hurt? I can take you to the nurse, if you'd like. Or... maybe you'd like to give me spoilers on the book. I'm not picky." He smiled at her, keeping his eyes on her face. It was a common misconception that eye contact meant that you were listening. A true indication of listening was for your eyes to move around their face. It meant ones brain was not on autopilot. It was functioning, moving, processing.

The flirtation had to start out light, but attentive. Careful not to apply too much, too fast. He was certain she wanted it. She would not have come over if she didn't. But she was cautious, steady, reasonable. Courtney didn't want a whirlwind romance. She wanted to be taken seriously.

How quaint.

Grandfather Adolfo would like her. He had a taste for clever blonds, who knew to remain unassuming and sweet. Content to do needlepoint or play an instrument for his amusement, but ready to discuss literature or politics at a moments notice. Adolfo hated Christian's mother, who was a whore. Not in a oh-she-slept-with-so-many-blah-blahs. No, she was a genuine prostitute in her day. On the night of Christian's conception, she had been paid a crisp three hundred dollars for her services. The idea of a grandson had made Adolfo Reichenbach force his son into a discontent marriage, to prevent Christian being a bastard. But oh, how he loathed it.

A pretty, delicate, intelligent blond would please him greatly.

Christian smiled at his find, interested to find out where this would all lead in the grand scheme of things.