Not only is this the last Wednesday Briefs of 2014, it'll probably be my last post of 2014. I was going to write up something pithy to cap off the year, but instead I've got this. I'll write up some kind of wrap-up post for the year later this week, though!
In the meantime, enjoy the last 2014 installment of Washed Right Out, in which Riley makes a friend and something wicked his way comes...
Washed
Right Out, Chapter Fourteen.
Prompts used: have a character return a gift.
When
Riley had returned to the Belle Facce office with a stranger in tow,
the sleepy series of cubicles suddenly took notice of his new blond
friend. Fiore quickly found himself the source of work coming to a
sudden halt as everyone made a beeline to introduce themselves,
and ask him how he and Riley met.
Say
we're childhood friends or something,
Riley said. Say
you're an old school pal who just happened to run into me on the
sidewalk. Say you're a visiting alien from outer space who finds our
way of life fascinating. Anything but you're the random guy who saved
me from my abusive ex-boyfriend and then walked me across the street
because I was too afraid to do it myself.
"We
literally just met!" Fiore chirped, crushing Riley's need for a
cover story. Luckily, Fiore didn't mention Jonathan,
or the confrontation between the three of them.
Eren
was one of the first to realize Riley had not come back to work
alone.
He
became
the self-appointed interrogator of the bunch, even going so far as to
make Fiore take a seat so he could keep an eye on him. Even when
everyone else had lost interest and gone back to work, Eren bothered
Fiore about his favorites, including colors (yellow and blue), food
(soup), video games (none), sports that didn't involve touching balls
(track, after some rather immature snorts and giggles from them all),
and for some reason words that began
with
the letter 'W'.
"Winch,"
Fiore answered. "I like the sound of it. It just sounds
mechanical. Reminds me of when I was a little kid, sitting in my
dad's auto shop,
and watching him raise cars up
for
repair."
"You
have an answer for everything, don't you?" Eren demanded. His
wide nostrils
flared
with every question.
"Of
course I do!" Fiore grinned.
"What's
the worst thing you've ever done?" Eren shot back.
Fiore's
grin slipped a bit on its peg.
"Err... I returned a gift. It was a really ugly sweater and it
didn't fit and I was allergic to forty percent of it."
"What's
so bad about that?"
Riley,
who was sitting courtside to this little ping pong match, butted in.
"That doesn't sound so bad, if it was a bad gift."
"It
was from my grandmother," Fiore explained. "She bought it
because she thought I lived in a really cold environment and would
need it. It was her last Christmas."
"That's
horrible!" Eren gasped,
as if his own grandmother had been the one to buy the wretched
sweater of love.
Riley
gave Eren a light elbowing. "Shut up. It's not his fault she
died."
"Or
is it?"
"Eren!"
"You're
a weird guy, you know that?" Fiore stood. "This has been
fun, but I better go back to work."
"Fiore,
wait—"
"It's
cool, Riley." Fiore smiled. "The flowers don't arrange
themselves."
Inside,
Riley was devastated. Just because his co-worker couldn't keep his
mouth shut, someone who had saved him from a terrible situation was
leaving, probably for good. Still, he wasn't willing to prolong the
process,
and let Fiore slip out of the office with a farewell and a small hug.
Before
he left, Fiore turned and said, "You know what, Eren? My
grandmother wasn't even that nice a person." The door clicked
shut behind him.
Eren
opened his mouth, as if to make a smart ass remark, but saw the look
on Riley's face and quickly slinked away.
Somehow,
Riley found the mental energy to click through his work inbox one
more time, mentally
noting
what he would have to work on Monday morning. Not today, he thought.
He just couldn't start anything today. He was ready to go home, order
a pizza,
and make a Riley-shaped indent in his couch while watching
television—any
television, it didn't matter to him, the
more
mindless the better.
I
don't think I can take any more surprises,
Riley thought. He shut off his computer for the day, realizing he
wouldn't be doing any more work on a Friday like this one. The chair
squeaked as he slumped back, enough to eliminate any ergonomic
benefits.
“Riley!
Riley!” Eren was standing in front of Riley's desk, his face pale
and shocked. “Um, I know you're pissed at me,
but I think you should see this.”
Riley
stood. “What's going on?” Eren rarely got this serious about
anything that wasn't related to his photography gear or his man
troubles.
Eren
gulped, hard enough that his Adam's apple bobbled around in his
throat like a trapped bird. “It sounds like two servants of Death
himself are downstairs—and
they're asking for you.”
“Seriously,
shut up.”
“No,
really, some of the people in the lobby are freaking out! I think
they said they were coming up here—”
Eren
shut his mouth as soon as the door to the office opened. The quiet
Friday murmurs
of
lazy conversations came to a halt.
“We
have come for the one called Riley Paolini!”
Riley
turned around and looked into the face of two women in long black
cloaks and hoods, carrying tall sickles. It was everything his
bigoted Southern grandparents had ever feared: Death was a pair of
hair stylist lesbians with a costume fetish.
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