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The Arms Hotel Lobby, Tuesday

This time, Jeff wasn't going to be distracted by frollicking. Turtle! He wasn't going to be distracted by Turtle. He had to work.

Jeff came in depressingly late, the dog trotting at his heels, and wondered if maybe he could just build some kind of a puppet to pretend to be him so Mary wouldn't find him about the whole... last week... business.

In lieu of one, he opted to hide behind the desk.

[ open! ]

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Provided you can find--

Oh, he's behind the desk. You'll find him.

Unaware of any devoted plans to not be distracted by her, Turtle bounced in, the customary offering of sandwiches in her hand, and gave the customary greeting. "Jeff!"

Helpfully, Jeff's head banged off the desk in response as he tried to sit up way too quickly. "Ow!" he countered, helpfully, and leaned back a little.

Turtle winced. That didn't sound good at all. "...You okay?" she asked, tentatively, as she edged a bit closer to the desk to make sure he wasn't bleeding or anything. She imagined most of the damage from a thunk like that would be internal, though.

Jeff tilted his face up just so and shot Turtle what he hoped was a very settling smile indeed. It wasn't, but Jeff chose not to think about that, because thinking about it would make it worse.

It promptly got worse. "...I'm fine!"

Turtle frowned with concern. "Are you sure?" she asked. "That sounded like a pretty big thunk..."

"I'm fine," Jeff repeated, with a little more reassurance. Or attempted reassurance. He reached for the back of his head, "Just got a bit of a bump," and smiled nervously, again, "But that happens to the best of us."

"You want me to have a look at it?" Turtle asked, tentatively, her hands already lifted and ready to sort of prepare to rifle through Jeff's hair to make sure there aren't any bumps the size of the snowglobe she made earlier or anything.

"...Only if you feel like it," Jeff offered, a little tentatively, "You know what bumps can be like."

"Exactly," Turtle said, moving over and starting to check the likely spots for bumps. "That's why I definitely want to check."

"It could be, like, a tumor or something," she stated, knowledgeably, as she pawed lightly through his hair.

"It'd have to be a really sudden tumor, though," Jeff replied, equally knowledgeably, and moved his head to attempt to facilitate her pawing about. "I mean, they say drinking certain things cause cancer and all, but I've never heard about desks before."

"It's Fandom," Turtle said firmly, with a nod. "One can never be too sure."

Plus, it gave her an excuse to play around with Jeff's hair. She figured that, really, she didn't need an excuse, but she felt all clever and subtle about it this way. She liked Jeff's hair. It was just so...sild. And untamed. And sometimes a little natty, but that was okay.

"Oh," Jeff said.

It was a very concerned kind of 'oh'.

"That's a concerned 'oh' noise," he clarified, quickly, "I'm not communicating disappointment. There's no disappointment here. Just concern. Cancer would be sort of bad."

"It would," Turtle agreed, "but, good news! There isn't so much of a bump, except maybe on the left side, but I think that might be more of a misshapen skull, Jeff, than anything else. You're tumor free, though."

She didn't stop playing with his hair, though. She didn't see the point in stopping if she didn't have to.

"Oh," Jeff repeated, and added, "That was a relieved 'oh'."

He also felt that he was entirely in his place to sort of lean into that whole motion, especially where it gained him certain angles of sight that weren't really that bad. There could be better angles, but these were nice. "Nice."

Turtle was definitely not opposed to leaning, and her shifting fingers started to drift more toward petting than shifting after a moment. She tilted his head a little, giving him a light smile. "How's your day been?"

"Well," Jeff said, considered his day thoroughly, and plowed easily into, "I talked to Professor Mizrahi about arses. And then I hit my head on a desk. So all things considered it's been a bit quiet, really."

Turtle frowned a little. "Why did you talk to her about ars--"

Understanding struck and, from the impact flowed a rather quick blossom of red across Turtle's face. "...Oh."

"That's an 'oh' of realization, by the way," she added as the blush went brighter. "Not an...irritated 'oh.'"

Jeff froze a little bit anyway, even if the clarification from the oh thing was helping keep him from spinning into a complete panic. "It's important to define your 'oh' noises," he mumbled, lamely, "You never know when someone's going to spring a bad 'oh' at you."

He stared at the wall. Desk! Wall. "...She asked. I sort of... blurted."

Yeah. Jeff had a thing with that whole...blurting bit. Turtle bit her lip a little; her fingers slowed a bit somewhere around his ears. "Did she say anything?" she asked. "Did you get into trouble?"

"I didn't mention any of her bodyparts," Jeff said, after a few moments of thought; he relaxed just that little bit again, because Turtle's fingers were pretty nice when you really thought about it. "I took it as a win."

"Good," Turtle regained her light smile. "I'd hate to think that, uh...that...that would get you in trouble, but we probably could have really scheduled it better..."

Somewhere in his mind, this particular statement hit a few other thoughts and the whole thing came together, sort of sparked, and Jeff said, "We could just reschedule it into the future," gestured, and added, "Sort of in a retroactive way."

Turtle, fingers still lightly drifting, shifted her eyes over for a second as she considered this proposal. She thought that she could make a pretty good argument to the fact that you couldn't reschedule something you've already done, retroactive or not, but, really, she had to ask herself if she really wanted to. There were some things that, really, were better than making an argument.

Very few things, yes, but this was among them, she decided. "We could," she agreed with a light nod.

"...I don't have class on Sunday," and that was actual cheer sneaking into Jeff's voice, "We could go and look at French things and then we're going to the room. And Peter's gone, so you could totally pop your arse out if you felt like it."

Pause.

"...Only if you felt like it."

Turtle closed her eyes for a moment, shaking her head slightly as she fought off the blush that was starting up. "You did not just use the phrase 'pop your arse out,' Jeff," she stated.

Jeff got that kind of panicked look that deer got when they accidentally walked into a car. "...I didn't mean the bones or anything," he hastened to amend, "'Cos then you wouldn't have an arse and that would sort of be a problem."

"I know what you meant, Jeff," Turtle said, sighing, because that was the problem, and she shook her head. "How about this? How about we just say that, Sunday, we'll go and look at French things, and then, since we're back in the dorms and Peter is gone, go up to your room and spend a nice romantically inclined couple-y eveningtogether?" That was a much, much nicer way of saying the exact same thing, much more professional and respectable, and didn't make her sound like a floozy who just popped her arse out all willy-nilly, thank you very much.

Jeff sort of reached up, first maybe to scratch his head, but then he realised Turtle was there and just wound up patting her on the arm a bit instead. "We can say that," he said, with a level of tact he was, personally, proud of. "Sure!"

"Good," Turtle nodded, glad he agreed, although, really, she knew at this point that Jeff would have known there'd be problems if he didn't. Her hand shifted so that it could join his hand that had patted her arm, to intertwine their fingers together as she leaned in and gave his forehead a kiss.

Just mind the dog who strategically obstructs all important exits.

Geronimooooo.

I traded the Jeffina icon for a pony!

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The Arms Hotel Lobby, Tuesday

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Avoid Jeff

OOC