Challenge: Vanilla #5 -
Toppings: Rainbow Sprinkles (it doesn't seem to have a tag / LJ won't tag...)
Extras: Ice Cream Sandwich (download the audio here)
Word Count: 370 (2:04)
Summary: One of Simon's co-workers considers her opinion of him.
Notes: And the sarcastic twisting of titles strikes again! Uhm... I really wanted to try an audio-thing because one of my friends suggested podcasting a few months back - but I really hate the sound of my voice! Please don't laugh at my awful weird Midlands-English accent... Sadly, I may have to do more of these, because I've never done one before and I clearly need to practice.
I had to specifically write this in third-person so I didn't sound weird reading out stuff written from the point of view of a man. XD;; Celeste is a fairly important character anyway...
She really couldn’t stand him, she realised, frowning as she shoved the packages into her backpack. Even now she could see him from the corner of her eye, laughing and joking with another one of the couriers, could hear his soft voice as he mentioned again the fact that his bike was on its way out. She couldn’t help listening, like she couldn’t help scratching at a scab or tugging at her twists of hair when she was deep in thought - it was like she needed to remind herself every time that she didn’t like him, in case she let her guard slip somehow and he wormed his way in.
Elves shouldn’t even be in the city, she’d insisted on the day he joined. They looked down their perfectly-formed noses at the humans, at city-dwellers, so why should they help one of them? Her supervisor had told her that he’d take her comments into consideration, but they’d hired the long-eared idiot anyway.
And the worst of it was, despite the bike - why couldn’t he just replace the damn thing anyway? - he’d turned out to be good at the job. He was even better than her, which was the worst of it! He was better than the Employee of the Year!
She shook her head, cramming the last of the deliveries into the bag with a most unbecoming show of force and clunked the catches closed with more vigour than was strictly necessary. It was only when she realised that the hum of voices had ceased that she looked up.
The idiot was staring at her.
Even when she scowled at him he only raised his hand in greeting and smiled, then turned from her to continue dealing with his own delivery schedule. His slender back was treated to a dirty look before she slung the pack over her shoulder and stalked from the warehouse floor toward her own pristine and gleaming motorbike. He’d even parked next to her; she resisted, somehow, the urge to kick the dented bike over.
Elves were bad enough, and Simon more than most, but if there was one thing Celeste truly hated it was people who did things better than she did.