Photographs of Graves

I woke up still holding Ana. She was breathing softly against my shoulder, balled up around her tattoos. I carefully disentangled myself from her and got up, taking a shower before work. I nudged her awake somewhere in between wrapping myself in a towel and getting dressed.

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” I murmured, “Time to get ready for the day.”

She muttered something, groaned, hugged my pillow, stretched, and finally rolled out of bed in a flurry of limbs. She groggily dragged her Russian ass to the shower. I laughed.

“We should simply stay here and be naked all day,” she called as she disappeared into the bathroom.

“It's only our second day, don't give up now,” I chuckled as I dressed.

Marion was giving me this look the whole time we were downstairs and getting onto the bus. I averted my gaze, but she just kept watching me with a raised eyebrow. Bear and Sherlock kept ramming their wooly bodies into me, whining loudly, as I ate my cereal. I rubbed their huge heads affectionately.

I began to get a little annoyed when Marion was still giving me that same look as we took the bus down to Morrow & Sons. I fidgeted with my bus handle, and, irritated, turned to Marion.

“I'm not a whore,” I said to her smoothly. A small smile broke Marion's face.

“If you were a whore, you wouldn't have come back last night. You're not a whore,” Marion replied. “I just was trying to figure out what was going on with you and Theodore.”

“Then ask,” I raised an eyebrow. “I probably won't tell you much, but I personally think it works better than staring at me.”

Marion nodded.

“Spoken like a true journalist,” she said, getting off the bus.

I spent a couple minutes trying to figure out what about what I had said made me sound so much like a journalist, but all these thoughts were pushed aside when Marion handed Ana and I our next assignment and gave us another one o'clock deadline. Ana squealed in delight, realizing that the topic was the recent rioting in Russia.

“I know about that!” she cried. I waved the recorder in front of her.

“Not our knowledge, theirs.”

We sat down and got to work.

I often got jealous of Ana for her ability to listen to something once and just know it. It was like photographic memory but for audio. It wasn't perfect, but it was as close to perfect as you could get without being inhibited by her skill. She just sat there, soaking in information like a Russian Sham-Wow. I meanwhile, had to take short notes as I listened. I was good at remembering what I heard, but I wasn't designed for the job like Ana was. She made me feel like I was slugging through in comparison.

But I could write. That was my saving grace, my reason for being here. I could take her information alongside my own and make it something better. It was about eleven-thirty when I started writing the article, and I quickly made the first two paragraphs –

“So you ditched me last night.”

I glanced up from my laptop to see Theodore Graves leaning against mine and Ana's shared desk, regarding me without a smile.

“Around three in the morning, yes,” I replied quickly. “But Graves, I have a deadline to meet. We'll talk later.”

“Do you have a reason for leaving?”

“Yes, but I have to work right now. Please go away. I don't mean to be rude, but I have to get shit done and you're distracting me.”

He watched me for a moment passively, then broke out in a smile.

“Good to know you take your job seriously. You just passed your first test.” he came behind my desk and knuckled my head. “Employees here at Morrow & Sons can't let their personal lives get in the way of their work.” he paused. “However, I do want to hear your reason at lunch.” he lightly pinched my cheek and walked away. Or sauntered, rather, since everything about him suddenly seemed relaxed and comfortable.

“The sexy men are always the ones who cause the most problems,” Ana sighed.

“Tell me about it,” I replied, continuing to type.

~~

I joined Graves in the staff room after picking up a fresh cup of coffee and today's specialty of honey-glazed ham sandwich with a side of pineapple and oranges. That, my friends, is called perfection on a plate.

I sat down, lounging casually in my seat. I'd never had much of a feminine countenance whilst sitting: I always sprawled out or had my elbows on the table. I found leg-crossing distinctly uncomfortable unless I needed to piss, so unless I was sitting Indian style my style of sitting was rather masculine. But hey, whatever's comfortable, right?

“You wanted me?” I asked, taking a sip of my coffee.

“I wanted you last night,” he replied. “And this morning. Where did you go?”

“Back to Marion's,” I shrugged, sampling my fruits with the aid of a plastic fork.

“You were perfectly welcome to stay through the night, you know.”

“I didn't feel comfortable sticking around.”

“Why not?”

I hesitated for a moment. I mulled over my words, unsure how to reply to him. Instead I took a bite of my ham sandwich and fixed my eyes on my plate.

“Were you unhappy while we were together?” Graves persisted. I didn't want to look up into those smoldering blue eyes. Hell, I didn't want to be drawn into him in the middle of the staff room. He reached out and touched my left hand and I flinched.

“Murph.”

“No, that's not it,” I replied, shaking my head. “I was happy. I was... well, more than happy.” I laughed a little.

“So it wasn't the quality of the sex?”

“Oh hell no.”

Graves smiled at this. “Good. I was worried for a second there.”

We both laughed a bit before falling into sobered silence.

“You still haven't told me what it is though,” he said after a moment. He still hadn't removed his hand from on top of mine.

“I...” I rested my food wielding hand down, setting my sandwich on my plate. This was getting uncomfortable. I didn't like talking about this when there were other people around. I sighed.

“It's just something you said,” I replied, turning my head away, suddenly terribly interested in the brass doorknob. I knew his eyes were boring into the side of my skull, trying to read my profile. He squeezed my fingers. I felt almost naked under his gaze, like he could open me like a book if he tried hard enough.

“You're scared because I said I loved you.”

My breath caught in my chest. I nodded. He'd read me.

“Yeah. That.”

I turned back, still avoiding looking at him and focusing on my food. I sank my teeth into the remains of my turkey sandwich, ignoring the fact that I probably was acting like I was two. Ah, meat. Carnivores didn't have to worry about things like love and lies and all that. They ate their pray and fucked their mates. Primal simplicity.

I tried to imagine I was a lion but it didn't go very well. Graves hooked a hand under my chin so that I met his gaze and suddenly I felt like the gazelle. I swallowed what was in my mouth.

“And what if I mean what I said?” he asked coolly. Those blue eyes had me paralyzed. I closed my eyes, escaping him to clear my head.

“I don't believe you,” I replied. “It just doesn't make sense.”

“You're the stupidest logical person I know, Murph,” he sighed. He released my chin, standing and collecting the remains of his own empty plate. I returned to my lunch.

“Just keep in mind that I do love you.”

He walked away. I froze, turned to stone in mid swallow.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck fuckety fuck fuck. Graves, you damned jackass.