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Date Posted: 11:36:00 11/24/08 Mon
Author: Odelle
Author Host/IP: CPE0013f7f24246-CM0013f7f24242.cpe.net.cable.rogers.com / 99.234.121.213
Subject: When A Time Comes (Chapter 2)
In reply to: Odelle 's message, "When A Time Comes" on 11:10:52 11/24/08 Mon

The halls of the home rang with gentle laughter; a loud and throaty guffaw signalled Walter was awake early. The titterish shy giggle mixed in was Michelle. The boisterous hoots and hollars would belong to the children.

Nikita’s grin stretched broadly. She stretched one arm up over her head, reaching for it across her back with the other. 8AM, and they were already back at War. Determined bunch, she’d give them that. Competitive, more likely.

The sunlight made the blond wood of the hallway almost too-bright for her eyes. Especially after another night like last.

Stupid. Why am I always that stupid?

Detouring from the source of the party, her bare feet led her into the kitchen. She propped open the fridge door with her pyjama-covered hip. Yuck. Guacamole and lentil dip greeted both her eyes and her nose, quickly stealing any growing hunger that had promised a meal moments before.

The fridge door shut with a suction hiss as she turned and headed for the dining room.

“Morning all,” her grin filled her gaze as she surveyed the mess. People hunched in a mob around the cherrywood. Remnants of breakfast dishes littering the sideboard, the dining table, and even the floor. There was no room whatsoever at the table to sit, but one chair was left leaning at the far wall.

“Morning,” some muttered back. Walter caught her eye, though, and gave her hand a gentle squeeze as she walked by him en route to the chair.

“Who’s winning?” the chair scraped along the floor as she squeezed in to see the board besieged with an infinite number of tiny coloured soldiers, horses, and ammo.

Seven hands shot up in the air immediately. She laughed at them, shaking her head and sighing her contentment.

What day was it today? Wednesday?

“You want to strategize with me, boss?” Jak nudged her elbow with a smile.

“Nah – looks to me like Russia will be yours soon anyway,” she whispered in return, ruffling the boy’s hair.

Tuesday. It must be Tuesday.

A couple of keen ears looked up at her angrily at the comment that Jak would win. He hadn’t won in three weeks, but everyone knew that it was just a matter of time. Especially since he didn’t merely lose for that period of time – he was simply absent, in mind if not in presence.

The scent of the outdoors slipped in through the threshold, causing Nikita to look up at the source. Guillome’s sure steps took him right into the middle of the action. Newspaper tucked under his arm, steaming chai latte – venti – in his right hand, and his suit tailored to perfection, Guillome was the epitome of all things distracting. He swept gracefully around to mob toward her with his character confidence and precision.

“Good morning, love,” he kissed the top of her head, before gazing down at the board. “Excellent work, Jak.”

Groans and gazes filled with daggers met Guillome’s comment. He shrugged, unperturbed.

“Come on,” Nikita rose and wrapped her arm through his, “We should go before they revolt.”

Too late. As they made their way to the door, three plastic chariots bounced off Guillome’s hard shaved head and skittered to the floor.

************

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