He was only allowed out at this hour because he insisted he couldn't work in a closet, and he promised to go no further from the bar.
Artemis wasn't a stalker; it hadn't been a lie. The alcove at the end of the hall felt more liberating. The fact that he knew when Holly came home was simply a side effect of his positioning.
It was almost 1, and she had been accompanied.
His minor heart attack was averted when she went into her room on her own. Artemis continued writing, tapping the surface of his PADD, unseeing.
Holly hadn't looked so good.
It would be his responsibility to check on her, wouldn't it?
He worked.
Until he got up and knocked on her door.
"--I promise I'm fine, it's mostly passed now--"
Holly looked up at him, stopping dead. It was the first Artemis had gotten a real look at her hair, and she was wearing his bauble.
He couldn't help it. He smiled.
The smile faded on the heels of her suspicion.
"...Arty?"
"I was going to eat," he lied, gesturing toward the stairs. "Can I bring you something?"
Suspicion was reflected in eyes just like his own. Rightfully.
"No."
And so, they stood.
Artemis stared; Holly's eyebrow went up. He shifted his weight. She crossed her arms.
"Thanks," she added, apparently completing her sentence.
"You..." The sentence would have to be carefully crafted. Perfectly designed to compliment without raising further suspicion; the exact number of words. "...quite suit those colors."
No. No, that hadn't done it.
Artemis looked at the floor. Took a breath, attempting to summon the intellect he was more than aware he had for the job. He raised a finger; asking of a moment. And when it was given, he found it.
He extended a hand. Warily, slowly, she took it; the taking was a question.
And in answer, Artemis gently spun her on her heels, dancing her there in her doorway.
"Goodnight," he said, before she had time to react.
And then he was gone, though not so quickly that he didn't hear her groan in what could only be a verbal eyeroll.
Artemis wasn't a stalker; it hadn't been a lie. The alcove at the end of the hall felt more liberating. The fact that he knew when Holly came home was simply a side effect of his positioning.
It was almost 1, and she had been accompanied.
His minor heart attack was averted when she went into her room on her own. Artemis continued writing, tapping the surface of his PADD, unseeing.
Holly hadn't looked so good.
It would be his responsibility to check on her, wouldn't it?
He worked.
Until he got up and knocked on her door.
"--I promise I'm fine, it's mostly passed now--"
Holly looked up at him, stopping dead. It was the first Artemis had gotten a real look at her hair, and she was wearing his bauble.
He couldn't help it. He smiled.
The smile faded on the heels of her suspicion.
"...Arty?"
"I was going to eat," he lied, gesturing toward the stairs. "Can I bring you something?"
Suspicion was reflected in eyes just like his own. Rightfully.
"No."
And so, they stood.
Artemis stared; Holly's eyebrow went up. He shifted his weight. She crossed her arms.
"Thanks," she added, apparently completing her sentence.
"You..." The sentence would have to be carefully crafted. Perfectly designed to compliment without raising further suspicion; the exact number of words. "...quite suit those colors."
No. No, that hadn't done it.
Artemis looked at the floor. Took a breath, attempting to summon the intellect he was more than aware he had for the job. He raised a finger; asking of a moment. And when it was given, he found it.
He extended a hand. Warily, slowly, she took it; the taking was a question.
And in answer, Artemis gently spun her on her heels, dancing her there in her doorway.
"Goodnight," he said, before she had time to react.
And then he was gone, though not so quickly that he didn't hear her groan in what could only be a verbal eyeroll.