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Tell Me, Oh Muse...

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Prompt: “It must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pick-up line,” for Garcy.

Rating: G | No warnings apply


 

There was only so long Lucy could take this shit.

She found the first handwritten message on her desk when she was dead-tired, after spending all afternoon, evening and a good part of the night trying to figure out where Rittenhouse might go next. The card was no larger than a credit card, and read: Are you sure you’re not a parking ticket? Because you’ve got ‘fine’ written all over you. She figured it was one of Jiya’s attempts to mess with everyone else, chuckled, and went to bed.

The next one was stuck to the back of her shampoo bottle. Raising an eyebrow, she plucked it off of the pink-coloured plastic and turned it over so she could read it. Do you have eleven protons? Because you’re so-dium attractive. She rolled her eyes and pocketed it.

Lucy didn’t find any cards the next day, and she figured the joke was over. Until she noticed something white pinned to her clean laundry. Are you a tower? Because Eiffel for you. What in God’s name was going on? If only she recognised the handwriting, but she didn’t have a clue whose it was. It wasn’t round enough to be Jiya’s, and it wasn’t Rufus either, but other than that, she was lost.

When she saw Flynn fill in an order form for a book he wanted to read, it dawned on her. Sneaking up to him, she suddenly whispered: “It must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pick-up line.” Turning around and without missing a beat, he responded: “I can’t help that I’m suffering from a lack of vitamin U.”

She scoffed.

“Just shut up and kiss me, Garcia.”