"Yesyes," Neph shrugs her swaddling blanket to the floor and takes the plug from Hannibal, who's far too dignified to bend over the arm of the couch and stretch for the outlet. If Neph were a different person (or a better wingman) she might point out that doing so would probably show off his ass even in those semi-formal slacks, but she's neither of those things and so the pitch doesn't occur to her. Besides, she's got the skinnier arms.
"We gotta do something about these old outlets," she grumbles as she wedges the charge pack between the wall and the back of the couch, "They're so loose, everything just falls right out."
When she straightens back up, Hannibal's not in his usual spot on the end of the couch. That might not be so weird - it's his laptop, and if they're all gonna watch then it makes sense he/it oughta be in the middle - if Will weren't hovering tensely and Hannibal weren't practically pointing at the couch cushion beside him while staring at her, unblinking. He's about as subtle as a housepet standing over an empty food dish.
Neph would snort, but she's pretty sure she's wearing one of his shirts (she fished it out of the dryer because all her tees are wadded up in her laundry basket; she hasn't broken the habit of putting off a trip to the laundromat until the last possible second, even though the apartment came with a washer-dryer) and anyway Will might be deferring to her preference, here. So she slips over the arm of the couch as though it were the hood of a car, leans forward to grab the bowl of popcorn, and deposits it in Hannibal's lap.
"Middle seat holds the popcorn," Neph declares, like she couldn't have poured it into more than one bowl in the first place. With her legs folded sideways, her knees press into the side of his thigh
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2017-03-01 03:23 am (UTC)"We gotta do something about these old outlets," she grumbles as she wedges the charge pack between the wall and the back of the couch, "They're so loose, everything just falls right out."
When she straightens back up, Hannibal's not in his usual spot on the end of the couch. That might not be so weird - it's his laptop, and if they're all gonna watch then it makes sense he/it oughta be in the middle - if Will weren't hovering tensely and Hannibal weren't practically pointing at the couch cushion beside him while staring at her, unblinking. He's about as subtle as a housepet standing over an empty food dish.
Neph would snort, but she's pretty sure she's wearing one of his shirts (she fished it out of the dryer because all her tees are wadded up in her laundry basket; she hasn't broken the habit of putting off a trip to the laundromat until the last possible second, even though the apartment came with a washer-dryer) and anyway Will might be deferring to her preference, here. So she slips over the arm of the couch as though it were the hood of a car, leans forward to grab the bowl of popcorn, and deposits it in Hannibal's lap.
"Middle seat holds the popcorn," Neph declares, like she couldn't have poured it into more than one bowl in the first place. With her legs folded sideways, her knees press into the side of his thigh