The coffee was stale and painfully room-temperature. Leander winkled his nose and brought the old, cracked mug as far away from himself as possible. The man would go so far as to set the horrid thing down and just walk away, but the entry room in the farm house was so cluttered, he figured he would not find a place to set it down, even if he tried. It was a wonder he had found the mug, or the coffee pot, in the first place.
It had been another rainy day in a week of rainy days, ones that kept most of the stable hands and boarders in their homes. The weather worked exactly opposite on Leander, sending out ideas and emotions like sheets of rain. The young man had been more high-strung this week than all of the horses combined. He couldn't stop his mind from racing, or his pen from writing. The man's creative side was wired, but one couldn't say as much for his logical side.
The cramped room flashed bright white for a moment as lightning shone through the windows. The coffee mug in Leander's hand shook with the rumble of thunder that came afterwards. The storm was getting bad. He had considered driving home to bring back some real drinks - wine, or even some bloody tea! Anything but coffee. Leander wasn't sure how anyone could drink the stuff - it was so bitter, and black, lacking any nice colour or aroma.
Another flash of lightning illuminated something in the cluttered room that Leander hadn't seen before. A hideous faux-wood microwave sat as a sort of pedestal, holding up dozens of little trophies which, Leander assumed, were very important to their owner, considering they had been given the utmost care; The On-Top-Of-The-Microwave Privelege. "Just lovely.." the man muttered, making his way through the crowded space over to the little faux-wood nightmare. Perhaps his coffee wouldn't be so bad if it were heated enough so he couldn't actually taste it.
It was then that Leander realized he had never used a microwave. It had a number pad similar to a phone, accompanied by the obvious "start", "stop". There were also an endless list of interesting cooking options printed on the side. "braise, simmer, roast, sauté..." The man scratched his head, giving the microwave a look. "Are you sure you can do all of that? You're a microwave! A peasant's toy!" Even so, Leander scanned the list for 'reheat coffee'. He pouted his lips, and opened his mouth again, no doubt to speak some more nonsense to the inanimate object before him. A loud crack of thunder shook the room, one which spooked Leander so much, he jumped. As if to cover up the action somehow, the man grit his teeth, shoved the mug into the microwave, set the timer for two minutes, and, all in one very fluid and graceful motion it is presumed, slammed his pointer finger into the "start".
The microwave timer sounded far too soon. Leander was truly enjoying his two minutes of satisfaction. He almost felt like a grown-up. With a sigh, the white-haired man retrieved his hot mug of coffee and shut the microwave door with his elbow. The man had almost reached victory, almost done something properly, but the rainy weather simply would not have it. Another flash of lightning, a crack of thunder, a jump, a splash, a squeal, and Leander's life was normal again.
"AAAAAaaaaaaaaahhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnhhhhhhhggg!" At first, the man's howls of pain made no sense. All Leander knew was that his thighs were on fire. The coffee was scorching hot. It had teamed up with his favorite trousers, no less, and now the two were working together to make him flail and dance and twirl about with even more vigor than usual. There was only one thing to do.
Lightning flashed. Off came one boot. Thunder cracked. Off with another. Leander was quite impressed with himself. He had to have removed his trousers and shoes in well under ten seconds, and there were a lot of buckles on those boots. The man sighed in relief, flinging himself across the nearest sofa (quite awkwardly, he might add, as it was already occupied by a particularly uncomfortable saddle). He giggled maniacally, covering his face with his hands. "I just want something to drink. Can I not have that one, simple thing? Augh, this could not possibly get any-!"
The door to the farm house swung open. "Heard screaming. Everything all...right...?"
A pantsless, deranged, and thirsty Leander looked straight at Matthew like a deer frozen in the headlights. "-worse.
It had been another rainy day in a week of rainy days, ones that kept most of the stable hands and boarders in their homes. The weather worked exactly opposite on Leander, sending out ideas and emotions like sheets of rain. The young man had been more high-strung this week than all of the horses combined. He couldn't stop his mind from racing, or his pen from writing. The man's creative side was wired, but one couldn't say as much for his logical side.
The cramped room flashed bright white for a moment as lightning shone through the windows. The coffee mug in Leander's hand shook with the rumble of thunder that came afterwards. The storm was getting bad. He had considered driving home to bring back some real drinks - wine, or even some bloody tea! Anything but coffee. Leander wasn't sure how anyone could drink the stuff - it was so bitter, and black, lacking any nice colour or aroma.
Another flash of lightning illuminated something in the cluttered room that Leander hadn't seen before. A hideous faux-wood microwave sat as a sort of pedestal, holding up dozens of little trophies which, Leander assumed, were very important to their owner, considering they had been given the utmost care; The On-Top-Of-The-Microwave Privelege. "Just lovely.." the man muttered, making his way through the crowded space over to the little faux-wood nightmare. Perhaps his coffee wouldn't be so bad if it were heated enough so he couldn't actually taste it.
It was then that Leander realized he had never used a microwave. It had a number pad similar to a phone, accompanied by the obvious "start", "stop". There were also an endless list of interesting cooking options printed on the side. "braise, simmer, roast, sauté..." The man scratched his head, giving the microwave a look. "Are you sure you can do all of that? You're a microwave! A peasant's toy!" Even so, Leander scanned the list for 'reheat coffee'. He pouted his lips, and opened his mouth again, no doubt to speak some more nonsense to the inanimate object before him. A loud crack of thunder shook the room, one which spooked Leander so much, he jumped. As if to cover up the action somehow, the man grit his teeth, shoved the mug into the microwave, set the timer for two minutes, and, all in one very fluid and graceful motion it is presumed, slammed his pointer finger into the "start".
The microwave timer sounded far too soon. Leander was truly enjoying his two minutes of satisfaction. He almost felt like a grown-up. With a sigh, the white-haired man retrieved his hot mug of coffee and shut the microwave door with his elbow. The man had almost reached victory, almost done something properly, but the rainy weather simply would not have it. Another flash of lightning, a crack of thunder, a jump, a splash, a squeal, and Leander's life was normal again.
"AAAAAaaaaaaaaahhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnhhhhhhhggg!" At first, the man's howls of pain made no sense. All Leander knew was that his thighs were on fire. The coffee was scorching hot. It had teamed up with his favorite trousers, no less, and now the two were working together to make him flail and dance and twirl about with even more vigor than usual. There was only one thing to do.
Lightning flashed. Off came one boot. Thunder cracked. Off with another. Leander was quite impressed with himself. He had to have removed his trousers and shoes in well under ten seconds, and there were a lot of buckles on those boots. The man sighed in relief, flinging himself across the nearest sofa (quite awkwardly, he might add, as it was already occupied by a particularly uncomfortable saddle). He giggled maniacally, covering his face with his hands. "I just want something to drink. Can I not have that one, simple thing? Augh, this could not possibly get any-!"
The door to the farm house swung open. "Heard screaming. Everything all...right...?"
A pantsless, deranged, and thirsty Leander looked straight at Matthew like a deer frozen in the headlights. "-worse.