Chapter Text
When Bog had stalked across the studio to see if the painting students had stolen his power tools to make canvases again he had not expected to find a small brunette hiding in the supply cupboard. She was squashed among boxes and odd bits of lumber, paint stained knees drawn up under her chin while she texted on her phone. When light fell across her she looked up, her face a picture of horror.
Not, Bog thought, an unusual reaction to seeing his face unexpectedly. He hadn't shaved for a couple days and had been up late working on his latest sculpture in order to meet the deadline, so his eyes were circled with dark rings and his expression was borderline murderous over the possibility of repeat tool theft. What was unusual was that after a moment the girl, squinting up at him through heavy layers of eyeshadow and mascara, looked relieved.
“Shh!” She held up a slender finger to her dark purple lips, her fingernails lined with yellow and red paint, “I'm hiding!” As if this explained everything.
“And I need my power tools. Get out so I can see if they're in there.”
“No way! Close the door before somebody sees me.” She ordered sharply.
“Like who?”
“Like my ex! My ride won't be here on time and he's laying in wait to be “chivalrous”. No way am I going to be stuck in a car with him driving.”
“Does your ex-boyfriend have a black eye and look like he stole his hair from a shampoo advertisement?”
“Yes. Why?”
“He's coming this way.”
“Close the door, close the door!” The girl whispered, grabbing at the edge of the cupboard, trying to do it herself. Bog didn't know why, maybe it was the urgency in the girl's voice or simply her tone of command, but he shut the cupboard door and sat down on the floor in front of it.
The perfectly coiffed young man came by, drawling, “Marianne? Marianne, darlin', are you here?” Bog recognized him as a painting student who was always working on self-portraits. Bog pulled out his cellphone and pretended to be checking his texts, looking up and glaring when the self-portrait walked too close. Once the blond wandered off again Bog tapped on the cupboard door.
“Is it Marianne who is sitting on my power tools in there?”
“Yes,” The girl replied, voice strangely hollow inside her hiding place, “Is he gone?”
“Wandered off toward pottery. Should I call campus security for you?”
“No.” The cupboard door cracked open and the girl looked out, “It's just that I promised my dad not to get suspended again and if I have to talk to Roland I'll end up punching him again.”
“Oh, so the shiner is your handiwork?” Bog was impressed. This was not a damsel in distress, but a warrior that knew discretion was the better part of valor. But she was still between him and his power tools and there was a deadline to meet. “Nice work. But you owe me now, don't you?”
“For what, asking you to be a decent human being?” Marianne retorted, “If you're thinking of asking for a date, back off, I'm not interested.”
“What? No!” The idea hadn't occurred to him, even though she was a very interesting girl. “I've had my fill of dating for a good long while, don't you worry. No, I need to finish my project, tough girl, and I thought you might lend a hand. Or at the very least get your end off my tools.”
“Depends. What are you working on?”
“Abstract sculpture.” He replied, tone curt. He and the painting students had had some creative differences in the past and he really didn't want to get into another debate right now.
“Wait, the one with all the carving and the bit that looks like someone broke a mirror over a dead log?”
“Hey, don't knock it!”
“No, I like it!”
“What?” He looked at her, baffled.
“That thing is awesome! I've been watching it grow all semester but I never ran into anyone working on it. Of course I'll help you with it.” She pushed the door open and crawled out, but fell over. “Ow. My legs are asleep.” She was wearing stained overalls with a baggy red shirt underneath, paintbrushes stuck in her pockets.
Bog sighed and grabbed her under the arms, pulling her up. She hung there, her legs bent and bare feet hanging above the floor.
“Ow! Ow! Ow!” She carefully straightened her legs but found she was still not touching the floor. She leaned her head backwards to look up at the sharp face behind her. He looked down at her, trying not to think about how cute she looked upside-down. “Wow, dude, you're built like a sequoia and a toothpick at the same time.”
He rolled his eyes and dropped her, pretending that the redness in his face was just from annoyance. Marianne staggered and grabbed the top of the cupboard to keep her balance, glaring at Bog with her darkly shadowed eyes. Freed from the confines of the cupboard he could see that she was even tinier than he thought, not even coming up to his shoulder. “And you're a wee fairy princess.” He patted her short brown hair, measuring her up against himself to emphasize the height difference.
“Okay, okay, enough sparring.” She reached up and put her hand on his shoulder, leaning in posed nonchalance against him, “Are we going to create some artwork or what? I've got two hours until my ride gets here and I bet I can get more done with those power tools than you can in that time frame.”
“Oh, game on, tough girl.”