The Hyperion, Tuesday Afternoon

[demonbelthazor]

Bel still hadn't really talked to Anders since the whole turning into his alternate universe self. How they managed to not see each other while living in the same room and even sharing a bed was anybody's guess. But Bel was tired of the silence between them, so now he was laying in wait to corner Anders so they could finally talk.

[For the

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[cantgetnorelief]

Look, you try paying attention to what's going on around you when you live with the perpetual Bob Dylan earworm. In between the Olympics, the NCAA basketball tournaments, and the excitement of spring training, Anders had been a sadly preoccupied jock of late. (It was, he thought, a preferable alternative to brooding over the whole thing, or at least a welcome distraction.) Today, he happened to be a preoccupied jock whose class for the day had been cancelled, leaving him at loose ends for the next couple of hours.

And, conveniently, walking riiiiiiiiight by Bel.

[demonbelthazor]

Who ever so casually stuck out a leg to trip Anders. That was one way of getting his attention.

[cantgetnorelief]

"Frakking ow," he said eloquently, rolling onto his back and looking up at Bel with a slightly put-out expression. "What was that for?"

(Memo on metaphorical octagonal paper to one Samuel T. Anders: just because this is your own special way of brooding doesn't mean you haven't been.)

[demonbelthazor]

"Figured it would get your attention," Bel said. "Not my fault you weren't looking where you were going."