Evening Off

"Any idea when they'll be back?"

Sam dropped herself onto the couch beside Truman, speaking over the creak of worn springs that tried very hard to drown her out. At some point, she really needed to remind Sandra to buy some new furniture. Or better yet, buy her some new furniture. The company boss was hard to shop for, and Sam had no qualms about giving her a boring present after all the years of half-written Christmas lists she'd been forced to work with.

Truman gave a small shrug in response. He was lounging lazily, staring at the TV with both arms slung over the back of the couch and his long legs stretched out in front of him. Sam shifted her gaze to the screen and had to resist the immediate urge to ask why he was so enthralled by The Great British Bake Off.

"Well," she said, "I guess we'll have to stay up all night in case they send us a text asking for help. Knowing them, they’re bound to get into trouble."

She grinned teasingly as she spoke. It wasn't entirely true; save for a few mishaps, Sandra and Lewis rarely got into trouble and were actually a very good team. It helped, of course, that they were the most experienced hunters in the company. It took a great deal of unexpected bullshit to catch them off-guard and put them in real danger.

Truman glanced away from the screen to look her over. His face was open and clear - relaxed. The faintest sparkle of humour danced behind his eyes. It was honestly unbelievable how much emotion he could convey with barely-perceptible gestures and expressions. An upward twitch of one eyebrow and a look of amusement followed Sam's words.

"What? Come on, they get into trouble sometimes," she said.

He raised his eyebrow a little more.

"How about that time we had to bail them out because the "small pack of vampires" they went to fight turned out to be a small army?"

He tilted his head back, meeting her gaze in a silent challenge.

"What about that time Lewis came back, carrying an unconscious Sandra in his arms? Or that time he tripped on a tree root and sprained his ankle chasing a vampire? All of these things, I might add, only happened in the last three years."

She watched him consider this for a moment. Then she shrugged and made a small motion towards her: handing her the win.

"I hoped you'd come around."

The cooking programme all but forgotten, Truman dug a hand into his pocket and withdrew the small notepad and pen he always kept stashed somewhere about his person. He flipped through it until he found a blank page, and then began to write. Sam watched - not to get a head start on what he was saying, but just to admire the dexterity of his hand, the way he spun words across the paper with the easy familiarity of someone who spent a great deal of time doing this, and how he was able to make his handwriting not only fast but perfectly legible. As someone cursed with eternal chicken scratch, Sam could only envy.

[Did you want to go?]

She made a small movement that was almost a shrug, but fell just short of being anything recognisable. It was just a movement, intended to convey the general sense of "whatever" that she felt in that moment.

"I would have liked to go out, but at the same time, I don't mind having a break. We did help them with the last mission. And my stake broke and gave me really bad splinters, do you remember?"

Truman snickered. It was a breath passing his lips, accompanied by a smirk that made it impossible to misinterpret the sound.

"Careful, Truman. I still remember that time you ran into a holly bush. You're not immune to doing stupid things too."

[That doesn't count. It was dark.]

"We had torches."

He pointed at his own chest, then made a quick cutting motion.

"Yes, yours was broken, but the rest of us had torches, and they were definitely giving off enough light for you to see the holly bush."

He flipped her off – making her laugh a bit – before deciding that a better use of his hand was to keep writing. And apparently, to change the subject. [Want to watch something?]

"I thought you were spellbound by The Great British Bake Off."

He briefly stuck the pen between his teeth, chewing on the tip. Then he seemed to mentally kick himself, perhaps recalling a distant memory of getting a mouthful of ink, and removed it. [Was bored,] he said.

Sam decided to let him off easy. "Alright, how about... Red Dwarf? We were halfway through Series 2, weren't we?"

Truman dipped his chin in a small nod and left Sam to the task of retrieving the correct DVD box from the pile next to the TV. Sandra hated that they'd developed a habit of leaving personal belongings scattered around the HQ, but when they all spent so much time here, it just seemed to make sense. Besides, the place was boring otherwise.

With the DVD in the player, Sam sprung backwards onto the couch and flopped against Truman's side. Everything was warm and comfortable, and she found herself thinking: All that's missing now is a nice glass of wine. But there was no booze in the HQ and she wasn't about to drive two miles to the nearest supermarket to find some.

Maybe another night.

With a smile, she stretched up to give him a kiss on the cheek, then settled back down to watch the screen as the familiar theme music swelled up to fill the room.

Her phone remained nearby, just in case Lewis and Sandra did run into trouble, but she didn't think about them much at all. All that mattered now was enjoying this quiet evening with her boyfriend, who seemed only too happy to return the sentiment. All that stood in their way was--

[Wrong disc.]

Sam groaned. "You can get up and change it."