Stats: Written: 2/19/18; Prompt: The Modern Typewriter; Time: 30 min. max – 28.4 min.

Prompt: With the fight done, the lackey turned to look at the villain instinctively for approval. The villain sauntered closer, hands in pockets, a tiger’s prowl. It made the lackey’s breath go quick and shallow. The villain paused close by, only returning the look then. One hand retreated from the pocket and up to the lackey’s lips, smudging away a speck of blood. “Got something there.” The villain, despite the carnage, was pristine. “Good job. Do try and keep the blood off my carpet next time though, hm?”

With the fight done, the teenager turned to look at the older man instinctively for approval. His teacher sauntered closer, hands in pockets’. A tiger’s prowl. It made the boy’s breath go quick and shallow. A tingle ran up his spine, warning him of death approaching. He did his best to ignore it.

The man paused close by, only returning the look then. One hand retreated from the pocket and up to the boy’s lips, smudging away a speck of blood.

“Got something there.” The teacher, despite the carnage, was pristine. “Good job. Do try and keep the blood off my carpet next time though, hm?”

A thrilling rush went up the teen’s spine and lifted the weight from his stomach. It had only been a few months since his huge fuck up, but the praise made him feel like he was on the right track.

Stepping back, he looked at the mercenaries sprawled around the room. Blood seeped from them, still spreading around and coating everything it touched.

A few moments later, a team came busting inside. The cleaning crew.

The pair watched silently as they worked on erasing the incident from existence. They shampooed the carpet, mopped the floor, touched up the paint and baseboards. Nothing escaped their tirade.

“Alright, since this is done,” he clapped his hands, watching the crew – several hours later – close the door behind them. “Go get a shower and off to bed with you. We still have to go to work in the morning.” He patted his student on the back before taking off back up the stairs.

Around two o’clock that next day, the teen came bustling in his office, a blush beginning to race up his neck and to his cheeks. His boss and mentor only raised an amused brow.

“How do you talk with women?” His boss merely laughed at the question, coming to stand in front of his embarrassed student.

“ Who's the lucky girl?” He followed as the young man nervously opened the door to show him.

A cute, brunette intern rolled a small cart around the cubicles, passing out the daily mail. She would eventually make her way to both their offices.

“I think she thinks I don’t like her…” The man snorted, moving his young apprentice back and shut the door.

“Do you even know her name?”

“Of course!” At his defensiveness, the older man laughed.

“I thought blondes were more your type?” He couldn’t resist teasing him.

His young field operative said nothing but crossed his arms in pouty anger, staving off his blush as long as he could.

“Alright, alright. Why don’t you just go talk to her? Compliment her or something? Don’t brood either like you usually do.” He managed to contain his laughter until after his student left.

The man took a deep breath, letting his mirth dissipate. He played with his golden cufflinks, smiling before he shook his head and resumed working.

---

“How do I talk to her?” One month later and once more he was back, a rage in his eye and color on his cheeks.

“Again? May I remind you, your types blonde?” At the tease, the fifteen-year-old nearly walked out, but calming himself, he took a seat in front of his mentor.

“One, she is naturally blonde but as she got older, it started to become darker and because she didn’t like the color, she dyed it. Two, she’s mad at me and I don’t know why. I think I said something insensitive on our last date…” His voice faded off, his blush returning in a hot wave at the smirk his mentor suddenly adorned.

Turning serious, his boss leaned forward, “talk. To. Her. You’ve never dated before, hell if you know the game. Ask and be honest.” The teen blinked at the seriousness. “Now, stop coming in here and distracting me. I didn’t give you your own office space to not do work.”

With that, the young man bolted out of the room like a jackrabbit. No need to piss off his boss anymore. He did live under his roof after all.

He was later seen by the break room, talking to his love interest. She kissed him before leaving to finish her work. When he caught sight of his mentor just down the hall, his indifferent mask dropped into a dazzling smile, before returning as he too headed back to work.