Mr. Write [COMPLETED]

Chapter 12 - "My presence has entered the dwelling!"

"Well, that's that," Elliot said.

She sat on the couch in the office. Beck sat across from her, the coffee table between them littered with index cards. The clock was inching its way from late afternoon into evening. Beck leaned back and nodded.

"Yes, it is," he said.

"I'm surprised it took us so long to get here," Elliot said.

"Are you?" he asked.

"I mean, I knew it was coming, but still."

"Now it's here."

"Yup, the truth is clear."

"It is indeed."

"We should both quit being writers and find another careers."

"Naturally," Beck said, his expression hinting at amusement.

"You will become a psychologist. I will grow a beard, buy a monkey and play the barrel organ on the sidewalk."

"That doesn't seem plausible."

Elliot raised her eyebrows.

"Why? Because I can't play the barrel organ?"

"Because monkeys are difficult to buy."

Elliot sank back into the couch, frowning.

"True," she said. "Well, is seems like I should stick it out for a while long."

Beck stood and picked up his satchel.

"That's the spirit," he said, his voice mocking.

Elliot leaned over the table and started organizing and stacking the index cards.

"At least Weston and Tess are on friendly terms now. It's just pushing them onward that will be the difficulty."

"We can manage it," Beck said. "Or die."

Elliot looked up at him.

"I like where your head's at."

She stood, holding the cards and moved to the desk, while Beck took the cold coffee cups to the sink. She deposited the cards onto the desk and turned to Beck.

"So..."

Beck slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"This should be interesting," he said.

"What makes you say that?"

"Is anything you say not interesting?"

"I don't know. I haven't had the pleasure of hearing myself talk in my sleep." Elliot crossed her arms. "Besides what makes you think I have something to say other than toodaloo?"

Beck pointed to her face.

"Because you have one of the most readable faces I have ever seen."

Elliot let out an annoyed huff and tossed her hands up.

"I know. It's one of the reasons I didn't become a spy. That and the fact that I have an aversion to bugs, real or the electronic kind."

Beck smiled, the expression softening his usually passive features.

"Was there something you wanted to say, or as usual were you amusing yourself by talking?"

"I do not amuse myself by talking."

Beck raised a skeptical eyebrow. Elliot frowned and crossed her arms, making Beck smirk.

"My mother has invited you to dinner," Elliot said.