WHEN TIME FRACTURES || HOPE MIKAELSON x RYAN CLARKE

Chapter Eight

The next afternoon found Hope and MG in her hotel room, going over books and books of Greek and Roman lore, which had all been acquired the previous night, curtesy of Triad Industries.

''This is why we have movies in the future.'' MG groaned, and snapped his book shut as he leaned back in his seat.

''Well, we don't have them right now. So focus.'' Hope answered over her own book, a heavy tome that seemed to have fought -and lost- a few wars already. ''We have to get this done today.''

MG couldn't help but study her for a long moment as she flipped through the yellowed pages.
''The faster we're through, the sooner we'll be home, right?'' he asked, watching -gauging- her reaction with narrowed eyes.

She nodded, her eyes never straying from the book as she turned another page. She read carefully over the title, sighing in exhaustion. They'd been doing research for what felt like hours and yet, all they'd found were dead ends.

''So, um, it's very nice of Triad to give us all this stuff. Nothing like the Triad I know.'' he continued, his own research long forgotten.

Her eyes roamed the page as he heard her distant, but undeniably tired hum. ''I guess when Ryan started it, he had decent plans.''

''Ryan?''

''It's... Clarke's name.''

''Mmh.'' MG nodded, seemingly in deep thoughts, but Hope didn't miss the way his eyebrows snapped together.

She sighed and looked down again, catching a glimpse of a monster she'd never have thought existed. But it wasn't anything relevant, and as much as the prospect of learning more about house-elves would thrill MG, she dismissed it and turned another page.

She could tell that what he had to say had nothing to do with elves though, but when he opened his mouth, he was interrupted by a knock on the door.

''Delivery for... Hope Marshall?'' the innkeeper looked between the two and the grimoires scattered around the room, but his freshly compelled subconscious couldn't think of anything even remotely wrong with the picture.

''That would be me.'' Hope rose from her seat and grabbed the package in his hand.

He gave it with a smile and walked out the same way he came, shaking his head and mumbling to himself.

Hope tore open the packaging and observed the tattered book that lay inside.
This one seemed a lot heavier than all the others and MG could tell that it was significantly older too. Even Tamara Claire's book wasn't so lengthy.

Hope harbored a small grin as she sat back on her bed, apparently more eager than MG about the new load of work.

He cast another narrowed look at her but before he could ask what there was about their situation that she found so funny, a note slipped from the cover and Hope snickered quietly as she read it. In fact, it was so close to a giggle that he squinted even harder, until his forehead hurt.

Since when did Hope Andrea Mikaelson... he couldn't even think the word, ew.

He sighed deeply and rolled his eyes -he didn't need to read the note to know who it was from.

Hope began flipping through the new book with eagerness, the previous tome that she'd spent all afternoon on now laying forgotten on her bed.

''Let me guess, Clarke hopes that book will help with our research.'' he didn't even want to think about the contents of the note too much.
But was it the mud man's idea of flirting? Because if so, he had a lot to learn from MG.