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mtxref_ficAuthor's Note: Written for Princess Tutu, Duck & Fakir, "I can't argue when you look like that!"
"But you *promised* you'd read to me," Ahiru begged, her big blue eyes pleading. No matter what form she took, her eyes stayed the same: blue and clear and innocent.
Fakir sighed patiently. "I'd love to, but I can't read to you, not right now," he replied. "I have a written assignment to complete first, otherwise I'm going to flunk my literature class."
"But you can *write* literature that's better than some of those dusty old authors," Ahiru said, frowning, just on the border of pouting, her eyes still pleading. "You make stories become *real*."
"Yes, I can, but a writer has to find inspiration, and good reading helps improve good writing," Fakir replied.
"Awww, but you've never broken a promise that you made to me before," Ahiru said, the frown deepening.
"Ahiru, please, don't give me that little frown of yours," Fakir begged, rubbing his forehead with one hand, trying to give himself a moment away from that pleading look.
"Why not? You're making me frown 'cause you're being hard on me," Ahiru groused.
"I can't argue when you look like that! You could melt a heart of stone with that little pout," Fakir replied. "All right, I'll read to you. There's some poems I have to write an essay about, maybe you'll like them."
"I'd rather hear a story, but poems are okay," she said, starting to lose the frown. "You make them sound nice, when you read them. You don't sing-song them, like some people do. You make them sound like pictures."
"But you *promised* you'd read to me," Ahiru begged, her big blue eyes pleading. No matter what form she took, her eyes stayed the same: blue and clear and innocent.
Fakir sighed patiently. "I'd love to, but I can't read to you, not right now," he replied. "I have a written assignment to complete first, otherwise I'm going to flunk my literature class."
"But you can *write* literature that's better than some of those dusty old authors," Ahiru said, frowning, just on the border of pouting, her eyes still pleading. "You make stories become *real*."
"Yes, I can, but a writer has to find inspiration, and good reading helps improve good writing," Fakir replied.
"Awww, but you've never broken a promise that you made to me before," Ahiru said, the frown deepening.
"Ahiru, please, don't give me that little frown of yours," Fakir begged, rubbing his forehead with one hand, trying to give himself a moment away from that pleading look.
"Why not? You're making me frown 'cause you're being hard on me," Ahiru groused.
"I can't argue when you look like that! You could melt a heart of stone with that little pout," Fakir replied. "All right, I'll read to you. There's some poems I have to write an essay about, maybe you'll like them."
"I'd rather hear a story, but poems are okay," she said, starting to lose the frown. "You make them sound nice, when you read them. You don't sing-song them, like some people do. You make them sound like pictures."
