Day 4: On a Date
Day 4: On a Date, or "The Long Ten Minutes"
"Take a break," she tells you, hovering in an undulating pattern just above and behind your head. Her hands thread between the layers in your hair. Gooseflesh pebbles your neck and shoulders as she kneads her way through it to scrub the rough of her finger pads into your scalp. But you have important work to do; you have a kingdom to run.
"My work is important, Marceline."
She chuckles, just once, and annoyance flares in your chest.
"It is," you insist, plunging an elbow backward. It connects with a jean-clad thigh; Marceline hisses and twists up and over your head. She hangs there, upside down and frowning. Her hair spills like ink over your desk, obscuring your paperwork in a shifting pool of night.
"It is," you revisit, but quieter this time and without the physical backup. After several moments, during which her frown only sets more firmly in the creased corners of her mouth, you look away and knot your