“Yes, Sir Guy?”
He peered over the notebook computer open on Lady Writer’s lap, his beautiful hands clasped behind his broad back as he tried to see the screen. In spite of the numerous thunderstorms and torrential rains of the afternoon pushing the humidity right up there, his raven locks were as smooth and silky as ever. How did he do it?
“How are you, dear LW?”
She looked up from the screen into those azure eyes, rimmed in the midnight blue kohn pencil from Sephora she had given him as a gift–gosh, she never, ever tired of looking into those spectacular peepers!–and gave him a wry smile.
Sir Guy folded his arms and nodded. “I would think it is much more pleasant to eat this cereal than to feel the–erm–sound effects?”
His eyes brightened as his lips curved into a delighted smile at the thought of food. LW’s heart gave a little flip-flop. She never tired of Sir Guy’s sweet, disarming smiles. Now that he was SND, he didn’t go around with a face like thunder nearly as often.
He just ate her out of house and home and bickered with Porter, but even those two managed to bury the hatchet (and not in each other’s skulls) more often than not.
Sir Guy was still waxing rhapsodic about noisy breakfast food.
“I really like the Cocoa Krispies. With sliced banana. My Creator is very fond of choccie and bananas, you know.” He paused, gave a wistful little sigh, and tossed back an errant lock of raven hair. “It’s a little early for our next repast, I suppose?”
Lady Writer bit her lip to refrain from chuckling. Sir Guy was a little sensitive about his extraordinary appetite. He could be touchy at times, which is why she had given him the magic sword that only worked when she said so. After all, when you are the queen of your fanfic universe, you can do such things.
” Oh, an hour and a half, or so. There’s a bag of Gala apples in the crisper drawer of the refrigerator if you need something to tide you over, Sir Guy.”
He gave her a courtly little bow but did not seem in a hurry to exit. Arms still folded, Sir Guy cleared his throat and glanced down at his boots.
“Might I ask–am I still the most popular ChaRActer on your blog?” In spite of his studied nonchalance, the Dark Knight clearly was hoping to hear good news. It showed so clearly in those ever-expressive eyes as they met Lady Writer’s.
Lady Writer smiled up at him.
“Sir Guy, I think the ladies live for Guyday Friday. You are very much loved at The Armitage Effect. As are, of course, the other lads. And the Creator himself, of course.”
“Oh, of course, I know the others have their devoted admirers, too,” he replied graciously. Still, Sir Guy was unable to keep a rather smug little smirk from crossing his face. Really, he wouldn’t be Sir Guy without one of those trademark smirks every now and again.
He turned on his booted heel to stride out the door, then paused.
“Is there anything else, Sir Guy?”
“Y-e-e-s . . . am I also still the most common ChaRActer featured in your new fanart?” He rumbled.
“Closing in on 250, Sir Guy. No one else really comes close . . .”
A naughty gleam appeared in those smoky eyes as he gave her a lop-sided grin. “Oh, that I know very well . . .”
He was rather incorrigible. And very much loved.
And not exactly hard on the eyes . . .