Moving Pictures


There was never a natural disaster when you needed one.

Roger Smith had spent the last five minutes praying for a flash flood. The previous five minutes had been spent praying for an earthquake. The five before, a hurricane.

"We must stop meeting like this," the woman in pink continued, her voice warm and oily. "How about meeting me in a restaurant instead of at a crime scene for once? Say, tonight?"

Roger Smith abandoned the natural disasters and prayed for a swift death.

"I would say we take a rain check," he began, running a hand through his dark hair, "but I really don't want to take a rain check."

The smile might never have been on her face at all, it disappeared so fast. "You really are a louse, Roger Smith. Why do I put up with it?"

"I don't know," the negotiator answered wearily. "I keep hoping you'll get tired of me." He didn't realize it was the truth until after he'd said it.

The fallen angel smiled silkily. "How could any woman get tired of you?"


Dorothy yawned.

Norman entered the room just in time to witness the spectacle; she tried to cover it with a hand, but it was like trying to cover a crater with a doily.

"I didn't think you could yawn," the negotiator said mildly, turning over another hourglass.

"Neither did I, until I saw you at those hourglasses for the fifth time," was her answer. "Do you ever do anything else?"

"This is my idea of a relaxing night."

"Then I suggest you get out more." The android wasn't looking at him and therefore missed the death glare aimed at her.

"I am afraid I agree with Miss Dorothy, sir," Norman said, a newspaper on a tray in his hands.

The death glare found a new target. "Why do you always take her side?"

"I am not taking her side. I think that you both could stand to get out of this mansion more often, Miss Dorothy included."

Dorothy, hoist with her own petard, looked up in alarm.

"You could both stand to get out," Norman continued. "It might do you some good. You are young."

"I am an android," Dorothy said. "Age is irrelevant."

"Are you suggesting I take her out?" Roger asked his butler incredulously, jerking a thumb in Dorothy's direction.

"A date, sir. When you would take a woman out? Do you remember?" the butler said gently.

Roger scowled. "I remember."

"A date?" Dorothy asked. "I do not want to go."

"And why not, Miss Dorothy?" the butler asked gently.

"It seems unpleasant. That horrid Angel woman is always trying to get Roger to go on one of those, and he recoils in horror from it."

Roger couldn't help but smile. He turned to the butler, who was also smiling. "What would you suggest, Norman?"


"What is it?" Dorothy asked in soft wonder.

"Have some. It won't kill you." He rattled the bag. "It's good."

"Why does it glisten so?" She peered into the bag, squinting.

"It has butter and salt on it. Try it."

She did. "It tastes like salty butter."

Roger sighed.

"Look, Roger Smith, if this popcorn stuff is so good, why aren't you eating any of it?" Dorothy asked, rather hotly.

He opened his mouth to retort, but was silenced by a sharp "Shhhhh!" from behind them.


"That is impossible!" Dorothy said, her monotone holding a note of disgust.

"Dorothy, it's just a movie. It doesn't have to be realistic."

"But no woman has breasts that size! They do not even move when she runs! How are we sup-"

"Shhhhh!" someone hissed.


The popcorn had been incredibly salty; Roger deigned to miss a couple of scintillating fight scenes to buy sodas.

He walked back into the darkened theater and sat down. He was greeted by a passionate kiss and a husky "What kept you?"

"You're certainly affectionate all of a sudden," he said in surprise, a little breathless from the kiss.

"Roger," Dorothy said from three rows behind, "I'm back here."

"Shhhh!" two people hissed.


"I miss you, Daddy!"

"I am always with you," the old man responded.

It was the film's only tender yet disgustingly chintzy scene. Roger yawned, stretching his arms above his head. One moved to curl around Dorothy's shoulder.

"Don't even think it," the android warned.

Roger took back his arm. "Sorry. Force of habit."

"Shhhhh!" the whole row hissed.


"So that was a date," Dorothy said as the Griffin moved smoothly down the avenues. "It was my first."

Roger was amused. "What did you think?"

"They are overrated," she said.

Roger chuckled softly as he parked the car. "You can pick the movie next time. Besides, don't be so quick to write off the dating experience; we haven't gotten to the best part yet."

"Which is?" Dorothy asked, getting out of the car and moving to stand beside him.

"The good night kiss," Roger said with smiling eyes, drawing her close and tilting her chin up with one hand. The android had no time to react before he claimed her lips in an almost chaste kiss, just the warmth of his mouth against hers.

"Roger...what?" Dorothy asked softly when he broke the contact, still holding her. Her eyes were like the darkest hour before the dawn.

He smiled and drew a finger across her lips.



I saw "Tomb Raider" the other day. It was poorly written, ill-conceived, and degrading to women. The perfect summer flick. I laughed so hard I cried. And then I laughed at that.

Please review (the fic not the movie).

Thanks! *smile*