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Post by Emma Lawrence on Jul 6, 2009 19:31:27 GMT -5
After continuous knocking on her bedroom door with no answer, he walked into the room to find a note on her bed...
Dear Cian, I'm going out to run an errand for Colette--delivering a massive pile of crap to Dean. Should be back soon. Ollie's with Amarie. Love, Em PS- Sometimes you smell funny. (Just kidding!)
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Post by Cian Lawrence on Jul 6, 2009 20:07:09 GMT -5
He was unable to keep his laughter in, shaking his head. Before leaving, though, he scribbles a response. 7/7/12 Emma- I'll stop by again a little after noon, then. Love you. -Cian PS-You're the one delivering a massive pile of crap. That sounds rather smelly to me.
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Post by Emma Lawrence on Jul 6, 2009 20:10:30 GMT -5
She came home that afternoon to find her note written on, underneath her own. For good measure, she wrote one back, and walked to his house, stuck it on his door, and left.
7/7/12 Cian, Well, I can see you did came anyway, and I'm going to pick up Oliver. Em PS- If we're going to play the Literal Game, let me take the time to say that I hate the Literal Game. But you made me smile, so it's okay. PPS- If I ever delivered actual crap to Dean, he would banish me from his life. And, frankly, I wouldn't enjoy that, so.
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Post by Cian Lawrence on Jul 6, 2009 20:24:01 GMT -5
Leaving to go back to Emma's, Cian found the note taped to his door. He chuckled before scrawling a reply. During his visit, he snuck off to the bathroom and stuck it to the mirror, not before adding a post script.
7/7/12 Emma- Well, I'm happy I could at least make you smile, love. Even if it was with the "Literal Game." And I'm not so sure about that banishment. How don't we know that our friend Dean isn't a fecalphiliac? -Cian PS- Sidestepping the rather disgusting turn this note took, you look most beautiful when you're cross with me, standing with hands on hips and a bit of hair in your face as you just were a second ago.
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Post by Emma Lawrence on Jul 6, 2009 20:30:44 GMT -5
As she was getting ready for bed that night after tucking Oliver in, she saw a note tapped to her mirror. The next morning, when he came over for breakfast, she snuck to the doorway and slipped a note into his bag.
Cian, The smile was very appreciated after the day I had. I hadn't thought of Dean that way, but from the way he looked when I was puking in front of him a few years ago, I can tell he doesn't take kindly to seeing bodily discards. Love, Em PS- You make me blush. And I'll get you back for it. (;
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Post by Cian Lawrence on Jul 7, 2009 14:20:47 GMT -5
Settling onto his couch after a long day spent primarily chasing after Oliver, Cian let out a slow breath. Reaching into his pack, he withdrew his journal, only to have a sheaf of paper drift out as well. Curiously, he picked it up, a smile finding his face as he reads. Ripping out a page from the leatherbound jotter, he makes his reply and hides it in the top drawer of Emma's dresser the next afternoon.
7/13/12 Emma, Terribly sorry your day had been bad but I am happy that I could make it better, even in the slightest. Y'know, I think poor Dean has seen us in quite enough compromising positions, wou'dn't you say? Love you loads, Cian PS-You've an unfair advantage, though. As already stated, it's far, far easier to make an Irishman blush.
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Post by Emma Lawrence on Jul 7, 2009 14:25:48 GMT -5
Of course, Oliver had made a mess with his yogurt that day, so as she went to her dresser to get a new outfit for the boy, she saw a note that did not bear her handwriting on it. Picking it up, she read it. Writing back her own, she put it in the fedora Cian had left in her bedroom the day before.
7/14/12 Cian, I agree on that note about Dean. Poor guy. That's what he gets for being so lovable...and hanging around with me. We all know I'm trouble. (; Love you more, Em PS- I resent that. I'm very pale.
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Post by Cian Lawrence on Jul 7, 2009 14:44:48 GMT -5
He was getting used to just walking into her room. She was out again and he had left his fedora the other day. Tipping the hat onto his head, he felt something stiff inside. Quizzical face, he tipped the hat off only to find a note inside. Reading it, he chuckled and dashed off a quick response, hidden the folded paper in a pair of her favorite flats.
7/15/12 Emma- You never mess with the fedora, love. Haven't you seen any old gangster films to know this? As for Dean, I agree entirely. In fact, you and Harm ought to be careful. If you're not, Dean and I might just toss the both of you and run off together. I'll have to run that by the bloke; worth looking into. Kidding, Emma. You're the only one for me; trouble and all. No, I love you more- Cian PS- You may be pale, lass, but you're not of Irish blood. takes "pale" to a whole new level. Looks like vampires've been feeding on the entire nationality or something.
[[heehee, Kitty made a Trueblood joke!]]
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Post by Emma Lawrence on Jul 7, 2009 14:50:52 GMT -5
With Oliver by her side, about to go out for a day in the park, Emma went to go slip on a pair of flats. Sticking her one foot in, she felt something unusual inside. With furrowed brows, she picked up her foot and looked into the shoe--a note. Of course. Smirking, she read it, and quickly scribbled a reply. Stopping by Cian's house first, she slipped it under his door before going to the park with Ollie.
7/16/12 Cian, I saw part of The Godfather once. I don't really know if that qualifies, though. But I like to think I have more than a few rights to that hat--I wear it enough. That's all right. Harmony and I get the kids, though. I should hope so, Cian darling. And the same goes for me. Want to bet?, Em PS- You have a point. But I still have to make you blush--it's only fair.
((Riley has never seen Trueblood, so she has no idea what you're talking about.))
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Post by Cian Lawrence on Jul 7, 2009 15:03:43 GMT -5
Cian rolled out of bed late that morning. Pulling a shirt on, he stumbled to the front door to go outside and get a paper. He found himself slipping at the threshold; the culprit: a slip of paper. Rubbing his eyes, he read it and shook his head. After retrieving his paper, he tore the crossword section out and wrote his reply in the open boxes. How was that for creative?
7/16/12 I'd like you to know, Emma, that I nearly killed myself slipping on your note this morning. Never fear, though, I am all right. You wear it only because I allow you to wear it. That hat is mine. I am like God in this case: I can giveth and I can taketh away. Not that I'm one to quote Scripture at anyone. Well, I suppose you can claim Oliver, as he is rightly and legally yours. But I predict Dean putting up a fight over Logan. Lovelier words have never been spoken; written, as it were. I'd love to, ante up- Cian PS- You make me blush nine days out of ten, Emma. But just once I'll give you ten out of ten.
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Post by Emma Lawrence on Jul 7, 2009 15:18:19 GMT -5
His notes were becoming elaborate. Since Oliver wanted cereal the next morning, Emma had out two bowls for them, and the box, of course. For some reason, Oliver liked to eat his cereal without milk. He claimed he liked to use his fingers. Pouring Oliver's, and then her own, she stared into her bowl until she heard Oliver make a noise. "Mommy," he said, sticking out his tongue, "mah seeral tastes ucky." Looking into his bowl, she saw a piece of paper with the corner torn off. Plucking it from his food, she smiled when she saw him take a corner of newspaper out of his mouth. While they were visiting Cain that day, she snuck into his bedroom and planted her response in an empty Coor's Lite bottle on his nightstand.
7/17/12 Cian, I'd like to let you know that Oliver nearly killed himself trying to eat the ingenius note you left me in the cereal. But don't worry, he's fine too. He just won't eat cereal anymore. I'm glad you're okay--I figured you'd see the note before your foot made contact. Sleepy? Oh, I see. Well, if you want to see yourself as God, know that I went to church for sixteen years of my life, so let me quote some for you: "Give and you shall receive." Share the hat, and I share my bed. Actually, you can keep the hat; I just want you. This is true. Dean wouldn't be so good with giving him up, but, I'm sure with a little persuasion from Harmony he'd be willing. As a matter of fact, I felt horrible after I wrote those words--not because of what they said, but because that yours gave me so much of that fuzzy feeling that I couldn't write my response properly. My mind was kind of...flustered. I get butterflies easily. So I'm sorry for the badly phrased lovey-response. I love you way more than I can write. You're worth more money that I have right now (the station pays me peanuts), Em PS- That's good to know, I guess. And to even it up, you give me butterflies. PPS- You drink beer before you go to bed?
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Post by Cian Lawrence on Jul 7, 2009 17:57:13 GMT -5
If Cian had bothered to clean more often, he would have found her response sooner. As it was, it took him more than a week to finally dispose of the empty beer bottle. Luckily, he noticed the correspondence rolled up inside first. Chuckling, he finally was able to fish it out. It was waterspotted, but still legible. He wrote his response on the back and kept it in his pocket. When he was over Emma's the next day, he weaved it between the teeth of a comb in her medicine cabinet.
7/20/12 Emmanuelle Sophie Maier, Terribly sorry about Oliver. Apologize to the lad for me, will you? Yeah, every month or so my fortitude wears off and I have to sleep. Inconvinient that it happened to be that night. Promise, promises, Emma. I'll keep the hat and give you me gladly. However, I demand not just your bed in return but you. Preferably, in the bed. Preferably, without clothing. Can this barter be arranged? That is true: Harmony could get that boy to do just about anything, I reckon. Poor, poor boy. Can't actually pity him, though, since I believe I'm in the same state with you. I have to admit, I love giving you butterflies. Probably because you more than return the favor. Only not butterflies. Something more manly... Moths, perhaps? You're worth more than a bushel of peanuts, Cian Doyle Lawrence PS- I'm Irish, love. I drink before I breath.
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Post by Emma Lawrence on Jul 7, 2009 18:11:00 GMT -5
No matter how strange it seemed, Emma liked to comb her hair at night before bed, so she didn't feel like a total and complete wreck when she woke up the next morning. After putting Oliver to bed, she reached inside the medicine cabinet and pulled out a comb that seemed to be toyed with. Taking off the piece of paper, she first saw her own writing and spots of beer on the paper. Flipping it over, she noticed his note. Her reply was placed the next day between the sides of his cell phone.
7/21/12 Cian Doyle Lawrence, He completely forgives you. I'm just glad he didn't choke. That's all right. It's a good thing you didn't hurt yourself. I'm positive that that can be arranged. As a matter of fact, I'm free just about every night this week. August works for me, too. Probably all of August. I don't like to think of your relationship with me as manipulative, but if you say so, all right. I'll try to tone it down? You love giving me butterflies? But then I get beet red and all giggly and awkward. And moths are not manly. (Neither is Coors Lite, by the way.) Clearly I need a bigger salary, Emmanuelle Sophie Maier Lawrence PS- Sounds like a good life to me.
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Post by Cian Lawrence on Jul 7, 2009 18:22:22 GMT -5
Figuring he had a better chance of finding Emma home if he rang over first, Cian reached for his cell phone. He found Emma's latest note there. Grinning, he read it through before writing his response out. After calling and confirming that Emma was home, he went and spent a lovely evening with her. And succeeded in hiding his response on the keyboard of her closed laptop.
7/22/12 To the soon-to-be Mrs. Lawrence, I'm glad of that as well. Also that I didn't hurt myself. Funnily enough, I happen to be free just about every night until, well, forever actually. With a few taken up here and there when I'm sure Dean will commandeer me for a beer out, just us blokes. How does that work for you? Just about every night of eternity? You can manipulate me anytime you'd like, Emma love. I don't mind in the slightest. Excuse me for attempting to maintain my figure. All right, actually, I bought the back by mistake. Reached for Coors, got Coors Lite. Either way, you know I'm far more a Hennessey man. Don't we all love; welcome to New York City, Keenie PS- Oh it really is. I suggest you take the habit up. No, strike that. I don't fancy the idea of you drunk every night...
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Post by Emma Lawrence on Jul 7, 2009 18:32:52 GMT -5
It had been a great night, except for the lack of naked-ness. She had kind of been hoping for a little something, at least, but Oliver had decided to take a nap earlier that day, so he didn't go to sleep until after Cian had left. The next day, she remembered she had to write up something for her boss, so to make life easier and a little more legible, she opened up her laptop to type it. A slip of paper laid carefully on the keyboard. Picking it up, she read the note from Cian, and quickly wrote one back. When he came over that night again, she taped it to the inside of the shirt he'd taken off. That night, she got a little something.
7/23/12 Cian, Love, if I was able to have you in bed every night for the rest of eternity, I'd be the happiest woman in the universe. Sadly, I happen to have a three year old son who likes to have one millionth of my unfortunate childhood experience of having nightmares. But when he does sleep, I'd be happy to be with you. Okay, Cian. You grabbed the wrong one. Though, it has been working for you. Maybe I could try one sometime. I've lived here all my life and never knew how hard a job could be (go figure), (You're adorable for putting Ollie's nickname for you) Emmy PS- I have no desire to be drunk, trust me. Never have, never will.
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Post by Cian Lawrence on Jul 7, 2009 18:47:24 GMT -5
The next morning, Cian desperately wanted to stay in bed with Emma until sometime past noon. Alas, he had work to get out and do so with a grimace, he got out of bed and back into his clothes. Pulling the shirt over his head, he heard something crinkle. Reaching down his back, he exstricated a note. Chuckling at her unique hiding place, he quickly read the note and wrote a reply. Smirking like a schoolboy, he folded the note and stuck it in one of the straps of her discarded bra.
7/24/12 Emma love, Ah, the dashed dreams of an insatiable Irishman. Only joking, darling. You're lucky I love the damn lad so much (possibly more than you. Only kidding again, love). Well, then I guess we can schedule (and yes you may imagine me pronouncing that word the Irish way that you love so much) our love-making around Dean and your son. Thank you? I suppose? Haha. Emma love, as if you need the help. I suggest you stick with wine and champagne. Beer is a drink used only for washing down shots or getting slowly and wonderfully drunk. Try getting one in Vegas. If your not a cop porn artist, or stripper, that is. (I'm not just adorable for being me?) Cian PS- Good lass. It's a terrible experience.
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Post by Emma Lawrence on Jul 7, 2009 18:59:27 GMT -5
However tired she was, she knew that her boss would fire her in a second if she didn't come in. And the nagging recollection that Oliver would be at a loss if she didn't make money also hoisted her out of bed. By this time, Cian had gone. No note, or anything? Not even saying goodbye? she thought before she saw something attached to her bra. She smiled, and reached down to read it. At work that day, she wrote him a response, and later that night when they had dinner, she stuck it on the toothpick in his pannini.
7/25/12 Cian love, I'm actually very surprised that you were brave enough to touch my bra. I would've told you I planned to wear that one especially for you if I knew you weren't digusted by them. (; You have no idea how many times I pictured you saying "schedule" the way I like it. And I really don't think there's a need to schedule around them. Day, night, I'm good with any time. Oh, all right. As if having a kid didn't pack on at least a few extra pounds. Wine and champagne sounds just fine, too. Vegas; also not a place I'm keen on visiting any time, really. (You're adorable all the time for just being you. I was being specific.) Love, Em PS- I can imagine. Also, next time, mind telling me you're leaving so I don't freak out when I wake up and you're not there, please?
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Post by Cian Lawrence on Jul 7, 2009 19:11:06 GMT -5
Clearing the dishes later, after their wonderful dinner, Cian saw something else on his plate. Speared through the toothpick was a note. He read it eagerly --wincing only slightly once he got to the PS-- and wrote a reply. When he went to the park with Emma and Oliver the next day, he handing the note off to Oliver. In the little boys ear, he whispered, "Give this note to your mum just before bed, all right?" The boy nodded happily.
7/26/12 Emmanuelle, Let me start out on a serious note by syaing that I am sincerely sorry that I didn't let you know I was leaving. I got wrapped up in the note to be honest and then was rushing off to work. All my apologies, love; won't happen again. Listen here, miss, nothing about the female body disgusts me; well nothing about your female body disgusts me. However, that does not open a forum on tampons and bloating. I'd like to keep what little testosterone I have left. I'll be sure to say it more often then, whisper it in your ear in bed, maybe? And I'll keep your flexibility (pun completely intended) in mind. You're beautiful in each and every way, Emma love. You know that. Once you live there it's not so bad; becomes home. But no, it's a terrible place for a visit. (Thank you, love. You're more than adorable.) Yours Always, Cian
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Post by Emma Lawrence on Jul 7, 2009 19:25:06 GMT -5
Putting Oliver to bed, she neatly laid the covers up to his chest. His hand sprang up from underneath the sheets and stuck something out at her, something white. "Did you draw me a picture, Ollie?" she asked excitedly, taking the paper and starting to unfold it. He shook his head. "No. Dat from Keenie." Kissing him goodnight, she turned off the light and went into her own room to read the note on her bed. Smiling to herself, she wrote a response. The following night, she and Oliver went to the karaoke bar to watch Cian perform. Before he got up there, she knitted her note between the strings of his guitar.
7/27/12 Cian, That's all right. I totally understand. Just felt my heart skip a beat or two, you know? It's really okay. Don't worry, I'll remember to not talk about that stuff in front of you. Even though that would be a good opportunity to make you blush. (Just kidding! That'd be mean.) Still, I know some men are taken aback by the sight of lingerie. Thank you for not being one of those men. Well, you tell me, but I'm not sure I fully know quite yet. And Cian, you're more than beautiful to me. Glad that you're always mine and wants you to know you're the same to me, Emmy
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Post by Cian Lawrence on Jul 7, 2009 19:40:44 GMT -5
Strumming a few pratice notes, Cian heard something off. Opening his eyes, he looked down at the guitar only to find a piece of paper in the strings. Chuckling under his breath, he stuck the note in his pocket and went off to perform. Later that night, while Emma was sleeping next to him and Oliver was safe in his own bed, Cian was suffering from insomnia. He wrote a reply and tucked it in the back pocket of her jeans, neatly-folded for the next day.
7/27/12 -- 7/28/12 Emma, Long as you're sure, love. No, no. Lingerie does not startle me in the slightest. In fact, I rather enjoy the sight of it. Your lingerie, at least. Keep the bras and panties coming, love. =) Oh, Emma. If you're not sure of that, then you're more than daft, woman. You beautiful beyond compare. And thank you, love. Happily going back to sleep beside you, Cian
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