Indyologist
05-27-2005, 09:19 PM
**Rated PG-13 for some mild profanity and references to sex**
Background: Upon returning to the United States, Marion Ravenwood opens her own nightclub (see the Marvel comics series for details) and Indy insured Marion's business-- behind her back. She, somehow, gets wind of this and Indy is in big trouble...
Marion whirled around to Indy and Marcus involuntarily winced a Marion’s voice upped a notch. Winston stood nearby, grinning. He knew Indy was in for it.
“Oh...so you think you know better than me, Indy?” she began.
“No better than anyone else would,” Indy quipped, smirking.
“What right to you have butting in on my affairs?”
Indy stepped back and spread his hands, a look of disbelief on his face.
“Look, I just didn’t want you see you get had, that’s all. It’s your first business-type venture back in the US and I just wanted to help, so back off!” he said.
Marion walked up close to him.
“Indiana Jones, mind your own damn business,” she said, poking his chest on the last three words. Indy’s face was hardening in anger, and began to form a comeback. He gazed at Marion’s face and suddenly his words froze in his throat and he softened. He grabbed her hand.
“My God… you’re beautiful when you’re angry.”
Marion’s mouth opened slightly and she stuttered, trying to maintain her anger even as her heart melted away.
“Ohhhh, damn you, Indy!” She flicked her eyes over his face, searching for insincerity, but there was none. There never was. Indy nestled the side of her face in the strong, warm palm of his hand. The gazed in each other’s eyes and suddenly they clutched a each other and thrust into a series of long, desperate kisses.
Marcus cleared his throat and glanced at Winston out of the corner of his eyes. His mouth had come unhinged somehow.
“Well, we’ll speak to you later, Indy,” Marcus said, and forcibly steered Winston from the room. He softly closed the door to Indy’s office behind him and turned to Irene, Indy’s teaching assistant, who had come around to the front of her desk. She had heard the yelling and gave Marcus a questioning look that was edged with concern. He smiled reassuringly.
“Hold all his calls for now, Miss Smythe. Dr. Jones is, um, discussing something with Marion.” He pointed over his shoulder at the door. “As a matter of face,” he fished a quarter out of this pocket and placed it in Irene’s hand, “why don’t you go to lunch early?” Irene glanced at the door, nodded knowingly, and put the quarter in her pocketbook.
“Thank you, Mr. Brody,” she said. They followed her out of the office and made their way down the steps of the history department’s office building. The late September sunshine beaming through the trees made dappled shadows on the cobblestone walkway.
“Brody?” Winston said.
“Yes?”
“Do Indy and Marion’s… discussions always end that way?”
“Yes they do, my dear boy,” he said as he put his arm around his shoulder, “yes, they do.”
Background: Upon returning to the United States, Marion Ravenwood opens her own nightclub (see the Marvel comics series for details) and Indy insured Marion's business-- behind her back. She, somehow, gets wind of this and Indy is in big trouble...
Marion whirled around to Indy and Marcus involuntarily winced a Marion’s voice upped a notch. Winston stood nearby, grinning. He knew Indy was in for it.
“Oh...so you think you know better than me, Indy?” she began.
“No better than anyone else would,” Indy quipped, smirking.
“What right to you have butting in on my affairs?”
Indy stepped back and spread his hands, a look of disbelief on his face.
“Look, I just didn’t want you see you get had, that’s all. It’s your first business-type venture back in the US and I just wanted to help, so back off!” he said.
Marion walked up close to him.
“Indiana Jones, mind your own damn business,” she said, poking his chest on the last three words. Indy’s face was hardening in anger, and began to form a comeback. He gazed at Marion’s face and suddenly his words froze in his throat and he softened. He grabbed her hand.
“My God… you’re beautiful when you’re angry.”
Marion’s mouth opened slightly and she stuttered, trying to maintain her anger even as her heart melted away.
“Ohhhh, damn you, Indy!” She flicked her eyes over his face, searching for insincerity, but there was none. There never was. Indy nestled the side of her face in the strong, warm palm of his hand. The gazed in each other’s eyes and suddenly they clutched a each other and thrust into a series of long, desperate kisses.
Marcus cleared his throat and glanced at Winston out of the corner of his eyes. His mouth had come unhinged somehow.
“Well, we’ll speak to you later, Indy,” Marcus said, and forcibly steered Winston from the room. He softly closed the door to Indy’s office behind him and turned to Irene, Indy’s teaching assistant, who had come around to the front of her desk. She had heard the yelling and gave Marcus a questioning look that was edged with concern. He smiled reassuringly.
“Hold all his calls for now, Miss Smythe. Dr. Jones is, um, discussing something with Marion.” He pointed over his shoulder at the door. “As a matter of face,” he fished a quarter out of this pocket and placed it in Irene’s hand, “why don’t you go to lunch early?” Irene glanced at the door, nodded knowingly, and put the quarter in her pocketbook.
“Thank you, Mr. Brody,” she said. They followed her out of the office and made their way down the steps of the history department’s office building. The late September sunshine beaming through the trees made dappled shadows on the cobblestone walkway.
“Brody?” Winston said.
“Yes?”
“Do Indy and Marion’s… discussions always end that way?”
“Yes they do, my dear boy,” he said as he put his arm around his shoulder, “yes, they do.”