Attempt #199: 250 ml H20 in glass container.
Michel set the pad and paper down somewhere amidst the various files on his desk and turned his attention to the row of full beakers lining its edge. After placing a thermometer in one and setting it atop a stack of folders so that it was about eye-level, he lowered his glasses and stared at it, trying his best to concentrate.
“What are you doing?”
He yelped and shoved his glasses back onto his face. Susanne leaned against the doorway, her coat slung over one arm, watching him with a raised eyebrow. “Er, nothing,” he stammered. He fumbled for the notepad in order to hide it, but it was apparently already lost.
“It is just as well,” Susanne said. “I'm on my way to the cafe, and you seem like you could also use a coffee. Do you want to come with me?” She addressed the last question to her nails.
Michel's heart slammed into his rib-cage with a force that nearly knocked him off his chair. “What? Yes! Er, I mean, of course, er, I like coffee...” He stood up quickly, his thigh bumping the desk and sending the beaker toppling from its stack of folders. With a mild imprecation, he righted it, but the water was already spreading across his papers. “Er, just one second, please...” He started picking up the soggy papers, only to yank one that dislodged another beaker. It spilled its contents onto the remains of his work-space before rolling onto the floor with a sharp crash.
“Move aside.” Susanne tossed her coat onto his chair and picked up a few of the remaining beakers, moving them to the safety of a nearby shelf. Michel reached over to try to salvage one of the papers underneath, but she slapped his hand away, shoving two more beakers at him instead. Only once those were all out of the way did she move towards the swamp that was once his files. “Is this from last year?!” she exclaimed, lifting up a dripping calendar that had scorch marks on it from a few months ago.
“Er, perhaps?” Michel shrugged, chuckling nervously.
Susanne tapped him on the head with it before throwing it into the basket beneath his desk. “I hope this incident at least teaches you some neatness: some people need a disaster before they finally start to get themselves in order!”
Michel blushed and darted into his laboratory to retrieve some paper towels. When he came back, Susanne had stooped to try to pick up the shards from the beaker that had hit the floor. “Er, I will get those!”
“No, I can do it,” she said without looking up.
“But you might cut yourself!” he blurted out.
She met his eyes then, giving him an odd little smile. “What, and you won't?”
“Er...” He felt his face grow warmer with each passing second. “Just...let me do it.”
She moved aside, giving him space to kneel beside her so that he could take over gathering the pieces. “You know,” she said conversationally, “I find it so odd that Superman seldom comes to France.”
Michel paused, his hands now full of broken glass. “What? Why?”
Susanne shrugged. “Well, he can fly anywhere in the world, no? But he spends so much time in America...” She grinned impishly. “Perhaps he is afraid of running into someone he knows?”
“Er, I'm sure that is not the case,” Michel replied with an uncertain chuckle. He dropped the glass pieces into the trash bin and slowly rose to his feet.
Susanne stood up with him. “Oh? Do you know him well?”
His heart started to pound again. “Er, me? No, no...of course not...” He swallowed and reached for the coat draped over the back of his chair. Inspiration struck. “But...he is an alien from another planet! Why would he know anybody in France?”
She smiled at him again as she retrieved her own coat. “It must be so lonely here for him,” she commented.
Michel blinked. “Eh?”
“Being from another planet,” Susanne elaborated, “looking so much like us, but knowing deep down that he is so profoundly...wonderfully...different...” She ran a hand down his tie, and her voice lowered to something dark and husky. “That would make a man feel so alone, don't you think?”
“You have no idea,” he muttered before his brain registered what his lips were saying. He suddenly became aware that every breath he took was now scented with her perfume. Her gaze seemed to bore into him as she ran a thumb over the material of his tie. He felt dizzy. He felt...
He felt like he was under water.
Michel blinked in confusion. He could feel the salty depths of the ocean engulfing him, rushing past his skin. In the farthest corner of his mind, he wondered why on earth he kept smelling perfume...
“Michel?”
His eyes snapped back to hers, and he couldn't stop the curse that rose to his lips as he realized what must be happening. “I-I'm sorry,” he stammered. “I...just remembered something terribly inconvenient.”
“Do you need to go somewhere?” She asked, her eyes seeming to sparkle.
“I believe so,” Michel replied. This was getting to be too much! He had to find Clark, and they had to get this mental bond under some kind of control!
Susanne released his tie. “Too bad. Perhaps we can have that coffee another time.” She winked at him, then strode out the door with a sway of her hips that made his mouth go instantly dry.
The feel of water had given way to sand and rock. His lungs ached as though he were holding his breath. Confusion lingered as to why he had been smelling perfume while underwater.
'Clark,' Michel thought, 'if you can hear me, we need to talk.'
The sensations immediately vanished. Michel sighed and left his office, in search of a secluded place to take off.
