[LOG] Sunshine.
Who: Evayne, Devan.
What: Another chance meeting. Devan does not do girly things.
Where: Lakeshore, HRW.
When: 4/14/2009
4/14/2009
Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr(#276RJs)
The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.
A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs.
The sun is high in the sky and there is not a cloud in sight. There's a breeze that tempers the heat with no humidity lingering in the air.
It may not quite be hot out yet, but at least it's getting warmer as the day begins to lengthen. /Sunshine/. It's a lovely, lovely, lovely thing. At least in Evaworld. She is currently out taking advantage of it, settled out on the grass with a tattered backpack-thing laying on the ground beside her. Currently, there is a pile of almost offensively yellow cloth in her lap, and she's got a needle and thread in hand. Sewing. Apparently. Except that she's not really fussing with it right now, her attention instead out on the water where a blue is bathing. So much more interesting than her sewing. And, well, sunshine. It makes her lazy. Or at least encourages her typical laziness.
Hardly the sort to be lazy, even if the weather is pretty much demanding it, Devan's reason for being on or near or even thinking about the lake and its shore of bright green grass and silty pebbles is entirely business related. On his way from one point to another, his long-legged strides are purposeful, not labored, and though he carries a long plank of wood on one shoulder, steadied by a steady hand, he doesn't hunch or suffer for it. He would have continued on his, if not merry, content little way if it hadn't been for that bright glimpse of color, there. It isn't the dragon that stops him, he's seen those. It's Evayne and her yellow. And because he sees her his path alters, maybe without his knowing, taking him to her instead of to wherever else. And stop, there, his arm lazily looping over the plank's nearest end. "Hi."
There's an initial flicked glance back over her shoulder when she hears the approaching footsteps, but Eva's eyes don't immediately linger, going back to the dragon. It's about three heartbeats later when she registers just who it is she /saw/, and she's forgetting about the dragon entire and turning her head to look up in his direction with a brilliant smile. Her hands are both lowered to her lap, all pretense of doing something constructive dropped. That pile of yellow in her lap looks like it /might/ be a skirt. Or a dress. But probably a skirt. "Hey," she greets, once he's said hi. "There you are."
There he is. And there's his grin. Response to her smile, to her greeting. It's sort of a strange one. "You make it sound like you were lookin' for me," he teases, one dark eye narrowing in the bright light. Oh, and it's sunny out too. Big guys don't look bothered by big heavy things, nor do they make a show about it when they set those big heavy things down in the dirt so they might lean on them a little and ask pretty trader girls questions about bright yellow things. Sort of. "That looks fun." The color? The activity? Either/or.
Her smile curves up a little further when he grins, and then Eva's lowering her lashes and putting on a pout. "Nobody could tell me where I could find the /obvious/ undercover-Lord. Most of them just gave me strange looks." These words are followed by a melodramatic sigh, and then her lashes lift and she's looking up at him again, raising cloth and needle both in his direction. "You want to try? I'll show you how."
It's the needle. Everything comes together with the needle. It's... /lady/ work. And though he doesn't convulse immediately under the sheer weight of his aversion, Devan /does/ dubiously lift his eyebrows and press his mouth into a thin line. "You have any idea how much lip I'd get if any o'my boys saw me stitchin'?" But, amused, he tilts his head at her and considers. "Were you really lookin' for me?" There's a suspicious tug on one corner of his lips.
"If you got lip for it, you could just point out that you got to spend close quality time with me, and that would shut /that/ up," Eva points out with a tease, even as she's turning to untie her bag and start stuffing cloth, needle, and thread back into it. Just like that, without folding or tying off or anything along those lines. "I may have been," she tells him, once the bag has been put back together and she turns her eyes back up his way. "It's...likely. I can't think of another reason I'd be nosing around for an undercover Lord."
That's a good point. And maybe now he's looking a little disappointed when all of her (girly) supplies start disappearing. He missed an opportunity! Poor dense Devan. Fortunately his expression changes with his mood, just that easy, and his mood right now, when she mentions his falsey persona, is charmed. So he grins. Dimple. "That'd explain why nobody told me a little blonde lady was askin' questions." Because he isn't an undercover Lord. They've covered that. Not that he'll amend her concept of him by enlightening her. But the giant log next to them might give her some hints. After doing something like admiring her hair in the sunlight or thinking and rethinking about things to say, he just sticks with grinning and asks, "How are you?"
"Well of course, because I was being /subtle/ about asking my questions, you know," Evayne points out with a sort of 'duh' tease to her tone, sly little smile given to match the words. Then there's a light laughter and she's patting the grass right beside her. "I'm good, but I think I'd be better if you decided to sit for a while. I won't keep you /long/; I'm sure you're busy, but I'm horribly selfish and think that my needs trump the needs of the rest of the world. At least in brief snippets, here and there. How are /you/?"
It's right around 'busy' that Devan busts out the eyeroll. Oh, please. Except instead of looking like he's brushing off the concept he just looks like he's terribly charmed. Oh, her. If he's gonna be sitting he needs to do something with this plank, so he holds up a finger -- sec -- and drags the thing off a few feet before letting it thump, thump!, to the ground. Puff of dirt. Now free, he returns to her to arrange himself next door, an awkward affair considering all those long limbs need to go somewhere. Luckily he has practice. His legs end up sort of bent up or down respectively, one arm dangling over a knee. There. He's now Comfortable. Fiddling with a strap or something on her bag, he glances at her upwards like. "I'm good too." Grin. "I was worried I wasn't gonna get to see you'n you'd disappear."
Him and the plank are watched until it's dropped, and then she's just watching him, that smile of hers touching with something impish. Once he's finally settled himself, she shifts around a little bit too, until she's resting on a hip and leaning on one arm, all attention focused up on him. Evayne does wrinkle up her nose a little bit at his last words, something a tiny tiny bit more serious creeping into her expression. "Well," she says. /Well/. "I wouldn't have gone without seeing you. But." Of course, there's always a but. "I am not entirely sure I'm actually going to go." LOOK. THERE IS A LAKE. SHE WILL STARE AT IT NOW. /Interesting/ lake.
/Well/. It's a big well. Deep and full of water and watery creatures. The thing it's followed by is an even bigger thing. It's like a promise, but not. And then the but. And then the other thing. And during all of this, Devan watches her calmly. Because this, to him, does not equal a crazy sort of reaction. Just as easily as he admitted his concern a moment ago, that's about as easily as he takes that news from her. Then again, can he understand how big a deal that is? And then of course there's the inevitable question. "Why's that?" She isn't looking at him. That's okay, but he's looking at /her/.
She wrinkles her nose at the lake, because it is behaving badly, and then Evayne swings her eyes back up towards Devan. He's studied for a thoughtful moment, without all her usual bravado and cheer, and then back to the lake. "Because," she says. "It's home, but it isn't. I missed Weyr life. I think somewhere along the way I settled a little more than I ought to have. It's...the last few months, it's been getting more and more -- I can't say awkward, because they're my family, but it's something like that -- on the road. Like the boots I'm wearing don't quite fit right. They don't fit badly enough to /hurt/, but they aren't comfortable. And being here a little while, I just sort of noticed, hey, these shoes actually fit, how strange."
Someone else might not understand her shoe analogy. Someone else might have needed further explanation, please. Someone else might have asked her all sorts of unimportant questions. Devan watches her watching him, his eyes warm and warmed further by the light all around them; he watches her watching the lake again, tries to tell from her profile what she might be going through in her mind. And he follows along. And when she's brought to her point, he looks down for the first time in a while and makes a big sigh. "Figured it'd be harder for someone like you bein' stuck in one spot." Looking at her again, "Guess we all need new boots sometimes."
"Guess so. They're...well, made the same as an old pair of boots that I had," Evayne explains, since the analogy has worked so / well/ so far. "They were...really, the best boots ever. But they fell apart. Didn't figure I'd ever find another pair I liked. But being here...it's a weight off, I guess." The shoulder that isn't being leaned on is lifted, dropped again in something of a shrug. "I get restless, sometimes. But in a Weyr, it's not hard to go, to get that out of my system, and then to come back. It's not always easy, being in one spot. But it's not always easy being on the road all the time, either. I lived at Igen for five turns. Been back on the road for three. It isn't the same. All the new places just look like the old places with some superficial details changed."
Devan doesn't talk a lot. Or he does, only it's spread out. But just because he isn't used to saying so much in a breath as Evayne is saying right now doesn't make him a bad listener. Intent, focused, he listens. Something about those boots falling apart pulls his eyebrows together, putting the first sign of tension in his face that she's likely ever seen. In fact, has he gone this long without smiling or grinning at her yet? Or ever? After the last trace of her voice dies away they're both left in quiet. He doesn't say anything for what feels like a very long time. During that silence he shifts, reaches for a little bit of grass so he can thread it through his fingers. Finally, "Boots aren't too hard t'fix." Pause. "If you know what you're doin'." Now /he's/ staring at the lake, /his/ profile made up of the easy angle of his forehead, his thick eyebrows, the sudden and sizeable hill of his nose and the thoughtful set of his mouth and the strong chin underneath that. A breeze ruffles his hair a little.
Since he's being quiet, Evayne turns her head just enough that she can study him sidelong again. Not plain open staring, but...well, it hovers on the edge. He's staring at the lake, she's watching him, lips curving briefly down before she looks away again, this time up towards the sky. Then she's pushing out a little laugh that's sort of limp, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, they can often be fixed," she agrees. "But not when you're missing pieces. And I think that's about the extent of the analogy, because while boot pieces can be replaced, people really can't." With that said, she's clearing her throat, pitching her voice to a lighter tone. "What I really meant to say was, I like it here. It's good, to be here. Wonderful, really. I missed it, you know?"
It isn't really his style to be so serious for too long. Too lighthearted, maybe, or just too unwilling to deal with the darker thoughts in his own head, if there are any. Whatever his motivation is, it turns his gaze on her again and curves his mouth for him so he can smile gently at her and watch her and, even though what she's said is sad, maybe even because it's sad, he puts his hand down between them. That arm bunches when he uses it to pull himself closer, then relaxes so that when he loops it around her little body and pulls her in against his big body he can tighten it again to squeeze her once. Carefully. And /then/ he'll say, "I'm gonna tell you a secret."
Oh, oh, wait, he's moving, and her eyes are shifting back to him, and /then/ he's pulling her in close and Eva looks briefly confused before she's finding her smile again and leaning in against him. She even scoots and shifts helpfully to settle against him more comfortably. She does laugh quietly though, maybe just to make sure she's not going to fall into seeking comfort. An eyebrow goes up at his words, a curious sort of look given up towards him from close, now. "I love secrets," she notes, smile touching impish again.
"Good, careful though, this one's a doozy." And must allow the proper amount of time for lots of suspense. He passes this time by making a show of looking very very pensive and fiddling idly again, this time with the sleeve of her shirt or something similar. After that initial squeeze his arm moved down a fraction; now his hand finds purchase behind her so he can lean and be a niche for her to be in. Is that enough time? Okay. "'M not an undercover Lord." He lets out a breath. "There. There it is."
Comfy. So very comfy. Evayne may throw a tantrum when it's time for him to go back to work, because given the pleased little sigh that escapes, she's /awful/ comfortable leaning in against him, especially once he situates himself. All the while she's watching him with something between glee and curiosity, totally all caught in the suspense of it even if her eyes are sparkling with humor. When he finally reveals his secret, she inhales a little gasp, going all wide-eyed up at him. Shocked! Truly, she's shocked! Really! That expression is allowed to linger for a few heartbeats before she's grinning up at him again. "I don't know if I believe you," she points out. "It's an awful hard one to swallow."
He believes it! There's a little glance down for her well being -- did she lose consciousness from the sheer /truth/ of it all? -- but when he sees her grin he can't help but grin back. It's unfair how easily it happens. "I know," he agrees a little helplessly, laughter beading his voice into little hiccups. "But you gotta believe it. It's the rock bottom truth." Work? Go... back? Doesn't seem likely. Not yet. Close as she is she can probably feel him trying not to laugh out loud, feel his heartbeat jump with the effort, feel his breath in to get a handle on himself. "You ever think you're gonna need to ask around for me again, could probably just go with my name. I hear it gets results." If not spectacularly impressive ones.
His attempts to avoid laughing out loud are what send her over the edge, and Evayne drops her chin briefly as a quick little, entirely pleased sort of laugh escapes. Oh, this is fun. Once she's gotten it out of her system, she's lifting her chin again to look back up at him, lips curving up into her brightest smile. "I suppose I'll believe you," she says. "At least for now. But I'm watching you, just so you know." Beat. "And, well...yes, I suppose using your name would be more effective. I'll keep that advice in mind."
"Good." Which wraps everything up in a nice little pleased package. Good, she's laughing. Good, she believes him. Good, she's watching him. ... well. During her little outburst of happy he curled away from her a little so he could watch because, well, she wasn't so very happy seeming, before. And he'll voice his thoughts on it, after the fact, because that's the kind of guy he is. "I like hearin' you laugh." He's mentioned it before, but maybe her lapse into not so good thoughts has him reiterating. But, just in case she misinterprets his ability to handle the sort of things she was talking to him about, he adds, "I like talkin' to you, too." Fiddle with her sleeve. Fiddle.
"I'm terribly glad," Evayne states, voice and expression abruptly (though only briefly) solemn. "Because I do so like laughing." With that seriousness out of the way, she's...well, smiling and looking up at him again. Because she can, because she's nestled in against him, because it's all very nice. "And I like talking to you as well. I'm glad your path went by the lake, today. Even though the sunshine is nice...well, it's nicer now."
The sunshine is nicer now. Because he's here. If Devan's face when he looks down at her is any indication as to what he's thinking, then what she said might just be the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to him ever. It's at least high up in the top five. She likes laughing, he likes when she's saying things like 'I like talking to you'. And because they both like talking to each other so much then maybe they should sit here and do that for a little while longer, until he has to say something about that plank, and then has to do something about it. They split up, but not before he aims a kiss to the top of her dear blonde little head.
She doesn't protest the kiss to the top of her head, just goes still while he gives it over. Evayne wouldn't want to accidentally bonk him, or something. It's not until he's heading off that she's picking her bag up, adjusting it a little here and there, and then bouncing to her feet to head back in the direction of /inside/. On light feet. And she's humming off-key, too. So cheerful.
What: Another chance meeting. Devan does not do girly things.
Where: Lakeshore, HRW.
When: 4/14/2009
4/14/2009
Lake Shore, High Reaches Weyr(#276RJs)
The rest of the bowl may be barren, grass barely surviving at best, but here by the lake, it's brilliantly green in the warmer months: thickening and thriving in the silty, boulder-dotted soil just before it transitions to soft sand and thence to the cool, clear water itself.
A large freshwater lake fed by a low waterfall, it not only provides warm-weather bathing space for humans and dragons, but has one end fenced off as a watering hole for the livestock in the feeding grounds. The water there is often muddier than the rest of the clear lake, whose shallows drop off abruptly several yards out into deep water, and whose edge undulates against the coarse-hewn bowl wall: here close enough to just be bramble-covered rocks, there far enough away that a narrow land bridge divides the main lake from a smallish pond. Between are several rocky outcroppings that form excellent makeshift diving points, though only one -- across the bridge -- has a set of narrow, slippery, quite possibly tempting stairs.
The sun is high in the sky and there is not a cloud in sight. There's a breeze that tempers the heat with no humidity lingering in the air.
It may not quite be hot out yet, but at least it's getting warmer as the day begins to lengthen. /Sunshine/. It's a lovely, lovely, lovely thing. At least in Evaworld. She is currently out taking advantage of it, settled out on the grass with a tattered backpack-thing laying on the ground beside her. Currently, there is a pile of almost offensively yellow cloth in her lap, and she's got a needle and thread in hand. Sewing. Apparently. Except that she's not really fussing with it right now, her attention instead out on the water where a blue is bathing. So much more interesting than her sewing. And, well, sunshine. It makes her lazy. Or at least encourages her typical laziness.
Hardly the sort to be lazy, even if the weather is pretty much demanding it, Devan's reason for being on or near or even thinking about the lake and its shore of bright green grass and silty pebbles is entirely business related. On his way from one point to another, his long-legged strides are purposeful, not labored, and though he carries a long plank of wood on one shoulder, steadied by a steady hand, he doesn't hunch or suffer for it. He would have continued on his, if not merry, content little way if it hadn't been for that bright glimpse of color, there. It isn't the dragon that stops him, he's seen those. It's Evayne and her yellow. And because he sees her his path alters, maybe without his knowing, taking him to her instead of to wherever else. And stop, there, his arm lazily looping over the plank's nearest end. "Hi."
There's an initial flicked glance back over her shoulder when she hears the approaching footsteps, but Eva's eyes don't immediately linger, going back to the dragon. It's about three heartbeats later when she registers just who it is she /saw/, and she's forgetting about the dragon entire and turning her head to look up in his direction with a brilliant smile. Her hands are both lowered to her lap, all pretense of doing something constructive dropped. That pile of yellow in her lap looks like it /might/ be a skirt. Or a dress. But probably a skirt. "Hey," she greets, once he's said hi. "There you are."
There he is. And there's his grin. Response to her smile, to her greeting. It's sort of a strange one. "You make it sound like you were lookin' for me," he teases, one dark eye narrowing in the bright light. Oh, and it's sunny out too. Big guys don't look bothered by big heavy things, nor do they make a show about it when they set those big heavy things down in the dirt so they might lean on them a little and ask pretty trader girls questions about bright yellow things. Sort of. "That looks fun." The color? The activity? Either/or.
Her smile curves up a little further when he grins, and then Eva's lowering her lashes and putting on a pout. "Nobody could tell me where I could find the /obvious/ undercover-Lord. Most of them just gave me strange looks." These words are followed by a melodramatic sigh, and then her lashes lift and she's looking up at him again, raising cloth and needle both in his direction. "You want to try? I'll show you how."
It's the needle. Everything comes together with the needle. It's... /lady/ work. And though he doesn't convulse immediately under the sheer weight of his aversion, Devan /does/ dubiously lift his eyebrows and press his mouth into a thin line. "You have any idea how much lip I'd get if any o'my boys saw me stitchin'?" But, amused, he tilts his head at her and considers. "Were you really lookin' for me?" There's a suspicious tug on one corner of his lips.
"If you got lip for it, you could just point out that you got to spend close quality time with me, and that would shut /that/ up," Eva points out with a tease, even as she's turning to untie her bag and start stuffing cloth, needle, and thread back into it. Just like that, without folding or tying off or anything along those lines. "I may have been," she tells him, once the bag has been put back together and she turns her eyes back up his way. "It's...likely. I can't think of another reason I'd be nosing around for an undercover Lord."
That's a good point. And maybe now he's looking a little disappointed when all of her (girly) supplies start disappearing. He missed an opportunity! Poor dense Devan. Fortunately his expression changes with his mood, just that easy, and his mood right now, when she mentions his falsey persona, is charmed. So he grins. Dimple. "That'd explain why nobody told me a little blonde lady was askin' questions." Because he isn't an undercover Lord. They've covered that. Not that he'll amend her concept of him by enlightening her. But the giant log next to them might give her some hints. After doing something like admiring her hair in the sunlight or thinking and rethinking about things to say, he just sticks with grinning and asks, "How are you?"
"Well of course, because I was being /subtle/ about asking my questions, you know," Evayne points out with a sort of 'duh' tease to her tone, sly little smile given to match the words. Then there's a light laughter and she's patting the grass right beside her. "I'm good, but I think I'd be better if you decided to sit for a while. I won't keep you /long/; I'm sure you're busy, but I'm horribly selfish and think that my needs trump the needs of the rest of the world. At least in brief snippets, here and there. How are /you/?"
It's right around 'busy' that Devan busts out the eyeroll. Oh, please. Except instead of looking like he's brushing off the concept he just looks like he's terribly charmed. Oh, her. If he's gonna be sitting he needs to do something with this plank, so he holds up a finger -- sec -- and drags the thing off a few feet before letting it thump, thump!, to the ground. Puff of dirt. Now free, he returns to her to arrange himself next door, an awkward affair considering all those long limbs need to go somewhere. Luckily he has practice. His legs end up sort of bent up or down respectively, one arm dangling over a knee. There. He's now Comfortable. Fiddling with a strap or something on her bag, he glances at her upwards like. "I'm good too." Grin. "I was worried I wasn't gonna get to see you'n you'd disappear."
Him and the plank are watched until it's dropped, and then she's just watching him, that smile of hers touching with something impish. Once he's finally settled himself, she shifts around a little bit too, until she's resting on a hip and leaning on one arm, all attention focused up on him. Evayne does wrinkle up her nose a little bit at his last words, something a tiny tiny bit more serious creeping into her expression. "Well," she says. /Well/. "I wouldn't have gone without seeing you. But." Of course, there's always a but. "I am not entirely sure I'm actually going to go." LOOK. THERE IS A LAKE. SHE WILL STARE AT IT NOW. /Interesting/ lake.
/Well/. It's a big well. Deep and full of water and watery creatures. The thing it's followed by is an even bigger thing. It's like a promise, but not. And then the but. And then the other thing. And during all of this, Devan watches her calmly. Because this, to him, does not equal a crazy sort of reaction. Just as easily as he admitted his concern a moment ago, that's about as easily as he takes that news from her. Then again, can he understand how big a deal that is? And then of course there's the inevitable question. "Why's that?" She isn't looking at him. That's okay, but he's looking at /her/.
She wrinkles her nose at the lake, because it is behaving badly, and then Evayne swings her eyes back up towards Devan. He's studied for a thoughtful moment, without all her usual bravado and cheer, and then back to the lake. "Because," she says. "It's home, but it isn't. I missed Weyr life. I think somewhere along the way I settled a little more than I ought to have. It's...the last few months, it's been getting more and more -- I can't say awkward, because they're my family, but it's something like that -- on the road. Like the boots I'm wearing don't quite fit right. They don't fit badly enough to /hurt/, but they aren't comfortable. And being here a little while, I just sort of noticed, hey, these shoes actually fit, how strange."
Someone else might not understand her shoe analogy. Someone else might have needed further explanation, please. Someone else might have asked her all sorts of unimportant questions. Devan watches her watching him, his eyes warm and warmed further by the light all around them; he watches her watching the lake again, tries to tell from her profile what she might be going through in her mind. And he follows along. And when she's brought to her point, he looks down for the first time in a while and makes a big sigh. "Figured it'd be harder for someone like you bein' stuck in one spot." Looking at her again, "Guess we all need new boots sometimes."
"Guess so. They're...well, made the same as an old pair of boots that I had," Evayne explains, since the analogy has worked so / well/ so far. "They were...really, the best boots ever. But they fell apart. Didn't figure I'd ever find another pair I liked. But being here...it's a weight off, I guess." The shoulder that isn't being leaned on is lifted, dropped again in something of a shrug. "I get restless, sometimes. But in a Weyr, it's not hard to go, to get that out of my system, and then to come back. It's not always easy, being in one spot. But it's not always easy being on the road all the time, either. I lived at Igen for five turns. Been back on the road for three. It isn't the same. All the new places just look like the old places with some superficial details changed."
Devan doesn't talk a lot. Or he does, only it's spread out. But just because he isn't used to saying so much in a breath as Evayne is saying right now doesn't make him a bad listener. Intent, focused, he listens. Something about those boots falling apart pulls his eyebrows together, putting the first sign of tension in his face that she's likely ever seen. In fact, has he gone this long without smiling or grinning at her yet? Or ever? After the last trace of her voice dies away they're both left in quiet. He doesn't say anything for what feels like a very long time. During that silence he shifts, reaches for a little bit of grass so he can thread it through his fingers. Finally, "Boots aren't too hard t'fix." Pause. "If you know what you're doin'." Now /he's/ staring at the lake, /his/ profile made up of the easy angle of his forehead, his thick eyebrows, the sudden and sizeable hill of his nose and the thoughtful set of his mouth and the strong chin underneath that. A breeze ruffles his hair a little.
Since he's being quiet, Evayne turns her head just enough that she can study him sidelong again. Not plain open staring, but...well, it hovers on the edge. He's staring at the lake, she's watching him, lips curving briefly down before she looks away again, this time up towards the sky. Then she's pushing out a little laugh that's sort of limp, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, they can often be fixed," she agrees. "But not when you're missing pieces. And I think that's about the extent of the analogy, because while boot pieces can be replaced, people really can't." With that said, she's clearing her throat, pitching her voice to a lighter tone. "What I really meant to say was, I like it here. It's good, to be here. Wonderful, really. I missed it, you know?"
It isn't really his style to be so serious for too long. Too lighthearted, maybe, or just too unwilling to deal with the darker thoughts in his own head, if there are any. Whatever his motivation is, it turns his gaze on her again and curves his mouth for him so he can smile gently at her and watch her and, even though what she's said is sad, maybe even because it's sad, he puts his hand down between them. That arm bunches when he uses it to pull himself closer, then relaxes so that when he loops it around her little body and pulls her in against his big body he can tighten it again to squeeze her once. Carefully. And /then/ he'll say, "I'm gonna tell you a secret."
Oh, oh, wait, he's moving, and her eyes are shifting back to him, and /then/ he's pulling her in close and Eva looks briefly confused before she's finding her smile again and leaning in against him. She even scoots and shifts helpfully to settle against him more comfortably. She does laugh quietly though, maybe just to make sure she's not going to fall into seeking comfort. An eyebrow goes up at his words, a curious sort of look given up towards him from close, now. "I love secrets," she notes, smile touching impish again.
"Good, careful though, this one's a doozy." And must allow the proper amount of time for lots of suspense. He passes this time by making a show of looking very very pensive and fiddling idly again, this time with the sleeve of her shirt or something similar. After that initial squeeze his arm moved down a fraction; now his hand finds purchase behind her so he can lean and be a niche for her to be in. Is that enough time? Okay. "'M not an undercover Lord." He lets out a breath. "There. There it is."
Comfy. So very comfy. Evayne may throw a tantrum when it's time for him to go back to work, because given the pleased little sigh that escapes, she's /awful/ comfortable leaning in against him, especially once he situates himself. All the while she's watching him with something between glee and curiosity, totally all caught in the suspense of it even if her eyes are sparkling with humor. When he finally reveals his secret, she inhales a little gasp, going all wide-eyed up at him. Shocked! Truly, she's shocked! Really! That expression is allowed to linger for a few heartbeats before she's grinning up at him again. "I don't know if I believe you," she points out. "It's an awful hard one to swallow."
He believes it! There's a little glance down for her well being -- did she lose consciousness from the sheer /truth/ of it all? -- but when he sees her grin he can't help but grin back. It's unfair how easily it happens. "I know," he agrees a little helplessly, laughter beading his voice into little hiccups. "But you gotta believe it. It's the rock bottom truth." Work? Go... back? Doesn't seem likely. Not yet. Close as she is she can probably feel him trying not to laugh out loud, feel his heartbeat jump with the effort, feel his breath in to get a handle on himself. "You ever think you're gonna need to ask around for me again, could probably just go with my name. I hear it gets results." If not spectacularly impressive ones.
His attempts to avoid laughing out loud are what send her over the edge, and Evayne drops her chin briefly as a quick little, entirely pleased sort of laugh escapes. Oh, this is fun. Once she's gotten it out of her system, she's lifting her chin again to look back up at him, lips curving up into her brightest smile. "I suppose I'll believe you," she says. "At least for now. But I'm watching you, just so you know." Beat. "And, well...yes, I suppose using your name would be more effective. I'll keep that advice in mind."
"Good." Which wraps everything up in a nice little pleased package. Good, she's laughing. Good, she believes him. Good, she's watching him. ... well. During her little outburst of happy he curled away from her a little so he could watch because, well, she wasn't so very happy seeming, before. And he'll voice his thoughts on it, after the fact, because that's the kind of guy he is. "I like hearin' you laugh." He's mentioned it before, but maybe her lapse into not so good thoughts has him reiterating. But, just in case she misinterprets his ability to handle the sort of things she was talking to him about, he adds, "I like talkin' to you, too." Fiddle with her sleeve. Fiddle.
"I'm terribly glad," Evayne states, voice and expression abruptly (though only briefly) solemn. "Because I do so like laughing." With that seriousness out of the way, she's...well, smiling and looking up at him again. Because she can, because she's nestled in against him, because it's all very nice. "And I like talking to you as well. I'm glad your path went by the lake, today. Even though the sunshine is nice...well, it's nicer now."
The sunshine is nicer now. Because he's here. If Devan's face when he looks down at her is any indication as to what he's thinking, then what she said might just be the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to him ever. It's at least high up in the top five. She likes laughing, he likes when she's saying things like 'I like talking to you'. And because they both like talking to each other so much then maybe they should sit here and do that for a little while longer, until he has to say something about that plank, and then has to do something about it. They split up, but not before he aims a kiss to the top of her dear blonde little head.
She doesn't protest the kiss to the top of her head, just goes still while he gives it over. Evayne wouldn't want to accidentally bonk him, or something. It's not until he's heading off that she's picking her bag up, adjusting it a little here and there, and then bouncing to her feet to head back in the direction of /inside/. On light feet. And she's humming off-key, too. So cheerful.