nightwalker [closed to Anita]

[fitzroyal]

Henry is inside this evening, wearing an apron with a floral pattern and cooking.

The door to his room is open, and the window as well, letting in the cool evening air. He seems preoccupied, though in reality he is acutely aware of everything going on around him as he stirs the chili in the pot on his stove. It's not for him, of course; he'd have

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[tomboy_22]

Anita might have gone for a walk - and strangely, as much as she strays, and thinks, and walks away... her footsteps inevitably take her back to Henry's room.

Linked, for better or for worse, it seems, even as her heart aches for another.

"-- hey," she says, and is leaning on the threshold a touch timidly. A breath, and she ventures, "Playing Martha Steward?" She's trying. Really, really hard.

[fitzroyal]

He looks over toward her, and shakes the spoon at her a little. "I hope you're not making fun of my apron," he says, deliberately lightly. "It's my favorite, I'll have you know."

The chili probably smells good. Henry's a good cook.

[tomboy_22]

He's doing a good job of making -- shared domesticity, oh dear, appealing. She takes a step inside, feels her heart clench a little.

"I would never dare," she replies on the same tone. "Though I'd like to suggest matching pants, next time. Lacks flowers."

[fitzroyal]

"I am not," Henry says firmly, looking back to check on the chili. "Ever going to wear flowered pants."

[tomboy_22]

She can't help feeling a bit amused. "I'm sure you'd manage to make them look badass, Henry."

She leans against the threshold.

Part of her wants to go hug him - wrap her arms around his waist, press her face against his back.

She doesn't dare.

[fitzroyal]

"I'm not so sure," he says, "And I'm not about to risk it." He looks toward her, offers a faint smile. "Well? Aren't you going to come and taste this and tell me if it's done?"

[tomboy_22]

"I thought you'd never ask," she replies, and comes closer, though in an uncharacteristically timid way. "Who's the lucky guest?"

[fitzroyal]

"You," he says, scooping up a spoonful and holding it out, carefully. "It is suppertime, isn't it?"

[tomboy_22]

She wanders over, accepts it, eyes on his face. "You didn't have to," she whispers before she blows on the chili and tastes it.

[fitzroyal]

It should be pretty good, though it is of course up to Anita how much she likes it. "Of course I didn't have to," Henry says, just as quietly. "I wanted to."

[tomboy_22]

She colors a little, swallows, and finds a smile for him. "-- It's good, thanks." And -- she realizes, she hasn't eaten all day.

"-- and it was very thoughtful of you. I'm famished."

[fitzroyal]

"And just about done. Go ahead and sit down, I'll get you a bowl." He gives her a little sidelong look. "I expected as much. You haven't eaten all day, have you?"

[tomboy_22]

"I had lunch," she replies defensively. "I'm not a kid, you know."

But she goes to sit.

[fitzroyal]

He gives her a bit of a sidelong look. And a bit more of an eyebrow. "Yes. I've gathered that." A bit of a tease? Wow, Henry, brave.

He sets the bowl of chili down and sits across from her. "Would you like anything else?"

[tomboy_22]

"I'll get water myself, if you don't mind..." She looks at him...

And remembers.

Her bad Victorian accent.

Reading his novel with him after dinner.

Laughing, kissing.

She misses all these things. With him.

[fitzroyal]

If her stillness takes a moment, he pauses, looking worried. "Anita? What is it?"