(Untitled)

[river_meimei]

River's sitting on the back of a booth -- on the back, literally, with her forearms resting on her knees and her back against the wall. There's a rafter near her head, a few feet up. She's wearing black boots, a yellow sundress, and the long brown coat Roland gave her. Several of its pockets, as usual, bulge slightly with odds and ends

Comments

[politestpirate]

Wellard was setting aside the small model of the boat in progress, planning to order dinner, when he spots River. Well, the materials and model-tools are safe enough on the table, so after thinking a moment, he stands and heads over.

[river_meimei]

River glances down at him.

(Possibly one of the reasons River likes high places is that she can actually glance down at people.)

[politestpirate]

Wellard is not that much taller than her-

But it is still not fun being the smallest person in any given group. (You get 'volunteered' for interesting jobs that way.)

He tilts his head, and gives River a faint smile. "How are you doing this evening, Miss River?"

[river_meimei]

"Doing," River says gravely. This at least sounds as if it's a reasonably positive answer.

She tilts her head slightly, watching him.

[politestpirate]

To be or not to be. Wellard smiles wryly. "Just doing? Has it happened upon anything interesting?"

[river_meimei]

"Everything is," River assures him earnestly.

With something of a lack of actual detail about recent events. This may or may not be deliberate.

[politestpirate]

He eyes her curiously for a moment, then glances back to the room.

-Ah. Wellard grins back to River.

"Do you recall those digests you got for me, the first time we met?"

[river_meimei]

"Astrophysical motion," River says promptly. "Chart the path of the fusion to arrange the retroactive explosions."

[politestpirate]

"-Yes, that." A bit wryly, but still smiling. "With the flying ships. I've been working on that, if you'd like to see?"

Wellard steps forwards, and offers River a hand.

[river_meimei]

River peers at his hand with interest.

After a moment, in which flying ships evidently fail to materialize in his palm, her expression changes to a patient glance.

"Portability is sub-optimal," she tells him.

After a moment, though, she places her hand in his, and turns to dangle her legs off the side of the booth, the first step in getting down.

[politestpirate]

Wellard blinks at this- then smiles wryly again.

"The information for the ships is over at the table, rather. My apologies."

He will keep her hand until River's down on the floor- it is a 19th century thing, perhaps.

[river_meimei]

River slides lightly down to the bench. It's a short step from there to the floor, but she takes more care with that part of the process, touching down with a tiny frown of concentration that turns to a moment's almost-vertigo when she lands.

Then, an expectant look at Wellard.

[politestpirate]

He watches her carefully for a moment, before moving his arm so it is still offered to River.
Light and delicate and unearthly
"Over on the table. I have some of the finished copies for the first ship, and the start of a model to test things out."

[river_meimei]

The gesture is natural enough, and River is accustomed enough to being guided around, that she leaves her hand on his arm as she follows his glance to the table in question.

Of course, she glances at the floor, a spot of empty air, a rafter, and two other tables afterward, as they begin to make their way over.

[politestpirate]

Wellard actually can be quiet, as they walk over to the table. Sometimes it was better to not talk or say anything-

And thankfully he was not the type to fill silences with nervous talk. Much, at least.

To the table, and Wellard drops his arm to pull out a chair for River. The finished plans for the ship are stacked to one side, and the half-finished model is set in the middle along with the supplies for builiding it.

[river_meimei]

River drops into the chair, tucking one leg beneath her, and bends to peer at the model.