(Untitled)

[leftwithmybones]

The house before him looms still unfinished and McCoy really doesn't know whether Scotty's disappearance is some vague way of telling him to quit the project. Still, he might run away from ruins of an old life, but he's a damn stubborn ass about giving up. So rather than just let the foundation be, he's started to get back to it

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[risesagain]

Her hair hung in two long red braids on either side of her head. It is a mildly childish look, but given the humidity and the sweat she manages to work up moving around the island it is for the best. Jean's been jogging, taking comfort in the mindless activity when she comes upon Leonard and his house.

Slowing to a halt, she wipes her forehead with the back of her wrist squinting as she looks around. "Building something interesting?"

[leftwithmybones]

McCoy gets out a heavy sigh of frustration and turns to look at her, aware that his gaze lingers probably a moment too long, but hell, he's not perfect. He lifts up the wiring and offers it out with one hand while his other grasps at his shirt. "Know much about how to wire light fixtures?"

[risesagain]

Jean offers up a small smile, the only indication that she's aware of anything less than decent going on. There might be many words used to describe her, but impolite is not one of them.

"I might?" There are a lot of things she knows, some more than others. "Not a lot, but a little something."

[leftwithmybones]

He gestures over to his side with his chin, patting the seat beside him. "C'mon, you might as well take a breather for a second. If you don't, Plum might just get real offended and then I'll be dealing with him yowling all night."

[risesagain]

"Well, we can't have that," Jean says as she starts walking over. The air is thick and humid in a way that reminds her of summers during her childhood. It's an unpleasant feeling that stirs up pleasant memories and she certainly doesn't mind it.

Sitting down, she turns herself slightly to look at him. "Now everyone is happy. Much better."

[leftwithmybones]

McCoy settles the switch down beside him, thinking that there's no point in keeping it around when he's got something far better to do, even if it's just talking. "Feel like I haven't seen you since your birthday." Not that he's been avoiding people -- except for maybe a little. "How's being older and wiser turning out for you?"

[risesagain]

"You haven't, but you haven't missed much I'm afraid."

The fact that she hasn't really seen him hasn't passed Jean by. She knows that it is remarkably easy to lose track of people on a place so small. She looks at her hands for a moment, tracing the place where long ago her wedding ring rested. Looking up, she shrugs and smiles. "Pretty well. I could think of a few things to make it better, but I am easy to please sort of girl."

[leftwithmybones]

"I don't know," he admits, and what comes out of his mouth next isn't exactly planned, but it sounds right enough. "I think I miss things every time I don't see you a while." For some reason, he thinks he used to be better at this, this flirting business -- hell, even this talking to women business. "But what kind of things were you thinking? I mean, if you want good ol' southern food, that I could be persuaded to do. Good shopping? Not so much."

[risesagain]

"I don't shop," Jean wrinkles her nose slightly, shaking her head at the thought. She had once liked the idea of trying on pretty clothes she wouldn't buy. Even now some of that enjoyment lingers but the lasting memory of that first trip out with Professor X has ruined the whole thing for her.

"I mean I do but I don't like it. But cooking now that is something I like. Eating as well. I had several Southern students over the years and I will give them credit for their food."

[leftwithmybones]

"Well, then, maybe what I ought to do is prepare you something. Grits or biscuits or hell, I'll deep fry something and give it a real kick." He feels like maybe he should be backing away, because this is leading to a door of rejection and he's just not ready for this, but the words are already out of his mouth, so there's no point in turning back. "I mean, if you're real bored."

[risesagain]

"Um," Jean starts because she isn't certain that she will ever be that bored. But she likes Leonard and finds herself enjoying his company in a way she almost forgot. A small smile as she nods giving into the whim. "I could be. Well I always like to keep things interesting."

[leftwithmybones]

"If you want to keep it simple, I know a good recipe for collard greens and pork. Not as southern as deep-fried grits, sure, but..." Ah hell, and now he's clearing his throat and feeling even more like an idiot. "Look, maybe blunt is the best way to do this. I like you and all I'm asking is that we maybe grab dinner sometime. Not a date, just...friends, spending time together." There. At least he's gotten his point across.

[risesagain]

The reaction happens so suddenly and against her own will that Jean feels more embarassed by it than being asked outright. The blush creeps on, showing on her fair features than she reaches up to cover her cheeks with her hands.

So much for attempting to be subtle. "I like you too and I would like that. Dinner, as friends. Very easily done."

[leftwithmybones]

He nods, trying not to get flushed himself -- hell, trying to keep breathing considering he's inches shy of panicking -- and he reaches over just lightly enough to touch his fingers to her palm on her face, prying it off slightly. "I'll just have a good panic attack later," he promises. "Don't you worry about showing a little blush."

[risesagain]

"Oh no, don't," she urges lowering her hand to place one on his forearm. Encouraging is something that comes natural to her, even in situations she hasn't been in for years.

"Don't have one on my account. It's sweet."

[leftwithmybones]

McCoy's fingers are still near her cheek, twined slightly with soft hair, and her fingers are on his skin and he's suddenly starting to wonder how the hell he worked up the gall to be doing this. "You can ask Jim. Panic attacks come pretty naturally to me. Even moreso if we're off the ground. But uh," he goes on, fingers brushing downwards as he slowly pulls them away. "Flat-footed now, aren't we?"