When Helen wakes up she feels the faint tug in her stomach saying that they're going today. It's only faint, but she sits up and grabs Jamie by the shoulder, shaking him awake.
Jamie finally swings his legs over the edge of the mattress, but he doesn't stand up yet.
"We may as well throw everything we have into the river. The money certainly won't do us any good."
If Jamie was not feeling so muzzy still, he might remember that it could do some good cashed at Milliways . . . but he is. And anyways, who knows what going to a different world altogether would do to the pull in his stomach.
"There must be something we can buy to barter without people getting suspicious," Helen replies, doubtfully. "It might not last the trip, but then again it might--if the money's going to be useless either way I don't see why not."
Then, after a split second, her shoulders sag. "The traverse is in the middle of the market."
"Once we get that close, we won't have much time to shop," Jamie agrees.
"If you want to delay for some reason, it's better to stay further away. When you're close it's hard to ignore the pull. But I can't see any real reason to put it off."
Saying goodbyes isn't a thing Homeward Bounders do.
"Right," Helen says, abruptly, pulling on her shoes and bending to cinch them tightly. "What are you lagging for, then?"
*
Helen sticks close by Jamie as they walk through the crowds by the market, grabbing the back of his shirt a few times when they're nearly spun away from one another.
Jamie navigates his way with relative confidence through the streets of Creema di Leema, occasionally tipping a nod or a grin to a face he recognizes and ducking out of the way of the ever-present (and ever-enthusiastic) dancers with the ease of much practice.
It's good, he thinks, that they're going now while they can still take it easy. The crowds would be intolerable if they'd really got to the hurry-hurry stage.
When he sees the circular courtyard that marks the Bound ahead, he stops and looks back at Helen.
"Well," he says, and then stops, suddenly aware that he's not entirely sure what's going to happen now. Now she doesn't need him any more to tell her the rules, will she decide she's better off going on her own?
"Well what?" Helen asks, stopping a second later to glare at him. "I hope you've got a good grip, Jamie, I shouldn't use my gift in case we get somewhere just as busy."
"You needn't worry about my grip, I'm not the one accidentally let go and separated the pantomime horse again last night," he says, but he reaches over and grabs her hand. With a very good grip.
Together, they step through . . . and then, once again, they're somewhere else.
"Right, right, we've got some time."
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In fact, he's half-tempted to go back to sleep.
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Jamie finally swings his legs over the edge of the mattress, but he doesn't stand up yet.
"We may as well throw everything we have into the river. The money certainly won't do us any good."
If Jamie was not feeling so muzzy still, he might remember that it could do some good cashed at Milliways . . . but he is. And anyways, who knows what going to a different world altogether would do to the pull in his stomach.
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Then, after a split second, her shoulders sag. "The traverse is in the middle of the market."
Reply
"If you want to delay for some reason, it's better to stay further away. When you're close it's hard to ignore the pull. But I can't see any real reason to put it off."
Saying goodbyes isn't a thing Homeward Bounders do.
Reply
*
Helen sticks close by Jamie as they walk through the crowds by the market, grabbing the back of his shirt a few times when they're nearly spun away from one another.
Reply
It's good, he thinks, that they're going now while they can still take it easy. The crowds would be intolerable if they'd really got to the hurry-hurry stage.
When he sees the circular courtyard that marks the Bound ahead, he stops and looks back at Helen.
"Well," he says, and then stops, suddenly aware that he's not entirely sure what's going to happen now. Now she doesn't need him any more to tell her the rules, will she decide she's better off going on her own?
Reply
She holds out her hand nearly like a command.
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"You needn't worry about my grip, I'm not the one accidentally let go and separated the pantomime horse again last night," he says, but he reaches over and grabs her hand. With a very good grip.
Together, they step through . . . and then, once again, they're somewhere else.
Reply
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