[Milliways]
"Come on." He's got Faye by the hand, his sax case in his other hand. The moonlight glimmers off the lake and if there are creatures out in the woods, they don't concern him in the least. Staying in their rooms has been absolutely beautiful -- he can't think of many better uses of his time here -- but even though the phrase lovebirds flitters around in his brain, he shakes it off with this happy contentment that says what they have doesn't need labeling.
It's just what it is.
But he ignores any protests and runs with her through the night. This time they're not being pursued by any hoods; this running is just for the pure joy of doing. They move past the lake and around toward the back of the bar and into... a greenhouse, where he sets down his sax case on its side with the utmost care.
"Have you ever been in here before?" After he gives her hand a squeeze, he reaches down and opens the case.
There's no saxophone inside, but there is a bottle of wine and a pair of wine glasses and picnic supplies and foods wrapped so prettily and separately, filling the nooks and crannies where his saxophone would normally take up real estate. Covering the top is a blanket.
He shoots her a disarmingly sweet smile. "When I was little, my mother took me on a picnic to this really pretty place by a lake. The water was almost green and there were these little chairs near the lake's edge, and all sorts of flowers and bushes and things around it. It was too cold for swimming, but there was a huge expanse of Martian sand and we drew pictures in it all day, and had our picnic and..." There aren't so very many memories that he shares with people, but Faye is different. She can ask him anything about anything in his past or his present and he'll answer.
He'd like to share it all with her.
Shaking out the blanket, he lays it down and reaches for her hand as if she's the Queen of England and can't possibly take a step unassisted.
"Hungry?"
It's just what it is.
But he ignores any protests and runs with her through the night. This time they're not being pursued by any hoods; this running is just for the pure joy of doing. They move past the lake and around toward the back of the bar and into... a greenhouse, where he sets down his sax case on its side with the utmost care.
"Have you ever been in here before?" After he gives her hand a squeeze, he reaches down and opens the case.
There's no saxophone inside, but there is a bottle of wine and a pair of wine glasses and picnic supplies and foods wrapped so prettily and separately, filling the nooks and crannies where his saxophone would normally take up real estate. Covering the top is a blanket.
He shoots her a disarmingly sweet smile. "When I was little, my mother took me on a picnic to this really pretty place by a lake. The water was almost green and there were these little chairs near the lake's edge, and all sorts of flowers and bushes and things around it. It was too cold for swimming, but there was a huge expanse of Martian sand and we drew pictures in it all day, and had our picnic and..." There aren't so very many memories that he shares with people, but Faye is different. She can ask him anything about anything in his past or his present and he'll answer.
He'd like to share it all with her.
Shaking out the blanket, he lays it down and reaches for her hand as if she's the Queen of England and can't possibly take a step unassisted.
"Hungry?"