(Untitled)

[misterparker]

Parker is bleeding through the bandage on his arm and starts to say, "Jack, do we have any more...?"

Frowning, he looks around. Bar. Not Italy. Med supplies?

"Hey, can I have some more bandages?"

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[lethe_forgets]

The bandages, when they appear, are snatched up easily enough - her fingers are pale and soft and know rather well how to do this, the motion itself is familiar.

"Hello," she murmurs, eyes up underneath her lashes and smiling softly. "Nothing is too terribly wrong, I hope?"

Short and slightly fussy is rather par for course, really.

[lethe_forgets]

"We may stay as long as it pleases you," she replies immediately. "I am perfectly fine with being wherever it is that you wish."

There is always later for other places - or for here.

Either way.

[misterparker]

"How're you?" Parker asks.

"What've you been doing?"

[lethe_forgets]

"Nothing very terribly different," she admits with an absent flutter of the fingers not curled lightly around his arm.

"Though I think that I am a bit better," another quick, fluttery gesture. "Not half as many jagged edges and Lethe-pieces."

[misterparker]

"That's good."

Running a finger across her cheek he pretends to check it for blood.

"Nope. No jagged edges."

[lethe_forgets]

She snatches his finger anyway and presses a kiss to the tip of it.

Just in case.

"Good," she laughs, nose wrinkling. "It does take a while to sand them back down when they get all troublesome again."

[misterparker]

"Well, lucky for you, I was born with thick skin, all flesh wounds aside."

Parker grins and leans in. "So, any gossip?"

[lethe_forgets]

"M-me?"

She doesn't - well - she doesn't think that she has anything particularly exciting.

[misterparker]

"You or on anyone?"

[lethe_forgets]

"Not very much," she wrinkles her nose, rubbing a bit at a vaguely pink cheek. "Unless you want to count Prometheus in a Santa suit last night - I have been a little behind on my visiting as well."

It is not, however, a terribly cooperative flush.

[misterparker]

"Well, gossip from Italy is that I punched out a guy flirting with Jack. One of the ballerinas is in love with him and he's in a new ballet. As always."

This is not really gossip about Parker at all.

[lethe_forgets]

"I do hope you did not break him too terribly," she manages to sound sufficiently concerned - or she would, perhaps, if she wasn't biting back a smile.

A thoughtful pause.

"Though it seems that a lot of people seem to do that."

Fall into various arrays of love with Jack, that is.

[misterparker]

Parker looks away, suddenly.

"He's a lovable guy. I mean, you're a lovable girl, but he's meant to last a lot longer than me and I think..."

Parker fingers the new bandage. "I think Frost made him lovable on purpose."

[lethe_forgets]

"We old things do not think any less of love that is short or love that is long or love that is far older than we are."

Love just is as far as Lethe is concerned.

"We may last," she murmurs, stilling his fingers with hers. "But it does not make the things before any less important - or wonderful."

[misterparker]

"No, I mean, I get that." At least he thinks he does. It's somewhat confusing.

"I mean, I think that Frost realized that making Jack into someone everyone could love would make him last longer. Darwinian. Survival of the species."

[lethe_forgets]

"It would be a nice thing to have a bit," she smiles, head tilting to the side. "To know that you would always be loved."

Survival mechanism or not.