This shirt is a good one; she likes it a lot. It's not Venusian Vanilla -- it's even paler than that, almost off-white -- but she likes the way it fits. She likes the way it looks
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Despite the conventional wisdom that says if a person immerses himself in a foreign country he'll become proficient at the language, he'll never fucking learn to speak French. Maybe that's because he's been in hiding for so damn long, or maybe it's because he's shit at other languages to start with. Sure, he knows enough Japanese to get into trouble, and enough Mandarin to have impressed Mao way back when. But he's never considered that to be a strength of his.
Junior, however, is a different story. She's a mimic and every now and then he swears he hears a bonjour or je suis Bethjoonya from her, but he could be making that up. At the moment she's not saying anything anyhow; she's sound asleep. He knows: he checked on her while Beth was getting ready for bed.
The curtains here are drawn and the light's down low. This place is so damn great. It's out of the way. He hasn't had to wear that cloak in weeks, although he sometimes does put it on for an advanced game of peek-a-boo with their little aijou. But that's just for fun, not out of
( ... )
She's been intrigued by him since he first shared his cigarettes with her, and she thinks, in retrospect, she may have fallen for him faster than would have if she hadn't been living alone in a church in this post-plague world for two years.
Okay, she knows she did. There's no real doubt about it.
But she loves him. He's her bounty hunter, Beth Junior's surrogate father, one of only two grown men alive here but the one of the two she really wants in her bed every night.
And the toothy grin she gives him as she walks across the room toward him probably says it loud and clear. "I don't know what list you're talking about." Selfishly, she hooks both arms around his neck. "The only list I know you have has at least two things on it that qualify as cheating."
"Like one of these?" Hell, if that isn't a clear and open invitation to touch her, he doesn't know what is. "Now tell me again: which one has to feel bad because it's labeled as the cheat: breast number one or breast number two?" His hands go to her chest like they're still doing that daily weigh-in from a couple years ago. He knows she was uncomfortable as hell during that pregnancy, but it had its perks for both of them.
Not all the perks were cheats on lists or suggestions from books, but he's an opportunist and can't help it if he wanted to take advantage of everything he could. That's... what opportunists like him do. Like sneaking out of the bar at the end of the universe for an unplanned visit with his woman and daughter. It's not his fault the Israeli army chose that day to plow down his return door... but in so many ways, as tough as it's been, he's so glad it happened that way. He can see himself back at the bar if that hadn't happened, all bitter and miserable and alone, no fun to be around, cursing at kids under his
( ... )
A weak noise of protest -- it's hard to protest when you've got a big grin on your face and laughter on your lips -- comes out of her, but she lets her arms tighten around him and accepts his kiss without a single complaint.
And when he puts her down and gets on the bed beside her, she grins all over again.
"No kidding?" He has all her attention; her right hand curls around the back of his neck. "I don't know, bounty hunter. I might need some physical proof here."
Since they've been living in this house she's had the chance to remember just how goddamn great it is that Beth Junior hit that milestone of sleeping straight through most nights.
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Junior, however, is a different story. She's a mimic and every now and then he swears he hears a bonjour or je suis Bethjoonya from her, but he could be making that up. At the moment she's not saying anything anyhow; she's sound asleep. He knows: he checked on her while Beth was getting ready for bed.
The curtains here are drawn and the light's down low. This place is so damn great. It's out of the way. He hasn't had to wear that cloak in weeks, although he sometimes does put it on for an advanced game of peek-a-boo with their little aijou. But that's just for fun, not out of ( ... )
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Okay, she knows she did. There's no real doubt about it.
But she loves him. He's her bounty hunter, Beth Junior's surrogate father, one of only two grown men alive here but the one of the two she really wants in her bed every night.
And the toothy grin she gives him as she walks across the room toward him probably says it loud and clear. "I don't know what list you're talking about." Selfishly, she hooks both arms around his neck. "The only list I know you have has at least two things on it that qualify as cheating."
Reply
Not all the perks were cheats on lists or suggestions from books, but he's an opportunist and can't help it if he wanted to take advantage of everything he could. That's... what opportunists like him do. Like sneaking out of the bar at the end of the universe for an unplanned visit with his woman and daughter. It's not his fault the Israeli army chose that day to plow down his return door... but in so many ways, as tough as it's been, he's so glad it happened that way. He can see himself back at the bar if that hadn't happened, all bitter and miserable and alone, no fun to be around, cursing at kids under his ( ... )
Reply
A weak noise of protest -- it's hard to protest when you've got a big grin on your face and laughter on your lips -- comes out of her, but she lets her arms tighten around him and accepts his kiss without a single complaint.
And when he puts her down and gets on the bed beside her, she grins all over again.
"No kidding?" He has all her attention; her right hand curls around the back of his neck. "I don't know, bounty hunter. I might need some physical proof here."
Since they've been living in this house she's had the chance to remember just how goddamn great it is that Beth Junior hit that milestone of sleeping straight through most nights.
Reply
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