43. Pitching A Tent (Reeve - 21/100)darknessmatineeJune 15 2010, 19:18:14 UTC
“You sure you’re not conditioned to sleeping indoors, Mister Head of Urban Development?” The dark-haired woman asked in a teasing tone. Reeve, sitting on a nearby rock, tilted his head. “No more than one of the Turks would be.” He returned with a discerning look. The woman smirked, lifting a canvas bag. “Good. You can pitch the tent, then.” She said, sending the pack gliding towards Reeve’s feet. As it landed, he sighed, not entirely surprised. Opening the bag, he glanced over at the woman, who was walking away. “Where are you going?” he asked before returning to the tent.
“No more than one of the Turks would be.” He returned with a discerning look. The woman smirked, lifting a canvas bag.
“Good. You can pitch the tent, then.” She said, sending the pack gliding towards Reeve’s feet. As it landed, he sighed, not entirely surprised. Opening the bag, he glanced over at the woman, who was walking away.
“Where are you going?” he asked before returning to the tent.
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