Found the note, and thought it odd, and left Miaren with Missus Rainey for a little and took myself over. Can manage all he insists on giving her, but don't mind a day without something to carry back.
He's like enough home, as the door's unlocked, and step inside. "Cerflun?" He hasn't been cooking, can tell that sure enough. Wander in and through, and find him in the bathroom with smoke and wine. Truly not much suprise.
"You know," I say, raising an eyebrow and leaning one shoulder on the doorway, grinning more than I'm trying to, "you never write letters. What's this matter of a note?"
"You know, you never write letters." God, she's quiet. I sit up in the tub. "What's this matter of a note?"
Oh, right. That. "Should I start writing them? If this ends with you in here with me, I will. Pages and pages." I grin and set my bottle to the side. "I wanted to see you. I wrote a note. That's not so odd, is it?"
"Should I start writing them? If this ends with you in here with me, I will. Pages and pages." Grins light and easy and catch myself sending it back, pick the bottle up as he sets it down; only wine, something light, so at least this mayn't be a time he needs a bottle of whiskey and a tongueful of Welsh to say what he's after. Rather glad, those always leave us both ragged. "I wanted to see you. I wrote a note. That's not so odd, is it?"
"Bloody well is," I say, stepping in and settling on my heels aside the tub. "You could've come in and spoken, you've done it afore." Touch his hair, smiling a little, and then reach for the smoke. "What's matter of your mind, to be leaving notes?"
"Bloody well is," she says, coming close and crouching beside me. "You could've come in and spoken, you've done it afore." Am I really so very predictable? I make a face when she touches my hair. "What's matter of your mind, to be leaving notes?"
I pull the cigarette out of reach. "Let's call it a secret." I'm grinning again, but it's been one of those days, hasn't it? "Get in and I'll tell you." Eventually. Because then, obviously, she'll be in the tub with me. I may be preoccupied.
Comments 15
He's like enough home, as the door's unlocked, and step inside. "Cerflun?" He hasn't been cooking, can tell that sure enough. Wander in and through, and find him in the bathroom with smoke and wine. Truly not much suprise.
"You know," I say, raising an eyebrow and leaning one shoulder on the doorway, grinning more than I'm trying to, "you never write letters. What's this matter of a note?"
Reply
Oh, right. That. "Should I start writing them? If this ends with you in here with me, I will. Pages and pages." I grin and set my bottle to the side. "I wanted to see you. I wrote a note. That's not so odd, is it?"
Reply
"Bloody well is," I say, stepping in and settling on my heels aside the tub. "You could've come in and spoken, you've done it afore." Touch his hair, smiling a little, and then reach for the smoke. "What's matter of your mind, to be leaving notes?"
Reply
I pull the cigarette out of reach. "Let's call it a secret." I'm grinning again, but it's been one of those days, hasn't it? "Get in and I'll tell you." Eventually. Because then, obviously, she'll be in the tub with me. I may be preoccupied.
Reply
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