More Hot Chocolate. Dude, I don't even know anymore.

[mm_adiva]

Biking all summer, going down West Hill a couple times a week, and where does she finally wipe out? On freaking Spenard, four days before she leaves.

Man. At least it wasn't a bad crash.

Adiva wanders into Milliways today looking pink-cheeked and sweaty, vainly trying to make her hair look like it didn't just spend half an hour under a helmet and

Comments

[nneverwas]

Things that are noticeable about Aaron today:

He's sitting at the bar.

His nose is just a little bit crookeder than the last time she saw it.

He's dressed all in black-- dingy, dusty, serviceable black, the kind of black that spends a lot of time on its knees in a field gathering herbs (there are grass-stains) or in someone's kitchen making tea (a few darker splashes along the sleeves). Not modern clothes. There are even a pair of rather scuffed black boots.

He's playing with a length of thread (if you have to ask what colour, you haven't been paying attention), weaving it into a kind of net and then unweaving it again with remarkable speed and dexterity.

His hands are clean and whole and without any kind of bruising.

He doesn't look up when she arrives, too absorbed in his bizarre pursuit to have noticed her quite yet.

[mm_adiva]

She doesn't recognize him when she goes to the bar to order a soda.

Oh, she recognizes yet another Edward Norton, and grins to herself, but she doesn't make the--

--connection.

She turns her head very slowly to look down the bar at him.

[nneverwas]

Aaron looks suddenly and unaccountably nervous.

Then he looks up and meets her eyes.

"Adiva."

It's so strange, to say her name again.

Now he smiles. Quiet and rueful and maybe a little sheepish, but genuinely glad to see her nonetheless.

[mm_adiva]

"Holy shit."