[log] home is where the heart is until we get a chance to bury it.
At 5:30AM on Saturday morning in New York City, it is 8:30AM in Cordoba, Argentina, and Aloysius Martel is doing his level best not to wake girlfriend or girlfriend's child when he slides out of bed (looms over the bassinet for a moment, just checking on her, just because), because the quiet moments between other lives are the best times to catch ( Read more... )
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Maria is not really a light sleeper, but the hour is near to when she'd have to get up anyway, so she rouses a little with a soft sigh and a languid stretch. Her eyelashes flicker upward and she tips her head back, watching Aloysius out of the corner of her eyes.
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Aloysius is sitting on the top of the short steps up to his bed, nearby Nouria's bassinet, with at least the higher parts of him in fairly easy view. "That would have been lovely of me, you're right-" far away enough that Maria's stirring doesn't unsettle him, what sounds like the baby waking makes him fall silent until he thinks she's settled again, "-I was actually thinking of the fact it's nearly December and I've been too busy with other things to get organized. ...What? Nothing."
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Maria thinks this over for a few moments and then crawls forward on her hands and knees, off and toward Aloysius with her legs still tangled in the sheets, which drag behind her. She leans against his back, leaning her chin on his shoulder from behind, and then presses her face into the side of his neck that isn't going to be interrupted by the phone's presence.
Sneaky, right?
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Aloysius is reflectively silent for a long few moments while Maria settles at his back. Then: "I was trying not to wake anyone else, but I seem to have - yes, I told you about her - what? Now? Fine."
Aloysius tips his head back so he can kiss Maria briefly and...offers her the phone.
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