dejah_thoris | [milliways] Through The Looking Glass

If asked, Curtis will vehemently deny that he's been hovering. He's just...been finding more excuses to be in the main bar these past twenty-four hours.

She'd said she would be back within a day at most. Maybe it's been less than a day, and Curtis is just having trouble with time again. (Maybe it's been longer, but if it has, at least he hasn't been able to tell.)

All of which is to say he's right where Dejah left him at the bar -- and when Curtis spots her, he visibly brightens, sets down his drink, and waves hello.

She virtually dances across the floor to him.

She has to stand on her tiptoes to do it, but she throws one arm around his neck in greeting. The box and the books get crushed between them, but that doesn't stop her from kissing him. It's hard to kiss when you're grinning so broadly, but she manages, somehow.

Okay, no matter how long the separation might have been? Worth it, to get a greeting like that.

Curtis wraps his arm around her waist and kisses her back, hard. He can't pull her too much closer with all the stuff between them, but that's okay. For now.

"Hi to you, too," he says with a laugh when they break apart. "How'd it go?"

"In short, very well." She shifts the load in her arms so she can drop it on the bar, careful to keep the box on top. "I want to double check my calculations, but I think it's easily accomplished."

She pushes out a bar stool but doesn't step up into it just yet. She has two arms now, and he gets a proper hug this time, her lips pressing kisses to his cheek and his jaw.

"I missed you."

"Missed you too."

A twinge of worry stirs under his ribs; he draws his arm more securely around her. "How long was it for you?"

She hears the note in his voice and pulls back to take his face between her hands.

"Just a day. Was it longer here?"

"No, I don't think so," he says. Curtis touches the crook of her elbow. "I just wasn't sure."

Time doesn't just go haywire inside of Milliways, he knows.

"So what'd you find out?"

She just takes a moment to look at him, to feast her eyes upon him. Her hand strokes his beard.

"How would you like to be my shadow for a day?"

He blinks -- and then his smile grows by a fraction, and Curtis leans to touch his forehead to hers.

"I'd like that a lot," he whispers.

(Another twinge: nerves, this time, like he wants to get up and start pacing around the room. They're easy enough to squash.)

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, resting against him. After a long moment, she pulls back, still grinning. "I'd like that, too. But there's a few things we need to discuss before you come with me through that door, all right?"

Curtis lifts his eyebrows.

Deadpan: "As long as you don't need a blood sample, we're cool."

She thumps him on the arm, and catches his hand between her own two.

"Have you eaten yet?"

He snickers; the laughter, brief as it is, fades entirely when she speaks. Dejah can probably feel the familiar tension working through his fingers.

It's...less, though. He doesn't look like an animal on the verge of bolting. Not even one who's turning a wary eye to the landscape, listening for danger.

"Not yet," he says. A beat's hesitation. "Want to get breakfast and take it back to your room?"

She feels it, and she notes the distinct lack of panic accompanying the question. He's finding it easier to trust her. In the back of her mind, she silently whispers a prayer of thanks.

She steals another soft kiss from his lips, lingering for a breath or two in the moment. "Yes, let's do that," she whispers. "We can discuss what comes next."

He smiles into the kiss; when she pulls back, Curtis chases her forward for one more quick peck on the lips.

(He's being such a fucking teenager. God.)

"How about pancakes? You tried those yet?"

You can take small bites of pancakes, if you need to. You don't have to make them so messy with syrup that they're a production unto themselves. Syrup'd probably send Dejah into sugar shock anyway.

He can't steal that; it's hers! She took it fair and square. Still grinning, she nips gently at lips, and then soothes the bite with a firm kiss.

"No, I haven't! Let's try those." She tries to keep it light, as if this is another adventure they're embarking on with potential untold riches at the end.

Edited 2015-09-15 18:17 (UTC)

Bar, surreptitiously listening in on their conversation (which isn't hard to do when you're a sentient plank of wood), obliges in an instant. Pop; up come a pair of clear takeout boxes, a stack of pancakes in each one. She's even tucked a smaller container of maple syrup alongside each one, plus butter, a knife, and a fork.

Dejah's tone helps, more than Curtis consciously realizes. "Perfect," he says, moving to grab the boxes. "Thanks."

Glancing Dejah's way, "Try the syrup first before you dump it all over the pancakes. Um, the little tub of brown stuff."

Dejah collects her books and the box in one armful and snags the bag with her free hand. "Is it anything like molasses? What is it with humans and their impossible sweet tooth?"

"Maybe?" he hazards as they head for the stairs. "I don't know, I don't think I ever had molasses. But yeah, it's really sweet."

And for Curtis to say that? Yeah.

"Made from tree sap or something. I think."

"Oh! Yes, maple I believe. We have a similar ingredient made from the blood of the calot tree. It's a delicacy, really, and for good reason. I am a completist, but I don't even have a calot tree in my botanical collection. Too dangerous."

She walks as she talks, her demeanor one of someone who expects other people to get out of her way. And people do, for some strange reason.

"I will say this for Jasoom's flora and fauna. Vast and varied as it is, it tends to stay where you put it and it doesn't actively seek to grab and consume the gardeners."

Curtis traps a surprised cough in his throat before it can splutter out into actual words. It's a good distraction from the uncomfortable instant where he's reminded of Mason sweeping into each of the cars, head high, front-sectioners automatically parting to give her so much of their precious space.

"Yeah," he says weakly. "I think even I'd remember something like that."

She turns back to him and flashes a brilliant smile, her blue eyes shining just for him.

"Well, now you can't say I didn't warn you, can you?" Dejah almost bowls into a pair of wait rats coming down the stairs, and she has to spin in place to not let the armload of books come crashing down. She carefully holds the pancakes out of the way.

"Sorry! So sorry! I wasn't looking! Entirely my fault! Sorry!"

The rats chittered their disapproval and one of them rolled its eyes at Curtis as it went passed them.

"I'll give you cheese later," Curtis calls after them as their tails flash down the rest of the stairs. "Or cake!"

(Fortunately, no more mice pop out to greet that with a chorus of hail!)

He holds out his hand to the towering pile of stuff in Dejah's arms. "I can grab some of that. Here, c'mon."

"Just take the box. That's the important bits."

She holds still while he takes it.

"That's the sensor data for the entire city of Helium. Guard it with your life." Her eyes go wide in mock seriousness.

"Yes, ma'am." Just as solemn, as he tucks it against his hipbone and wraps his arm more snugly around the box. "So what'd you find out?"

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