olyabird: (Default)
Four days have passed and things have been quiet.  They've relaxed, lounged really, taking the odd meal in the bar, watching a few videos together (old Westerns mostly), and talked.   She's never been the chatty type, but he's patient, and doesn't mind telling her all sorts of stories about his world and the crew of his starship.  Eventually, she felt comfortable enough to share a few lighter stories with him.  Her world is so dark and strange compared to his.  For once, the time is passing quickly enough she wishes it would slow down.

The nights are wonderful, if a touch sedate for her tastes.  He isn't as much of a night owl (in the metaphorical sense, of course) as she is, but she's getting used to it.  He doesn't seem to mind her night time pacing, always ready to invite her back under the covers when she returns.
olyabird: (contemplating)
[ after this ]

She still eats as if it is a privilege, a throwback to the many times when it was.  Proteins first, to sustain the body, and yes, while battered poultry is a novelty, she still manages to enjoy it.  Carbohydrates next, and fresh baked bread is fresh baked bread the world over.  And finally, because it has a strange scent, and it looks to be rather messy to eat, finally she delves into the watermelon slices.  Juice ran down her chin and she had a sense memory of eating apples fresh from the cider press, only this was more like pears, she thought.  No, not at all like pears.  Something completely new and different.

Not unlike the man seated next to her, his startlingly blue eyes glittering with mirth as she chased bite after bite with a swipe of her napkin. 

"This should be served in a glass," she murmurs, taking another bite of the almost ethereal fruit.  One could eat for days and never fill up.  "What are you laughing at, hmm?"
olyabird: (profile)
The bar gave her a key with a brass numbered tag.  A napkin informed her a change of clothes and fresh towels would be waiting for them. 

It was only a few flights up from the bar, and he insisted on holding every door between the two.  It felt strange to be so close to a man, after so many years.  Even through the strange chemical smells and the scent of blood, she could catch hints of his scent.

She still keeps a wary eye on the hall ways, and only seems to relax once they are inside the room with the chain thrown.  (It allows her to whisper the incantation for a simple ward without making it too obvious.)

She turns back to him, draping her coat over the chair and giving him a soft smile.

"Would you like the first shower, or shall I go?"

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olyabird: (Default)
Olga

November 2010

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