Fitcher accepts it, as she does the treatment of her very jaunty hat. Sitting there in the sunshine, feeling the heat on the back of her neck, she helps with idly smoking the joint down to a stub—unhurried and more or less unbothered by the salt tinged heat, or where she is or isn't going once they've elected to be finished here. If there are indeed no Venatori agents on the horizon, then they have little to do save to elect to pack their things.
It's only after a long stretch of silence—not companionable but not anything else either—, the haze stripped away by the drifting air but the smell lingering, that she moves to extract her thigh from across him and out from under the drifting cycle of his hand. It affords her the capacity to lean forward, to lean down. To touch his scruffy jaw and press a skunky kiss to his cheek.
"You'll make a fine Warden. And if you don't—" Then what? "Then maybe I'll see you again, hmm?"
She smiles at him, toothy. Eventually, someone finds him.
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Date: 2022-07-31 11:30 pm (UTC)It's only after a long stretch of silence—not companionable but not anything else either—, the haze stripped away by the drifting air but the smell lingering, that she moves to extract her thigh from across him and out from under the drifting cycle of his hand. It affords her the capacity to lean forward, to lean down. To touch his scruffy jaw and press a skunky kiss to his cheek.
"You'll make a fine Warden. And if you don't—" Then what? "Then maybe I'll see you again, hmm?"
She smiles at him, toothy. Eventually, someone finds him.