tragic_mask | (no subject)

"Yes, let's just get away," she says, grinning. "Like Thelma and Louise?"

"But hopefully with a better ending," he nods. "It's very appealing--just get away from it all. Travel, and find ways to make a bit of money here and there as we need it, but mostly we wouldn't need it."

"Live off the land," she supplies.

"We could, yes. Hunting, fishing--gathering wild berries and raiding farmers' crops for a little bit here and there. Hitchhiking--do we want to hitchhike?"

She thinks about it for a moment.

"I thought more along the lines of catching freight trains as they come through town, and camping out in the empty cars. Or is that antiquated?"

"There are still trains, I think. Probably better security than there used to be, but I think we could manage. There's romance in it. I find the idea appealing."

"We're going to be very busy, with all the plans we're making," she says. "But we have plenty of time."

"Plenty of time," he agrees. "You're still young. Of course, in a few years you may have to start taking care of me, but I think I've got a few years yet before I'm senile."

She leans over the table, and runs her fingers along his forehead. "I think I feel some wrinkles already. A sure sign of impending old age."

"Marjorie, you were always my favorite great-granddaughter," he says, trying (and partly succeeding) at fighting a grin. "But for that, I may have to take you out of my will."

"Well, damn," she says, and takes a sip of her water.

"There go your dreams of being heiress to a bottlecap fortune," he says. "But I think we'll manage. The real money's in recycling bottlecaps these days."

"Oh, I guess I'll stick with you, then," she says, nodding.

He chuckles, and slides a bottlecap from a fancy local beer across the table toward her.

"You've got good taste. We're going places."

"So you say," she says, and inspects the cap.

The cap is clean, if a bit scuffed, and has a picture of a satyr on it.

"Even if we don't steal a car, even if we only travel as stowaways, the world is ours."

"I take your word for it."

"The only question is--which of us will be the one to take up the harmonica?"

"Well, I like to think I have modest musical talent," she says. "Genetically, or something."

"Then you get the harmonica, and if I feel inspired, which I am not ruling out, I may take up the tambourine," he says with a grin. "You know, in case we are ever desperate for money, and to while away the hours crossing the plains by boxcar."

She raises a brow. "I feel like we're slipping into another era."

"It's been a long time since I lived off the land like that," he admits. "Get tired of things, throw it all away, start over--but I was alone, the last time."

"Do you prefer being a lone wolf?"

"Never."

He doesn't even have to think about it.

"I may go off alone to my workshop for a while, but especially when one is traveling, company is preferable. Maybe not spend every minute together, but have the option to."

"So you like having to argue about where to go and what to do?" she says, with a smile.