tragic_mask | (no subject)

"To see live music, hopefully," he says. "I hope we'll be able to find a dinner restaurant here with music, come to think of it. I like live music."

"Me, too. Good plan."

"We could even go dancing, though I don't think I've got the right clothes for it... not that we should worry much about that, on vacation. Hawaiian shirts are good for any occasion."

"I love dancing..." she says. "And I'm afraid I don't have any Hawaiian shirts to speak of."

"I'd lend you one of mine, but it wouldn't quite fit," he says. "You'd have to tie it up like the girls in the old Hollywood beach movies--although, come to think of it, you'd look adorable like that."

"A little attention-seeking, though, isn't it?" she asks, skeptically. "Rather defeats the purpose of normalcy in vacation."

"...maybe with your emeralds, then," he says. "I'm sure we can find you a nice green Hawaiian shirt. We'll just have to look like tourists tonight."

"All right," she says, nodding and leaning back in her chair.

He sips his coffee, watching her with the sort of half-smile that suggests he is up to something.

Something that may or may not be good.

She looks back, eyebrows raised in a slightly inquisitive fashion, but says nothing.

He reaches across the table to take her hand, unless she pulls away.

For this vacation, he has replaced the illusion of gloves with the illusion of normal, bare hands. It pleases him.

She doesn't, but lets it rest there, comfortably.

"So, what is the plan for today?"

"See the falls, and beyond that... nothing until dinner," he says, squeezing her hand gently. "Well, I suppose lunch somewhere in there, or an early dinner--I do like to eat."

"All right," she says. "Sounds like an excellent agenda."

"Nothing but the best for my woman," he says with a smile.

"Well, in that case, we should roll down the falls in a couple of barrels."

"Mmmm."

He strokes the back of her hand with his thumb. "If I were going to go over the falls, it wouldn't be in a barrel. And I wouldn't let you do it either... though it's not likely to kill us, eh?"

"Very doubtful," she says with a smile. "So how would you go over the falls?"

"On a shield," he answers, "a metal one. I'd want a paddle too, of course, for once I'm in the river below. How would you do it?"

"Well, the barrel is my first choice. Otherwise... I don't really have a strategy, so I probably wouldn't bother with the barrel."

Her brow wrinkles. "You make it sound like you've done this before. Plunging off a waterfall, I mean."

"I was a Boy Scout," he says, as though that explains it. "On the one hand, a barrel will protect you, but on the other, it can also fill up with water. You've got to have a lot of faith in your barrel."

"Sounds very philosophical."

She sighs. "Well, I guess we don't have to go over... but we should certainly do something thrilling while we're there."

"I have a secret wish to spit watermelon seeds off the roof of a tall building," he admits, "but this is probably not the right season, and I'm not sure it would count as thrilling. Unless it involved nudity and a subsequent police chase, but imagine having that be all over the news."

She laughs. "That'd be exciting. Maybe not the ordinary vacation, but hey."

"My mother would be horrified," he says with a chuckle. "You know she'd find out. She watches the news every day, morning and evening. Just imagine the phone call I'd get--there'd be a dozen messages on the machine when we get back, and I'd never hear the end of it."