tragic_mask | (no subject)

"Oh, I'm not afraid to get rough," she says, "If the situation requires it."

"A woman after my own heart, such as it is," he grins. "You know, it just may."

"I'm sure it will, with you around."

"Women love dangerous men," he says, attempting to look serious, and only partly succeeding. "I can't help it. I doubt you'd want me any other way."

"Oh, of course not."

"So you'll just have to put up with the occasional accidental sleep-kicking, and do the occasional accidental somewhat harder sleep-kicking in return. Or whatever else you feel is appropriate."

"I'll keep that in mind," she says. "However, in my experience, your sleeping pattern is quite... rock-like."

"Your calming influence, I'm sure," he says with a smile. "Or possibly from drinking. Or a long day in the car."

"Could be all three," she says, sagely. "But I'd rather attribute it to the other three than the fact that I'm dull."

"You're not dull, not at all. Well... I have to admit, you're not exactly exciting to watch when you're sleeping. But it's peaceful, not dull."

Another pause.

"I'm not making my case very well for not being creepy, here."

"Yeah... I feel like I shouldn't be letting you carry me wherever your whims take you."

"Do you want me to set you down?" he asks with a smile. "Because I will, if you like. We're almost there, anyway."

"Sure, I'll be autonomous," she says.

He returns her gently to her feet.

"They'd probably look at us strangely if I carried you around in the gift shop, anyway," he says. "We'll each need both hands free for shopping."

"Oh, yeah," she agrees. "Those little postcards, the Niagara Falls refrigerator magnets..."

"I hope they have one of those machines that you put pennies in and they flatten them and print a picture on, of the falls. And that they take American pennies--but they're the same size, aren't they?"

"We'll have to find out... I don't often cross the border."

She slips her arm through his as they proceed along the sidewalk.

"I know I've gotten them by accident now and then. Which is unfair, as they are generally worth less than an American penny, but I do like the leaves on them."

He walks with her, contentedly.

"I'll take your word for it. I never got a close enough look to appreciate the foliage."

"It takes a brave country, or a very courteous one, to have a leaf as their symbol," he says thoughtfully. "I do like maples, though. The syrup, the candy. The... furniture."

"Furniture made of maple syrup," she says slowly, as if contemplating. "Could get interesting."

"Well, if you live in one of those ice hotels," he says. "You could lick your furniture if you get hungry. And it would smell nice--or would it have any scent at all, in that cold?"

"You'd probably know better..." she says. "I do know that if I tried to sit on it in normal temperatures, I'd slowly but surely sink to ground level, surrounded by a tasty but shapeless puddle of maple syrup."

"...I wouldn't mind you covered in maple syrup," he grins. "Not in that alien-queen outfit, though. That would get messy."

"Messy is half the fun," she says, with her eyebrow raised. "If not more."