[Room 1001]

[2goodarms]

Curtis is getting better at remembering they have unfettered access to water. He still forgets to shower sometimes, but when he does remember, he makes up for it by indulging for a good long while.

Sorry, Edgar. It's probably gonna be another forty-five minutes before you can get into the bathroom this morning.

Comments

[hate_gettin_older]

He glances at Curtis.

If a honeybee sting is anything like a flea bite, it isn't that bad.

[2goodarms]

"...Right, I forgot about that part." Rueful.

He remembers that bees sting, but those memories only include a single, sharp flash of pain. Multiplying that memory by -- how many bees are in a swarm, anyway? Fifty?

Yeah, it's not worth it, says the look on his face. Especially if they can get honey from Bar.

[dejah_thoris]

"I've read about bee keepers, though I haven't seen any formal hives around the bar." Dejah glances at Curtis. "Do you two often have entire conversations without ever opening your mouths?"

[hate_gettin_older]

"What? No," says Edgar, a bit bemused. "Why would we do that?"

[2goodarms]

"We've just been around each other a long time," Curtis adds, in mild protest.

[dejah_thoris]

"It's a handy skill to have when you're hunting, I'll admit."

She stands on a tip toe midstep and plants a kiss on Curtis's cheek.

"And when you don't want other people to overhear what you're saying," she teases.

[2goodarms]

"It's not like we're psychic."

He's grinning, though.

[hate_gettin_older]

"Wouldn't that be fuckin something, though?" Edgar grins back.

[dejah_thoris]

Dejah's chin dips to her chest and she laughs, low and rich.

"Be careful what you wish for, Edgar. It is a magical bar after all."

[2goodarms]

"Oh, god, last thing I need," deadpans Curtis. "Hearing what's going on in your fucking head all day."

And no way in hell does Edgar need to hear what's going on in Curtis' head.

[hate_gettin_older]

"Yeah, no, I was figuring on the psychic thing being something we could turn off." He snorts. "Believe me, times I don't need to hear what you're thinking either."

[dejah_thoris]

Dejah hides her face against Curtis's shoulder, chuckling under her breath.

[2goodarms]

"What? Edgar." He rubs Dejah's shoulder, eyes wide in a parody of innocence. "Are you implying my thoughts aren't completely pure and clean every single second of every single day?"

He's so disappointed.

[hate_gettin_older]

"Right, right, of course" he says, muffling laughter. "You're a fuckin newborn babe, you are."

[dejah_thoris]

Dejah's cheeks are hot now, and she's shaking with laughter. Her grip around his waist tightens and she catches his hand, pulling his arm close around her neck.

"When we get back, I want to hear all about these thoughts of yours, Mister Everett."

[2goodarms]

He hums, serene, before kissing the top of Dejah's head.

"I think I can dig up some of the less boring ones for you."

Less innocent. Same difference. (Definitely not with Edgar in earshot, though.)

[hate_gettin_older]

"Oh christ," Edgar groans theatrically, still grinning.

[dejah_thoris]

She sighs, and somehow, the sound turns into a low purr.

"I look forward to returning the favor."

[2goodarms]

Oh, really, says the arch of Curtis' eyebrow. Yeah, looks like this is going to be a good day all over.

Around them, the grass sweeps higher like a cresting wave. More flowers unfurl along the edges of the path. The air hums and buzzes: crickets, bees, a dozen other insects.

Life.

[hate_gettin_older]

And because Dejah and Curtis are still mostly looking at each other, it's Edgar who first spots the fluttering scrap of color clinging to a grass-stem. It looks like a flower at first, but then it spreads itself wide and floats into the air.

He gasps.

[dejah_thoris]

Dejah looks up.

"What? Did you see something?"

[hate_gettin_older]

"There," he half-whispers, pointing.

His pointing hand wavers considerably, but not because his arm is unsteady; it's because the thing he's pointing at is moving, dancing along a current of air.

[2goodarms]

Curtis follows where Edgar points --

"Whoa."

The butterfly's so delicate he can't quite believe it's a real animal at all. It'd take so little to crush it; the breeze, light as it is, buffets the creature from side to side as it floats past them. How could it possibly survive?

Christ, there's so little harshness here that it actually can survive.

[dejah_thoris]

Dejah's mouth drops. It's tinier than she'd expected. So small it would easily fit in the center of her palm. And it's the color of raw spider silk, a pale creamy white with a single black dot.

It flutters towards them. "Stand perfectly still, Edgar," she whispers. "I don't know if this one's poisonous or not."

[hate_gettin_older]

"Poisonous?" Edgar demands in a whisper that nevertheless conveys the tone of a disbelieving shout.

He's standing perfectly still, as ordered.