milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Sara is downstairs, seated in a booth. Despite the obvious presence of the illness, she is feeling rather relaxed this morning.

She's in the process of deciphering her older notes. Feel free to distract.

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She shrugs and pushes them over. It's quite possible they're even less legible than they were yesterday.

"OK. I can seee that having you communicate by notes would be a total failure. Unless...let's see...unless it's true that Tim is turning into Abe Lincoln.

"It's not true, is it? That could be interesting, after all." There is no sign of a smile right now. Sort of.

She points to one sentence. Tim--paraphysical form. She hadn't heard anything about him turning into Lincoln.

"Ah. Yes. I was misreading it. It says...'Tim - paraprofessional fork.' I think that means he's becoming a teacher's aide. Or a fork. Well, maybe some good will come of this." He's beginning to smirk a bit more.

Amateur is what her expression is saying now. She's silently stared confessions out of serial killers before.

"Ah. I think I see. You're challenging me. On the job for so short a time and already I have a challenge from within the ranks. Fine."

He goes silent. But he isn't very good at this, so while he tries to maintain a straight face in silence, his smirk is struggling to get free.

He's given only another shrug.

He sits back, notes in hand, and reads. Not that he would say this, of course, but he was married once and did get the silent treatment a few times.

But he is cracking, much as he did back then.

Most of the time, the silent treatment is intented punitively. This is just a game.

Smirk, smirk, smirk, smirk, smirk.

Furtive glance from behind the papers. A nod at something he's read. A smirk, aborted.

Another nod.

He has no idea what he's doing, does he?

She just takes a drink, perfectly serene.

Nope, no idea whatsoever.

Barry inhales. Exhales. He knows he's licked. But he didn't get where he got in life by giving in so fast.

So he takes a deep breath and sits back, and goes for serene.

Barry should feel proud--he's managed to get her to be quiet. An amazing feat.

One would almost think they had entered a Buddhist temple.

The funny thing is that the silence feels nice. It's not a real silence, not in the bustle of the Bar as people cough, and gird for quests, and laugh, and drink.

But all Barry can notice, even as he tries not to laugh, is Sara. And before long, he decides that while a silent Sara is not what he would want, a serene Sara is beautiful.

It is a comfortable silence. A welcome reprieve from the strain and worry of the past few days.

She loves seeing him like this, pretending he's not affected by their game.

He places his arm around her, and puts down the papers. He looks at her, smirking again as it to show she hasn't won yet, but he doesn't care at the moment.

A true hero always goes down fighting, forestalling the inevitable. Smirk smirk smirk.

He stares at her, trying not to give into the urge to go for the sappy smile. That would be too sure a sign he's lost.

Instead, he takes a sheet of paper and a pen, and writes on the back.

Maybe a little talking is okay?

Are you sure? I wouldn't want to bring more doom in.

He makes a very thoughful face.

I think that's a chance we'll just have to take.

You sure? It must be tiring listening to me babble day in and day out.

I could never - would never - grow tired of the sweet voice of my nightbird.

Besides, it's notlike I don't go on now and again.

She doesn't say anything. But she does lean over and kiss him.

He kisses her back, and holds her, and smiles.

"Sometimes, silence is golden," he says in a whisper. And after that, he just holds her and lets the silence take hold once more.

[time to wrap. have a good one!]

"Yes it is," she whispers back.

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