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[the last week or so of Delia's afterlife has proven to be very, very interesting and not, ultimately, in a good way]

[bewarned, then, those who might wish to talk to her. The lady is annoyed, and prone to snapping]

[this is not to say, however, that she doesn't want to talk to people, merely that the bitch!risk factor has gone up]

[dramatically]

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[am I to blame for that, too?, she doesn't say, just smiles at him]

[a little]

He sighs.

"My apologies. You do not need to hear my troubles."

On the contrary, that should distract from my own which are, ultimately, my own fault anyway.

"Ah, are they not always?"

He sighs.

"It is mine own. Fault. Mercutio is right, I do need my soul. I am sure I have done some thing I would not have, otherwise."

[softly, uncertainly,]

What have you done?

"I do not know. Said things, done things." He shrugs, helplessly.

"I will not know until I get my soul back."

Would...would you still want my company?

[oh, hello, insecruity. Long time, no see]

"Of a certainty! You. . ." He pauses. "Are one of the things I would not have done, but out of a mis-placed sense of propriety."

Well.

I lost that a long, long time ago.

"My life would have been all the poorer, without including you."

He half smiles. Perhaps she feels the same. It would be nice.

I...if I had any sense of propriety, I'd have been married years ago.

Sometimes I think that would not have been bad, but others?

You meet such interesting people.

"We do try our best."

And he smiles, sweetly.

[so she leans forward, despite the protest on her back, and kisses him]

[just for that smile.]

[honest]

It's possibly a pity, then, that his first impulse is to spread hands across her back. Keep her there. Because he doesn't want her to go.

[her fingers flex and she hisses a little with the pain. But she doesn't move, oh no]

He's not too drunk to notice. He's not too drunk to care. He is observant. So he pulls her in a little closer.

[her back hurts, oh it does. Miho's blade that she had given Josie was sharp and it was only two days ago that Josie had cut...]

[but pain is the whole idea, isn't it?]

[so she makes a small sound at the back of her throat, and deepens the kiss]

Not too much pain, though. So he just holds her snugly to him, moves his mouth to her ear."I will love you, when I can. To warn you."

[she turns her head slightly, and looks at him with her bright, bright-green eyes]

That might not be the smartest idea ever, dearest. I don't have the best past record.

[she doesn't move, though. Not from where she is sitting on his lap, not from where one hand rests on the join of his neck and shoulder and the other on his chest]

"I am very much afraid," ruefully, "that it will be too late."

Not that he looks truly rueful. Just a little wary. that she will push him away.

Oops

[she slides her hands down and just rests her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes]

[not pushing him away]

That's a start, then. Or at least, not an end. So he wraps his arms around her, as if she were one of his sons after a bad dream, and just holds her.

[she had been eight years older then his eldest when she had hung herself in that cell, just twenty-two.]

[still. Being held was comforting, even if she wasn't exactly sure who for]

[ooc: fade 'em there, maybe? I should get going soon for another two hour tute (well, roughly two hours, normally a bit less)]

"Stay as long as you like," he whispers in her ear, and closes his eyes, resting his cheek very gently on her hair.

(OOC: works for me. dang. they're still cuts as a pair of puppies, hm?)

I will.

[ooc: yep! Just...rather fucked up puppies.]

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