milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Merriman is seated at a table near to the bar, studying a slim volume of the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius.

Minding his own business, really. Just to be on the safe side.

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She'd caught him off guard, so there is a moment of flailing where he tries to keep the chair from tilting and depositing both of them unceremoniously on the floor.

(Well, he would have landed on the floor -- she would doubtless have landed on her feet.)

When he manages to surface for air, he steadies himself and sets his book down. 'Good evening, Ako-ue.'

"Good evening, dear heart."

She chirps, settling down with her arms wrapped around his neck and her head tucked under his chin,

"How are you doing? Its been too long."

'Well enough, truly.' Reading the Stoics helps, at times like these. 'Have you spoken to Mister Wellard since our last conversation with him?'

"Yes."

She does not nibble at his adam's apple.

"He is getting used to the talking, and I mentioned that I shift shapes, but he hasn't seen me like this yet."

The Stoics will not save you forever, Lyon!

Well, not forever. But they help!

'It is a start, if nothing else. I think it will take some time for him to fully come to terms with it...but he is a sensible lad, and I think he is better able to understand than most.'

She chuckles, softly, and kisses the adam's apple,

"Oh, yes. You are all so strange, you bipeds. So many hangups, and yet at the same time so understanding once you get past them."

His mouth twitches faintly. 'I think that is how most of the patrons in this place survive their visits here -- they accept it for what it is, gods and demons and shapeshifters and immortals and the whole pantheon, by not letting it trouble them. Like stones skipping over water and leaving only ripples afterward.'

"Am I a ripple in your lake, dear heart?"

She asks with her eyes wide and innocent.

Another twitch -- and yes, it's approaching an actual smile now.

'You, Ako-ue, are rather more like a speed-boat. And I mean that in the most complimentary way.'

Most of the time, anyway.

Her grin could nearly split her face apart as she looks him right in the eyes and says,

"Liar. Love you anyway."

'Why should I lie?' Now it's his turn to look innocent. Though on him, an attempted look of innocence generally makes him look as if he's tried sainthood and found it wanting. 'It seemed the most appropriate description.'

She would love to hang that expression on the walls of her memory.

Better yet, to snap a picture and hang it on the walls of her house, but she doesn't think he'd go for that. So her smile widens just a bit larger,

"Oh, I wasn't talking about the description, dear heart."

Just the bit about it being a compliment.

One eyebrow quirks, but he says nothing.

So she beams at him, and kisses his nose.

She really does like the nose. Its long. And pointy.

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