milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Unsurprisingly, Sarah Jane is over by the fireplace today with a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits. Her notepad's opened up on her lap, but instead of writing, she's staring out at the fire and chewing on the cap of her pen.

There's a small smile on her face that may even be described as dreamy by some. If asked, she may deny it, but there's a good chance she won't. Havana aside, this past weekend was rather lovely indeed.

[ooc: the mun may dissappear due to dizzy spells. but right now, she needs a distraction from things.]

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"You're still close enough related, aren't you?"

She remembers something of her biology classes at secondary school. Aunt Lavinia highly encouraged top marks in the sciences, after all.

But she catches the 'at the moment' comment and looks down at the wolf quizzically. "What do you mean at the moment? Are you, well, a werewolf?"

No. I'm a sorcerer.

Beat.

Though my grandmother was a wolf.

"Really? But if you're a sorcerer, wouldn't that make you human?"

Sometimes. Sometimes I'm a wolf. Mostly, I'm just Garion. It doesn't really matter what you look like. It's who you are that counts.

He settles at her feet.

Sarah nods. That's a rather factual statement. But it's the name that catches her attention mostly. "Charlie's friend Garion?"

If you mean Charlie Pace, then yes. I haven't seen him since I got hurt a month or so ago, though. And I've never--

He looked up at her.

Well, I don't actually KNOW your name.

"Manners," she mutters, shaking her head in embaressment. "I promise you I do have them. I'm Sarah Jane Smith. I met Charlie about a week ago; wonderful fellow."

He's very nice. He helps Ce'Nedra with the children sometimes when were here.

He bows his head.

A pleasure to meet you, Mistress Smith.

Sarah nods, smiling warmly. "It's Sarah, please. It's a pleasure to meet you too, Garion. I take it Ce'Nedra is your wife?"

My one and only, he says with obvious pride.

She chuckles, grinning. "Sounds lovely."

I've never met her equal, he says, utterly unashamed to crow. In beauty, intelligence, wit, or courage.

"You seem quite smitten," Sarah says with a giggle, leaning back in the armchair. "I suppose she'd say the same about you?"

She'd probably call me a lunkheaded Alorn, he says honestly. And she's about right.

She smirks, bending down to scratch the spot behind his ear. "It's brave of you to admit it. Most men probably wouldn't."

I've heard it often enough, he grumbles, obviously appreciating the scritching.

"She sounds like someone I'd probably get along with very well," Sarah replies, continuing to scritch his head. "How long have you known her?"

Since I was fifteen or so. We've been married for fifteen years just about.

"Fifteen?" Her eyes go wide and she shakes her head. "Oh, that's certainly a long time."

Not really.

And for him, it really isn't.

Are you married, Mistress Smith?

"Sarah," she corrects automatically, already shaking her head rapidly. "I'm definately not married. I don't think I'll ever be, to be honest."

It's not really her thing. It hasn't been ever since she ended her engagement with Andrew three years ago.

Sometimes it sneaks up on you. I didn't know I would be getting married either.

Sarah shrugs, shrinking back in her chair. Quietly, "I just got into a relationship with someone after my last one ended absolutely horribly. I'd much rather not think about the future quite yet."

Things turn out how they're supposed to, usually. Don't worry about it, but don't avoid it. Let things progress as they will. That's the best advice I can give. Or just the best comfort.

"It's still strange to me, but I'm rather warming up to it. He's a wonderful person and well, he needs somone." Sarah shrugs again, smiling softly. "I think he needs me and that doesn't scare me as much as it did weeks ago."