(no subject)

[veryvorkosigan]

The front door opens onto a sedately appointed hallway, framing a tall middle-aged woman in loose-fitting beige knit shirt and tan pants. She pushes back a stray wisp of silvering red hair, and blinks into the noise and light of the bar in brief surprise.

(Her surprise is perhaps understandable. From her perspective, after all, it's been just over six years.)



"...Oh," she says after a moment. "Oh, that's right."

Comments

[veryvorkosigan]

Cordelia nods, and opens her hand in an acquiescing gesture.

"Have a good evening," she says. "...Or whatever time of day it is back home, for you."

[hawkeyed_riza]

Evening; Hawkeye doesn't bother to clarify.

"Thank you."

There's no reason to be impolite, after all.

She nods slightly -- not a salute, of course, and not a bow, but a gesture of thanks-and-farewell anyway -- and steps back. (She never quite turns her back to the room. Not when there's no one here to watch it.)

The doorknob turns in her hand.