milliways_bar | (no subject)

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For Cuthbert, at least, it's been a quiet day. He hasn't talked to Alanna yet, but he's confident he'll see her this weekend, if not sooner.

So he's settled on the usual couch with the usual mug of coffee, watching the activity in the bar detachedly.

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Cuthbert looks deeply, deeply wounded.

But somehow, not wounded enough not to turn his head and return the kiss.

"Well. It's good to know she'll be happy."

"It is, say true," she agrees quietly. "Even if she's blue."

She doesn't mention the babe to come. There's no need to dwell on what they themselves cannot have.

"... I talked to Morgan, too." More softly.

There's a moment of hesitation before Cuthbert answers.

"...And how did that go?"

Her voice is very quiet indeed as she says,

"She'd not-- not known of the Death Eaters, or what-- what they believe. She'd known he's-- he's killed, and tortured."

She sighs, very slightly.

"She likes him. She said-- she said she'd be careful." Susan looks up at him with a rueful smile.

"Ye kennit, I wot."

Cuthbert returns the rueful smile.

"I suppose I do."

There's more he could say, but after last time, he's not going to say it unless doing so serves some purpose.

Susan runs one hand lightly over the sleeve of her rose-patterned green sweater, the one Anthy made her, say true.

Looking down at it, she says quietly,

"Susannah likes her."

Cuthbert glances down at her, his expression hard to read.

After a moment, "You didn't mean Morgan just now, did you."

Silently, Susan shakes her head.

There's a further pause, and then Cuthbert shrugs.

"Well. You like her. Meg and River like her. It's not as though Susannah's the first."

"She's not, say true." Susan's tone is still very soft, but she's looking up at Cuthbert now, with clear determination.

"But Susannah's a gunslinger, as thee are, and-- and not like River."

Cuthbert does not appeared swayed by this argument.

"Aye, but she's herself, Sue. And simply being gunslingers doesn't mean that she and I are never going to see things differently."

Susannah didn't grow up in Gilead, with Roland.

She never chose death over leaving him, either.

"Nay, I'd not meant-- of course ye'd not-- " She stops herself there, right there. A beat, and another, and she offers him another slightly rueful smile.

"Just because the two of ye are gunslingers doesn't mean ye'll always see things the same, I know. But I thought mayhap it'd mean -- it'd mean something."

"And it were Susannah who reminded me, 'Bert. Anthy-- she saw--"

(a rose of perfect beauty)

"--she saw the rose."

"It--" Cuthbert shrugs again. "It doesn't mean nothing, Susan."

But it doesn't mean as much as it might, if not for things he and Susannah have seen differently in the past.

Then, he smiles slightly. "And seeing the rose doesn't mean nothing either."

"Thee say true."

She's said all she's meant to say on it, at the moment-- and she doesn't want to fight over this, not again. Mayhap he'll come to see her way of thinking in time.

Susan smiles at him, and reaches up with one hand to brush an errant lock of hair back from his forehead.

Cuthbert might express doubt in regards to that hope, but he's not inclined to press the subject tonight, if she's not.

He leans into the touch slightly, still smiling gently.

Mayhap not tonight.

She runs her fingers through his hair and then slowly down the back of his neck, coaxing him closer to her.

Cuthbert shifts closer to her eagerly, one hand going to her waist.

And, for a time, all conversation between the two of them stops.

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