as new and as old as the world

Isla

"Welcome back!" Isla's voice is level, as cheerful as ever as the aviator closes the door and gets himself reacquainted with the apartment. She doesn't interrupt him, not when their lives are about to upturn forever, smiling as she watches the familiar shape of him bustle about the kitchen. "You didn't have to do that," she says, equal parts chastisement and fondness, "but thank you all the same." Turning a bit to face him, though he's half hidden by the fridge door, she sits herself up a bit and sticks out her foot to stop the chair in its gentle rocking.

"It has been good," she tells him, a little breathless for a few moments before snatching back her composure. "When you're finished could you come in here? I'd get up to see you but I think it might take all day at this point." Besides which, Isla has already determined that the next time wrestles herself out of the chair it will be to leave this apartment, and the next time she returns it will be with their daughter in her arms.

I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it
When you hit me, hit me hard