”More nights with me will be what you want,” she says, voice a purr. It’s rather presumptuous, and perhaps not true, though she’s found it generally true in the past. Besides, she’s going to make the assertion anyway, unable to help herself. As he toasts and takes a long swig, she does the same, draining what remains in her glass and pushing it toward the other side of the bar for a refill.
”Handsome man like you with a drinking habit. Are you telling me you haven’t experienced any of our ways to keep warm? I find that hard to believe, unless it’s by choice or lack of free time.” Outlander or no, there were only so many choices in Halo. Having a new choice would give him the pick of the liter, anyone without a significant other likely to jump in his bed. Okay, not everyone; not everyone was quite as loose as she might be suggesting, but plenty were.
He leans forward at the mention of mageglass, and she is reminded of Wessex’s own interest in the diamond. ”It is not a myth. At least not as far as Halovians are concerned. That said, as has been pointed out to me, there’s no real proof of it. Traders have it occasionally, but they usually want your firstborn child in payment and if you aren’t sure it’s the real deal, it’s not necessarily worth the risk. My parents used to speak of a more robust mageglass trade. How or why that’s slowed to a near trickle, I don’t totally know. The barrier. The lack of portals. The fact it’s so damn hard to get in the first place.” She shrugs. The idea of trying to find some has crossed her mind, though not now. She didn’t have what it would take...not yet, anyway.
His next comment is a bit bitter, and she leans forward, closing the space between them slightly. ”You opened the door,” she says, brows raised a bit, voice trailing off. And then she is quiet as he talks, listening with a respect she doesn’t always show except when it matters. This is one of those moments when it matters. When he finishes, she reaches a hand out to cover his, and there is nothing suggestive in the movement, just understanding. ”You will find in Halo that we understand loss in a way other places do not. It is very much a part of our lives, here.”
Removing her hand, she picks up her newly filled drink and gives a little toast. ”To your friend. May he burn brightly.” She assumed the other had died, though it was possible he’d simply left. It didn’t matter though, in the end, the reason for the loss. Loss was loss, and it hurt all the same. Though the words belonged to a funeral here in Halo, the concept still fit. They gave the things they loved to the fire, to warmth, to a bright and impossible future that would not be among those they once knew. ”Free question,” she offers, giving him another without asking her own.
”Handsome man like you with a drinking habit. Are you telling me you haven’t experienced any of our ways to keep warm? I find that hard to believe, unless it’s by choice or lack of free time.” Outlander or no, there were only so many choices in Halo. Having a new choice would give him the pick of the liter, anyone without a significant other likely to jump in his bed. Okay, not everyone; not everyone was quite as loose as she might be suggesting, but plenty were.
He leans forward at the mention of mageglass, and she is reminded of Wessex’s own interest in the diamond. ”It is not a myth. At least not as far as Halovians are concerned. That said, as has been pointed out to me, there’s no real proof of it. Traders have it occasionally, but they usually want your firstborn child in payment and if you aren’t sure it’s the real deal, it’s not necessarily worth the risk. My parents used to speak of a more robust mageglass trade. How or why that’s slowed to a near trickle, I don’t totally know. The barrier. The lack of portals. The fact it’s so damn hard to get in the first place.” She shrugs. The idea of trying to find some has crossed her mind, though not now. She didn’t have what it would take...not yet, anyway.
His next comment is a bit bitter, and she leans forward, closing the space between them slightly. ”You opened the door,” she says, brows raised a bit, voice trailing off. And then she is quiet as he talks, listening with a respect she doesn’t always show except when it matters. This is one of those moments when it matters. When he finishes, she reaches a hand out to cover his, and there is nothing suggestive in the movement, just understanding. ”You will find in Halo that we understand loss in a way other places do not. It is very much a part of our lives, here.”
Removing her hand, she picks up her newly filled drink and gives a little toast. ”To your friend. May he burn brightly.” She assumed the other had died, though it was possible he’d simply left. It didn’t matter though, in the end, the reason for the loss. Loss was loss, and it hurt all the same. Though the words belonged to a funeral here in Halo, the concept still fit. They gave the things they loved to the fire, to warmth, to a bright and impossible future that would not be among those they once knew. ”Free question,” she offers, giving him another without asking her own.
weaver
-- ask no questions, and you'll be told no lies --
Quote by Charles Dickens
