"Why wait? I'll show ya mine if you show me yours." It's fun, innocuous teasing you tell yourself, playful banter between two adults who have seen enough of life to understand when to read into things and when to not. And right now you're beginning to feel like there's something to be read, a mutual understanding and interest that you wouldn't lie and say you don't feel.
Of course, dead kids and missing husbands are as good a way to derail flirting as there's ever been. You can't remember the last time you said this much about Rayne in one sitting, and more than that, you can't remember the last time it felt easy to bring him up. Painful, sure, but not the gripping agony and uncertainty you usually feel. Maybe its because she has her own kids, or because she's a stranger, or because she genuinely seems to care without the weight of pity. "Six years," you answer quietly, looking at your castle. Six years since your world ended, and even now you're struggling, not sure how to rebuild.
But now here's someone else who's doing the same rebuilding, and fuck if it doesn't feel good to know you're not alone. "My wife's been gone for five," you offer nonchalantly. "Sounds like we both wound up with the short end'a the stick in that department." Oh, sure, an argument could be made that you're the lucky ones for being alive, but you're also the ones left behind, picking up the pieces.
Turning away from your castle, you offer the bottle back. "Well. If y'ever decide ya want a man around - y'know, fix a leak, scratch an' itch - I am still in yer debt." You linger, body turned toward her, a raised eyebrow and a crooked smirk punctuating the offer.
Zephyr
you can be the ripest, juciest peach in the world
and there's still going to be someone who hates peaches
and there's still going to be someone who hates peaches
