CONTACT

[wrackful]

Comments

[seaboard]

[ She keeps herself there, like she must be sure that hold and the care she holds would take root itself. Even if that is not her ability to do so.

Stepping back, she lingers in it, letting her hand slip to his, squeezing it tightly, and then finally drops it at last to step back. ]

As long as I needed. I have my embroidery to do, and I can do that just about anywhere.

[ Nuhhuh, don't you turn this back on her, it's his turn to be taken care of. ]

[wrackful]

Gil, it's freezing out here. [Reaching to take her hand back, warm her fingers between his palms.] You could've at least come inside the tavern.

[seaboard]

[ She would not turn it down, her fingers curling between his, as she looks up at the sky, briefly, then back down to him - but it's with a rueful smile. ]

This might as well be spring, to me. I promise, I am not that cold.