(1938-12-13) Blurring Lines
Details for Blurring Lines
Summary: SIlas and Genevieve Meet at Hogsmeade to start off the weekend, and conversation turns serious quickly.
Warning: This scene turns dramatic, and even a little syrupy. Do not proceed if you're worried about tooth decay.
Date: 13 December, 1938
Location: East High Street, Hogsmeade

This is the main street and venue for Hogsmeade Village, the eastern portion of High Street. The street is always occupied by someone either out for a walk, loitering, or tidying up the outside of their business. OPEN signs hang in windows, shutters and drapes are open wide so display windows can be peered into to view some of the shop's wares. Bustling with life the forest surrounding the village is as active with wildlife as the village is with civilization, however quaint and country it might be. All of the buildings along High Street are very acute when it comes to their roofs. Each roof outfitted with one or more extremely tall brick chimneys that sometimes are twice the height as the actual building.

Leave it to professors to saddle Silas with homework the one weekend he really and truly wanted to get away from the castle. Thankfully, this worked out well enough, as other parties had shopping needs, so he'd arranged to meet Jenny around dusk. Slowly stepping out of the pet store he'd chosen to linger in, since he'd by happenstance actually been able to leave a bit early,
As seems to be his happen on Hogsmeade weekends, Silas has chosen to eschew the school uniform entirely, although no new outfits this weekend. Instead, it's an older set of ivory robes he wears today, with matching gloves and boots. They aren't as ornate as he oft to wear, either… although they are still stately, and whistle-clean.
Of course… white may not have been the best choice in colors, he discovers, as he leans against the shop to wait for Jenny to arrive. Apparently the cat he had chosen to spend a little too much affection on in there was shedding, and calico hairs dot his hands, arms, and chest. One by one, he works to remove them, although this may be a Hurculean effort in the end.

Genevieve is maintaining, though it's a trick. She's ridden the edge of nice and grouchy as if it were a blade that falling from would mean death and thus far, as not yet stepped foot into the Three Broomsticks. She wants too. There were even chocolates filled with brandy that had drawn more than a lingering eye and yet…she has refrained. The effort, like Silas' attempt to remove cat hairs, is hurculean. She doesn't like it.
Though at least she's bowed to some sense of fashion. Slightly. A hint. It's in the ruffles, perhaps or the slinky fabric. At least the robes combat the warmth that is lacking with the material. That helps. As do gloves, so that she can still feel her fingers and a particularly keen eye might note that she's still given over to her ode to the rainbow, socks.
She hadn't expected to see the man in ivory, however and as such, manages to look past him, twice. Though this could just as easily be blamed on the assorted collection of carolers who linger on the corner just up ahead, filling the air with holiday joy.

If she's overlooked him, then she may actually be unready for the low, appreciative whistle that escapes his lips as Silas sees her. He is actually paused, smile pursed from the sound he just unwittingly emitted. Clearly he approves of the outfit. Now, he just has to survive having objectified her.
A gloved hand goes up to his lips as he coughs in an attempt to recover. "Jenny! Over here…" His gaze goes to the carolers for a moment, a smile crossing his face as he waits for her.

No. No Jenny wasn't ready for that at all, so not ready that in fact, her first thought and her second, is to assume that it was meant for somebody else. This is further proven in the way she has to actually pause and…look around, in an attempt to find who it was actually meant for. But maybe someone else is just as drunk as she'd like to be. Surely that's it. Except that in her search for who was being whistled at she found the one responsible for the sound and..blinked. Again.
"Er…" Awkward. So there's a bit of foot shuffling and her hands promptly shove into her pockets before she makes her way over to join him, offering an appreciative smile in greeting, both for his attire and for his presence.
"Hi there. Been making new friends?" Inquired, with a cant of her head indicating the shop there directly behind him, before her gaze seems to linger on one of the owls sitting on display in the main window.

Silas' smile definitely widens as jenny gets nearer, although he's slow to actually stand up straight from his lean against the wall, still picking hairs off his outfit. After a moment, both hands flick out, as if to dispel the bloody things, but sadly they seem to be multiplying even in the cat's absence. Futility accepted, he looks back up to Jenny and smiles, "That out fit is very flattering on you. I like it."
Unsure on how best to greet her after last night's seriousness, even though it had ended on such a nice note of stargazing, Silas weighs how best to start their night, tentatively offering an arm to her in an invite to walk with him, "I did. They had a new batch of kittens in today. Not exotic per se… but all raised to be familiars… and I wanted to know which breeder he was using. They seemed a fine stock, and I'm going to need to start making those connections if I want to have a head start after graduation next year, so…" He grins, "And I couldn't help it. You should have seen their little faces. There was one blue point Siamese in there, if I didn't already have Adelaide…"
With a shake of his head, he ends that train of thought, looking back to her, "And how was your day?"

"There's a spell for being rid of those, you know. I'm just not very good at it," Jenny points out, when he seems to fuss more over the cat hairs before he finally gives up. The sight of them doesn't bother her. Oddly, his compliment on her attire bothers her more. Puts a furrow in her brows and has her tugging absently on the front of her robes with what looked like a frown.
Perhaps that was why instead of reaching for his arm to accept she fished a couple of chocolate frogs out of her pocket so that she could offer him one instead, while intending to have the other herself. "Kittens, huh? I didn't realize that you were so fond of them, particularly after dealing with Mephy," the girl teases and there's a glimmer of her old self in her eyes with the statement.
"But I can understand the need and desire both, to start making your contacts now, so that you can build upon them for when you finally step out on your own." Smile. And the smile was real, but it didn't completely fill up her eyes. "My day was good. It was long. Harkiss was an absolute crush of people, hardly any room to move about in at all. I hate shopping."

Another overture of closeness rebuffed, Silas straightens a bit, letting that constant smile remain in place, even if for the slightest of moments it doesn't meet his eyes. The look there instead, even if only for a moment, is something akin to a mix of fear, and perhaps even a little hurt, although it is shed as fast as he is able as he accepts the offered frog with a smile, and accepts the continued punishment for whatever wrong he's done, unwittingly or no.
"I may be fondest of rodents… but I honestly have yet to find a species of animal I actively dislike. Mephy, on the other hand, is not a kitten. He is the unholy union between a dust rag and Ceberus himself." And he has never, ever I repeat ever, tried to scratch the little demon between the ears. Never
At the rest, he nods. "I'm shocked you weren't trampled by underclassmen looking for their next sugar fix." He shudders, "I always wait until the very last moment to go there, if I have to."

The girl can't help it. She snorts, actually snorts the sudden burst of laughter is so hard; the deep kind that's genuine and from the gut. The kind of laughter most girls attempt to hold back, adopting instead the kind of grating twitter that makes the ears ache. "He is not a blend of dustrag! Though…I will not argue that there may be something of Ceberus in him. Perhaps. Just a smidge. But he's precious and honestly, if you'd just give him half a chance I'm sure he'd love you." The way he loves Jenny probably, which is a healthy dose of respect and claws and the expectation of having his way met every single time at the risk of consequence if it is not.
"Oh there were a bunch of them in there. Gidget was in there too, but I took up a little donation from upper classmen so that she could get the little fella who couldn't go home a proper load of candies and chocolates to help ease him through the holidays. I might not like to wade through the munchkins to shop, but in general I don't mind their presence."
"So what's the plan?" Which, may seem somewhat strange, from a girl who usually has one.

Her laughter brings the honesty of his smile immediately back to his eyes, and for a moment Silas joins her, even if without as much gusto as she pours forth, "I'll try. Perhaps on a day when the bloodstains won't be quite as noticeable. I do think he's finally figured out how to play with Adelaide, at least… neither has drawn blood at least… and I think he's finally learned the meaning of curfew."
At the mention of Munchkins, Silas nods again, actually sighing happily, "I truly don't mind them at all. I wouldn't associate myself with them otherwise. I also like horses… but youll not find me hugging them when they decide to all run at once." A slight twinkle in his eyes, "Alphard is missing out with his disdain for them. It's amazing how… innocent one is at that age. They can teach you so much if you actually talk to them… stuff you forget too easily in the search to grow up."
"Plan?" He then repeats after all that, "Well… we did have an agreement… and I got my 'something I'd never done' from you. I feel it only proper that I offer you the same, and give you full rein of this evening."

"I don't know that he's learned curfew, but he has perhaps at least learned that he ought not go bother you while you're trying to rest. Instead he's found other things to get into." Like her hair. Which was likely why it'd looked so bloody terrible that morning. Some things there were just no help for.
And damn if the boys equation of running children to horses didn't make her chuckle all over again. Not quite as funny as his quip on her cat but up there, definately, regardless. "Mmm, the things you say sometimes. That was absolutely precious. I'd the imagine of a child in my head to go along with it, running after a horsie that'd taken off, arms open wide trying to chase it down for a hug." Grin.
Yet that grin tempered itself somewhat, when he made his invitation for the evening and the girl shook her head. "Nnnh." It could have been a pleasant sound, a half dreamy sigh, save for what followed it. "I think not. We've already covered more firsts for me than I'm comfortable with and I'm quite sure that nothing could top last weekend, where, I admit that I have gone the week without drinking, I find that saying you could use the bottle as a tool to control me is in a way, what's been done. Because the absence of it has some rather..interesting effects. Couple that with the weighted sensation that drinking again would risk your displeasure coupled with the current bout of awkwardness I'm feeling because I dressed for a boy instead of myself which has made me come to realize that I've somehow let you have a position of power in which your opinion carries enough weight to directly effect me…," a breath was taken then, because she'd all but run out of it.
"He'll be in town tomorrow. It's one of our weekends." Let's just toss it all out there. All at once. Like an avalance.

Her merriment and descriptions continue to play a smile across Silas' face as they two walk, but the response that follows actually causes him to miss a step, their unconscious syncopation broken as he falls just a single step behind. He stands there, then paused, the motion separating them a bit more as he just lets her speak.
He doesn't frown, but the smile falters, and he opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again only to fail to let anything out. Instead silence holds sway for a moment longer as one heel grinds into the dirt beneath him. "I don't know what to say," he answers, truthfully. "I'm honored, if you wore that for me. You would impress me in sackcloth… but I think the outfit becomes you… and…" A shrug. Unspoken words, the fear that he doesn't deserve it…
And then more. Him. A nod, "You must be happy. I know I ruined your chance to see him last weekend. I'm glad you have a chance again."

"Well I did." Wear it for him. He might not be standing right beside her and she might not have turned around to look back at him now that he's stopped and is still staying behind her, but she's still talking to him as if he's right there. It'd be easier if there were people around. Lots of seperate conversations in which to hide. A show to put on of pretend. But there isn't and he's so far beyond her guard that lying isn't really an option.
"And I want a drink." Jenny needs, somehow, this boy's permission for it to be alright. The reassurance that he really won't judge, despite his previous promises because they'd come before he'd effectively knocked her down. "Though I'm not sure what to make of this sackcloth mention. I suppose the impressive thing would be that I could fit, with as much as I eat." An attempt there, at levity, for all that it might have been lacking.
But then he finally says something that makes her turn. "You did not ruin last weekend. Sure, you threw a particularly large..hole into a tiny portion of it," what with his calling her out, "But you hardly ruined it. Don't ruin it now by taking away the fondness I have for the memory of it..please."

Following after her for the first part of that portion of the conversation, Silas chews on how he should respond, especially after she turns to face him. He stops, and offers a smile that might almost seem sad, "I didn't say I ruined the weekend, although there was a point when I feared it. My… hole… though, that prevented you from meeting with him like you planned. That I did knock a hole in."
He then smiles, and moves a bit closer, if he can, "For the rest? The sackcloth statement was my trying to be subtle, to say that you're wonderful without the outfit. It just serves to show that all the more. And as to a drink… I only fear you hiding behind it. I drink. I would be a hypocrite to judge you for doing the same. I just… don't want it to rule you."

"I was more referencing that you'd knocked a hole in my mood," her defenses and perhaps a small piece of her sanity, "Rather than any particular plans. I'd no idea that he was coming in last weekend. But this weekend? I knew. Which, is good honestly, because there's been no talk of Christmas and…I can't remember if I mentioned that we were going to France or not. The whole thing's a jumble of choas in my head." One that made her nose wrinkle at the thought; for all she dug her fingers a little deeper into her pockets and hugged her robes about her middle.
His compliment however, courts an echo of her smile and the suggestion, or was that simply the kiss of the wind? In colour there on her cheeks. "I hide behind a lot of things. We hide behind each other, for instance." At least though, she is not shying from his closeness. Instead, she takes a step closer herself.
"I want to ask you a question," the girl's voice is soft, hardly more than a whisper even there between them. "A personal question. May I?"

"We do, at that," Silas responds, "So there is that to consider, I guess." And then she's close. His hands go behind his back at this… a subconscious action of removing defense, of laying himself open to what might be a lethal blow, but he nods, nonetheless.
"Absolutely," he responds, trying to show a bit of his standard confidence. As much as he tries to… he doesn't know her, or understand her, as much as he would like to… so perhaps there's some slight trepidation, but he reminds himself, out loud, "I've said I'll always answer truthfully, if you ask me."

"You have," Jenny agrees, the words careful things at that. "But I do not ask so many questions as you." Or she asks simple things. Like the list of answers she was still waiting on him to return, so that she could ensure he had a gift that he was sure to enjoy. Genevieve knows that she is not so clever as him by half and as such, doesn't pretend to be. But she doesn't ask the kind of questions that go beneath the surface on purpose, because sometimes there are things that can be unlearned.
"In the beginning," and still, she keeps her voice soft between them. "When I was a calculated risk and an experiement that you'd looked at all the angles for. Then." For she acknowledges at least that his opinion has changed and doesn't seem to be holding it against him. That now is very much not the past something she strives to make clear. Yet, still seems to press upon, "How far were you willing to go with it? What did the script look like, before everthing changed?"

Silas blinks. He looks Jenny dead in the eye, and blinks. And shockingly enough, there's none of the standard concentration, the contemplation and calculation. Instead, it's almost like a dawning, as several pieces of a puzzle click into place. Disarmed, he actually stumbles, reaching out to steady himself against a nearby building. With an actual hitch to his breath, he at first only lets out a, "You thought…"
He's quiet for a bit, of all things actually looking away from Jenny as if with shame. "All this time, I said those things, and you thought I meant…" His voice is tiny, ut the words come out in a rush. "You were a risk, because all I'd ever seen of friendships in our house were like those Medusa offers… where you are nothing more than a pawn, a tool. Because I didn't believe for a moment that anyone would actually just be my friend for the sake of being with me. Because I was afraid that you would see the weakness and capitalize on it."
"I made a calculated risk in that I chose to clamp down on all those fears to ignore all the expected results and just take a chance, experiment, as it were, as Morgana suggested. Because I told her to her face that I believed that all of this was a lie. A fable cooked up by romantics. For her the experiment was supposed to be about romantic love… but for me it was just about letting someone in. Period, To push aside all I the suppositions and expectations, and honestly, excuses, for never letting anyone close to me.
He looks back at her, standing straight again. "Then you came around… I think perhaps just a bit tispy, your heart on your sleeve and a casual honesty that unmanned me. You confided in me. A complete stranger. And even had fun with me. So I threw all to the wind and told myself I would see where it went. No script. No plan. No ulterior motive. Just… opened myself up, took the risk, tried to see if maybe, possibly, I could get out from under the shadow that my parents placed me under, and actually be happy with someone other than myself."
And then he turns away from her, "Everything I've said… everything I've done… especially speaking of the risk, of the experiment, has been the utter truth… but I assumed you understood what I meant of it."

There's a look of worry on her face when he stumbles and she reaches; a hand that never connects where it's the building that he uses for a brace instead. Her own tucking back into her robe. She's told him that she wasn't as clever. "I don't…I don't understand. I'm trying too," the girl implores, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth now that she's finally ventured forth with actual words in the wake of his silence. But she's talking to his back. "You challenged her to experiment with romance? Or, she thought that your experiment was for romantics and friendship." The pauses are long, while Jenny forces herself to stand still, to watch, even while her nails bite little halfmoons into the centers of her palms from a white knuckled grip.
"You mean the risk was to you? That's what you're talking about, not that I was the risk? It didn't start out with a plan and a script? Actually…," and there she took another great gulp of air. "Actually don't answer that. Don't answer any of it. I don't want to know. I don't have the right. We're friends." Friends. Friends, friends friends and she needs to remember that. Because he's right. She wears her heart on her sleeve.
"I'm sorry that I pried into things, Meliflua. So," and she kept on, like a small snowball gathering speed as it tumbled downhill for fear of what might happen if there was any kind of silence that would let him get in a word. "So we have all of Hogsmeade at our disposal. Though I confess I'm not in a particular mood for toys and I've seen enough candy to do me for a lifetime. Nor do I really think either of us need anything from the wandshop, but there is well there's tons of other shops to go to and I still need to pick up something for my Mum." And I'm around you, every day. And I think about you, every day and I've spent a week plotting on how to give up the perfect Christmas and haven't once stopped to consider…
"Or my Dad. Though I don't suppose they've anything particularly fantastical or that might interest him in there either. Bugger."

About the time jenny starts to try to out-talk, or at least overtalk him, Silas turns around. His eyes have actually puffed up around the lower lids. No crying for this boy… not at this point… but there was a war there for a moment, and it's clear, as is the half-stricken look on his face.
Once she's stopped, he slowly reaches out, to lightly touch both arms with his hands, "You do deserve it, Jen… because you're my friend… and a friend of a type I don't know that I could or want to have with anyone else. I won't continue if you don't want it… but you have earned every right to ask it of me. Because you were worth the risk, to me. Because you were the best possible person to take that risk on. Because for all of our stops and starts, and misunderstandings you're a good person with a wonderful heart… and you've proven my old suppositions wrong, so many times already."
And with that, he tries another half-smile, honest in its origin if a bit muddled by the emotional nature of the moment. "You've still got full rein, even if you don't want anything new tonight." He pauses, and then digs into a pocket, handing her back the list, filled out, "Was meaning to give you that, anyhow, but got distracted, and haven't had a proper opportunity to slip it in a pocket secretly since someone didn't want to rest her head on my shoulder… or walk arm in arm with me." And there, some more of the more… impish smile is back.'

That look on his face, his of all peoples, is enough to freeze her for a moment; completely and it continues, even as he reaches out for her. Though she doesn't shy from him, she can't stop herself from seeing what she's done to him either. Friend. Sometimes it seems like such a cheap word, when compared to the depth of emotion that he draws from her whether or not he means to.
"I don't know that my heart is so wonderful, Sy. I have terrible thoughts sometimes, about people for what they've done. Or things I just don't say, because it's better not too." He melts her, with that half smile, even as his words cause a measure of an ache with them.
"It wasn't that I haven't wanted to be near you. I've missed it. I just..you make me nervous and weak and confused." It was admitted with a slight chuckle, even as she stepped closer. Close enough to tuck herself in against his chest, so that she could let slip her arms in around his waist.
But then she found cause to smile again, a little brighter than it had been before, particularly when she caught his eyes. "You haven't realized it, do you? Everything we do together, is a first for me. I've never had moments like this. Not like this. Never had a friend like you, or the kind of closeness that we get to share, day in and day out."
The carolers had gone quiet though, at some point during their discourse or perhaps it was just that their walking had carried them further prior, than either had realized. Because it was a song that greeted them now, yet of a different sort. Wafting forth from the small collection of musicians that were assembling despite the weather, touching bow to string with violin and making sing a lute.

It's like a familiar comfort coming back after too long in the cold. The moment she steps in close and wraps her arms around him, a hidden tension within Silas melts away, and his own arms circle around her. A slight sigh escapes him, and he can't help but lean his head slightly down to rest atop hers.
"It is wonderful, as far as I'm concerned. Those thoughts are yours, and if you recognize them for what they are, then you only prove my point."
He basks there in that closeness for a moment longer, before he responds to the second statement, "We're both adrift in unfamiliar waters, Jen. I can only count myself lucky that we're in this together. I do forget some times that you took a risk as well." He holds her tight for just a moment, a gentle crush before going back to just holding her.
When the music starts, his smile broadens even wider, as he recognizes the tune, and sings a few words along with it, before looking down to meet Jenny's eyes again, An unspoken offer is made, as he looks between her and the sounds of the music."

"You don't like letting me win an argument, do you?" Jenny inquired but with a playful grump. It helps. Or he helps. It helps ease things and calm her and it settles better than any drink, even if it was just as dangerous.
She listens though, on each and every word he says, squeezing back in turn where he hugs her. Lingering close with her nose brushing in against the curve of his cheek.
It's when he lefts his voice that she draws back, watching him lend word to melody and smiling all the more for it. "I'm a terrible dancer," the girl whispers and this time, when her head dips in close it's so that she can brush her nose in lightly against. "But it would be my honor, to dance with you."

"I've been known," Silas offers with the lightest of chuckles, "to have an insatiable need to get the last word in, yes…" So there you have it. He admits to a fault.
The music begins to swell, and his eyes fixate on her as he feels that subtle touch of nose to cheek. Thoughts race behind his eyes as for an instant he kicks into old habits, calculating and considering everything going on, but he catches himself even as she asks him to dance with her.
Inwardly, he chides himself, even as he answers, "I'm…" he pauses as she dips her head in, and the breath from his lips now so close to hers that it seems to wrap around both, his own head dipping closer to hers as well, "absolutely," he finishes the thought, not able to think of much else. And so, he moves with her in his arms, quietly, although he is no great dancer himself.

"Yes," the girl can not help but reply, a wry grin dancing across her lips, "I am beginning to realize that such is the case. In fact, I would wander that it's taken me until now to realize." It's easier to focus on the words, on his voice, rather than their nearness there in the street, or how his arms feel.
It could be argued too, that there is no such thing as a perfect moment, only a collection of flawed ones that pull with such force upon the heartstrings as to be rendered blind to all else but the pleasure of the moment itself. Perhaps that was the case. Or perhaps it was the dawning awareness of a new yearning. One that would require his carefully calculated words to smooth away. Because a touch was just a basic need, wasn't that what he said? A gesture of companionship that was crushed out and made wrong from an early age. But if that was a touch, …then what was a kiss?
The thought was so startling that Jenny's mind immediently jumped tracks, forcing itself elsewhere even as she remained close, sharing his warm, sharing his breath; in a dance that was so flawed she found it perfect. Too perfect.

For once, Silas doesn't respond back to the quip, silently letting her have the last word in direct conflict with is own claim, simply too lost in the moment now of a simple, imperfect dance that somehow manages to be a complete focus in his world for the time being.
Eyes shut. Brain racing, no longer held in check. He tries not to think, to calculate, instead just enjoy the moment. In his own mind, he knows the significance of where they sit, the closeness of their lips… is keenly aware of it, and yet torn. Thoughts in his mind that dance against his notions. His thoughts. He's said he doesn't believe in romance, and it's the truth. He doesn't believe in the very thoughts that pic at his brain.. the thoughts he mocked Morgana for believing in. A father and mother who never showed him or each other affection, actively taught him it was a lie… and yet.
And yet. Almost without thought, his body reacted where his mind would not and without something to interrupt him, he felt his face move to slide nose beside nose, faces coming even closer before rational thought stopped him once again. He doens't pull back, but the unseen, invisible barrier becomes ever closer to being crossed.

He'd been the one to set their rules of engagment, had he not? And had defined a friendship that existed without limitation. Without barrier. How could there still be lines? How could there not be?
For her part, she's aware, far too aware of who he is and where they are. Of the flavor of his breath and the way his arms feel as they sway. But she's also aware of who he isn't. Of what she's supposed to be doing. So it's the tightness of her arms, where she squeezes; however much that fierce hug might interrupt their dance. The ghost of her lips as they glide across his own with the slight turn of her head and the delivery of a kiss against the very corner of his lips.
"I think…you should tell me anything extra I need to pick up for our trip," she whispered and the reluctance and..was that disappointment? The latter of which was entirely at herself, slightly apparent in her voice.

A sigh passes his lips at even that light kiss, that barest of touches, and Silas leans into it, the dance forgotten for the moment. Jhe takes that movement, and moves his own head forward so that, for now, they are cheek to cheek. Some lines may be crossed… but for now he rationalizes it as an effect of the emotional ride they had just shared. Denial, the best form of lying to oneself.
"Cold weather clothes. Yourself. Whatever else you want. It's… going to be wonderful just having you there, I think. But for now, if I have to be honest, my mind's just not up to the task of thinking about that." A chuckle, and then he looks up as the sound of a pair of feet running by. Two children, both in Hogwarts uniforms. One a young Slytherin boy, the other a Hufflepuff girl, hand in hand, boots crunching in the snow. There's a gasp from the little girl, and the two suddenly run off.
Silas groans… and then begins to laugh softly. "Please don't ask. I'll tell you later."

"Mmm," where'd that sound come from? That near sigh that sounded all but whimsical around the edges. Her hug continues, her chest crushed against his while they rest cheek to cheek in the stillness of a street that seemed so very quiet in her head.
"Could your mind be up to…," the girl trails off, when the young pair run by and Jenny can't help the all too affectionate little smile on her face at the sight of them, though the way the girl gasps when seeing him, the way the pair pick up speed…
Her tongue touches against her lips then, once before she finally draws herself away; a proper distance, a proper stance for their location even as her hand seeks out his own, with every intention to lace their fingers. To let her head find his shoulder. Jenny doesn't need a drink anymore.
"Let's go back, Sy. With everyone here shopping, even the lower classmen, it'll be quiet there. We can curl up beneath a window and…maybe I could watch you draw? I'd like to see the world again, through your eyes."

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