(Gela hums something soft, a few notes up, down and up.) I have all afternoon, (in case that may be of interest. It isn't entirely true — there's always something to be doing — but when you're your own boss nobody keeps score besides yourself, and Cedric is looking at her like he's never seen something so lovely, fingertips in the spaces between her own, tapping out something rhythm or pulse she doesn't know. She likes it.
He leans in and her head tilts, following, a burst of laughter coming out of her when he instead lifts her up like it's nothing. Pulls her up over the fence.
She rakes that palm up, to his shoulder to push down on, help herself over.
Nothing catches on the wood. She had thought about the pockets on her skirt—)
I can take some of those things.
(What's lying on the ground behind, noticed from before, obviously, because she can't take her eyes off him now that they're close, hand on his shoulder — anchored on what Gela thinks is a pauldron? She knows little about armor, actually. But maybe today she'll learn.)
no subject
He leans in and her head tilts, following, a burst of laughter coming out of her when he instead lifts her up like it's nothing. Pulls her up over the fence.
She rakes that palm up, to his shoulder to push down on, help herself over.
Nothing catches on the wood. She had thought about the pockets on her skirt—)
I can take some of those things.
(What's lying on the ground behind, noticed from before, obviously, because she can't take her eyes off him now that they're close, hand on his shoulder — anchored on what Gela thinks is a pauldron? She knows little about armor, actually. But maybe today she'll learn.)