aimedforthemoon | (no subject)

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It's late afternoon - still warm, but late enough that the moon is out - and Esfir is lying on the grass, shoes next to her and pants rolled up. She's gazing up at the blue sky, one hand under her head.

The other is out in front of her and, one eyes closed, she is making the moon vanish and appear just by moving her thumb.

(possibly, she really shouldn't be doing this)

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"Even being dead?"

"Even being dead. I asked the Bar. You can't stay away for too long, but you can leave."

"Good to know."

Her tone is polite, but she's just looking up at the sky.

"You wanted to see our archives", he tries.

"I did," she answers, but there is a time-lag.

Owen's all out of ideas, now. He shifts slightly.

"Leave you to it, shall I?"

Esfir snorts.

"You don't like attention off you, do you?" This time, her answer is prompt.

"Not really, no", he says flatly. "'Specially when you said yourself it's picking the wound."

Her eyes flash for a moment.

"So, distract me."

"Thought you'd never ask."

He leans over and kisses her firmly.

See, this?

This is easiest way to take her mind off, well.

Everything.

She kisses him back, hard, hand going to his collar.

Edited 2008-07-07 15:05 (UTC)

Hard is just fine by him, and he returns it in kind.

His own hands move to the top buttons of her shirt.

"Mm, nyet-" and she pushes him up, back, just enough stop.

"Not, not out here."

He blinks at her, visibly shifting gears, then hears her.

"No?"

"You know, small children, other people..."

Honestly, Owen.

"My room."

Owen doesn't like small children and doesn't care about other people.

"Your room", he agrees, scrambling to his feet.

That gets a grin and she walks off back towards the bar.

He can feel free to follow.

Oh, and he does. He may be admiring the view as he goes, too.

Naturally.

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