"Yeah." Grinning, he takes another sip of the New France Pinot; it goes well with everything.
Mostly, it goes well with Beth and with this anniversary and with his mood which -- sleep-deprived though it is -- is pretty damn good. "For a bounty hunter."
It isn't like he was going to press the baby's fingers to the trigger of a gun the first day or anything like that. Hell, no: he might be a lot of things, but he's not that self-indulgent. In fact, he has all the shit that isn't Junior-safe way on the top shelf of the closet where even Beth can only reach it if she stands on the tips of her toes. It'll be a while before baby Beth can get up there.
Years. Five, six, seven. Even if she brings a chair over, she won't be able to reach it... but he can if they need it. It's his ammo and the smokes and Beth's gun and ammo, his own throwing knife as well as the one Vicious loaned him last time he was on Mars. Vicious won't be needing that one back. It's a pair of nunchakus he picked up somewhere along the line out there, maybe the time he found Ein, maybe not. It's the holster for his gun; it's all his work shit, for lack of a better way of qualifying it.
Wearing no gun used to make him feel completely fucking naked. It doesn't any more, or at least it doesn't in here. He remembers the way Beth used to eye his gun on the table every night at first when they undressed, or got ready to undress, and how it took a long time for that to become an ordinary thing to her.
He remembers the absolute delight on her face parasailing in Galileo City, and the pride and accomplishment when she helped him nail that Baranza guy.
A hell of a lot's happened in two years. But there's been one constant: he loves her.
"For a bounty hunter, there's a few things I'm good with." Stealing her hand away, he brushes a kiss to her knuckles. "Thank fuck I was smart enough to fall for you."
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Mostly, it goes well with Beth and with this anniversary and with his mood which -- sleep-deprived though it is -- is pretty damn good. "For a bounty hunter."
It isn't like he was going to press the baby's fingers to the trigger of a gun the first day or anything like that. Hell, no: he might be a lot of things, but he's not that self-indulgent. In fact, he has all the shit that isn't Junior-safe way on the top shelf of the closet where even Beth can only reach it if she stands on the tips of her toes. It'll be a while before baby Beth can get up there.
Years. Five, six, seven. Even if she brings a chair over, she won't be able to reach it... but he can if they need it. It's his ammo and the smokes and Beth's gun and ammo, his own throwing knife as well as the one Vicious loaned him last time he was on Mars. Vicious won't be needing that one back. It's a pair of nunchakus he picked up somewhere along the line out there, maybe the time he found Ein, maybe not. It's the holster for his gun; it's all his work shit, for lack of a better way of qualifying it.
Wearing no gun used to make him feel completely fucking naked. It doesn't any more, or at least it doesn't in here. He remembers the way Beth used to eye his gun on the table every night at first when they undressed, or got ready to undress, and how it took a long time for that to become an ordinary thing to her.
He remembers the absolute delight on her face parasailing in Galileo City, and the pride and accomplishment when she helped him nail that Baranza guy.
A hell of a lot's happened in two years. But there's been one constant: he loves her.
"For a bounty hunter, there's a few things I'm good with." Stealing her hand away, he brushes a kiss to her knuckles. "Thank fuck I was smart enough to fall for you."