It's such a relief to be out from under that cloak: he has a love/hate relationship with the thing. He loves it because it lets him be here more or less safely, but he hates it because it's a barrier and it's hot and stuffy and thank fuck he's not real claustrophobic or he'd be having a hell of a time. But the minute she leans into him his arm's around her, his fingers tangling in her hair that's getting long again.
A few weeks back he ditched the suit jacket; it's stuffed into the bottom of his backpack along with the cigarettes he can't risk smoking and the ammo he thankfully hasn't needed... yet. The cloak's so warm that all he needs under it is his t-shirt and jeans, and that's okay. He still wears the holster for his Jericho -- makes it easier to have it handy -- but that's about all he needs even though he really wishes he'd brought more than 2 t-shirts with him. But hell, they're getting a good workout and he's getting really good at sneaking off to wash them.
He's getting a good workout too: they're always on the move. The only things he's longed for have been rest and food, but they're getting by okay. Beth and Junior are still the only ones who know he's here.
The first answer he gives her is a kiss, but if this thing's taught him anything, it's self-restraint so he pulls back, settling for tracing her lips with his fingertip. "France? No. Just New France."
The place with the unbelievable bed.
Yeah.
He had broken ribs there. Beth Junior was barely the size of a pea there. They got Elaine some Shikonberry scone mix there.
It feels like a whole other lifetime, and he really feels duty-bound to tell Beth this every damn chance he gets: every day a honeymoon is a little different when you're scrambling to survive, but it doesn't mean the words mean any less.
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A few weeks back he ditched the suit jacket; it's stuffed into the bottom of his backpack along with the cigarettes he can't risk smoking and the ammo he thankfully hasn't needed... yet. The cloak's so warm that all he needs under it is his t-shirt and jeans, and that's okay. He still wears the holster for his Jericho -- makes it easier to have it handy -- but that's about all he needs even though he really wishes he'd brought more than 2 t-shirts with him. But hell, they're getting a good workout and he's getting really good at sneaking off to wash them.
He's getting a good workout too: they're always on the move. The only things he's longed for have been rest and food, but they're getting by okay. Beth and Junior are still the only ones who know he's here.
The first answer he gives her is a kiss, but if this thing's taught him anything, it's self-restraint so he pulls back, settling for tracing her lips with his fingertip. "France? No. Just New France."
The place with the unbelievable bed.
Yeah.
He had broken ribs there. Beth Junior was barely the size of a pea there. They got Elaine some Shikonberry scone mix there.
It feels like a whole other lifetime, and he really feels duty-bound to tell Beth this every damn chance he gets: every day a honeymoon is a little different when you're scrambling to survive, but it doesn't mean the words mean any less.
"Love the hell out of you, ma'am."