Date: 2009-06-30 02:17 am (UTC)
not_that_spike: (on hands and knees)
"Okay. Remember, Junior, this is going to be kind of like a safari. At least for us grownups; we have to crouch down a little to get there. Hold on tight to your mom's hand and don't let go. And then when we get there, it's going to be like magic. We're going to walk through a picture."

"That's silly!" The story about a whole house living on the other side of a portrait always cracks Junior up, but hell, he's with her on it. It makes no damn sense. He's got his pack, his gun, Tom's long-suffering cloak, his smokes, his lighter, his woman, their little aijou. Priorities.

See you later, Paris, he thinks as they head to that linen closet. Carefully, he opens that door in the back. It's always so damn weird when the noises of the bar filter into their Parisian countryside house, but today it's a welcome sound, just what he's hoping to hear.

One step closer to life being just that much easier -- he hopes -- and a little break from all this time in hiding. He's ready to stretch and yawn and... oh, take his shirt off and go for a swim and go for a run around the lake and see people they left behind and...

Yeah. Just like that.

"Ready?" He reaches for Junior's other hand. No one gets left behind.
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June 2009

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