simon_doctor | (no subject)

And it's been pretty quiet, at least on Kaylee's end; she's content to let the water and the wind do the talking.

A small flock of birds ahead of them scatters, and lifts into the air. Kaylee lifts her head to follow their progress.

The birds' footprints, tiny forked runes, mark the sand for a few seconds before the next wave washes over them.

It's a comfortable quiet at the moment, and Simon doesn't feel any particular need to disturb it.

In a bag slung over his shoulder there is extra sunblock (they've both got some on already), and a thermos bottle of cold water, and a picnic lunch.

"Wish they'd stayed," she murmurs a little wistfully, watching the flock arc around in angles, finally settling some distance ahead of them.

(Today Kaylee isn't wearing a scarf around her neck; her upper back is bared to the sun.)

(The bruising is long gone, and the scars on her neck have almost faded to four white flecks against the skin; the scars lower down her back are fully healed but still far more visible, random traceries of pale red over her shoulderblades, across her spine.)

"We can throw crusts to them later," he suggests, "if you really want them to stay."

Kaylee eyes the birds. Doubtful: "They're awful little for whole big crusts."

"Crumbs, then," he says agreeably.

He paces further up the sand to detour around a stick of driftwood, tangled in sun-bleached water weed of some kind.

Kaylee lifts a hand to shade her eyes. "Think we're close to findin' a place to make camp?"

Simon follows her gaze, peering into the distance. "There were flat rocks somewhere around here, weren't there?"

"Maybe back a ways -- there's somethin' shadowy up there." Kaylee eyes him. "We sure we want to walk that far?"

"Well, if we don't, we could always sit on the sand."

He sounds slightly dubious about that. Sand brushes off, of course, but ... well. It's not as though he's wearing anything that can be damaged by sand or salt water.

Kaylee gives him a tolerant look and pulls the bag off her shoulder.

"I got a blanket in here."

A breath of laughter, as much at himself as at Kaylee's expression. "That was clever of you. Here, then? -- a little farther up from the water?"

"I was hopin' you'd say that," she says, satisfied, and starts trudging up the sand, leaving footprints behind her. The tide's low, and rolling out; Kaylee goes just past the water line to spread the blanket.

Nobody -- nobody -- is around.

(It's why she's not covering her neck or shoulders.)

Kaylee looks at Simon. "Good enough?"

"Perfect," he says, and slides the bag off his shoulder to set it down at the blanket's edge (there's just enough of a breeze off the water to stir the fabric, and the bag will keep it down if the wind picks up).

Followed by setting down his shoes, and finally by sitting down.

Kaylee's shoes are on the other corner.

Kaylee is standing over Simon, hands on her hips, smiling a little.

"Temptin'," she says, moderately cheerfully, "to sit on you. But I think it's a little more important to get some sun, don't you?" Without any further commentary she sits down and stretches out on her back, raising her arms above her head and pointing her toes, eyes closed against the sun, still smiling.

"I'm sure the blanket's much more comfortable, anyway," he says, watching her stretch.

It's worth watching, not least for the smile.

"Yeah, but." Now it's a grin; now it's lazy. "Blanket don't make such indignant faces."

"I could make an indignant face without being sat on," he points out.

"And I'd laugh at you anyhow," she says comfortably.

Simon leans back on his arms, half-reclining, and stretches his neck to one side and then the other.

Closing his eyes against the sun, he murmurs "It's a nice day for it."

Kaylee opens an eye and rolls her head in his direction.

"Seriously?"

He looks at her, and grins. "It's a nice day for anything, really."

Beat.

"With the possible exception of snowball fights."

"...I don't think there's much risk of that." Kaylee raises her head and eyes the water. "Might be some risk of me runnin' in there, though. Maybe later."

She rolls over on her side to face him, resting her head on her hand. "When it gets too hot. 'Cause it will."

He makes a subverbal sound of agreement, sitting up and reaching for the bag.

It's already hot enough that he wants a drink.

"Mm." Kaylee rolls over and puts her head on her hands, and lets her eyes close again. Slightly muffled: "You think I'm gonna burn, you wake me up, all right?"