simon_doctor | (no subject)

Kaylee's still a little subdued. She's also clinging to the cup of tea in her hands.

"Do we have a plan?"

"I was thinking we could just wander, to start with. See what we see."

He finished his tea back at the hotel; neither of them was particularly hungry this morning.

"...long as we don't spend the day walking without getting stuff done, whatever." She sounds tired. "Okay. Let's go."

They start down the little hill toward the marketplace.

About halfway down, Simon reaches for Kaylee's hand.

She doesn't look at him.

After a moment she links her fingers with his.

The sun gets higher, and stronger, as they make their way into the marketplace. Simon vaguely considers taking off his jacket, decides to wait.

A stall nearby displays an assortment of hats; he pauses, bemused, to look at a very tall felt hat with wide horizontal stripes in red and white.

Kaylee tilts her head.

"Not your color." Mildly.

"I don't think it's my anything," he says, still bemused.

Now -- finally -- she cracks a smile, small, and more in her eyes than anything else.

Simon's getting a very critical, very fond look.

"You're not much into hats, are you."

"If I were," he says with a touch of an answering smile, "it would not be two-foot-tall striped ones."

She brushes her fingers over the brim. "I think maybe I got a personal mission to find a hat you look real good in."

Simon looks at the rest of the booth's wares, a little doubtfully.

"If you do," he promises, "I'll wear it."

Pause, and he adds quickly "If we both agree that I look good in it."

"If we both agree. ...which I think means we're not gonna find it here." Her smile broadens for just a moment.

He returns the smile, a touch ruefully, and tilts his head in the direction they were walking.

"Something with a narrow brim," she muses, half-teasing, as they wander away. "And not too tall a crown, I'm thinkin'."

"Any thoughts on what color?" he asks amiably.

Another critical look. "The one you'd probably go with is dark gray, but I think somethin' in a real dark green might surprise you."

He considers that thoughtfully. "I might not object to dark green."

"No, but you probably would to a real nice pale blue." Glumly.

There's a tree nearby, and several small children running around it, under the watchful eye of parents and the gentleman in the chair who appears to be supervising the whole thing. But the point is what's under the tree: a sculpture without much rhyme or reason, made from wood -- the wood, one could guess, from the pile of ornately-carved scraps next to the sculpture. It comes up to Kaylee's shoulder at its highest point, and spreads over at least fifteen feet.

PUBLIC ART I GUESS reads the sign tacked to the tree, pick up some glue and work on it.

Kaylee's eyes gleam.

Simon glances across at her, starting to grin.

"Do you want to?"

"Maybe a little," she says airily.

While tugging at his hand.

"We've got time."

He comes along with the tugging quite happily.

She immediately sets about peering through the scrap pile, looking for the most ridiculously crenellated pieces possible.

"So we had a task today. Didn't we?"

"Putting together a package for Jordie," he agrees, leaning against the tree.

"Mm." She fishes out a couple of pieces, eyeing the closest section of the sculpture thoughtfully. "We want funny things, useful things...?"