simon_doctor | (no subject)

(no subject)

The weather's good this morning; the air's chilly but the sun's bright and warm, and the sky is a clear translucent blue with no hint of rain.

The major marketplace of Logan City is spread out ahead of them, a thousand bright colors and a cacophony of voices, swarming and busy and alive. It doesn't feel like starting over, because you can't start over, but it's good enough for now. And they have things to accomplish.

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Kaylee has to carry her cinnamon roll with both hands. It is very, very large.

"Unless you want me to bury my face in this thing." Wry. "Which, attractive as the notion is, I don't want to do in public so much."

He scans the area ahead. "It looks like there might be benches up that way." (He has to point with his chin; his hands are full.)

"Let's do it."

They settle in. Kaylee has a fork, but one look at the roll and she pulls the multitool out of her pocket. "I won't tell if you won't." Out comes the blade.

He watches, amused.

"You know, you could always have gotten two of the smaller ones instead."

"And miss the chance to get a cinnamon roll big as my head?"

Kaylee turns to look at him, smiling, knife upraised.

"Simon Tam, what do you take me for?"

"...I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me."

He's smiling, but very much Not Laughing.

"That's right," she says peacefully, and sets to work.

He takes one of the scones, breaks off a piece and munches on it thoughtfully while watching her dissect the cinnamon roll.

She spears a section on the point of the knife and holds it out to him, eyebrows raised.

He smiles, reaches out and carefully lifts it off the blade.

And breaks off a correspondingly sized piece of the scone he's eating, and passes it back to her.

Kaylee pops it in her mouth.

Muffled: "'S lotta butter."

"Very unhealthy," he agrees through a bite of cinnamon roll, not sounding particularly concerned.

She swallows.

"You don't seem to be feelin' all that cross about it." Grinning.

"We'll just have to make up for it by finding something very healthy to eat for lunch," he tells her seriously.

Kaylee looks down at the cinnamon roll.

Looks up at Simon.

Says, very seriously, "Handsome, I may never eat again."

He follows her glance, down to the cinnamon roll and back up again.

And then pops the last of his piece of cinnamon roll into his mouth, and says "As last meals go, you could do a lot worse."

"...and I guess it'd be in poor taste to make a crack about capital punishment."

She stuffs her face instead.

Simon sets to finishing his scone, and a brief, contented silence descends.

A few birds -- he's not sure what kind; they're not pigeons, but somewhere near the same size -- are wandering close by, pecking at the inevitable crumbs under the benches; one or two are sidling closer to them, in hopes of something larger being let fall.

Kaylee looks furtive again.

Low: "You're my witness, if they try to arrest me again."

There is more than enough cinnamon roll to feed the birds too.

There's a faint tinge of embarrassment to Simon's laugh.

Nobody shows up to arrest her, but somehow there seem to be a lot more birds nearby all of a sudden.

Watch Kaylee complain.

"Guess I'm just a bird magnet." Happily.

"I guess so." It's amused, and affectionate.

One bird flutters up onto the far end of the bench, and eyes Kaylee with its head on one side.

Kaylee beams.

Very carefully she prises off a nicely-sized bit of cinnamon roll, and flicks it down the bench toward the bird.

With a swift stabbing motion of its head and beak, the bird picks up the fragment of cinnamon roll and launches itself delightedly into the air, wobbling a bit with the unaccustomed weight before it regains stability and flies off with its prize.

Simon starts to laugh.

"Simon Tam, you did the same thing not ten minutes ago," she accuses, grinning.