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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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.

"I did?" He's still grinning, but uncertainly; honestly not sure what she's talking about.

"Did you or did you not have your hands full of breakfast when we sat down?"

"...Yes?" he says, faintly guardedly.

"You didn't look quite that unwieldy," she informs him.

"Well, I also didn't have to run away before being mobbed by a dozen other people trying to steal my breakfast," he points out.

Kaylee suddenly looks very worried, and looks down at the cinnamon roll.

"I'm not gonna be able to finish it anyhow..."

"We could wrap it up and take it with us," he suggests.

"No -- " She's shaking her head. "I mean the birds could have it. Or at least part of it."

He looks from Kaylee to the birds milling around the foot of the bench, and smiles. "Up to you."

She keeps a portion for herself; the rest of it gets broken up and scattered.

A little wistful: "I bet it's hard to be a bird."

"Less hard somewhere like this, maybe," he offers. "Between the crumbs people drop by accident, and the people who like feeding birds...."

She turns and gives him a crooked smile. "You're just tryin' to make me feel better."

"Maybe a little," he admits.

A beat.

"Look at it this way: you made some of their lives at least a little easier this morning."

"I guess."

She leans against him briefly. "And I couldn't've eaten all that, and it would've been a pain to haul around."

He puts his arm around her, and gives her a quick squeeze.

"Ready to move on?"