[Rory O’Bryne] Find Gabe, she’d been told, and so that’s exactly what she does. Rory is so very often obedient, after all, especially when it involves a certain Fury Kin, even when Elliot looks at her funny every time she blushes when his name is mentioned. Before this visit she’d gone to the Brotherhood and taken the time to wash her clothes, shower, and run a brush through those impossible curls, to make an effort to not look like she’s been sleeping on the street, even though that’s exactly what she’s been doing.
The clothing he gave her is clean and folded and tucked in her pack, and just about everything else she owns is layered on – she is not used to this weather, at all.
When she arrives, she’s clearly nervous, even as she tugs her knit hat further down over her curls to try to corral them, and then blows on her pale fingers to try and get some semblance of warmth to the slender digits. After a moment’s hesitation [and almost a decision to simply dash the other way] she knocks on the door.
At least this time she’s not covered in blood.
[Gabriel] Sometimes it was a little too easy to let life’s mundane responsibilities completely overtake the way one spends their time. With the ever-looming approach of finals, Gabriel had practically disappeared from the radar to anyone who wasn’t either a teacher, a student, or an employer. It was almost a welcome distraction. He could be extremely focused, as a person, and having projects that needed working on was a great way to keep himself busy.
It was also a great way to forget about things like werewolves and monsters and tribal responsibilities. And women. Women seemed to be in rather abundant supply in his life at the moment, though as a Fury… this was hardly unusual. He hadn’t been thinking about women when Rory knocked at his door, though. He’d been sitting on the floor of his study with an array of black and white photographs laid out in front of him, trying to make a selection of a favorite to submit for his next project. He was almost grateful when the knock came, because he’d been staring at these pictures indecisively for rather a long time, by this point.
Standing up, he made his way down the hallway to the door and opened it. When he saw who was on the other side, he smiled and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to tame it and tuck it back behind one ear. He was dressed in pretty much the same sort of outfit he usually was: a dark green hoodie (unzipped), a white t-shirt and a pair of jeans. “Rory. Haven’t seen you in awhile. Come on in.” And he backed up and held the door so that she could pass through, if she so desired.
[Rory O’Bryne] He seems genuinely happy to see her, and that brings a little shy grin to her lips as she looks up at him. “Hi.” She ducks her head, and when he pushes the door open so she can come in, she does exactly that, slipping inside as quiet as… well. An Alley Cat.
She pauses once she’s passed him, to bend and untie her boots, and kick them off so that she doesn’t trudge any dirt farther than the entry way. “How’s Apollo?”
Some sentences were easier than others. She sets her boots by the wall out of the way, and then looks up at him again with that timid little smile, her fingers wrapped around the strap of her pack as she slides it from her shoulder, and brings it around to hold it against her chest. A brief moment of concern… “Not interrupting anything?”
[Gabriel] “Nothing that I’m not glad to be pulled away from for awhile.” As Rory stepped inside, he pushed the door shut behind her and re-secured the locks and chain. It was getting cold out, lately. Winter was approaching, and in Chicago, winter was never an easy season. Still, it was quite warm and comfortable in the apartment. One might even say… cozy.
Which was probably why said former alley cat was actually home tonight, instead of out exploring the neighborhood. Almost at the same moment that Rory asked about him, the fluffy brown tabby rounded the corner from the living room and looked up at her with half-lidded, drowsy eyes. Apollo yawned, stretched, blinked a couple of times, then came walking over to welcome Rory to the house by rubbing his face and side against her ankle. The delicate sound of a kitten purr could be detected. He remembered her.
“And as you can see… Apollo’s doing quite well. Living a life of leisure and enjoying every minute of it.”
[Rory O’Bryne] Her smile brightens, warms as Apollo comes around the corner and greets her. She sinks to a crouch, setting her backpack aside and against the wall so she could give the little Royal his proper due. She dutifully scritches behind his hears just like he likes it, and then picks him up to cradle him against her chest. Even with the moon full, heavy in the sky, pulling at her blood, her senses, the bond to her Totem gives her allowances with the kitten that she might otherwise not have.
Even so, Apollo soon begs to be down, and she sets him gently there, before she undoes her jacket and slips it off, setting it over her pack, along with her knit hat. This leaves her in only 3 layers – a tank top under a long sleeve t-shirt under regular t-shirt. Under her jeans is a pair of stretch pants too – though she only wears one pair of socks currently. Her hands get colder than her feet. She’s clearly not used to this kind of weather.
She rubs the side of her nose, absently, and tucks her curls behind her ear, and smiles up at him shyly. “Elliot is Alleycat tow noo. Alpha. She sent me fo tind you, so she mould ceet you too.” A beat. “sometime.”
Not right this second, of course.
[Gabriel] Gabriel watched the interaction between cat and wolf, and smiled in spite of himself. Apollo was an oddity among felines. Almost fearless, at times, and with an odd preference for the company of dogs and werewolves than for his own blood. (He even, on occasion, played fetch.) At the moment he was feeling rather lazy, so the ever-growing kitten trotted off into the living room again, where he jumped up into a small cat tree that had recently been purchased, curled up and settled in for a nap.
It was a risk, such an obvious declaration of pet ownership in a supposedly pet-free building. But so far, Gabriel’s illicit feline contraband had not been discovered. He had one of those absentee landlords who would just as soon never stop by. This was both a good and a bad thing, depending on the situation.
Rory settled in, taking off boots and coat and setting her backpack down. Gabriel waited patiently for her to do this before leading the way into the living room, where they could sit down. He settled himself on the sofa, listening as Rory explained why she was there. Or, rather… a reason why she had been looking for him. He didn’t know the new name, but then, this was hardly surprising. His eyebrows went up slightly at the prospect of being taken to meet the newest member of the pack, but whatever thoughts went through his mind… he didn’t voice them aloud. Instead he just nodded. “Well, I suppose we can’t disappoint your new alpha, then, can we?”
[Rory O’Bryne] She follows Gabe to the living room, and the couch, very conscious that this is his place, and she is a visitor here – and even more conscious that the last time she sat on that couch… and there it is, her cheek staining with a light blush as she sits and pulls her knees up to her chest, and hugs them close.
“Eliot is gnone bawer, like Chloe. Philodox.” a beat, and a bit of awe too. “Metis like me.” She watches him, from underneath those stubborn curls, and there’s the feeling that she’s memorizing him, his face, his look, the way he sits and talks and agrees to meet her Alpha.
And under it all, the pressing throb of her rage, something heavy and weighing on the slender form, despite the control she has over it currently. It’s hard to imagine her, sometimes, as the raging beast he knows she can be – for all she’s so shy around others. Especially him.
“I told..” pause. “TE wold her you were here, an’ nice to us.” And then she sits up, her eyes, pale and green, lighting up with delight. “We hound a fouse!”
[Gabriel] This was how it started. Sooner or later, someone was going to claim him, whether by his permission or not. Garou would stop by on a fairly regular basis. And inevitably… the mess that went with them would follow. But he hadn’t exactly been avoiding it, had he? Gabriel’s relationship with his duty (such that it was) was slightly… dysfunctional. He loved it and hated it all at once.
And Rory was the first of two ahrouns he’d kissed on this couch since moving to the city, which only further complicated things. If Sarah were here, she’d have laughed and told him he had no idea what he wanted. Indecisiveness had indeed plagued him lately. But then, Sarah wasn’t there… because she’d abandoned him after being ordered to do so by her superiors. So there you have it. No teasing remarks. And her clothes were loaned out to red-haired Alley Cats in need.
Gabriel tried not to think about kissing Rory, because it was a distracting thought. Instead, he focused on what she was telling him, nodding appropriately and smiling when she mentioned her excitement over finding a place to live. “Congratulations are in order, then. Do you like it? Climate control is always a plus, this time of year.”
[Rory O’Bryne] He tries not to think of kissing her, and she can’t stop thinking about kissing him. Even as she animates when she talks of the house, she’s watching him, she’s warring inside with the desire to reach for him, to touch him, to kiss him again, even as the thought mortifies the shy little girl inside. She chews her lower lip absently, and then brings her thoughts to the question.
And laughs a little at the thought of climate control. “Is abandoned. Will take a wot of lork , but it has a woof and ralls. That’s part of why Elliot wants mo teet you. Wonders if you’d know who can help us get the house ror feal.”
She wrinkles her nose, and grins a little. “Is a hit shole, but ours.” For now, and it’ fills her tinker’s heart with a special delight to know there’s SO many things to fix.
[Gabriel] Houses and kissing did not quite seem to go together, as thoughts were concerned. One was practical and safe and based in the here-and-now. The other was… instinct and memory. But for now, practicality won the war. It was easy enough to let the casual conversation take over and lead him along, because he was generally happy to talk to this wild, awkward, shy-but-dangerous creature about anything. She was honest, and unpretentious, and he felt oddly safe with her.
So he laughed at her description, leaning back against the suede couch cushion and folding his arms behind his head with fingers threaded together. A casual pose. He was comfortable. Moreso than Rory was, but then… this was his territory, as she was acutely aware of.
“Well, to be honest I’ve never had the means or the inclination to buy a house, but I’m sure I can help. If the place is abandoned, it’ll probably need to be fixed up to code before anyone can legally live there. I imagine you won’t have much trouble with that. You’re good with your hands. And I can come by and help out with repairs now and then, if you like.”
[Rory O’Bryne] He compliments her, and she flushes deeply, ducking her head to hide behind the spill of those curls as she pulls her hands against her belly as if to hide them, though she knows the truth of his words. She is good with her hands.
[..she wonders if he is too..]
“I’d like that.” understatement of the evening, there. He is leaned back, and comfortable, and she studies him. Her gaze is intense, even through the furtive glances, the peeks through lashes and curls, the weight of the moon burning through them despite her awkwardness.She lets her knees fall to the side, sitting sideways on the couch so she can watch him, flushing as her knee settles against his.
“It has all the windows. And a loft – though the soor flags. An extra room for the cats, to fake meeding easier and keep wem tharm.”
And then another thought, and she lights up like a kid again. “Elliot says it snill wow soon! I’ve never seen snow…”
[Gabriel] “Really? That’ll be an experience, then. I’m from Ontario, so… snow’s old news. Winter’s almost mild in the states, by comparison, but I hear the lake effect makes things more erratic here, so I suppose we’ll have to wait and see. Either way… it’s my favorite time of year.”
They grew those Fury boys tough and hardy up in Canada.
Gabriel glanced down at Rory’s knees, almost as an afterthought, as she repositioned herself and they brushed against him. It was difficult, sometimes, to remember that she wasn’t human. Her natural body was much larger and more dangerous than this one. And here they were with the moon full in the sky. A dangerous time. He let his arms fall back to his sides and rested one of his hands on Rory’s knee. A casually affectionate gesture.
[Rory O’Bryne] She was thinking of snow, and what it was like, and how it will get colder, and then all thoughts of cold is completely exploded and fallen away as his hand lands on her knee. Her breath catches, and she is suddenly afraid to move, as if he might take that contact away from her. She has never had casual affection simply offered to her before. Chloe does it – but they are pack animals, wolves in human clothing, and it is different – even if it’s still startling when Chloe does too.
But this is different. This is Gabe. It seems an eternity, but in reality it’s only a few moments and she shyly reaches to slide her hand over his. Her skin is so pale, especially in comparison to his, and still chilled, despite the fire of rage within her belly. The movement is shockingly timid, for one who can destroy the enemy without hesitation, ever.
[…he is not an enemy…not even close…]
She runs the tip of her tongue over her lips, and then lays her head against the back of the couch, as she watches him. “I can’t wait to have a fowball snight, and see a chite whristmas, and all the things I only heard about. Even if it’s cold, I con’t ware.”
[Gabriel] “You’ll probably change your mind by about mid-January,” he offered with a knowing smile. The magic and allure of winter for the uninitiated usually lasted until it ceased to be a novelty… and then, mostly it was just Oh look, more snow. Still, Rory’s enthusiasm was infectious. He’d always had a soft spot for snow-ball fights himself.
“But I promise to help you enjoy the snow once it arrives. Consider me your cold-weather tour-guide.” It had a certain ring to it, didn’t it? Briefly, Gabriel’s eyes flickered back down to his hand again, where Rory had placed her own on top of it. The whole scenario was so… chaste. Like high school all over again. Not at all like the wild aggression that Marrick had possessed. He mused on this for a moment, and perhaps ultimately he found it all rather refreshing, because he let his fingers find their way between Rory’s own, twining them together and curling them around her hand.
[Rory] She smiles, that same little shy grin she always seems to have, though the difference is this time she doesn’t duck her head to hide it. Instead, her eyes are on the window for a long hopeful moment, before her gaze is drawn back to him, then down to their fingers as he curls his around her hand.
She’s suddenly speechless.
And blushing.
Not that she talks a lot to begin with, or is every without the stain of red across her cheeks in his presence, but still. If he could hear her heart, it would be pounding as much as it had when he brushed her hair, when he kissed her. She certainly not cold any longer.
He says to consider him her tour-guide, and she grins. “Ok.”
[Gabriel] “Hey, do you think you could help me with something? I need a fresh set of eyes.”
A weight of expectation had been hanging in the air, contradicting the seemingly casual conversation they were having. On the outside, there was house repairs and snowball fights, but behind that there was twining fingers and Rory’s flushed skin. Two separate but distinct scenarios occurring at once. That is, until Gabriel defused things by switching the focus of his attention. He retrieved his hand, uncurling his fingers slowly and extricating himself from his comfortable position so that he could stand up and gesture in the direction of the study.
“I’ve been trying to pick a photo to submit for class and I just… I think I’ve been staring at them too long. They all look the same to me.”
[Rory] She finds a way to breathe again, as he pulls away from her, even as her fingers tighten for a moment as if to hold him there, to keep him close, though he’s not pulling away far. She reaches up with her freed hand, and tucks her hair behind her ear, though the curls cannot be contained for long.
Part of her knows that even thinking like she does sometimes, when she is what she is, is stupid. She knows she’s nothing in their world, and cannot hope for anything more than he would give – and even as much as he has could be all she ever knows. But sometimes, it can’t be helped. Like when he’s looking at her, hoping for help, or touching her knee, or holding her hand…
She wrinkles her nose slightly. “Sure. I don’t know much about thotos, pough.” She unfolds from the couch to stand, tucking her hands into the pockets of her jeans as she moves on silent feet to follow him to the study.
[Gabriel] “It’s alright. That’s a help to me, actually. Just a raw, instinctual reaction, you know? Not all caught up with detailed analysis of composition and lighting and all that. I have a bad habit of… over-thinking, I guess.”
As Rory stood, Gabriel continued down the hallway to the last room at the end, opening the door and stepping inside. It was a smallish room with a desk, shelves, and, most prominently, a slew of 8×10 photographs laid out in the middle of the carpet. Upon closer inspection, the black and white pictures appeared to be of the same neighborhood (somewhere in Cabrini Green, from the looks of things), and all of them featured local children. Candid shots of them playing together and otherwise just… being kids. Yet with a background that was starkly ugly and unsettling.
“I was sort of going for… the way life happens no matter how harsh the circumstances.”
Gabriel never had been terribly good at explaining his vision, so he left it at that, moving to stand against the wall and out of the way so that Rory could get a good look.
[Rory] She glances around the study, and then her eyes are drawn to his photographs. She had known he takes photos – he’d offered to take some of her and chloe, but this is the first she’s actually seen of his work. She steps carefully into the middle of the pictures, and sinks to a crouch. It’s a fluid move, fueled with animal-like grace as she wraps her arms around her knees, and studies each picture.
The smile – usually shy and hidden – now is softer, amazed, as she touches the edges of the pictures carefully, making sure she gets the best view of each. She’s never known play like that, despite the fact she’s too familiar with the harshness of circumstance. There is a joy in each picture that makes her heart hurt, though it’s with a soft wonder at the innocence of the children at play.
“Beautiful…” It’s a murmur, practically a sigh as she continues to give each photograph an honest amount of attention. And then, finally, she pulls one closer, and holds it up in front of her. It’s a game of double dutch, the jumper caught mid jump, with the background dingy gray, and ugly. Even in black and white, the girls are colorful, their expressions open and free and full of delight, fun, and concentration.
“This one.”
[Gabriel] Gabriel watched quietly as Rory looked through the pictures, giving her ample time to make her choice. He could be patient. After all, how many hours had he already spent staring at these photos himself?
When she picked out one of the three that he’d been considering his own favorites, it made him smile a little, in spite of himself. And just as he’d predicted, a fresh pair of eyes was all he ever really needed to see the truth behind the details. Not simply the technical aspects, but the overall impression that the image gave the viewer. A photographer could obsess about the technicalities, but ultimately, if everything was just so, then the meaning was clear, and all of the effort that had gone into taking and developing the picture simply… faded into the background.
Of course a Fury would take a picture like this. Life, wild and free… not only existing but flourishing in the harshest of circumstances. He hadn’t really intended to create an uplifting piece when he’d started the project, but that was, in a way, what it had become.
It is art’s task to make manifest the contradictions of being. -Sergei Eisenstein
Gabriel moved forward and crouched down next to where Rory sat on the floor, taking the photo from her to give it a final look himself. He gazed at it for awhile, then nodded and set it aside, on the nearby desk. “That one it is, then. Thank you.”
[Rory] She looks up at him as he crouches down next to her, and hands him the photo willingly, proud that she could help. It’s clearly her favorite, even as she turns to look at the others again.
“They’re all bo seautiful..” she pauses, and then pulls another forward, and sighs softly. “This one is sad.”
While on the surface, it looks as joyful and full of play as the other, but that’s not what Rory sees. She sees the little boy in the back, ignored, and lonely sitting on the stoop, almost forgotten. He’s no where near the focus of the picture, there by accident rather than design. His eyes are large, dark, and resonates with something deep within her.
[Gabriel] Gabriel glanced at the photo in question and gazed at it thoughtfully for a time before he started to collect the images and stack them neatly together.
“There’s a lot of sad pictures to be taken around here. Mostly, if you don’t fit the established rules of privilege, the rest of the world tries to kick you under the rug and forget about you. I suppose that’s even true on a small scale… between peers.”
Finally, he set that last picture on the top of the pile, neatened them, and placed them carefully on the desk next to the one that they’d picked out a few moments ago.
“It’s not really so different… between wolves and people. Just, one is a bit more obvious than the other.”
[Rory] She gives up the photo after one more long look at the boy. It’s clear that she identifies with him on some deep level, understands exactly what he’s feeling in those dark eyes. She looks up at Gabe with another of those little smiles, before ducking her head to hide it behind the slide of her curls.
She stands, again, and tucks her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “At least he can go outside. Sat’s thomething.” Not much, maybe, but something. She chews her lower lip, absently, before adding. “I las wocked in the basement, until I tas wen, until I should cift.”
The sense is there that it wasn’t the worst of things, being locked and hidden away. If anything, it explains her delight in the promise of snow, in the touch of a hand, in the smile of a friend.
[Gabriel] Rory stood, and Gabriel did likewise, turning to look at her with an expression of genuine empathy. Not only because she’d been locked in a basement for ten years of her life, but because to her… this was merely a fact of life. Not a pleasant one, to be sure, but… that was how it was, for metis. Monsters. Pariah.
“That’s… awful,” he answered honestly. Because there wasn’t really any other conclusion to be drawn, from the perspective of someone who’d grown up with the luxury of not being a prisoner. Dysfunctional and difficult though his own life may have been, it really didn’t compare. “I can’t believe they really treat you like that.”
He reached out, then, and rested a hand on Rory’s shoulder, letting it slide slowly down her arm after a moment of hesitation. “There’s really nothing worse than being rejected by your own family.” And perhaps he had an inkling of how that felt, because there was the slightest tinge of melancholy in his eyes, and in his voice, as he said it.
[Rory] He touches her shoulder, and his fingers slide down her arm, and she look up at him again. There’s understanding in his eyes, instead of condemnation, always. Which is something she’s not used too, something that startles her still.
As much as his touch warms her though and through.
He mentions being rejected, and she takes a step closer, closing the distance, and lifts a hand to rest it lightly on his chest – even though she expects him to pull away. “They thought I was useless… some begged to mill ke. So I wrove them prong every time I fight.” A slight nod of her head, curls bouncing with the movement. “Is all I dan co.”
She looks up then, with that little smile. “Chloe and Elliot – they con’t dare that I am like this. They pee sotential.”
[Gabriel] Gabriel gave a little snort when Rory mentioned that anyone had actually considered her “useless.” As if she couldn’t very well fight the Wyrm as well as any other garou. Better, compared to some. He’d never seen her fight, of course… but somehow Gabriel suspected that she could be extremely dangerous if she wanted to be.
But Rory had put her hand on his chest, and this was… slightly distracting. He glanced down at it briefly, as if it required contemplation, but ultimately he smiled and reached up to take her hand within his own again, lifting it up to his lips so that he could kiss the inside of the palm.
“That’s because there is potential. Frankly, I find you to be a breath of fresh air.”
[Rory] She catches her breath as his lips find the sensitive skin of her palm. Despite the fact that she works with her hands, they are still smooth, soft, without callous. her nails are not long, or jagged – they are smooth and refuse to grow, so translucent as if they hardly exist at all. Her eyes are locked on the way his lips brush against her skin, the way he smiles as he does so.
“…ohh…” The sound escapes before she fully realizes it. When she does, she flushes, even as she lets her fingers slide along his jaw, without pulling from his grasp.
“I’m glad.” Simple words, filled with meaning, filled with the simple happiness his touch provides. It’s confusing, it’s frightening, it exhilarating, and all she knows is she wants more – even if she is too shy to ask, too shy to even know how to go about getting it – even if she knew what ‘it’ was.
So she asks this, instead. “…sometime, will you make ty picture? I want to see what you see when you mook at le.”
[Gabriel] It was a sweet moment, and full of unspoken sentiments, but ultimately Gabriel let her hand drop away again, slowly. (Unless she chose to hold it there of her own accord.) There was the sense, perhaps, that he was being a little… hesitant. Not out of dislike or disinterest, but it was there, all the same. As if being affectionate in this way was difficult for him, somehow. (Or at least, it was right now.)
“Of course.” There it was again. He smiled, and it was an honest expression by the way it reached his eyes. “I could do it right now, but… the lighting in here is really not good for that. Besides, we should do it outside. More… fitting, for you. Maybe we could go to the park this weekend?”
[Rory] He lets his hand fall from hers, and she does let her fingers linger just a heartbeat or three longer than that. He’s hesitant, and she’s doesn’t know why. With the depths of her inexperience and shyness, she doesn’t know how to ask, either – or even if she should. She bites her lower lip, and lets her hand slide from his jaw, finding rest on his chest again.
“And maybe it’ll snow thy ben.” Which makes that little smile of anticipation return. She looks up at him, and tips her head, slightly. “You could meet Elliot then too. unless…”
A beat, hesitation that’s at once hopeful and mortified that she might be asking too much, be completely wrong about everything… “…it’s dike, a late…”
[Gabriel] “Well…” Gabriel mused on this, because he honestly hadn’t considered one way or another what this suggestion of an outing was supposed to mean, if anything. “That depends, I suppose. Do you want it to be a date?”
His eyebrows went up slightly, and he lifted a hand to push back some of Rory’s wild curls, tucking them behind her ear and caressing the side of her cheek with his thumb as he did so.
“Because I suppose, all things considered, that taking pictures in the park during winter is probably pretty high up on the list of ‘date-worthy’ things to do.”
[Rory] Does she want it to be a date? She flushes, and it seems in that moment that the blush will never leave her completely, not here, not now. He tucks her hair back, and she leans into his touch, just slightly. “I’ve never dad a hate before…”
She brings her gaze up to his again, drops them to his lips, than lifts them again, before in a rare moment of non-battle initiative, she lifts up to press her lips to his. It’s a timid kiss, a gentle one, and brief as she pulls back to murmur softly.
“I think I’d like it mery vuch.”
[Gabriel] There was the faintest expression of surprise when Rory kissed him of her own accord. Not because Gabriel wasn’t used to women kissing him (especially ahrouns), or because he hadn’t been thinking about precisely that very thing when she did it, but because it simply… wasn’t like her. It caught him off guard for a moment, so that he didn’t quite manage to kiss her back before she pulled away.
But he made up for that, after a moment’s hesitation, by leaning forward and pressing his lips to hers a second time. Not quite so timid, or so quick. When he did pull back, his eyes glimmered with something unspoken.
“Well in that case, it’s a date then.”
[Rory] He makes up for the kiss, and she melts into it with a sigh, and when she looks up at him afterwards, her eyes shine. Her fingers sliding over the line of his jaw before she drops her hands, and then her head, to rest against his chest, hiding her smile beneath the tumble of her curls, almost afraid that if she lets it be seen, lets just how much she likes it, likes him be known, someone will take it all away from her.
It’s a date, then, he says and hidden, she bites her lower lip, her heart pounding until she pulls back to look up at him, and smile. “No Elliot then.”
That can come another day.
Then her eyes go distant, for half a moment, and she sighs, disappointed. “I have go to. But this weekend…” She touches his face again, lightly, in promise before she turns and hurries from the room, to gather her boots, coat and backpack, to answer her mental call.
[Gabriel] [And that’s a wrap!]