[It's no coincidence Mr. DeVere asks her to join him tonight of all nights, Rosalind is certain, but she's eternally grateful he doesn't mention the reason. She hasn't precisely been a wreck, no, but it's been . . .
Difficult. She always misses Robert, but never more than today. Today, her thoughts obsess over him, chasing after one another in a dizzying circle that leaves her breathless. Their death, their rebirth, the last words they exchanged, the way he looks in his pod up on the station, the way he still hasn't returned to her, on and on and on.
So it's good to go out. Rosalind crosses one leg over the other, settling in next to him.]
Scotch, I think.
[Why start light? She hardly intends to get drunk, but nor does she want something that won't hit her. Rosalind takes a deep breath, trying to ignore . . . a great deal, frankly. The fact that it's so bloody hot; the way her shirt is sticking to her skin here and there. The way people are obsessively pawing at each other more than one would expect in a bar; the way he's sitting, just near enough that they might touch, should they want to.
Which, of course, they don't, because that would be inappropriate, even if this is a social outing. But they could.]
On the rocks, naturally. Good god, but I miss England's climate.
no subject
Difficult. She always misses Robert, but never more than today. Today, her thoughts obsess over him, chasing after one another in a dizzying circle that leaves her breathless. Their death, their rebirth, the last words they exchanged, the way he looks in his pod up on the station, the way he still hasn't returned to her, on and on and on.
So it's good to go out. Rosalind crosses one leg over the other, settling in next to him.]
Scotch, I think.
[Why start light? She hardly intends to get drunk, but nor does she want something that won't hit her. Rosalind takes a deep breath, trying to ignore . . . a great deal, frankly. The fact that it's so bloody hot; the way her shirt is sticking to her skin here and there. The way people are obsessively pawing at each other more than one would expect in a bar; the way he's sitting, just near enough that they might touch, should they want to.
Which, of course, they don't, because that would be inappropriate, even if this is a social outing. But they could.]
On the rocks, naturally. Good god, but I miss England's climate.