After an evening spent particularly close (metaphorically and literally) and a companionable morning, Harley's sudden departure is a surprise, and all Gale can do is raise his eyebrows in reaction to the whirlwind. She doesn't even say a proper goodbye, and he has to intentionally silence the niggling voice that insists she won't be coming back for another month, if at all. Why do such a thorough exam, then? Take precise measurements? The more logical part of his mind counters as he unconsciously twists the ring on his little finger. Still, she left so suddenly, and despite her capricious nature, he can only conclude that he must have done something wrong. As he cleans the dishes -- manually, without the use of magic, to give him something to do with his hands -- he reexamines every part of their interaction that morning like a puzzle, or perhaps a lanceboard game, trying to find his error. Sometime after Harley's departure, Tara slinks in the door. "I know what you're going to bring up, and let me just be clear, you are making incorrect assumptions," Gale says. "Well, hello to you too, Mister Dekarios! I thought we taught you better manners than that." She hops up onto the counter. "Say, apropos of nothing, don't bipeds exchange rings when they marry?"
Gale's hand jerks as surely as if she'd swatted him. "In many cultures, yes, though it is a mutual exchange accompanied by some ceremony. Besides, this is the wrong finger." Even though they're fussing, he pauses in his chores to make Tara a bowl of bacon and whipped cream. "I accidentally drained the magic from her ring. You know how she is, this is just a joke."
"You're still wearing it, though."
"The joke is still funny." He doesn't meet her gaze, and she doesn't press further.
* * * When Harley slips in later, there's a package waiting on the table, wrapped in pink paper and blue ribbons, with purple hyacinths cut from the bushes out front tucked into the bow.
Inside is the promised cosmetic set, an extensive kit of various colors, powders, and creams. Alongside that, there's a bottle of sweet agrumello and a box of assorted cookies from Gale's favorite bakery.
Even though it's late, there's light coming from the open door of his study, because he always has pitiful sleep habits, but also because he wants to know if and when she comes home.
no subject
Sometime after Harley's departure, Tara slinks in the door.
"I know what you're going to bring up, and let me just be clear, you are making incorrect assumptions," Gale says.
"Well, hello to you too, Mister Dekarios! I thought we taught you better manners than that." She hops up onto the counter. "Say, apropos of nothing, don't bipeds exchange rings when they marry?"
Gale's hand jerks as surely as if she'd swatted him. "In many cultures, yes, though it is a mutual exchange accompanied by some ceremony. Besides, this is the wrong finger." Even though they're fussing, he pauses in his chores to make Tara a bowl of bacon and whipped cream. "I accidentally drained the magic from her ring. You know how she is, this is just a joke."
"You're still wearing it, though."
"The joke is still funny." He doesn't meet her gaze, and she doesn't press further.
* * *
When Harley slips in later, there's a package waiting on the table, wrapped in pink paper and blue ribbons, with purple hyacinths cut from the bushes out front tucked into the bow.
Inside is the promised cosmetic set, an extensive kit of various colors, powders, and creams. Alongside that, there's a bottle of sweet agrumello and a box of assorted cookies from Gale's favorite bakery.
Even though it's late, there's light coming from the open door of his study, because he always has pitiful sleep habits, but also because he wants to know if and when she comes home.