knowthyexits | (no subject)

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Picnics are a new concept for Sarah.

The idea of having food and taking it elsewhere to enjoy without needing to rush through the meal or be concerned about what might be hunting her is new. It's new, but it's also kind of nice. She hadn't gone all out with the sandwiches; though she had cut the crusts off, the Mom in her clawing its way to the surface to do something.

There's some juice, a few cookies from the bakery, but other than that, it's a meal in a basket that she and Phil are going to enjoy in the midst of nature. That's normal. It's normal and she's going to do it and she's promised herself that she's going to give it an honest chance and won't assume it's going to fail before she even gets out there. So that's the plan. Picnicking. Normal. Usually, she's so far away from these things, she can't even name them, but not this time.

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"That... sounds very productive." Not that he was sure why she'd done it. Buried was buried and he was pretty sure that the IPD wasn't going be prosecuting for burying walking homicidal mechanical humans. But it was her choice and she certainly seemed happy she'd done it.

"To a week of hard work." He raised his glass for a little toast.

"I've put it off as long as I have because I didn't want to do it," she says, exhaling sharply when she thinks of seeing Cromartie's face -- decomposing and filled with metal. She smiles when he raises the glass, doing the same as she brushes hair away from her eyes. "How's next week going to compare?"

"I can honestly say I have no idea, but I like how it's starting." This place certainly knew how to throw curveballs, after all. He wasn't sure what was going to happen with Rapture, but it was worth keeping his eyes on. But not today, today he was going to make himself relax a little.

She opens her mouth to speak, but what he says really registers before she does. It cuts her off and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as she takes a moment to hide the private smile of pleasure those words give her. "Careful," she warns. "A girl might actually start thinking there might be some reciprocation going on."

"And why would that be a bad thing, Sarah?" He really couldn't figure her out. Sometimes, he thought she wanted a relationship beyond friendship. Other times, she seemed to hold up a giant stop sign. "I mean, I know I'm not the most dashing man on the island, but I'm still one of the good guys."

"It's not a bad thing," she promises, something catching in her throat as she tries to hurry to promise him that. "In fact, it's not bad at all. It's just that..." she gives him a strained smile. "I'm not usually anyone's first choice when it comes to these kinds of things. No one wants the broken toy when there are shiny new ones on the market," she says, pressing her lips together evenly.

"New is nice, but I've always appreciated vintage. A few dings here and there don't bother me. I have plenty of my own, Sarah." He sat up, placing his drink to the side so he could take her hand. "I don't know what you want right now, but I'm willing to stick around while you figure it out. I like you."

The clearest response to what she wants right now is something that words don't say best, but action does. It's why she's grateful he takes her hand, because it closes the distance between them so when she tilts her body over, just slightly, to kiss him, she's not leaning too far.

It's chaste. It's simple. It's a promise that she does want something more, has been wanting something more and has been feeling so normal for it that she could cry with relief and nostalgia for a time when she wasn't. She eases back, touching the corner of her lips with her thumb. "I want that," she says, seriously.

He held his breath when she leaned over and he didn't move an inch. He very badly wanted to reach for her, hold her, but he meant what he said. This was going to go at her speed and that was probably the smart thing. He was in the middle of an operation and he didn't want to be making too many promises when he was regularly going to a place where everyone there wanted him dead.

Instead he waited until she leaned back and raised his hand to brush a bit of hair from her forehead. "Okay, then. That's one question answered. Good intel."

She bows her head slightly at the touch of his fingers against her skin, a pleased smile lurking on her lips that speaks of the normal girl inside of her that doesn't often get to come out to play. "Very good intel," she says, giving her own little opinion on the matter. Because she can, she reaches up to twine her fingers with his, giving a slight squeeze. "I'm not great at this, but I want to be good at it," she says.

Returning the squeeze, he brings her hand to his lips for another light kiss, "I'll try and give as much practice as you want, if you don't mind waiting a bit." He didn't want to jump too far while he was still spending almost all of his time down in Rapture. It was too dangerous and he took whatever risk he needed to in order to keep his people safe.

"Trust me. I'm a patient woman," Sarah says, seeing as how she feels like she's been waiting her whole life for the coming end. At least, that's how it seems, most days. "Promise," she swears.

"Good." He reaches for his drink and takes another sip, leaning over to take a peek in the basket. "So, what did you bring us today?" He was more than happy to play this slowly and casually until the time came to change that. In the meantime, there was good food and good conversation to be had.

"Well, I did warn you about my lack of talent in a kitchen," she says, turning slightly to unearth the contents of the basket. "And so I've made you the great culinary delight known as sandwiches," she says, handing one over to him. "I hope you like boar."

"Here I was hoping for the old staple PB and J." Chuckling, he took the sandwich and unwrapped it, making a little bit of a show as he took a bite. It was a good sandwich, thick and filling. It would be a good meal and hold him over well when he went back down to Rapture later.

"But this will be okay, I guess."

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