There's a certain quiet care in her face, in the way that she squeezes his knee. "I haven't dated in ten years," she says, "and Piotr, I don't know how an interdimensional -- how does this even work--"
But Maya is borderline-laughing as she talks, swift and a touch giddy, words tumbling over each other. Her fingers are still at the nape of his neck; her smile is still aimed directly up at him, and it has grown dazzling again.
(She says 'haven't dated in ten years' and she thinks of Marcus; she can't not. It's been eleven years, and she didn't see anyone romantically before or after Marcus Antares; not til this very second. Once, the thought of Marcus just now would have stopped her cold.
Now, she remembers, Pray for the living, Maya -- imagines she feels a slight, warm breeze brush the back of her neck seconds after rustling through the trees -- and she smiles at Piotr.)
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But Maya is borderline-laughing as she talks, swift and a touch giddy, words tumbling over each other. Her fingers are still at the nape of his neck; her smile is still aimed directly up at him, and it has grown dazzling again.
(She says 'haven't dated in ten years' and she thinks of Marcus; she can't not. It's been eleven years, and she didn't see anyone romantically before or after Marcus Antares; not til this very second. Once, the thought of Marcus just now would have stopped her cold.
Now, she remembers, Pray for the living, Maya -- imagines she feels a slight, warm breeze brush the back of her neck seconds after rustling through the trees -- and she smiles at Piotr.)