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[rosarianoath]

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[rosarianoath]

"He's one hundred and twenty six years in dog years," he says, dropping the bag at the curb.

[noburden]

Jill hums thoughtfully.

"So you're closer in age to him than I am to you. Makes sense." That math isn't mathing, but she's purposely being silly, wanting to keep this good mood going for as long as possible.

[rosarianoath]

“That may be,” Clive replies, “But I wouldn’t dare fixate on the lady’s age. I know you grow sensitive about it.”

[noburden]

"Trying to save your own hide," Jill laughs, and she would hide the grin behind her hand but--it reeks. She makes a face.

"I know we're just going to get filthy again, but I'd like to wash up before we do anything else today."

It's in her pores.

[rosarianoath]

He catches that look with the slightest little smile. He knows.

“You shower upstairs, I’ll shower downstairs.”

[noburden]

Once, she would have tried to entice him into showering together. She does her best not to think of it.

"Sounds like a plan. I'll meet you in the kitchen when I'm done."

He bathes quicker than her.

[rosarianoath]

He nods, and he holds the front door open with her. Without thinking, he reaches out to her just briefly, hand brushing her lower back as she passes through.

“See you shortly, then.”

[noburden]

Just a simple touch makes her want to spin around and kiss him.

She doesn't, of course, and only inhales sharply through her nose before heading to the stairs. Torgal lazily wags his tail from his spot in the living room before resting his head back down on his paws.

While she only intends to shower her body, she does take the time to braid the entirety of her hair. So, even if she does hurry, she'll still be down after Clive unless he decides to soak in a bath. Warmer weather means less layers, relatively speaking, and so when she makes her way down she's in a knee length dress with a jacket on top.

She maybe put on some perfume because the scent of shit is burned into her nostrils. Definitely not for Clive's sake. She has no reason to try and dress for him, of course.

[rosarianoath]

By time she’s heading downstairs, Clive is already there, lounging on the couch with a book in-hand. He sits up straighter at the sound of footsteps; he has never in his life been accused of being a relaxed person. His hair is damp, towelled off haphazardly, and his t-shirt clings damply to the back of his neck. (His jeans, on the other hand, are skin tight by nature.)

He looks up as she approaches. That his glance roves over her is impulse alone — it’s not appropriate to check her out.

He says, anyway: “That’s a pretty dress.”

[noburden]

How handsome he looks, even with that perpetually messy hair. Not a single white hair in sight. Jill smiles at the compliment, trying to ignore how she saw him look her over.

"Thank you. It's comfortable," she says. "I have a hard time with those."

She motions to his jeans. It's a struggle every time she pulls them up or down.

[rosarianoath]

“These?”

Oh. His jeans. He spreads his knees a little in gesture, as if testing how well they move when he’s already wearing them. He’s amused, anyway.

“They’re trousers, what’s difficult about them?”

[noburden]

"You're not struggling to peel yourself out of them?" She asks with a laugh. "Perhaps the ones I've purchased are the wrong size..."

The style is that they're skin tight, though!

[rosarianoath]

“When have I not worn tight trousers?” he asks. “Perhaps I would struggle as much with stockings and skirts.”

And it’s probably for the best she dresses the way she does — if he had to see the shape of her hips all the time, he’d be in trouble.

[noburden]

What a sight that would be. The thought makes her grin.

"Dion had to borrow some of my clothing in an emergency," she says, the emergency being that he was butt ass naked in the snow, "Should you ever find yourself in need, you are welcome to my skirts and stockings as long as you report on your struggles."

[rosarianoath]

That it’s not hard to imagine Dion in a skirt is surprising —– but then again, maybe not, with those long, sweeping dragoon robes. Either way: why the fuck was the emergency?

Clive just says, mildly confused: “I can’t see any reason why that would happen, but thank you nonetheless.”

[noburden]

"Really? You have such lovely calves," Jill teases.

[rosarianoath]

His sigh is almost a laugh.

“Are they not lovelier if they’re rarely seen?”

[noburden]

Her heart swells. She can't remember the last time they simply had fun chatting with one another.

"Perhaps. But they deserve to see the sun, too."

Not just his chest. Jill grins.

[rosarianoath]

“Then I suppose you have another thing to look forward to when we go to the beach, if I can find something suitable to wear.”

He was absolutely not planning to get anywhere near the water.

[noburden]

"Lucky for you, there are a number of shops by the beach with swimwear."

She remembers peering in through the glass at the boutiques closed for the year, the tiny little triangles on mannequins. Surely there's something that covers more.

[rosarianoath]

Clive raises a brow at her as he stands up.

“Me? Swimming?”

[noburden]

"You mean to at least stand in the water at some point, don't you?" Can't do that in skinny jeans unless you want to be sealed into them.

[rosarianoath]

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”

It’s an earnest attempt at being game.

[noburden]

"If I do it, you must."

Childhood logic? Childhood logic. She smiles at Clive as they head to the door.

[rosarianoath]

“I should be there to protect you if some fiend lunges out,” he says, picking up his keys off the entrance table.