Like Tyb, Elsie had a voice in the back of her head telling her this was not the direction they should be moving right now. She should go home, she should kiss him softly one last time and disapparate,. She'd done what she needed to, but that rational part of her was being drowned out by this sudden need to just forget about everything else. She didn't want to go home and stick to the plan of not putting themselves in compromising situations...

It was far too easy to get wrapped up in him, in the heat of the moment and ignore that rational voice telling her to go home. For once, (though Elsie was a Gryffindor, she was the worst kind, really), she was feeling just a little reckless; entirely unlike herself. Maybe it was the distance they forced themselves to keep, or the fact that they were once again catapulted from their carefully crafted course. Maybe it was the muddled, fuzzy feeling that took over when he kissed her, but Elsie had no issues falling back onto the bed. She followed him in that one fluid motion, knowing it was definitely the wrong choice, but for once, not caring.

Without any idea where this was going, Elsie was content to follow his lead for now. Her fingers tangled his his hair gently, pulling him in, despite the fact that it might not even be possible at this point to get any closer. This newfound sense of reckless abandonment was almost as intoxicating as being this close after so long- too long, and it was almost like she had little desire or capability to stop.

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MJ always makes her so pretty

Her hands were in his hair, holding him there, and the desperation still wasn’t subsiding. He had expected it to ebb eventually in the comfort of her contact, fall away like a breaking wave - but if it were a wave it had been building up in him for years and somehow the end of all this still wasn’t in sight. So it was something like a flood, and something like a wildfire, and the ache for her was brimming up from the base of his gut and his heart was racing and he didn’t know how to stop it and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

“Elsie...” he breathed, having broken off a kiss only in rolling over and finding himself more securely on top of her (...which, absurdly, felt something like a quidditch move) and now he was definitely counting on her to be the sensible one here. Really, what were they doing? This was absolutely a bad idea, whether or not there was no chance of them getting caught tonight, whether or not they could forget the world for a minute... A bad idea that already felt incredibly good.

(On a practical level of what were they doing, Tybalt wasn’t convinced he was a great deal more sure of himself than she was in this area, although he could probably credit himself with being better-versed in the theory here than he ever had been in a school subject. If he had not ever wanted less to spark a conversation about school, though, it was now, so he deftly refrained from cracking a joke about it.)

He had wanted to give Elsie a chance to call things off (at every hurdle, a new chance); and he was certain she would any second now and it would be ended, the spell would be broken and the moment would probably never come again; but whatever he had been going to say, Tyb found his head was not nearly clear enough for it, and he didn’t trust himself to voice it. So, holding himself there, he gave her a lingering look, waiting for her to say or do something before - slower, and more intently - he leaned down again.

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That rational, albeit incredibly fuzzy part of her brain was still telling her to stop, to go home, but she was deliberately ignoring it. There was something increasingly desperate about the moment that she couldn't place. Maybe it had simply been too long, maybe the catalyst of having her parents find a "more suitable" beau was propelling her to rebel, honestly she didn't know, nor did she quite care at the moment. Even in her wildest dreams Elsie would have never imagined this was how tonight was going to go. She'd been so worried about inciting a fight that she hadn't even considered anything else could have been remotely possible.

Elsie hadn't even realized Tyb had moved where he was until she found herself looking up at him, breathless and a little dizzy. There was something about the way he said her name that sent a little shiver down her spine and she knew this was the time to try and find the will to stop. Could she though? Did she actually want to? There was a rush of adrenaline flowing through her veins that kept pushing her forward toward a free fall she nearly felt prepared to take, but was she really? Neither one of them seemed poised to ruin the moment, to pop their unrealistic little bubble and it pained her to even think about it.

Biting her lip, she fought for words to say, but found she had nothing in particular to articulate. Everything was hazy and sharp all at the same time. Her thoughts were scattered but she was keenly aware of everything else happening, the shallowness of her own breathing, the hammering of her heart against her ribs, the feeling of Tyb's hair between her fingers, it all made it hard to focus on any one thing. Then he was leaning in again and she felt like the moment to say something had passed (and she wasn't all that upset about it). Certainly another opportunity would present itself, she knew she couldn't let it go too far, but she wasn't ready to stop just yet. She met him halfway, leaning up to regain that little thrill once more.

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MJ always makes her so pretty

She hadn’t said anything, and she hadn’t stopped them yet. He had been expecting her to by now - he had been expecting almost anything but any of this - and every second that passed now made it feel more and more like a dream.

He’d been waiting for her to arrive as her letter had said, and compulsive cleaning was more knackering than he’d have thought, and he had evidently just dozed off on his bed before she’d gotten here, which explained the dreaming. The thing about Elsie being courted by someone else had come a little from left field, maybe, but so, he supposed, had this, and the vividness of this activity was definitely blurring his memory of the earlier conversation. Still, it was all feeling very vivid now, down to the tightness in his trousers, and when Elsie actually arrived later with some other news Tyb had a feeling he would be a little unusually flustered.

Since this was all probably a dream, though, the idea of being sensible was disintegrating at a rapid rate, all the consequences suddenly very far away. With a hand, he brushed an escaped tendril of her hair off her neck, his fingers tangling in it for a moment to loosen it properly, as hers were still in his - it was driving him mad in the best possible way; he had to fight the urge to moan aloud about it - and then moved downwards, more experimentally, pressing his mouth to her neck instead.

As if they were not close enough already - he was almost sure he could hear her heartbeat in his ears as strongly as he could his - Tyb let one of his hands travel downwards, still marvelling at how rare it was that they could touch each other at all, never mind finding her waist without having to be furtive about it. He moved his hand a little further and grasped fervently at the fabric of her clothes, mostly as an outlet for the desperation; although when he next adjusted his position he, half accidentally, tugged her skirts upwards with it, suddenly all too aware of her thighs.

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Elsie had always prided herself on her ability to think rationally.

Unfortunately for her, there was nothing rational about their current situation.

Fortunately for her, she didn't altogether care at the moment. Though the lateness of the hour should have dictated she be in little more than her nightdress, Elsie hadn't really gotten ready for bed knowing she'd be leaving again. Now she almost regretted that decision. However, had she anticipated this as any kind of possible tonight, she honestly hadn't any idea what she would have done in regards to her wardrobe. The uncomfortable feeling of her corset digging into her ribs was thankfully second fiddle to well, every other sensation washing over her presently.

A sharp exhale escaped her lips as he moved away and she subconsciously pressed her lips together to muffle the sound. Her grip automatically loosened, hands sliding down to his shoulders, only to curl her fingers into the fabric of his shirt. She could feel her entire body heating up and therefore the feeling of cool air on exposed legs was both surprising and welcome. Though she hadn't really gotten ready for bed, she had ditched her stockings and shoes thinking this was going to be a quick trip. Apparently it wasn't. Five years worth of build up had led to this moment and neither one of them seemed apt to stop it now.

Letting out what could only be described as a small whimper, Elsie instinctively, though tentatively arched toward Tyb, though she was, for once, relying solely on his knowledge here.

---

  

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MJ always makes her so pretty

She arched towards him and this time he could not quite stifle the groan as he found himself flush against her. He rolled his hips towards her, echoing her movements but biting on the inside of his cheek to stop himself making any more sounds that might give them away. He wasn’t even supposed to have company at this hour. (Especially not company like this.)

Trying to stay quiet almost saw him let out a helpless chuckle because at least this part of the situation was as familiar as ever. It looked like Elsie was having the slightest of difficulties with the same task for once too, which might’ve made him laugh again if there was not a little too much urgency in the air to waste his breath on it.

It was fortunate, Tyb supposed, that this had arisen so unexpectedly, with the rest of this situation the uncharted territory it was: it meant there had been no time to ruminate about it beforehand, no time to spiral into never-ending worries about what he was supposed to be doing and what he might do wrong and how disappointing it might be. That said, he had ideas of how this was supposed to go and what he was supposed to do - had gleaned enough over the years from wisecracking mates and the quidditch locker rooms and even from his brother’s unasked-for advice, Merlin - and if he had made it through several years of a professional quidditch career and the odd Witch Weekly mention without having any real practice at this, it was not as though Elsie could expect otherwise, being that she was entirely to blame.

His shirt came untucked from his waist (fully untucked now, as though it hadn’t been nearly there all evening) at her grip on it, and although she was stockingless already, Elsie was still wearing rather more layers than he was. He pulled back a little to survey the situation, by which he mostly meant that his fingers were searching for the topmost buttons of her dress, undoing what he could - in the hopes that she was comfortable enough, as well as anything else - but swiftly coming to the conclusion that taking off all those layers as one was supposed to from this vantage point was going to be something of a tall order. He had managed less with that than with one accidental tug on her skirts. And surely women’s drawers did not have quite so many buttons as their dresses.

(So he threw the intricacies of that plan out for the time being and kissed her again instead, never more grateful for the straightforward nature of men’s clothes and the simplicity of a button-up fly.)

And, dream or not, dangerously bad idea or not... “I love you,” he dared whisper to her, half in wonder that he hadn’t said it yet tonight, when they got so few chances to and the future for saying it was still not something they could take for granted. When it felt like all they ever were was being tested, over and over. “You’ll stop me, if you don’t...” want to do this, he murmured, trailing off again, feeling like she would understand. If he was reading her wrong. If he did something wrong. If she changed her mind. Though he felt the need to voice it, Tybalt wasn’t worried. He’d questioned her enough, over the years; had often desperately needed her reassurances; but he had seen her make hard choices and sacrifices - even now, that she would turn down a courtship for him without hesitation, that she’d lie to her parents and risk all she had - and, however tonight went, he was certain, at least, of how she felt about him. How they felt about each other.

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   Elsie Kirke

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Fumbling over buttons and pulling on clothes was starting to really sink in, the fact that this night had a clear direction and she should have cared enough to stop it here, but honestly didn't. Whatever it was that their future held for them, Elsie had actually never felt so sure of a decision as she did right now. It really was a good thing this hadn't been on her mind earlier in the night so she could talk herself out of it. There was no overthinking it now, not really. Though once she started, she probably could manage a normal, Elsie-level of worry, her judgement was far too cloudy to really fall into that trap. Thank goodness, that would really ruin the mood.

Of course what else could she really focus on at the moment? It was hard to get past the feeling of being so physically close, the gradual loosening of buttons on her dress, the unexpected urge to get out of her corset. To say she hadn't thought about this moment would be a lie, and just that thought, coupled with the appraising look on Tyb's face had her blushing furiously, but it faded just as quickly. She had absolutely no choice but to follow his lead as her only knowledge on the matter was what she'd learned from her married sister and friends, but even then it wasn't much at all. Not that leaving it up to him was a bad thing, she trusted him implicitly, but it was still a little nerve-wracking for her- as she was pretty sure it was also for him.

Though she hadn't thought it possible, and he caught her off guard briefly, Elsie managed to push everything she was feeling aside when he spoke. Softening instantly, she passed him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, eyes on his, taking the moment of clarity to catch her breath. The weight of his sentiments were not lost on her, nor was the gravity of the situation they found themselves in, but she really wouldn't have it any other way, at least given their circumstances. "I love you too," It was barely more than a whisper, but she didn't trust her voice not to catch with the emotion behind it. She slid one hand to his cheek, running her thumb gently across. "And I trust you." Across the years of their relationship, he'd never once give her reason not to and this was absolutely no different.

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The following 1 user Likes Elsie Kirke's post:1 user Likes Elsie Kirke's post
   Tybalt Kirke

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MJ always makes her so pretty

Even the lightest, most innocent touch of her hand on his cheek sent a shiver down his spine, much as the spoken sentiment did. There was a different kind of intimacy to it, in the here and now, alone in the room, on the verge of something else; some newfound power in every thought and every movement.

That said, he hadn’t missed the blush that crossed her face just before, and he was glad, because it made him grin hopelessly, precisely as it always did. Elsie would not be Elsie without that familiar rosy flush on her face. And it ought not to be too difficult to make her blush again (in a good way, hopefully), and perhaps it was because she hadn’t hesitated, had told him she trusted him, or just that first thought after all, but suddenly Tyb had completely forgotten his nerves. Better just to revel in the moment, savour everything of it he could.

(Why anyone trusted him in anything at all was a mad thought of its own, but he was not going to argue with her.) Still grinning slightly, he leant back again to pull his shirt off over his head, and his undershirt with it, tossing them both easily aside - though, wildly, the exposure had little impact on the fervent heat he was feeling. And the yearning remained to be still closer, to melt into her presence as much as he could. Moving closer again, his hands raked over her, searching for bare skin; his fingers found the edge of her slender collarbone, and traced along it until he could slide the unbuttoned bodice off her shoulders completely, and make some progress there. There were still several layers left - the corset (and how did one wrest off a corset, exactly? Maybe she would do him a favour and hasten the process?), a chemise - but the fewer between them the better.

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The noticeable change in the air between them left Elsie a different sort of breathless. There was something pivotal about this moment that would both forever change them and also bring them closer together. Though their current course of action was not proper in any way, shape or form, nothing about their relationship had ever been straightforward or normal; why would this be any different? It was often frustrating and kept them at arm's length (or longer) from one another, thanks to society's views, and frankly it wore on Elsie more than she would readily admit. They'd had their ups and downs, the low points unforgettably burned into her soul for the damage she'd caused, but weren't they allowed to have anything to themselves? This was coming far too naturally, easily, years in the making really, despite the fact they both knew they shouldn't, it obviously didn't change the fact that they wanted to.

There was that familiar grin of his, bringing her back down from the clouds, a smile tugging at her lips in return. The blush returned full force when he leaned back to take off his shirt, a girlish little giggle escaping quickly after. Ironically it was not the first time she'd seen him without one, hazy memories of a Fall Festival predicament surfaced, but this was altogether very different. Moving up slightly to make it easier to slide off her bodice, Elsie felt a lingering tingle along her skin where he'd brushed his fingers along her collar bone. It left a little itch for more in its wake and so Elsie moved practice fingers over the hooks on the front of her corset, loosening the restrictive layer a little at a time. It wasn't so hard as one imagined, when the laces weren't being pulled at. There were still a few layers of skirts to contend with, but thankfully those slid off rather easily, especially once she untied the closure at the waist.

Sighing softly at the ability to inhale completely, Elsie wriggled the garment from beneath her and pushed it aside to join her bodice somewhere out of her realm of focus. Though she hadn't any idea what to do next, she still felt that undeniable need to have contact with him, as much as she could get, so she skimmed her fingers up along his arms until she could wrap her arms loosely around his neck and pull him back down for another kiss. 

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MJ always makes her so pretty

There was a feeling of inevitability about this now, in the best sort of way. They had contrived to ignore all kinds of inevitabilities about their relationship for as long as they could - what would become of them beyond Hogwarts castle; how they would ever get to see each other at all; what they would have to do in the long-term to make a proper future; what they might have to contend with when the next pressing complication arose, like Elsie’s unexpected suitor - but the fact was, no inevitability could be ignored for ever, and this desire was no exception. Tyb actually thought they had done exceedingly well to suppress it for so long.

And though they shouldn’t, he couldn’t even feel guilty about tonight, because he had to believe that one day, however distantly, they would be together, properly, officially, without question. That everything that was so forbidden now and yet felt as easy as breathing with her must feel that way for a reason, and would, one day, neither have to be reckless or remarkable.

It was - remarkably - all coming naturally enough now, the way she pulled him down into another kiss once her corset had come off. She already looked freer for it, her curves gentler without it, her body far softer beneath his touch. Not wanting to break the kiss again, he helped her with the heaviest layers of skirt once they were loosened at the waist, pulling at them one-handed, and maybe a little clumsily (but what was a little clumsiness to the girl who’d managed to stumble on the stairs at her own Coming Out, anyway?). Once they were well and truly out of the way, and he’d decided he didn’t have the willpower to draw it out much longer - and before the nerves could creep in again - Tybalt carefully let his hand slide up further between her legs, exploring there, just past the open seam of her underthings. Aware that this was as foreign to her as it was to him, he waited to gauge her reaction... but if she was ready, he was fairly certain now what came next.

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Grateful for the distraction of the kiss, fumbling with her skirts, trying to get them out of the way without really moving too far was more difficult logistically than it should be. Some clumsiness was to be expected though, considering it was the first time and simply because she was involved. Would it even be legitimate if there wasn't some level of awkward on her part?

With so little left between them now, Elsie could feel her heartbeat quicken again, acutely aware of every movement and touch. Her breath caught in her throat when she realized what was happening, but even still, she had no desire to stop now. No part of her was even nervous, more like wound up in anticipation, body tensing at the new sensations though they were far from unpleasant. Biting her lip to prevent anything louder than a little gasp to leave her lips, Elsie hummed out a little noise of approval without even knowing it,  fully prepared for what came next.

Thank Merlin she hadn't had too much time to overthink this. It was far more enjoyable to get caught up in the moment, in him and what it meant for them in the long run. The inevitability of what was about to happen and how things changed from here on out left the future a little more concrete. Crossing this bridge both physically and emotionally only solidified what Elsie had only dared to hope for before now; they could and would make this work.

* * *

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MJ always makes her so pretty

He didn’t know if it was a sliver of light behind his eyelids or a faint noise from somewhere outside that did it, but it was enough to see him stir slightly, shifting his chin upwards in a sleepy stretch.

How early was it? He had never liked getting up, but years of quidditch practices that had grown more gruelling as time progressed had drilled the feeling into him well enough, and even working at the Ministry he would be ready to throw himself into the day by the time he found the willpower to throw himself out of bed and be on his feet. Only he felt more loose-limbed and spent than usual, as though he had been hauled out of a deep sleep, had not had enough rest or had perhaps had too stimulating a dream. His bed was ridiculously warm. One of his arms was dead under him. Or not under him? But definitely under something.

His eyes flickered open to do something about that, when he realised that his arm was tucked under not something but someone, and everything came rushing back to him at once. So. Er. Not a dream. Evidently not a dream.

He processed this for a moment more, gazing at Elsie blearily, until his brain woke up enough to realise Elsie being here meant that Elsie was still here. Oh shit. Oh shit -

“Elsie,” he whispered, shifting towards her in urgency, shaking gently at her shoulder but - thankfully - reminding himself to be as quiet as he possibly could. The blinds were drawn, and he didn’t know the time, but hopefully it was not already too late. “Els, wake up.”

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Elsie had always been a morning person. It had come naturally to her for some reason. Of course she wasn't exactly a night owl either, in bed early most nights with a book. She had to have a good reason to stay up late and an even better reason to sleep in. Last night had been both and it had been a long, long while since she'd slept so soundly, if ever.

There was something undeniably comforting about being curled into somebody all night, though in truth she hadn't meant to stay at all. Too risky. Of course all she'd done in the last twelve hours or so was take risk after risk, possibly the biggest risk of all. However as she lay tucked into bed beside Tyb without a care in the world she was having a hard time regretting any of it. She felt pleasantly sore, but wholly content to stay exactly where she was inside their cozy little bubble.

That was until the bubble reached capacity and burst. Tyb's urgent whisper startled her, though in her sleep-induced haze, she was still moving slowly, not awake enough to realize why he was shaking her awake at who knew what hour.

What hour.

Oh no.

She was not supposed to still be here; she wasn't supposed to be here at all.

There would be no more reveling in the moment- which was ironically how she'd managed to accidentally fall asleep in the first place. Eyes wide, her alarm mirrored Tyb's. "What time is it?" She managed, voice still heavy with sleep though she was wide awake now. Now she really had to go, though the only progress she made was to sit up a little, hair loose and wild, chemise hanging off her shoulder. She eyed Tyb for a moment, the underlying emotions she was feeling a huge jumble, bubbling beneath the surface. Though now her departure was urgent, she was still having a hard time finding the will to leave. Thank Merlin it was Sunday at least. Worst case scenario she would have to figure out a way to explain why she'd missed breakfast, or wasn't in her room this morning, and not explaining why she was late to work.

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MJ always makes her so pretty

She sat up, and for a split-second Tybalt was utterly torn between grinning a stupidly wide smile at her, or tangling a hand in her messy hair and leaning in to kiss her.

It was a pretty good split-second, one that begged the question what if. What if this was just any day, what if this was just what a morning might be, what if there was no urgency in anything and he could do whatever he liked?

Only all of last night's illusion had stretched to its breaking point, had snapped when he'd snapped awake, and he wasn't sure how he could retreat back into the comfort of it now. So he couldn't do either, and instead turned to the more pressing question. Late, he offered wordlessly in a grimace, gesturing at the clock on the other wall so she could see for herself. It was a blessing he didn't - neither of them - need to be at work, but he'd definitely missed breakfast downstairs. (He could make his excuses for that, but he wasn't sure how easy it would be for Elsie to pretend she had been asleep, not having been in her room for hours. Would her absence have been noticed?)

It was harder than before not to see the stupidity of what they had done in the light of day. (Literally, too: the late summer light was already glaring in from behind his bedroom blinds with a vengeance. ) They had been doing so well with everything, until now. Tyb had been resolved and resigned to doing things properly.

Not that he could bring himself to quite regret it, either. He knew he should, knew they were flirting with dangerous consequences now, wondered if perhaps as soon as it sank in, maybe as soon as she left, he would -

But she could hardly stay. "Sorry," he murmured, as much for startling her awake as all the rest of it. Gently, he pulled her chemise back up onto her shoulder, dreading the moment - too immediate to be worth dreading, really - they would both have to get up. He looked at her worriedly, his voice low. "Will anyone have noticed you were gone?"

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   Elsie Kirke

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It took a moment to register just how late it was and all it did was settle the sinking feeling of dread in her stomach. She'd certainly missed breakfast, and couldn't quite conjure an excuse for not being in her bed, but she could figure it out. Though lying was not exactly second nature to her, in fact she was quite bad at it, Elsie had read enough books in her life that she could fabricate something convincing. Or so she hoped.

Sighing softly, she leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek before scooting toward the edge of the bed. "Please don't be sorry, I'm not." She smiled slowly at him, just a hint of mischief behind it. Though last night had not been anywhere near what she'd anticipated for the evening, she did not regret it, not at all. Hopefully there would never be a reason to regret it, at any point down the line.

First she had to collect her scattered clothes, just the thought of it bringing a blush to her cheeks, but fortunately, at least until she was home and alone, she didn't exactly have time to think about it. (Needless to say, the putting on of the layers was far less fun than taking them off!) Els located her wand in the pocket of her skirt and with a with a specific flick, a practiced motion from years at school without much help dressing, she was already halfway re-dressed by the time she had conjured a half-excuse for her mother. "I'll be fine, don't worry." Though she sounded sure and meant to reassure him, she wasn't quite as positive on the inside. It wasn't like her mother would have any reason to doubt what Elsie said, whatever it was she came up with. She may find herself housebound (oh no!) for a while, but it wasn't as if Stella had much to punish her with.

"I'll tell Mother I had an urgent owl from a friend and I needed to go." Perhaps her mother would believe that. It wouldn't be out of character for Elsie, though if it were the truth, she would certainly tell her parents first. "Shouldn't be too bad." She shrugged a little, hoping that was exactly the case.

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MJ always makes her so pretty

Please don’t be sorry, she said, and the quirk of her smile convinced him of her words, and some of the tension left his chest in a breath he hadn’t realised was trapped until then. Whatever he felt about it now, if Elsie had woken up and thought it had been a mistake (even if she had said nothing, it was the sort of thing he would’ve seen in her eyes, he was sure of it)... if she had regretted it, Tyb wasn’t sure what he would have done. He’d have gone and ruined it all, and he didn't think there would be any repairing it.

But she didn’t regret it, and she seemed ready for reality as it crashed in on them, collecting her clothes and redressing the situation. He thought he probably ought to get up and help her, but she seemed to be doing well enough without him, and so all he could do was watch her in a daze. I’ll be fine, don’t worry.

He had never thought of Elsie as a particularly good liar, but the more he reasoned about it, the more he figured that she had enough experience of it. Barring Lucinda, obviously, her family had yet to find out anything about him, so there was no pretending she couldn’t take evasive action, smooth over truths. She had lied to him in the library last year and Tyb had trusted what she said, hadn’t he? (Although perhaps that was his flaw and not a mark of her duplicitous finesse.) And if her suitor probed further into the rejection she gave him, she would have to lie again, perhaps. If he asked if there was someone else.

But she had an honest face. She seemed like the sort of person one could trust.

And most of what she said to her suitor, Tybalt supposed, would only have to be the truth.

“Okay. I hope so,” he murmured, leaning over to catch her hand in case she disapparated away again too soon. Don’t worry, she had said, but he couldn’t help it. He’d thought last night had done away with his worry, but there it was again, creeping back in, as insidious as ever. New complications, new worries. When would things ever be simpler?

If anyone found out about what had happened here, they really would be done for.

“And you’ll write, then -” Tyb pressed, “to tell me how it goes? With that and with - him,” he added awkwardly, a reminder of why she’d come last night in the first place. He wasn’t sure whether to grimace about it or let out a helpless sort of laugh: it was hard to make sense of any of it. “Who knows when I’ll see you next.”

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   Elsie Kirke, Melody Crouch

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