November 16th, 1895 — Padmore Park

Rhett had spent the last couple of weeks exploring London and reflecting on recent events. The city was a far cry from the wide, open country he'd been used to. To him, the streets twisted and turned like a herd with no trail boss. The fog was so unbelievably thick, and rolled in worse than any dust storm he'd ever seen in his life. There were buildings as tall or taller than in any city back stateside. He'd stood on the bank of the Thames, watching the mighty river flow slow and sure, just like an old river should. The cowboy had played billiards with his uncle's acquaintances, and cards with dockworkers. Yet in all of that confusion and distraction, nothing could pull his mind away from Tabitha and the hurt he'd caused her.

He remembered her the way a man like him remembered dawn on the open plains—but he didn't want her becoming a beautiful sunrise he could never return to but had the power to linger on the edge of his thoughts forever. Her hair had been the first thing that caught him. Blonde and so pale to the point of silver moonlight, and it reminded him of the prairie after a frost. When she moved her head, it slipped over her shoulders in curls and waves, catching every bit around her until it glowed like a lantern. She'd felt like a friend to him, one he could fall into conversation with easily even if she didn't say much herself. Every exchange of words felt to him like they were merely picking up something they'd set down years ago, despite being an impossibility. There was a gentleness he felt for her, a warmth that curled slow and sure, like a campfire catching. He'd hoped that every hour spent together had moved them toward something sweeter.

Then came the moment, the one memory he couldn't shake no matter how many days he had avoided calling on her. He'd meant to be understanding, but in his ignorance he'd allowed her natural charm in too deeply and it mingled with his grief to make something dark and unrecognizable to Rhett. Everything he'd said came out wrong. They were too sharp, too careless, too much and too fake. Something about her being able to lean into whichever part of her she wanted, threatening anger over her choice of words as if she needed his permission or his foolishness. In the days apart he'd conditioned his mind and hardened it, to resist the pull—to keep himself as himself and to stand firmly within the light. That time had come and went, and he couldn't go back and change it now. The past doesn't give back what it takes, but Rhett hoped the future might be more generous.

That particular evening he sat at the little desk in his room in his uncle's home. His hat was tossed aside, elbows planted on either side of the blank sheet of parchment that refused—absolutely refused—to say what he wanted it to. Outside autumn was working its quiet magic, leaves tumbling past the window, owls drifting between chimneys like slow moving clouds of gray. The air was crisp enough to bite. It was the kind of weather that made a man feel a certain way, even bold, if he let it. He dipped his quill in ink, then pulled it back before it could touch the page. His hand hovered, trembling as if the parchment might bite him. Truth was, he'd stared down hexes, goblins, and one very ill-tempered Hodag without batting an eye, but writing to a letter to Tabitha, after the way he'd behaved? That nearly unraveled him.

The aforementioned memories played through his mind again. He wanted to fix it. Merlin help him, he wanted that more than he wanted safety, sleep, or to escape the memories he was running from.

“Alright,” he muttered to himself. “You can stare a killer in the eyes, you can write a damn letter.”

He inhaled, exhaled, and began.

“Ms. Chevalier ,
I hope this finds you well...”

No, no. Too stiff. He wasn't her professor. He crumpled it.

“Darlin',
I reckon I owe you more apologies than this page can hold...”

Too much. Too fast. Another parchment ball joined the floor.

Finally, he tried again, letting the truth guide him the way a wand guides magic:

“I've been thinking of you, and on the words I wish I'd said instead of the foolish ones I did. The leaves are turning even deeper shades and I've found myself staring at them on more than one occasion since our last meeting. There is a place in Padmore Park, near the pond and to the the right of the boathouse. It's nestled perfectly in a patch of trees. The evening light falls so gently there that I can't help but think of you when I visit. If you'd do me the honor, I'd like you to join me for a picnic there so I might speak to you properly.

I will be there this Saturday at noon. Bring only yourself and if you can, a forgiving heart.”

He paused. His heartbeat pounded against his ribs like it wanted out. Then he signed it:

“– Yours, if you'll have the company,
Rhett Colton”

Letter writing, was clearly not a gift he possessed. A soft rustle drew his attention to the family owl. It was a stout, cantankerous little bastard with feathers like storm clouds. It stood clicking its beak as if urging him on. Rhett folded the letter with careful fingers, making sure it looked presentable. He then sealed the letter with a charm that made the wax shimmer faintly and entrusted it to his airborne companion. Opening the window, the brisk air felt refreshing on his skin as he watched the owl lift into the autumn sky. Emotions prickled under his skin: hope, fear, and longing all tangled together.

Saturday came, and the cowboy arrived at Padmore Park just before midday. His boots scuffed over the gravel path before he moved off into the grass. He wore his customary hat that cast a sharp shadow across his strong features. A red flannel button-up could be seen beneath a brown leather vest that carried stories itself. His wand was hidden beneath his jacket. Rhett's boots were square toe and worn just enough to be comfortable. He looked every bit the image of what he was—a man who belonged to open skies and endless horizons.

He entrenched himself at the sport he'd described to her and went about preparing the picnic. Placing the basket down, he unrolled the checkered blanket beneath a large tree that was shedding leaves the color of burnished coins all around him. After straightening the corners carefully he pulled from the basket a paper-wrapped bundle he purchased from the bakery at dawn. It had the strong sent of cinnamon and warm apples. Next came an enchanted teapot, self-heating and would brew when asked. Finally, came a tin he'd filled with sandwiches himself—layers of cheese, ham and sharp mustard. Plates, cups, and flatware were left within the basket for when she came, or rather, if she came.

He stopped finally and rubbed the back of his neck, taking in the scene. “Looks fine,” he muttered. A look of awkward dissatisfaction spread over his face. “It looks like you're beggin' for her to say it looks fine, is what it looks like,” he corrected himself and released the tension. A few leaves fluttered down onto the blanket and he brushed them away with a gentle touch. His hands were too big, too rough, and too used to rope and reins, but he tried to move delicately and not disrupt the atmosphere he'd tried so hard to create. He checked his pocket watch for the tenth time. Five minutes had passed since the last check. She wasn't late, he'd arrived early. But waiting made every second stretch like taffy pulled too thin.

A sudden gust of wind rustled the leaves overhead, and he glanced toward the path. No sign of her yet. Just some children playing in the distance. He set back against the tree and crossed his arms over his broad chest, his eyes fixed on the path. Rhett didn't dare fidget, he didn't dare speak, even to himself. Because any moment now, if hope hadn't made a fool of him, Tabitha Chevalier, with her pale-blonde hair and her soft magic, would walk through the autumn haze and give him the chance he'd prayed for.

  

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You know I recall somebody saying, "There ain't no cowboys left."
-
Thank you so much for the graphics, Bee!

In the two weeks since the harvest festival, Tabitha had fallen back into her typical patterns. Walks to work with Barnaby in tow, the thought of telling him about the incident always on the tip of her tongue, but never quite brave enough to bring it up. She wasn't sure she wanted his opinion on the matter, even though she didn't really have anyone else to ask advice from. It was hard to tell what he might think and she already had enough on her mind without adding Barnaby's opinions on the matter.

Overnight shifts at the hospital where even in the quiet of the brewing closet, she could not help but to let her thoughts wander to how things had dissolved so quickly. She was assuming the silence meant he'd come to his senses and that was perfectly fine. Tabitha had hoped maybe there could be some sort of closure conversation, but he owed her nothing and that was the simple truth. It was the expected outcome, she knew this. Despite all of his conviction in their last conversation, in the absence of her influence, he had probably seen the reality of it; she had unintentionally swayed him. Though she did regret telling him at the time, in such a public space, she thought now, with some more time to process, that at least it had happened before things had grown more serious. This was, of course, her insecurities talking, but Tabitha had been guarding herself for so long she didn't know how else to think.

So naturally, the letter came as a surprise.

It seemed that Mr. Colton had indeed done some thinking and she hoped, that in the space between, that it had been introspective and genuine, free from her affect. It was open-ended and honest, and Tabitha ought to have replied, but she didn't know how exactly to respond. In her brain, the matter had settled, she had started to try and push forward without letting it stall her. The question became; should she actually go? Wouldn't it be better to let him off gently? He was only here temporarily, to her understanding, what was going to come out of it if not more heartbreak? Tabitha wasn't sure she wanted to set either one of them up for it if she could help it. She had wanted some sort of closure though, a mutual understanding instead of the uncertainty that currently hung between them.

Saturday morning rolled around and Tabi still hadn't made up her mind. It woke her early, the indecision making her anxious and nervous. After staring at the ceiling for far too long, she rose and made her way down to breakfast, ignoring the chatter of her stepmother and father. It wasn't unusual for her to be quiet during meals, Felicity would much prefer she was seen and not heard. She caught the look from her father as she pushed food around her plate, not really consuming much, but he didn't press and she didn't want to say anyway. By the late morning, she was dressed and pacing her bedroom, checking the clock at regular intervals. As the time she ought to leave if she wanted to make it at the appointed time, Tabitha had a moment of undeniable curiosity that propelled her into her warmest layers, gloves, her thickest cloak, scarf and boots. Outside was not her preferred location, but it was better than her home or his, where people could listen in.

The air was cold, but the sunshine warm, so she moved toward the park at a brisk pace, though she didn't exactly know the spot he had mentioned, the boathouse was easy enough to find, so she started there, winding down the path to the right. Fortunately, he was hard to miss, the setup on the ground, his tall frame leaning against the tree and Tabs came to a short stop, cheeks flushed from the cold and the exertion. She bit her lip, unsure of what to say, but perhaps she ought to hear him out first anyway, so she passed him a tentative smile and tried to get her racing heart to calm down.

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Barnaby Wye has blanket permission to interrupt Tabi's threads, please reach out if you do NOT want this to happen!

Rhett had expected his chest to grow tight at the vision of her walking toward him, however knowing that she was there made him breathe a sigh of relief. He pushed himself away from the tree and moved to meet her as she approached. He could feel her influence immediately, but he expected it, and was able to allow it to flow over and through him like gentle waves of relaxation rather than a consuming force of attraction and possession. His overconfidence hadn't been his friend during their last encounter, so he didn't make the mistake of assuming he could simply override her natural abilities this time. Instead, he had prepared himself to receive it in another way, his mind and not his magic would determine the channels it could access. Seeing her in this way, he thought that her innate powers suited her remarkably well as her presence was now extremely calming.

The spot he'd picked was intentionally secluded, so they wouldn't easily be seen and certainly not overheard. The cowboy hurriedly removed his hat and moved his hair to the side with his fingers met her halfway. “Ms. Chevalier, I..” he started before fading. “I would like to apologize... for everything. I thought this might be a good way for us to clear the air between us and to truly get to know one another. I behaved in a way that is contrary to my nature, and you ought to know why. But before all of that, lets get a cup of hot tea in your hands first.” Rhett gestured to the blanket with an outstretched arm as he took his place walking beside her. The inclination to place his hand upon her back was there, but he didn't act upon it.

As they arrived at the blanket he drew his wand and scattered the newly fallen leave with a swish, the rattlesnake pattern glittering in the sun. He waited for her to position herself before he prepared the kettle and uttered “aguamenti,” softly before he tapped the side of it with his wand, causing the freshly summoned water to start heating within. While the water worked itself toward a boil he looked at her, and grinned pleasantly. His eyes were certainly still wolfish, but that was natural for him. They didn't hold the same unnatural hunger they had, and not the gaze of a man who thought he had everything figured out. He joined her then, laying on his side and stretching his legs out, supporting himself with his elbow.

“When I said I knew what a veela was, I meant only from textbooks in school. Everything I said after that was an attempt to comfort you, and looking back on it, I realize that nothing I said was inherently true. I just want you to be yourself, whatever shape that takes—that is all I was trying to say. I am just happy to spend time with you, darlin', that's it. I will learn by being around you, how to feel and how to respond to what I feel. I always take the dare and I don't give up easily. You're worth the work.” Rhett turned his head and looked out at the pond with a sigh. “I thought about getting back on the boat that brought me here, but that ain't my way. The thought of hurting you, or making you feel any sort of way was a heavy weight. That is to say, that I feel a certain way toward you, a certain tenderness, that has nothing to do with the veela. I couldn't stomach the thought of being a source of pain for you. There is something in the way that you talk and the way that you move that is a comfort to me... but I'll shut up now and let you get a word or two in, and please, if just for this conversation, call me Rhett.” The cowboy said with the breath of a laugh on his voice, but his request was a sincere one.

  

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You know I recall somebody saying, "There ain't no cowboys left."
-
Thank you so much for the graphics, Bee!

Tabitha was well-aware of what the cause was for any man in her presence to lose his wits, but it was rare for them to acknowledge their own part in the folly. In fact, she might not actually recall a time in which it had ever happened before. It was an interesting start, so Tabi allowed herself to be led toward the picnic blanket, lowering the hood of her deep green cloak slowly. He did not miss much, warm tea would certainly help, but she wasn't so cold tucked away between the trees as she had been at the Harvest Festival. She was still warm from the quick walk over and though her breathing had finally slowed, she wasn't making an progress in calming her heartrate.

She seated herself near the edge of the blanket, sitting with her legs tucked to the side, arranging her skirts and her cloak accordingly, but mostly for warmth. There was a suitable distance between them, which was good. She took in the sight of the picnic, could see the care he'd put into the details, but she was still on edge. This conversation had a lot of facets and she wasn't even sure what she should share or which side to start with. Mr. Colton launched right into it though, as expected and she listened with a little frown. Mr. Colton already seemed so enamored with the idea of her, that it was almost daunting. It was hard to tell how genuine it was, because of course she always doubted that, even if he said it had nothing to do with the veela. How could he truly know that.

His request to call him by his first name was met with a little face; Tabi wasn't sure she could do it confidently, but in an effort to meet him in the middle she would. She still wasn't sure what to say, but she did have a request of her own. "Thank you for your apology, Rhett," she tried, testing out the shape of his name quietly. "May I make a small request of my own?" She hesitated, but plowed on so she didn't lose her nerve. "Would you mind, maybe, just facing away for a few minutes?" It wasn't so strong without the visual aspect. She knew that much from experience. It might be a little cowardly, but she thought it worth a shot. This way he couldn't watch her trip over her words and the weight of seeing his reactions, at least for a moment, would be lifted from the conversation. She wanted to be honest, but she wasn't sure she could handle watching his expressions in real time when she shared things she hadn't shared with anyone else for a long time. "And, you can call me Tabi, if you like." Very few people called her by the nickname, but it was her favorite shortened version. Maybe that small concession would persuade him to follow her request.

Thankfully, he obliged without fuss and Tabitha relaxed a little. She drew her knees up to her chest, a much less refined position, more vulnerable. "I apologize for how our last conversation went," she wrapped her arms around her knees. "I am... not always the most open of people. You can assume why," Tabi had few female friends, her best, most genuine connection was with her ghostly chaperon, and she never quite knew how genuine men were being. "It is hard for me to know just how much an influence I am inadvertently having on someone, but I need you to know that I never do it intentionally." She tried so hard to the contrary, in fact. "I was overwhelmed and I tend to shut down when that happens. I have not had the best experience in these sorts of situations." Whatever this was blooming into felt sort of what she'd had with her former fiancé. It was different in many ways, but the butterflies were undoubtedly there. "And so my walls are up high." Tabi wasn't sure how much to elaborate, so she left off there, but wondered just how much was too much?

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Barnaby Wye has blanket permission to interrupt Tabi's threads, please reach out if you do NOT want this to happen!

He raised up and turned his back to her, as she'd requested. He kept one leg extended out, the other was bent at the knee with his elbow laying across it, his other arm supported him. Rhett's green eyes peered out over the pond, watching the leaves fall and drift slowly like pendulums until they rested on the surface of the water. He gave a slight nod of his head at the permission to use her name, but he said nothing. He liked this side of her, hearing her open up to him. Part of him had craved this almost from the beginning, Rhett wanted to know her thoughts. It was a sweet thing, hearing the small sound of her voice behind him as she revealed parts of herself to him, and by now he knew it wasn't easy for her to do such a thing.

Rhett didn't speak once while she spoke. He was completely silent and allowed her to go the full extent of her thoughts without interruption. When she had finished he toyed with a leaf that had landed on his outstretched leg. His shoulders lifted and fell with a heavy, contemplative breath. “You ain't got nothing to be sorry for, Tabi. A person can't help how they're born, and I can't imagine what it's like living with the burden of always wondering if the person really wants you or if they're just being charmed into wanting you. All I can tell you is that I thought about you every single day that we were apart, and I mean everyday. I thought about holding your hand, I thought about the smell of your hair, and if I am honest, I even pondered the thought of kissing you on more than one occasion. That's the truth of it. I felt no sense of anything other than myself.” He explained, hoping he'd made sense.

“I say that because I can feel your influence now.” Rhett said as he twirled the leaf more, watching the colors blend into a blur. “But it ain't the same as before, I know it for what it is now. It feels real peaceful like, you know? Like I could relax back into a sleep and not wake up for years. Just sleep and listen to you talk about all manner of things. But I don't feel the need to possess you, or a sense of infatuation like I did before. I mean, darn, how do I say this? I want you. I want you something awful, but I want you only because I want you. I can't tell you how I know the difference but I just do. In our time apart the feeling never faded, it only grew... Sorry, I've been told I talk too much.” He laughed a little nervously and lowered his head to look at the leaf again before tossing it away from himself and into the grass.


“But if you keep building your walls, they'll get so high I won't be able to see you.” He said as he turned his head to the side, never looking at her but she could see his profile clearly. “Can you at least leave me a door, Tabi, so I can visit when you'll let me?” His voice was low and remarkably sincere. “You came into my life right when I needed you the most.” When he finished he turned his head back out in the direction of the pond and let the words rest, giving her time to process the conversation.

  

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You know I recall somebody saying, "There ain't no cowboys left."
-
Thank you so much for the graphics, Bee!

Heat flooded her cheeks, though hopefully it could be attributed to the cold. It was a good thing he was facing away from her. She watched him carefully, trying to piece together this strange puzzle she found before her. Tabi had to marvel at how open he was, how expressive of his thoughts, sometimes to the point of foolishness, but this time she was more comforted. More, but not completely. It would take a long while for her to truly trust everything that was said. They had already learned the hard way that he could get overzealous in his proclamations and that only caused her to retreat further into herself. It was her fault, for being so guarded, but she didn't know how else to survive. She'd been doing it for herself for so long that it was hard to let others in like this. Actions had always spoken more to her and that was what she needed the most. This was already a good start.

What eased her anxiety the most was that he was able to articulate the reflection, a different tone from their last conversation. It was still a lot, almost too much, and she ducked down behind her knees when he turned his head. "It is not without cause," Tabi hesitated again, beginning quietly, almost as if she was telling the story to herself instead of him. She felt like she was giving a lot of herself away, but she wanted to be honest. "I have heard all of this before." Maybe not quite to this voracity, her former fiancé had been quieter in his affection until everything unraveled and fell apart. It had felt very real at the time and maybe that was why it still stung now, so many years later. "I was... engaged once, years ago. He left me when he found out about the veela half." She'd been naive to think the connection would be enough, to hope that what she thought they'd had could overpower the distaste for the creature. Maybe she should have mentioned it sooner, maybe the delay, the dishonesty had been the real undoing, Tabi wouldn't ever really know, but the uncertainty had definitely left its mark.

"Even my stepmother pretends I do not exist anymore." When she'd been little, before Marie had been born, they had been close. Tabi had craved that maternal connection so desperately and now it was gone again. Now it was nothing more than superficial greetings and only in her father's presence, probably to keep the peace. Tabi hated living like that, constantly on edge that she would upset someone, but she was not independent enough to move out either. Those who had once cared for had abandoned her, even her father, in some way, starting over with Felicity and allowing her to run the house the way she did. Bernard had been her only light, but now that her brother was off to Hogwarts, she was back to relying on Barnaby for company. At least she had somebody. "The walls are all I have to keep me safe from more heartbreak." Her voice was still small, an admission she hadn't really meant to make, but had slipped out amongst her other thoughts. It still felt like a lot to unload on someone who she hadn't even known for two full months yet.

Still— "But I am willing to try," a door, maybe a ladder to the top, maybe a crack in the foundation. Maybe she was opening herself up for another heartache, but what was life, living this way? Lonely and monotonous, barring certain ghostly delights. Maybe it was time to try something different.

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Barnaby Wye has blanket permission to interrupt Tabi's threads, please reach out if you do NOT want this to happen!

He didn't see her movement clearly, he only caught a little from his peripheral vision. He couldn't help but think she had tried to make herself smaller, or to hide away. His concentration had drifted back toward the pond as she continued to speak, and each word broke his heart. Rhett had never laid eyes on her stepmother, and in that moment he hoped he never would. “I am sorry to hear about the pain they caused you.” He said, speaking in regard to her stepmother and the man she had once been betrothed to.

“I told you I was an auror when we first met. My older brother, John, he was one to.” Rhett barely finished the sentence before he fell silent for a long while. His shoulders seemed to quiver as if he were trying desperately not to cry as the emotions came rushing in suddenly at the mention of his name. “Well, we'd been tracking this outlaw and his gang for four days with no food worth eating and no sleep worth mentioning. We eventually caught up to the son of a bitch and had him cornered in a small No-Maj town, miners mostly, trying to make their fortune from gold and silver.” He had subconsciously steered the story away for a second to avoid the parts that hurt. There was another long pause as he idly fiddled with his thumb, trying to muster the bravery to continue.

“It was late, very late, and I tried to ambush them by moving through the saloon and catching them unaware in the alley while John and a couple others pushed in from the sides. I opened the door and stepped out, raising my wand as I did. I heard the words Avada Kedavra and saw a sickly green flash. You'd think it'd be loud, right?” He said while sort of looking back over his shoulder, but not directly at her, though a tear on his cheek shimmered in the sunlight. “It ain't though. It's quiet, almost gentle, like the world takin' a breath. It passed so close to my face that I felt the air shiver—for a moment I thought that maybe I had died. But it wasn't me.” He tried to contain it, but the sadness could be heard in his voice, his shoulders shaking harder.

“When I turned... John had done fallin'. No scream. No last words. Just emptiness where he'd stood. My wand felt useless and heavy, and being only steps away from the man who killed him, I charged in a blind rage. I remember the feeling of his wand snapping in my hand. The curses and spells flying around us as I beat him. I beat him until I couldn't open my hand or lift my arm. No magic, just... anger and hurt. He did not survive.” Rhett blew air out of his lips, the way someone does in between sobs or to ease extreme emotional discomfort.

“It ain't appropriate for me to be telling a lady these things, but... you needed to know why I fell so hard under your charm. My mind has been weak with grief, and I was more susceptible and not myself. This all happened not so long ago.” He immediately wished he hadn't mentioned any of it, and he was petrified he'd scared her away. Now he was hiding from her, his eyes closed tightly as the tears slowly dried.

“So, I understand, darlin'. Trying is all a person can do. I'd like to point out one thing to you though; he left after finding out what you are, I decided to hang on with both hands. That's the difference between us. You are no crutch to me. You are a candle in a room that has been very dark for a very long time." His voice was tired but not as dreadfully sad as it might have been otherwise. The kettle screamed to announce the water had boiled.

  

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You know I recall somebody saying, "There ain't no cowboys left."
-
Thank you so much for the graphics, Bee!

The cold had settled into her bones again, maybe it was atmospheric or maybe it was emotional. So much was spilling out that they'd forgotten about the tea entirely and she leaned over to remove the lid of the pot so the steam had somewhere to go. Other than that she made no movements. Tabi kept her curled up position as she listened, sinking further into her cloak, the story unraveling around her. She knew that people who were stronger in their mindsets, those who were trained, probably like an auror, had an easier time deflecting her charm, but to hear what had transpired made her feel even more guilty. If he was grieving of course he would be more susceptible and things made a little more sense.

She remained quiet, understanding that he likely just wanted to get it all out in the open. They'd both been hurt, in different ways, but no less deeply. The sting of tears prickled at the corners of her eyes. This month had been one of loss. She'd attended a funeral for the loved ones of a friend not two weeks ago. Watching people be in physical pain was bad enough, but that she handled at work every day. She had remedies for that. Emotionally was a different story. Often there was nothing to do but wait and let time do what it would. She'd seen people on their worst days and it never failed to affect her either, even if she managed to be professional at the time.

Once he stopped, Tabi waited a few more beats, letting the silence linger in case there was any more. She sniffled quietly, wiping away a few errant tears with her gloves as she moved to stand. She wanted to remind him that she saw some pretty gruesome things regularly, given her occupation, but now was not the time. Tabi was getting used to his lack of a filter. It was refreshing, sort of, not to have somebody dance around the issues at hand and instead go straight into it.

Slowly, careful of what was set out on the picnic blanket, Tabi stepped around the edge, coming up next to him quietly. She sat without a word, looking out at the lake and the stillness of the dark waters, drawing her knees up again. It was hard to imagine any words that would be meaningful. Condolences felt empty, not when she could tell how fresh the loss was. Of all of the things she had expected from this conversation, none of this would have even been an option, but here they were. She sniffled again, biting her lip, still at a loss for what she could possibly say, so she just leaned into him, resting her head on shoulder gently. If they were going to hold on with both hands, then this was a good start.

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Barnaby Wye has blanket permission to interrupt Tabi's threads, please reach out if you do NOT want this to happen!