transgressings | inbox for duplicity;

I would still enjoy our usual tea time, if the thought would not be too distracting. Perhaps if you’re available Friday evening?

Not at all. I always welcome your company, and perhaps we need not stray too far from routine. Friday evening would be perfect.

Then I will see you then, my lovely lady Ives.

[ Their next appointment for tea passes relatively in the same manner it always does; they meet, they sit together, they drink what has been prepared. This time, however, they are meeting at her home rather than Honestea or any other type of establishment.

She serves the tea herself, carefully, in the sitting room, going through the motions of pouring them each a cup, even pairing it with a tin of simple biscuits that she recalls Cullen especially had once expressed a personal fondness for. A way to remember their friend, perhaps, even as they sit together, catching up on the various goings-on around Duplicity.

Still, the tenor of their last conversation has not escaped her memory; she recalls with vivid clarity what the subject had turned to, one of interest rather than simply satisfying a requirement, and it may partly be the reason for why her gaze lingers on his face above her teacup, why she has seated herself next to him on the chaise rather than take a chair of her own, the skirt of her dress occasionally brushing his knee. There is a sense in the air, all around them, and she does not think she is the only one aware of it, of what hovers.

Soon enough, she is setting her tea aside, placing her cup in its saucer and the entirety of it on the tray, glancing back to him with a smile on her lips. ]

You know how much I enjoy these meetings of ours, don't you?

Edited 2021-03-17 02:01 (UTC)

I believe I do. Or at least I hope I do, considering the importance I hold to them as well. [He smiles softly to her as he follows her lead to set his own cup aside, nearly finished as it is anyway.]

They're a bit of normalcy both in the fact we hold to them and the fact that it's even more normal an indulgence than I've known in some time back home. Plus, your company is comforting.

[They were moments of promised sanity in a city that didn't always hold to that concept. Moments they could vent or talk or gossip as they wanted or needed even as stress and circumstance pulled at them otherwise. A ritual they both needed.

She was intelligent, charming, kind, and lovely and there was something very easy in being near her. Even now, as she sat beside him, the air slightly charged between them for what they'd talked about before, there was nothing at all uncomfortable or strained in it. They could sit there for hours more talking or turn to be closer still and he'd be happy with either outcome.

His expression shifts to something softer. Something in his eyes almost reverent as he looked at her.]

Thank you for giving me the time of day when we first met to even someday have this. I think I need to say that finally. You had no reason to try to reconnect with me after knowing a different version, but I'm luckier for your consideration.

The situation for many here can be so... untenable, uncertain. I suppose it is nice simply to have something to look forward to. A regular habit that holds some constancy with no expectations, no assumptions.

[ Granted, their meeting today has a different implication than it normally does, since their recent conversation had turned to the possibility of more than what they usually indulge in. Still, she does not want to leave him with the impression that she is anticipating anything specifically to happen today, but there is an adjusted awareness of him in her presence given all that they have done already and what yet lies ahead.

For the moment, her hands remain clasped in her lap, not straying outward to touch him, although the instinct is there and has been, to a degree. As they've become more comfortable in one another's company, they have initiated certain things — a lingering embrace, a touch of hands, to say nothing of the kiss they'd sought out beneath the mistletoe. She looks back on that day with a particularly fond remembrance.

But her gaze rises to hold his, unwavering, affection visible in her eyes as he speaks. ]

Well, I am grateful to know you on our own terms, separate from anything else. [ Ironically, she thinks they may even be closer now than she was to the man she had spent time with before, these meetings more habitual and consistent and giving her opportunities to connect through means that she had never had the chance for prior.

So she does reach out to him now, finally, setting one of her hands over his. ] I would like to believe that, throughout all the worlds in existence or that have ever existed, we have always been meant to be friends. You've become... very dear to me.

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