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[unflagging]

[Herein shall there be PSLs and goings-on.

Please exercise caution if you so choose to read this. Flagg being Flagg, I cannot guarantee everything that goes on here will be safe for work or even safe for life.]

Comments

[unflagging]

He ran a hand through his hair, looked away, looked back at her. All very casual.

"For the moment, yes."

[advancedbosoms]

"Well, that's something."

Something mostly being incentive to go, really. She'd made enough mistakes to last her a few centuries tonight. No need to press her luck and stay past her window of grace.

She sat up, drawing her shirt up against herself.

[unflagging]

"The key's on the floor," he said, draping himself a little dramatically across the stone. "Just in case you forgot."

[advancedbosoms]

For a moment, Cordelia considered taking offense at the comment; but all things considered, it seemed like a waste of her time.

So she slid off the altar without looking at him, pausing there to redress. She took her time, purposefully slow and casual, as if this had not been a completely scarring experience, as if she wasn't drowning in guilt at the very moment.

"I remember."

[unflagging]

He lay there, still stretched on his stomach, with his head resting on his folded arms, and he laughed. Quietly at first, just a grin towards the stone, then louder, a ringing sound in this round room.

He calmed himself again with a sigh and watched her as she dressed. Such a shame to see all those lovely curves disappear under those clothes again.

"I'm so glad you do."

[advancedbosoms]

She went to the key before she commented. Keep calm, walk to the key and pick it up as though this were any number of encounters she'd had in her life. Not as if it had been a colossally huge mistake.

"Something funny?" Cordelia asked, after she had crouched down to pick up the abandoned key.

[unflagging]

"Oh, nothing really. Maybe it's only funny to me."

He slid down to the floor himself now, collecting discarded his discarded shirt, his tossed-aside jeans. He passed a hand over his face and magicked off the blood as easily as he'd magicked off the spittle before. He flung it aside, a deft snap of his fingers. It spattered on the wall--only pinprick spots of red.

"I am glad you remember, though. Oh, truly, I am."