While it wasn't anywhere near as hot there, one lesson he learned on Titan was to stay well hydrated in a desert setting. He saw too many of his comrades falter in the sands of Titan and even though he's... dead, Faye certainly isn't and he doesn't want to let the least bit of harm come to her. Not on his watch for sure, but not at any time.
She's precious.
He nods to the stand a little further down on the ramp. "I can go grab us something for while we're here... if you trust me to choose something for you. I promise I'll still wine and dine you later." The sun's having an effect on her skin already; he can see it getting just a little bit pink and because he can, he runs his finger down the length of her leg on the outside. It's something he used to be so good at; he'd touch and be touched without a second thought and with a great deal of attentiveness. The last few years of his life saw him starved for that kind of contact, and it's only since he and Faye ended up together -- more or less -- that he's had a chance to regain his balance that way. Remember how it feels, remember what it's like, remember how to let his hands fondle more than the keys of a saxophone.
A momentary flash of his months on the supply ship leaving Pluto crowds his memories, but he shakes it off: this is certainly no time to dwell on the past. None of the old pain and rage and humiliation can touch him now.
"Shall I?" Whether or not she trusts him to wander off and pick out a treat doesn't really matter; he's going to do it anyway. It doesn't take long until he's back with a pair of obscenely large blended drinks liberally peppered with chunks of fruit, small umbrellas, and beads of condensation. Thick liquid in reds and oranges and yellows swirls around inside the transparent plastic glasses. Sitting by her side again, he hands her one of the concoctions, a small and sly smile on his face: there's more in this drink than she might think.
"A special drink for a special woman." Again, the gold chain around her waist catches his eye and he almost can't stand it: she's a living seduction and that realization makes him so smug.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2008-04-19 04:51 am (UTC)She's precious.
He nods to the stand a little further down on the ramp. "I can go grab us something for while we're here... if you trust me to choose something for you. I promise I'll still wine and dine you later." The sun's having an effect on her skin already; he can see it getting just a little bit pink and because he can, he runs his finger down the length of her leg on the outside. It's something he used to be so good at; he'd touch and be touched without a second thought and with a great deal of attentiveness. The last few years of his life saw him starved for that kind of contact, and it's only since he and Faye ended up together -- more or less -- that he's had a chance to regain his balance that way. Remember how it feels, remember what it's like, remember how to let his hands fondle more than the keys of a saxophone.
A momentary flash of his months on the supply ship leaving Pluto crowds his memories, but he shakes it off: this is certainly no time to dwell on the past. None of the old pain and rage and humiliation can touch him now.
"Shall I?" Whether or not she trusts him to wander off and pick out a treat doesn't really matter; he's going to do it anyway. It doesn't take long until he's back with a pair of obscenely large blended drinks liberally peppered with chunks of fruit, small umbrellas, and beads of condensation. Thick liquid in reds and oranges and yellows swirls around inside the transparent plastic glasses. Sitting by her side again, he hands her one of the concoctions, a small and sly smile on his face: there's more in this drink than she might think.
"A special drink for a special woman." Again, the gold chain around her waist catches his eye and he almost can't stand it: she's a living seduction and that realization makes him so smug.