(no subject)

[no_sin_but]

The first night had been spent out in the open, but tonight Marlowe has found the pair a tavern. Quiet, out of the way, not well-to-do but hardly the worst place he has slept in.

Of course, that is the problem.

Marlowe leans against the doorway, watching Mary Anne (Mariane) with an amused twinkle in his eye.

"So, my dear. Which side of the bed do you want?"

Comments

[song_tra_bong]

She eyes him.

"I'm not picky."

She has, after all, slept in much worse.

"What about you?"

[no-sin-but.livejournal.com]

"Entirely unfussed."

She's closest to the door, she dies first. But she can't die.

Hmmm...

[song_tra_bong]

She used to sleep further from the door, so she could roll over the side and come up with her rifle in her hands. But her rifle is a million worlds away and she can't die...

So.

She sits on the side of the bed nearer the door.

"This is fine, then."

[no-sin-but.livejournal.com]

"Good-o."

Right, it's nearly summer, so doublet off.

[song_tra_bong]

Mary Anne does not hum a few bars from "Anything You Can Do."

Still, it is nearly summer and she's got more layers on than she's had in years. The gown is wriggled out of first, then the kirtle. Both are folded up and set neatly aside before she lies down on her side, wearing only her shift and facing away from Kit.

[no-sin-but.livejournal.com]

Marlowe is taking his boots off; undo the buttons at the back, peel them down and then tug off. Not the most elegant of things to get off, but he's had enough mocking from Darren to put up with anything that Mary Anne can throw at him.

Even if she isn't throwing anything.

Just lying there.

His eye drifts over the curves of her waist and hip, and then he shakes his head slightly and works on the other boot.

[song_tra_bong]

Mary Anne shifts very slightly, trying to get comfortable, then realizes what's bothering her.

"Oh."

She sits up, slipping a hand into the pocket of her shift and drawing out her knife. She tucks it under the edge of her pillow, where she can reach it much easier, then lays back down.

[no-sin-but.livejournal.com]

"I do that."

[song_tra_bong]

She halfway over, twisting to see his face.

"Do you?" she asks, smiling faintly.

[no-sin-but.livejournal.com]

He nods, smiling faintly back.

[song_tra_bong]

"Great minds think alike, I guess," she says.

[no-sin-but.livejournal.com]

"Or deeply, irreversibly paranoid ones."

[song_tra_bong]

She laughs.

"I prefer to think of us as 'practical.'"

[no-sin-but.livejournal.com]

He thinks it over a moment.

"Only in highly specific circumstances."

Right, so. Bed.

[song_tra_bong]

"Yeah, but you never know when those circumstances are going to be met."

This does not sound like paranoia to her. This sounds like common sense. If she had her rifle here too, that'd be paranoia.




Yes. Bed.

"What time do we leave in the morning?"

[no-sin-but.livejournal.com]

"Dawn, or there abouts." Marlowe has ever been too restless a mind to stay anywhere long. He moves to the end of the bed and then crawls onto it, twisting around so that he studies the ceiling.

Somehow, this is far, far more awkward than sleeping with Darren had ever been.

[song_tra_bong]

"Alright."

She closes her eyes.

"Good night, then."

[no-sin-but.livejournal.com]

"Night. Blow out the candle, would you please?"

[song_tra_bong]

"Sure."

She sits back up just enough to lean over to the nightstand. A moment later, the room goes dark.

[no-sin-but.livejournal.com]

Marlowe doesn't shut his eye. He does, however, keep staring at the ceiling and trying to ignore her.

[song_tra_bong]

Mary Anne spent three years training herself to fall asleep and wake up at the drop of a hat.






And of course, that training is amounting to fuck all right now.

Mary Anne stares at the door and tries not to breath too loudly.

[no-sin-but.livejournal.com]

Shutting eye will help.








Any moment now.

[song_tra_bong]

She could stay awake for a little while, really. She is here to protect him, after all. Can't do that if she's asleep.







Just for a little while.

[no-sin-but.livejournal.com]

You know what?

Sod it.

He isn't as young as he once was, and running on nervous energy more than sleep for weeks, and in any case he'd always slept better with someone than without.

Call it training, but it isn't so long before his breathing deepens, and evens out.

[song_tra_bong]

She listens to his breathing, counting the minutes in her head.

At fifteen, she smiles and closes her eyes.

By sixteen, she's asleep.