thoughtformed | {closed}

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{closed}

Who: Helen Magnus and Arthur Kirkland
What: A walk, followed by dinner.
When: After this.
Where: The Beach | Somewhere with food?
Warnings: None, as of yet.

Having slipped out of her shoes, Helen stood barefoot on the beach as she waited, musing over her reasons for being there. It was rare she allowed herself such freedom, but perhaps Arthur had been right. A few moments taken for herself wasn’t likely to result in the world collapsing, as much as it sometimes felt it might.

She still wasn’t certain why she had asked him here, why she had invited him for dinner afterward. Had she actually asked him on a date? The thought registered as absurd; she was reading too much into the offer. An offer she had made. Had she wanted it to mean more than it did?

Whatever her reasons, she couldn’t deny she was looking forward to the evening.

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A smile was all the answer he gave to that. It was always a bit of a struggle to admit. What she said afterwards, though, provided ample distraction and his eyebrows shot up while a faint flush rushed across his cheeks.

"A..ah, yes, indeed," he muttered, clearing his throat and making a small gesture for them to get off the beach.

Well, that was interesting.

She might have laughed, but she would hate to ruin what had been a perfectly lovely evening. Besides, she found it rather adorable that he was so easily flustered.

"Merely an offer, Mr. Kirkland. Not a guarantee." The words were offered as reassurance, but there was a definite hint of amusement, as well.

She might be enjoying this too much.

Oh that just made it worse. Arthur grinned a little uneasily and looked away from her to force the blush down from his face.

"I think you're trying to embarrass me on purpose," he commented, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Is it working?" She tilted her head to watch him. "That doesn't change the sincerity of my offer."

He didn't think he needed to tell her whether or not it was working. How red the tips of his ears were should have been proof enough of that. Normally he wouldn't take very well to being made to blush, but he didn't seem to mind it with her.

"If you're truly sincere, I may have to take you up on that."

He's the first she's felt this sort of connection with in some time; she's rather eager to see where this evening might take them.

"I hope you will."

This had taken a surprising turn. Was it a date? Were they calling it that? Arthur didn't really see what else it might be but for the moment he was content with the idea that he was taking a rather attractive woman out for dinner and she actually provided a challenge to him. That was an achievement in itself.

Once they left the beach he took her to the restaurant he'd spoken of. They were lucky, it seemed, to come on a night that wasn't terribly busy. Crowded rooms weren't exactly the most appealing of settings, after all.

She had decided it was best left undefined, for the moment. He appealed to her in a way few would be able to match. Perhaps it was because she saw something of herself in him, an odd statement when she truly paused to consider their age difference and that she was on the younger side of it.

The restaurant was lovely, and she was glad for the relative quiet. She wanted to enjoy his company.

"I believe you've chosen well."

Yes, that was probably for the best. Defining this as a date would give certain expectations to the evening and it was best, right now, to just leave all expectations aside. They were both rather unusual people, after all, and they could hardly be expected to match up to 'normal' standards.

Arthur was more than a little rusty with the whole 'dating' business, not that they were calling it that, but he was rather happy to see that he'd made the right choice with this place. He hadn't been in this place before, though he'd looked over the menu.

When she commented, he smiled over at her and murmured a quiet 'thank you' as he was handed a menu.

"I'm glad you think so," he replied, feeling the tips of his ears burning again and silently cursing himself. "Do you have a particular wine preference?"

As was she. It was rare she allowed herself such opportunities. Attachment was something she could not afford, except in those cases it couldn't be avoided.

"Whatever you would prefer."

She watched him quietly. "You're blushing again." Smiling, she reached across the table to touch his arm. "I appreciate being the cause."

"Ah.." Drawing attention to the blushing only made it worse, and he ducked his head down behind his menu as he browsed the wines and gave a small motion for the waiter to come back in a few minutes.

"I'd say you're getting far too much entertainment out of this, Helen.." he said, though the humour in his voice was obvious.

"Just enough, I think," she returned easily, squeezing his arm before picking up her own menu.

"I've shared my story, Mr. Kirkland. Perhaps you could share a part of yours?"

"A part?"

Arthur glanced down at the squeeze to his arm, and let out a soft, almost nervous-sounding chuckle.

"I have a very long story. Is there a particular part you had in mind?"

"I wouldn't expect you to tell me everything at once. We're only just getting to know one another."

If she were honest, she found it rather flattering that she could have such an effect.

"Whatever you're comfortable with telling. I'm not asking for more than you're willing to share."

"Even so.. I'd be comfortable with telling you quite a bit."

It was half a compliment - Arthur wasn't that guarded about his past, aside from some select parts, but it wasn't that often that he felt so comfortable in a conversation.

"I'm over one thousand years old. You may need to narrow it down."

"Something within the past two centuries, then," she suggested. It seemed reasonable to narrow the field to something close to her own years.

"Hmm.."

Even that didn't really narrow it down. Arthur tilted his head to one side as he thought.

"I suppose the things that always stand out are the Wars."

"Then tell me about a war."

"Just the one?"

The more time he spent with this woman the more he was sure she was more similar to him than anyone he had met in the past century. An amused smile twitched at his lips and he clasped his hands in front of him.

"You're set on not making this easy for me, aren't you? Hmm. I suppose it might surprise you to learn that during the Second World War we all ended up stranded on a desert island for three weeks. Heaven knows if I can recall how we got there. December, I think it was."

"You asked me to narrow it down."

She couldn't entirely help herself. The mild teasing and gentle prodding came far too easily.

"I can't imagine that was a pleasant stay."

"You'd be surprised."

Arthur shook his head and looked down at the table.

"Politics change far more fluidly than the minds of people like me. Eventually, we just.. put our differences aside. It seemed foolish to fight in that situation, and around Christmas time, too."

"You don't entirely hate one another, then?"

"Oh, not entirely.."

They would often say it, but saying was not the same as doing. It was far harder to like certain nations but truly hating them to the point that they wouldn't step in should they be threatened..? Not even the most militant could claim that.

"But it isn't that easy, of course. We have long memories."

"You still hold grudges, then?"

She couldn't help but find the concept fascinating. That they could be so incredibly human, yet embody the whole of a nation.

"Everyone holds grudges. You'd need to be a saint not to, and I'd not believe anyone who says they don't."

He paused then, to catch the attention of one of the waiting staff and order a bottle of wine, then he turned his attention back to her with a smile.

"We simply hold them for longer."

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