Apr 20 11:05:36 105 PA

From Chronicles

The current game time is: Mon Apr 20 11:05:36 105 PA.

Desmond will arrive only a bit later than might be expected. And once he's there, he'll be apt to begin on the bed construction at once. THe heavy box he carried up into the room not so long ago is opened and the many parts spread out within the bedroom, though the big male is careful to keep a close track of all those small screws, connectors and accessories. Des seems prideful of his new ability to read, studying the set up instructions closely once all is laid out to begin. It turns out Aimee will be integral to the construction as, while he can handle the majority of it himself, his size makes for large fingers that aren't so adept has her own at the s mall work. Often he will need her to place small screws and to do the initial tightening whilst he holds disparate pieces together. He goes about the process with a methodical attention to detail, each step carefully considered and executed. Soon enough the initial frame of the wide bed is stable, though Desmond seems intent on testing it to be certain of this. Poking and prodding it carefully.

Aimee is a willing but amused helpmate, lying on her stomach most of the time, her legs bent to kick in the air. Her feet are bare, nails painted a bright red, and her loose jeans flop around her ankles as she moves. "Think this piece is left over?" She holds up a small metal part, oddly shaped, her eyes laughing at him. She watches him prod the bed, her eyebrows lifting slightly. "Trust it? Think it'll fall over?"

"I do not know," Desmod rumbles as he considers the part, taking it far more seriously. Comically so, for the young woman no doubt. He glances down at the instruction booklet, s nagged up to flip back to the parts listing. A slight frown comes up as he doesn't seem to find it in the list, shaking his head slightly, he sets the booklet aside and pats the frame firmly. "It seems stable, however," he allows. "I think that we will not need it." For bed construction is a serious business indeed.

Aimee nods slowly, turning to drag the large mattress towards the stable and balanced frame, biting her lower lip hard, to avoid laughing directly at him. However her eyes are brimming over with it, as she turns, pushing the mattress onto the frame with a shove. "There!" She giggles, turning to flop, arms out, onto the askew mattress. She lies there, hands outstretched, hair fallen around her face like a dark halo. "I pronounce this bed made!

Desmond seems to catch on a bit anyway, though her amusement with him seems to only soften his firm demeanor all the more. He rises up to help with the mattress, crouching beside the finished bed to give it a final eyeballing, as if some mistake could be seen in the final moments. But he sees nothing at all. Instead rising to turn towards Aimee. "Yes indeed." The old bed carted off to the side or even out already. Wherever she would have wanted it, he'd have taken it. "Thank you, Aimee. I could not have made it easily without you." Rumbled softly as she embraces her firmly, often doing so when they are alone.

Aimee snuggles into the embrace, her eyes warm. "Now, bedding stuff... I bought sheets, duvet, throw... pillows, lots of really pretty ones too." She wrinkles her nose. "I might have blown more than I can afford." She rolls away, tumbling off the bed and opening a paper bag nearby, in a pile of other paper bags. "Here, sheet!" She throws it to him, reaching for another package, pulling a fluffy overthrow out from it, and starting to cover it with a cover that matches the sheet she just hurled at Desmond.

"Show me, Aimee." said for his experience is limited to simple blankets and pillows. The order of such things, the many other sorts of bedding and accouterments new to him. He will unfold that sheet and aid in placing it. His superior reach aiding in this. Most he can do without prompting, though she'll have to be shown which order to array them in. But he is an attentive student in the art of bed making and he follows directions precisely.

Aimee shakes the cover down, dumping it on the floor as she moves to show him, bending over the bed, her hair falling into her face as she tucks. "Like this..." She looks over, smiling as he copies. "Now, we throw the cover over, and do pillows..." She moves quickly, picking up the duvet, and throwing it so it lands on the bed, mostly flat. The next moment, she is pulling matching covers over pillows and hurling them onto the bed, taking the cushions, bright cushions of many colours and tossing them on top. "There!" She stands, hands on hips, satisfaction on her face.

Desmond moves with a matching alacrity, quickly caught up in finishing the job. Nodding quietly to himself as he follows her lead. A soft rumble given when they finish, nodding once. "Very good." The big male pleased with the scheme of colors. He turns towards Aimee and sits down on the edge of the finished bed, testing it. "It is strong, as they promised," he observes, the mattress designed for comfort and support for both larger and smaller beings. He lifts his eyes to her from studying the pattern on the covers and states, "We shall watch the movie now.. and popcorn." Eager and curious, this big fella.

Aimee giggles, nodding agreement. "Popcorn then, come help me?" She moves to the kitchen, tiptoeing to reach a pan from the top of a cupboard, bending to get a bag of corn from another, showing him how to add it to the pan, how to cook it until it bangs, and listening to the bangs, her eyes filled with humour. "See? Do you hear them? Pop corn...get it?" She is reaching for butter and salt already, putting both to the side of a big ceramic dish.

Desmond rises at once to follow her, seeming ever eager to give aid. And once within the kitchen, he will be an observant and focused student once more. The truth of what is being done doesn't fully dawn on him until the first pops come from the pan. His ears flick forward at the first few, a bemusement rising at first. He leans down slightly, listening closely to the sound, her words drawing his eye. "Yes.. I understand." Indeed, he does gather the nature of the new food, though more will come once he actually sees it. "A curious thing. Thank you for showing this to me, Aimee." A genuine gratitude given for something so small, the big male slipping an arm behind to draw her close as he stands and listens to the popping corn.

As the popping dies down, Aimee removes the lid, tossing it carelessly into the sink and pouring out the fuzzy popcorn into the bowl. She reaches for butter, quickly melting it over the stove before adding it and the salt to the mix. She uses her fingers to mix it all up, offering one piece to Desmond, her green eyes dancing. "Try that..." The butter and salt cling to her fingers.

The appearance of the popcorn is another mild surprise for him. "Such a change," he rumbles with more thoughtfulness than one might expect, watching the final preparation with a close attention. And when she offers up a piece to try, he leans forward, his tongue flicking out to capture it, the moist roughness of it passing against her flavored fingers as well. "It melts quickly," he rumbles, gazing at her as he considers the taste of the kernel, salt and butter. "It is good." Decided finally.

Aimee smiles up at him, before she licks her fingers lightly, her tongue winding around them to clean off the salt and butter. "Film?" She questions, picking up the bowl and moving to sit on the floor next to the couch. "You get the couch, you are bigger and there isn't room for two..." She informs him, airily. "Ready?"

Though there are things Desmond doesn't know, he can't help but be caught for a moment by the way she cleans her fingers off. Brief.. and perhaps not truly understood by the big male as there is a flicker of bemusement after, which dissipates quickly. He goes with her towards the couch and will settle there as indicated, but he responds to her question by lowering a hand to touch her shoulder. "There is ever room for you, with me," he rumbles lowly to her. "If you would share closeness with me as we watch. But yes, I am ready." He will be accommodating should she accept his offer.

Aimee leans forward, on her knees as she sets up the film. Once the credits starts, she shuffles backwards, shaking her head at his offer. "I'll sit here..." She leans back, against his legs, her head against his knee, casually slinging an arm over them. "Sure? Sure you can handle the whole film?" She tilts her head back, watching him upsidedown.

Desmond nods his head once as she asks after his readiness. "I am, Aimee," he assures her, his hand shifting to gently pass his fingers through her hair, so perfectly placed for him to gently toy with at a whim. There is a sense of contented peacefulness about the big male as he settles like this. With her so close, a snack to share and something she enjoys to experience in full. Yes, he's ready. Eyes lifting to watch as the credits run through. The odd music, the words, all taken in with a rapt attention.

Aimee settles down, and the figures on the screen begin to move. She leans into the touch, half closing her eyes as she watches the film. She takes a handful of the popcorn, holding up to bowl to offer to him. She eats the popcorn, carefully biting off small pieces around the main corn before eating it completely. Each one. Small bites. Each time she finishes one, she licks her fingers carefully.

Desmond takes some for himself when the bowl is offered up, though it takes him a short while to find a way to eat it. Having no desire to remove the fingers of his left hand from her hair, his right hand not accustomed to manipulating such small things. But, in the slow earliness of the movie he figures out a means to offer up individual pieces, snagging them with his tongue. Once all is well, he focuses on the film itself. Such things as entertainment films very new to him. More so than most he will be captivated by such a thing, watching a story unfold before him. Easily drawn into the tale, the movements of his fingers at her hair becoming more light and automatic as he focuses.

Aimee watches the film, rapt, despite having seen it around a million times. Her head rests lightly against his knee, the curls coiling around his fingers lightly. She reaches up, taking a handful of popcorn. Eating them slowly, slowing down as she becomes more involved in the film. As it nears the end, the sniffing starts, quietly at first.

INdeed, the snack becomes secondary as Desmond watches the story unfold. Though there is some confusion.. the nature of the time period something of an opaque wall, he will gather the meat of the story. He watches it with an increasing thoughtfulness mingled with the initial soft wonder of the film itself. The story strikes an odd chord within him, but with the unfolding that goes on, he hasn't the full time to muse it, lest he miss some aspect of the story in a thoughtful haze. Her sniffles bring some of his attention back to Aimee and his head turned, his gaze lowered to the top of her head as his toying with her curls becomes a more active, attentive thing. HIs hand lowering further to stroke along the side of her head, in a manner meant to be gently comforting. Still, he continues to watch the ending. Seeing it roll up to the very last part that he observed before. Then he will let himself dip into his musings. Thus as the ending credits roll up, he will be ready with a thought, which he will speak lowly to her, his thoughtfulness obvious. "I feel a close affinity for Rick."

Aimee looks up with a watery smile, using her fingertips to clean away tears. "I always cry..." She observes softly. "You do? Tell me why?" She turns, resting both arms on his legs, tilting her head to look up at him. She leans her chin against her hands, eyes wide as she looks up. "I kinda feel for her, but I think they meant women to do that..."

Desmond shifts the popcorn bowl out of the way when she moves, his attention becoming hers as he considers the detail of his feelings.. they are vague, but strong and he will spend a careful time deciding just how to put such formless things to words. But he will not be idle whilst in thought. One of his hands will rest upon her arm, the other lifted to resume a more focused stroking over her hair. "He is a protector of those he cares for as I am," Desmond starts. "He does what must be done to meet his goals. So too his situation mirrored mine before.. he would guard those he cares for the most, even when others are their focus. And he would sacrifice himself for her. He would sacrifice what could be theirs to push her towards a path he thinks is better for her than his own." A moment, a slow deep breath and a nod. "I feel close to that man."

She listens, her full attention on him, the room having grown dark during the film and the flickering lights of the screen the only source of light. "And she lets him choose. I hope she goes back to him, afterwards." She sighs, leaning into the hand stroking her hair, her eyes closing slightly. She opens her mouth to speak as a noise alerts her to the note being pushed under her door. She frowns but doesn't move.

"She will for us," Desmond rumbles lowly. The big male gazes at her with a growing fondness, the fingers of his other hand curling to lightly stroke her arm. His ear flicking slightly towards the door a moment before the louder sounds. His head snapping upwards and turning quickly. She can feel him tense just a bit. Readiness quick to come even after this moment of repose. "You expect a visitor?" Asked lowly of her as he stares towards the door firmly, his fingers stilled.

Aimee shakes her head slowly, her forehead wrinkling. "Not expecting anyone..." She hesitates before untangling herself, rising slowly to her feet. She walks towards the door, caution in her movements, her eyes wary. "It is a note." She states softly, bending to pick it up. She opens it, reading slowly, before she looks up, holding it out, her eyes wide. "From Kelley..."

Desmond will rise with her, once she is up, trailing her towards the door. The softness of the time before firmed back up somewhat. He eyes the door as she picks up the note, his ears flicked forward.. listening. Nothing. He relaxes slightly and looks towards her when she holds out the note. The note of who it is from brings a slight frown to him, the big male reaching out to take it. He studies the words carefully, taking more time than she to scan the brief missive. Not so many large words, but reading is still not strong for him. But he comprehends and he looks up towards her. "I do not know what he speaks of.. I have heard nothing of action we will be doing in the near future," he rumbles thoughtfully, perhaps knowing where her mind will go on first jump. "I would assume they'd inform us in advance to prepare."

Aimee shakes her head slowly, moving to the couch to take the mostly emptied bowl of popcorn to the kitchen. She throws the last few pieces away, moving to wash the dishes, her movements agitated. "What if... I mean, is it real? Could it be some game?" She turns, picking up a towel, rubbing her hands as she leans against the sink, her eyes worried.

Desmond tracks her again, though he leaves the note on the back of the couch as he passes it. His expression thoughtful, dredging back into his memory for any clues related to this.. finding nothing. When she asks, he can only shake his head slightly. "I cannot say, but I have heard of nothing planned," he rumbles lowly. Having lingered near when she was washing, he decides to approach her as she dries her hands. He enfolds her gently from behind if she would have it, more an offer of close presence than an enclosing squeeze. "Perhaps he thinks as some do.. that each day must be faced as if it were the last. That he would offer peace to you and find his balance."

Aimee turns in his arns, closing her eyes and leaning her forehead against his chest. "Should I go and talk to him? See...I don't know..." She sighs, making a small noise of frustration. "See, how am I meant to react to something like that? I don't know! I mean, I love him, just not ...like that." She pulls away, turning and throwing the towel at the sink, her movement angry, the frustration turning into something more heated.

Desmond strengthens the embrace when she turns into him, giving her a careful squeeze as she questions him. Indeed, he considers that question with care. His words reserved for after she has gone form his grasp, released with ease in the now. Instead lifting a hand to gently touch his fingertips to her cheek as her rage rises. His own deep voice is calm and steady as he suggests, "Going when you are heated such as this would not help, I think. I do not think he means you harm. But I do think, in time, you should speak to him again.. when you are ready to do so."

Aimee sighs, taking a slow breath, to get control over her temper. "It isn't fair of him to do that, write that to me...I guess I know he isn't the game playing type but what does he expect me to do? I mean, if ..." She sighs, moving to the living area, pacing, her hands moving to her back pockets. "I should go over there, see what he means."

Desmond keeps with Aimee as she begins to pace, moving out into the livingroom, though he picks a place to stand that is roughly midpoint in her pacing path. "You should, but not now.. not when you are upset. If you think he would not play games, then he is not. You would know the man better than I. But I know you.. and you are a rough woman to handle when you are excited like this." Of course, while she might find such a phrasing only adds to that anger, his deep voice is fond on that point, the eyes that track her pacing path matching the same. His firm expression lingers, but with the passing of a potential threat, it has softened again for her.

"I am not upset! Just...confused." That is definitely an upset snap, her head twisting to frown at him before she resumes pacing, moving around hikm. "Damn it! Damn him. Damn men." She uses the energy, throwing herself into gathering the packaging from earlier, pushing it into a rubbish sack. "Because I'm supposed to respond how to this? You men, you do these things, and you should perhaps add a note to the bottom, saying 'yeah I'm doing this because I want you to feel like shit, or because...oh, of whatever." She throws the bag down by the door, turning to face him, her cheeks flushed.

Desmond is silent through this, the fond set of his features not shifting. Indeed, he only seems more intrigued as she vents. Her words serious, yes.. and he gives them careful thought, but watching her in this moment. A quiet, private little pleasure. He will turn towards her and approach as she faces. Left hand to her shoulder, his right placing his palm against one flushed cheek. "I will not make excuses for his writing. There are many possibilities, but I know the man not. Were it I, such a letter would be meant as it is written. A thank you for the pleasure of your company. A true expression of love.. and perhaps regret for what was not. And a true desire to give no pain. It would, perhaps, be better if he had come to speak such things to you himself, but he might think you do not wish his presence. Be calm, my lovely flame. For when you are calm, you can decide what you wish to do in response."

Aimee gives him a look of almost pure irritation, before she pulls away from the touch. She almost stomps across the room to her bed, her shoulders rigid, picking up perfectly fluffed cushions and plumping them vigorously. "So something is happening tomorrow, possibly this raid, and he hasn't told you? But perhaps he is going to exclude you... or..." She sits down abruptly on the edge of the bed, her cheeks flushed, her forehead creased into a frown. "I need to find some answers,..."

Desmond takes and releases a slow, deep breath. Yes, difficult to handle. Yet he seems unperturbed by this, following her smoothly. "I doubt that, Aimee. Katsumi would have told me if something was happening as well. I trust her to keep me informed regardless." He goes to the bed with her and smoothly dips to a knee in front of her, one hand on the edge of the bed, the other placed on her knee. "I understand the desire, but if you go demanding and angry as you are now, it will only cause more friction."

"I am not angry!" She snaps, giving him a look of ...yes, almost anger. "If I don't go, and he dies tomorrow, whatever it is? What then, Des? I feel enough of a shite, just leaving him." She takes a deep breath and flops back onto the bed, her arms over her head, "Mon dieu! Je m'en calisee!" That is spoken with very real feeling, the emotion behind it translating in the international body language of 'I don't care!'

"Then if you go feeling heated as you are," Desmond amends steadily. He rises, shifting to settle himself on the edge of the bed lightly. "You walk your own path, Aimee.. you can go now if you truly desire and I won't stop you. But I don't think the time is right. And I don't think he will die tomorrow. Something like that.. to my mind it is written when one is wanting to be sure things are said, despite the slim chance that they might never be able to be. For all of us, life is a constant danger. Even for you, living here. It is an unlikely thing, but something could come for you when I am not here. Something stronger and faster than you. It is a slim chance, but it is always there.. mocking and nagging when you are not near. But it is a thing I accept, for I know I cannot always be near you, even should we grow closer. I think he has decided to offer those things that would be said, on the slim chance that they might never be. To offer peace and show he has no ill feelings towards you." Or so the big guy thinks, his body and head turned just enough for him to gaze down at her.

Aimee pulls a face, muttering beneath her breath, a long line of french curses, before she sits up again, hugging her knees, sat on the side of the bed. "Nothing is going to attack me, Des, why would it? Most attention I ever drew was being his lover, and I'm not that now so..." She shrugs lightly, a gaelic movement as expressive as her face is, in this moment. "Fait chier! I hate it when people are so..." She has no word for this descriptor, her face showing the irritation. "I should see him."

Desmond choses to not belabor the point, for he knows far too much of the indiscriminate wills of those who would do violence. And, in truth, it doesn't truly matter in the moment. "In the morning," Desmond offers, along with an offer of embrace as one arm slips behind her to rest his hand on her opposite shoulder. "When you are focused and rested. If anything is to happen, it will not likely be so early. There is time that must be taken to prepare and gather. You will have time to speak with him before that, I am sure. But honestly I do not think that there will be anything happening tomorrow.. at least, nothing to do with the mission. To say nothing will happen here any day is a gamble at best."

Aimee resists for a moment before leaning into the embrace, releasing the tension in a long exhale. "I guess so. Tomorrow morning..." She turns her face so that her cheek rests against his chest, sliding an arm around his waist, her other hand rising to his cheek, before her fingers brush down his neck, finally curling around the nape of his neck. "I guess that makes sense. If he wanted to see me tonight, he could have knocked...unless he thought I was already in bed." She smiles then, sun coming out from behind the clouds.

Desmond draws her close when she allows and breathes out deeply again, his eyes there when she looks up to him. Her touch enjoyed ad then, the smile. A handful, yes. But such rewards. "Yes.. he knows where you are," Desmond rumbles lowly, his other arm slipping around as he twists just a little at the waist, adding to the close embrace. He can't truly help it when his eyes warm with that embrace. "Would that I could see you off in the morning.. I am to do an early shift tomorrow. But I am yours this night. For anything you would have of me."

Aimee tilts her head back, offering her face for a kiss, her eyes warming, teasing. "Then, sir, I think we have unfinished business? A small matter of a bed that needs christening..." She pulls at him, intending to pull him back on the bed with her, laughter beginning to filter in her eyes, lightening the green. She brushes her lips past his ear, her voice a teasing, husky whisper, "Baise-moi?" The invitation translates easily, the tone of voice speaking loud and clear.

Desmond will kiss her gently for he knows that gentle will soon be a thing far, far away. The warmth in his eyes shifting to a full heat as she returns focus to their planned cap for the evening. "Yes.." That said before he is pulled to the bed with her, for despite their side difference, she will not find that a hard thing to do. Never has. And though the words that she speaks do not process in mind, her intent is clear enough to him. Again, "Yes.." Though this 'yes' is huskier. The hand that rested on her shoulder slips down, firmly filling with her rump as she shifts them to the center of the bed. For now remaining on his side with her against his chest. Indulging in something slower for just a few more moments. Another kiss, the feel of his hands caressing her body. The loving touch of an appreciative man. Tags:aimee, desmond