My way

"I'd like... an iced tea, please."

She raised an eyebrow. "I think you should have the ice tea with lemonade, would you like one, it's very nice..."

"Err. Okay, I'll have an ice tea with lemonade."

"Would you like it done my way?" (two thumbs up)

"What's your way?"

"Grande, my way... its good!"

"Rigghht. Okay, I'll have it your way."

(Several seconds later)

"Yeah, it's good."

"You won't get it done this way anywhere else!"

"What, not even at another S*******?"

"Not like this, this is my way!"

"Um. okay thanks."

"Will you be sitting down here?"

"... yes?"

... bemused.

*****
Sitting here pretending to study the RAAS, and missing the assassin.

Ironside

Her eyes on his, as they lie eye to eye, tracing the line of his face with her fingertips.

"...scary"

"... that's just the way it goes..."

Trust

I'll be seeing my ex for dinner...

*****
Trust is earned, not owed, never deserved.
Trust is always given freely.

Trust is eroded one lie at a time, and reinforced, one truth at a time.

*****
You don't know me, I have flaws...

I hurt people

*****
Of course it's okay with me, he said, and smiled.

Anatomy 101

Sometimes as they're clowning around the Assassin does her Bolt impression, complete with huge puppy dog eyes, head tilt, and imaginary ear flop, and that little smile of hers, and although he knows full well it's not anatomical, and that emotion takes root from the cerebellum and not the heart, something in his left chest feels a little give...

Contrasts (completed)

... don't think about it anymore; focus on the good times. There were good times... right?

*****
Some time later I come awake with my arm tucked under the crook of her neck and watch the dawn light diffusing in softly through the glass panes, caressing her edge of her face and creating a ghostly pale glow around the contours of her cheek, her temple and her nose, the rest of her fair, fair skin encased in grey shadow. And then those eyes - dark, dark, eyes, almost doll-like and so very alive - flutter open, and her lips twitch into a smile as I say Good Morning, then lean forwards to kiss them, and I feel... an almost wondrous joy.

*****
I remember I used to think when people asked each other "what do you really, really want in life?" that the answer "to be happy" was too simple, too trite for me. That I was different and needed something... more substantial. I used to think I just needed the truth, and that happiness was irrelevant to me.

Catch me now : ten years down the line, a little battered, edges worn down, paintwork a little scuffed and how I've changed. I just want to be happy now, too.

*****
Every hello? on the line a... leap... an unexpected but welcome surprise.
Every parting... reluctant, an almost sense of... loss.
Every meeting, a wonder.

Not a distant memory from over a decade ago of the mafia don and mafiassimo... but a moment in the here and now, between Doctor Whiskers and the Assassin.

Contrasts

I remember watching in the mornings as the sunlight would creep in through the window and cut a strip of blazing white across the tanned skin of her forehead and right cheek, and glow red in her brown-streaked hair. I remember how very at peace - at last - she used to look, her chest barely rising as she breathed. And sometimes I'd reach down and brush a stray wisp of hair from her cheek.

I remember how very, very sad I used to feel, watching her as she slept.

And just before I left for work I'd lean over and kiss her lightly on the forehead, and most times she wouldn't stir, but sometimes she'd move a little and let out the faintest of squeaks.

And that filled my heart with sadness too.

She pulled me in closer and said, hey... don't think about it anymore; focus on the good times. There were good times... right?