Jennifer Quail

    Chapter Five

 

    Elaine leaned back on her elbows, enjoying both the midday sun , for once relatively free of D.C.’s normal choking summer humidity, and the distinct sense of playing hooky.  Her arms were not certain they appreciated the weight.  The short walk from the Metro station had almost convinced her dismissing Val so early was a mistake.  Alan had been waiting in the shade near the carousel, his suit jacket off and his tie already messily slung on his shoulder.  He’d gallantly offered to take the basket off her hand (the left, as her right was both too weak to grip it and occupied by the cane) and his expression said he’d immediately regretted it.  He hadn’t said anything, but he’d looked rather relieved to set the basket down and take out the folded tablecloth covering the top layer of food containers.  

    “Are you sure she meant to give us all this?”  Alan was pulling containers out and spreading them on the cloth.  There were far more than a simple picnic lunch really ought to have, and the basket wasn’t empty yet. 

    Elaine shrugged.  “She packed it.  I mean, she did say there’d be enough for leftovers.”

    “For ten people!”  But he was grinning, and the smile widened when he unwrapped a round bundle.  “Dutch crust bread!  I’ve haven’t seen that since the last time I was home.  Where did she get that?”

    “Probably baked it, while she was making everything else in here.”  Elaine opened one of the containers.  “Cucumbers in sour cream!  Well, probably not as good as my grandmother’s, but it’s the thought that counts.”

    “That’s a normal salad at your house?”  Alan passed her one of the plates (real plates, of course, more of the mismatched ex-inventory china.)  

    “We’re Polish on Dad’s side.  It’s totally normal.”  A larger container had cold shredded chicken in a dark sauce that a tentative taste said contained walnuts and she suspected the bread was meant for dipping into this.   If that weren’t enough protein, there was a chicken salad, too, with oil dressing instead of mayonnaise and shredded meat instead of cubed.  Another tub held a savory potato salad with crumbles of salty cheese, and still another revealed hard-boiled eggs sliced in half and stuffed with what looked like a pate of mushrooms. Beneath that layer, she saw two more wrapped items that looked suspiciously like dessert.  “Good grief.  I know Val thinks I’m skinny but I think Nadia’s going overboard trying to correct it.”

    “I think I’m doing a few extra laps tomorrow morning,” Alan said, looking as daunted as she felt by the amount of food spread out on the blanket.  

    “I never thought I would, but I think I miss being able to go running.”  As she said it, Elaine noticed a pair of joggers lapping the Mall.  The red and yellow running gear and the high-and-tight haircuts, along, she had to admit, with the rather fit physiques, identified them as Marines.  The heat and the dust didn’t seem to bother either man.  From what she remembered of P.T., they probably found this route a nice relaxing cakewalk.  Compared to running an o-course it was, sun or no sun, but now . . . her hip ached and she shifted on the picnic blanket.  Since getting knocked around during their altercation in the Building Museum she was back to stairs seeming daunting and long walks were marathons.  Still, watching their easy strides, she thought how good a real five miles at a solid pace would seem.  Even climbing ropes and belly-crawling through the mud would be a treat again, if only her body would cooperate.

    There was a cough, and a flush of red-tinged warmth, from the other side of the blanket.  She blinked, and looked at Alan.  He had a very strange look on his face.  “See something you like?” he asked, and tore a piece of bread in half with far more force than seemed necessary.

    She blinked, and realized she had, after all, been staring at two very fit men, one of whom had not been wearing a shirt.  “I was only thinking,” and it sounded more defensive than she meant, “I never thought I’d miss P.T.  I’d need to do twenty miles to burn all this stuff off.”  Not that it was any of Alan’s business what she was looking at, of course.

    Something about his expression said he wasn’t convinced.  Of course she could always try and read his . . . she loathed word ‘aura’, but she hadn’t come up with a better term for how their powers looked when she allowed herself to see them.  But Alan only said, “I’ve never been a fan of running, but if you feel up to it, we could always start slow.”  

    A sharp retort about not needing lessons from a civilian was on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back.  “Maybe I ought to see the physical therapists at Bethesda first.”  She wanted to choke on the words, but it felt strangely . . . lightening to say them.  “But if they give me the all-clear, and you want to give up a morning every so often to run, that might be nice.  I hate going alone.”  She took a tentative bite of the cucumbers and had to stifle a happy groan.  “And I’m going to need the exercise if I keep eating like this.”

    Alan used the chunk of bread to scoop up some of the chicken in sauce.  He didn’t even bother smothering the satisfied response.  “I know what you mean,” and he even managed to make talking with one’s mouth full seem acceptable.  “I’ve never had anything like this.”

    “Try the cucumber salad.”  Elaine passed the bowl across.  “My grandmother is turning over in her grave, but this might be better than hers.”

    “Be fair, Nadia probably learned how to make this before your grandmother was born.”  He spooned a sample-sized portion onto a plate and took a small bite.  “That’s . . . different, but definitely not bad.”

    Elaine tried one of the eggs.  “Okay, I definitely need to figure out some kind of exercise that won’t grind my joints to powder, because I could eat all of these.”

    “You should take up swimming,” Alan suggested.  “It’s a lot less impact than running, and given you’re . . . .well, given your Water affinity, you’d probably be great at it.”

    Elaine suddenly felt a lot less like eating.  “Sure, if I can find a full-length bathing suit.  I’m not exactly ready for a bikini, or one of those little Spandex things you serious swimmers like to wear.”  She had no idea what Alan wore for his aquatic workouts, actually, and for some reason she didn’t want to keep thinking about it.   

 
    Alan, for his part, looked sincerely puzzled.  “Why not?  You’d probably look great in a bikini.”  As if he realized what he’d said, he flushed and looked away.  “Not that I’ve ever . . . I just mean, you have a great . . . .”  He stopped himself, and took another bite of the bread.

    Elaine fought down a sudden, irrational anger, making herself think about the tone of his voice, and the sense of that (damn the word) aura, which was already wavering as if he were anticipating an attack.  Was her temper that awful?  And what was so awful about anything he’d said, really?  He had to be oblivious, Alan could never be deliberately cruel.  So she took a deep breath and concentrated very hard on keeping her tone even when she pointed out, “Alan, do you think the scars stop at my neck and my wrist?”

    Those intense grey eyes fixed on her, and neither his expression nor the sudden flare of surprise from his magic sense seemed anything other than sincere.  “I hadn’t thought about it,” he said.  “I guess that’s stupid.  I’m sorry, it just never even crossed my mind.”  He paused, looking down again.  “Is it really so bad?”

    “Do you ever see me in shorts?”  It came out sharper than she meant.  “I basically rolled through burning jet fuel and aircraft components at . . . well, I don’t know how fast I was going when I ejected, but fast enough, and hitting the water from that height before the chute fully deployed is like being hit by a truck.  Val was right when he said I ought to have died.  I thought it was just my bad luck I didn’t, but I guess it must have been magic.”  He looked like he was going to say something but she plowed on before he could.  “Between the burns, the skin grafts, and the surgical scars where they rebuilt my leg after deciding not to cut it off, I don’t think anyone wants to see me in a swimsuit.  God knows I don’t.”

    Alan looked stunned, and looked down at his hands.  “Elaine . . . I honestly didn’t think.  If you’re not comfortable having anyone see, of course, that’s up to you.  I just . . . I’m sorry.”  Before she could open her mouth, he said, “And don’t tell me not to be.  I don’t mean I’m sorry about your scars, I know that’s not my fault.  I mean I’m sorry I hurt your feelings.  I didn’t mean to.  I don’t think you have anything to worry about, that’s all, but it’s your opinion that counts.”

    There were some days she really wondered about his eyesight.  Still . . . . “It’s all right.  Knowing my luck the therapists will say I can’t do anything unsupervised for another year anyway.”  She picked at the potato salad, which still looked delicious, but found her appetite waning.  

    Alan was quiet a  moment, then said, “Well, there’s something you can do, anyway.”  When she just raised an eyebrow, he opened his attache case and pulled out the leather-covered volume of The Art of Earth Magic.  “Practice your . . . other talents.”

    Elaine looked around, trying not to seem obvious about it, but no one was anywhere near them.  “I didn’t know if you’d bring it.  What should we look up this time?”   This was the reason for their weekly lunches she hadn’t told Nadia, and one reason she didn’t want Val loitering around (a check of the Air around them told her he wasn’t anywhere near enough to eavesdrop, vampire hearing or no vampire hearing.)  Their supernatural bodyguards would certainly approve, but probably so much they’d insist on supervising.  Not that there was anything wrong with that, except . . . it seemed, sometimes, like something that ought to be private.  Battle magic was one thing, but things like shields, reading each other’s magical defenses, playing their powers off each other, all of it seemed like something that ought to be between them.

    “I was thinking it might be nice not to have to raise and lower the wards at home every day.  There has to be a way to make them more permanent.”  Alan was flipping through the parchment pages, and even from across the picnic blanket Elaine could see the text wavering and rewriting itself as he read.  “The ones at Stonegale House are just Earth Magic, but maybe there’s a way to make your . . . what did you call them?”

    “Sensor net,” she supplied, trying not to sound impatient.  It was easier to think of her ‘orbs’ as simply a very unusual early-warning system, with the energies from the Wind and Water taking the place of sonar or radar.  “Think of it as a paranormal DEW Line.”

    “I’m just going to pretend I understood that reference,” Alan said, flipping more pages.

 
    “And you call yourself a history major.”  She shifted across the blanket, careful not to spill her plate.  “Anything so far?”  While he was distracted, she took the opportunity to grab a chunk of the bread he’d been hoarding.  “Oh, my God . . . .”  The strange mottled crust had a sweet crunch, while the bread beneath was serious bread, no cottony texture here.

    “See?  I’ve never found Dutch crust bread that good outside California.”  Alan paused in his skimming through the book.  “Here’s something.  To me, it says: Anchor points for Earth warding can be natural or created.  Natural wards occur most often in locations of ley line confluences where the powers form natural defenses.   Wards created by Mages are best set by Earth Mages with an established connection to the place they are protecting.”

    “Hm.”  Elaine reached for the book and the words wavered as it revised itself based on the Mage holding it.

 “‘Wind is insubstantial and unsuited for permanent barriers.’  Great, once again, I’m the useless one.  ‘Water may enhance Earth, but is even more subject to natural limitations.’” She grimaced.  “Did I see dessert in that basket?  Because now I’m not just hungry, I’m depressed.”

    “I’m sure it doesn’t mean you’re useless.”  Alan took the book back and the text wavered again.  “I hope having rented for a few months counts as an established connection.  There’s an old rock out in the garden that I’ve always kind of liked.  Maybe that would be a good anchor point.”

    “That you’ve kind of liked?”  Elaine resisted the urge to throw the rest of her bread at him.  “Who likes rocks?”

    Alan, for his part, looked as if he were resisting the urge to stick out his tongue. “It feels old.  The whole house does.  I like living somewhere with a sense of history.”

    “You are such a nerd.”  She could feel a warm, sun-tinged-rock sense of magic building in the air around them.  “What are you doing?”

    “Thought I’d try a temporary barrier here.”  Alan had a slightly distracted expression, his eyes fixed on a vague point some distance away.  “Aren’t you the one saying we can’t be too careful?”

    “When Val isn’t, yes.”  She cast her attention to the Wind and Water curling around them and pushed her ‘net’ farther.  “Not even an invisible vampire that I can see.”

    “He’d be pretty bad at being invisible if you could.”  

    Elaine debated trying to explain exactly how she sensed the vampires when they were in their disembodied state.  Then she decided if he hadn’t figured it out on his own yet, who was she to help him?  “All right, then.”  She spun out the ball of Air and Water until it crackled against the wards of Earth.  “Not that anyone’s eavesdropping, but I suppose practice makes perfect.”

    “It always looks so pretty when you do that,” Alan murmured, or at least she thought that’s what he’d said.  He took another spoonful of the potato salad and took a bite before she decided to ask him to repeat himself.

    “So if you wanted to anchor these to something, any ideas what?”  She went back to rooting in the basket.  There was dessert, which probably shouldn’t have been a surprise–little diamond-shaped pastries glistening with what looked like honey, and a loaf of tea cake that smelled richly of spices and somehow still felt just a bit oven-warm.  She plucked one of the little cakes out, taking a tentative nibble.  The cake itself was not especially sweet, which was nice considering the syrup coating it was intensely honey-flavored, with just the faintest hint of spices she didn’t recognize.  It had been fried instead of baked and there was a slight tang from the olive oil that had been used.  “Yeah, I’m definitely doomed.  These are delicious.”  She could practically hear her mother’s voice admonishing her for her bad manners, but she licked the syrup off her fingers anyway.  

    The flare of Fire arced against the shield and crackled through the Air in her ‘orb’.  She blinked and looked at Alan.  “What?”

    Alan was staring at her, a strangely blank look in eyes and his lips slightly parted.  He blinked, as if he hadn’t been listening to a word she said.  “Sorry.  What did you say?”

    Elaine opened her mouth to say something caustic and stopped herself.  “Just that you ought to try the cookies, or whatever these are.”  She pushed the basket closer to him.  “And I asked about anchoring the shields.”

    “Oh, right.”  He shook his head as if clearing it.  “Well , there’s always the plant life.  Tying it to a tree, it says here, can make basically a self-replenishing focus.  Though, of course, if something happens to the tree, like a lightning strike or blight–“

    ”Or a person with a chainsaw,” Elaine said around another sticky mouthful of the pastry.  

    “Or that, yes.”  Alan actually sounded mildly peeved at being interrupted.  It was oddly charming.  “The whole thing can fall apart.  So things like rocks, better y et rocks buried deep enough they’re not likely to move, are usually a safer choice.”

    “Why not the building itself?  Those are usually stone, or brick made from dirt.  Trees are your territory, too, so wood frames?”  Elaine was only half-teasing, but suddenly she was ducking a fork thrown, not very accurately, at her head.  “Hey!”

    “If you’re not going to take this seriously . . . .”  He grinned, though, and now he reached into the basket for one of the syrupy pastries.  “You’re right,” he said around a mouthful.  “These are delicious.”   He was obviously less shy about being rude, as he apparently didn’t even think twice about licking his fingers clean.  “Sweet, and spicy, too.”

    Elaine tugged uncomfortably at her collar.  The humidity was starting to get bad again.  “If that’s the best you can aim, I’ll definitely have to set up that weapons practice with Val.”

    “Good.  I’ve always wanted to swashbuckle . . . buckle my swash?  Swash my buckle?  How does that work, anyway?”

    Elaine couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped.  Why couldn’t she laugh like something other than an especially girly girl? “I’m not sure, but I  would strongly suggest not asking Nicodemus.  You might give him the wrong idea.”

    Alan pulled a face.  “No fear there.  I’m not sure if I’m more worried he’s joking and he thinks that kind of thing’s funny, or that he’s serious.”

    “How very un-progressive of you.”  She decided that was enough of the honey-covered sweets and tried a slice of the spice cake instead.

    “People can do whatever makes them happy, that’s their right,” Alan said, a bit defensively, “but that doesn’t mean I necessarily want to participate in it.”  He hesitated.  “Besides, ‘happy’ isn’t the vibe I get from him.”

    Elaine grimaced, in spite of the rich taste of the cake.  “I don’t think you’re wrong there.”  She tried not to think about that bite–when the younger vampire’s mind had touched hers, she’d shied away both from the strange manipulative warmth and from the aching, yawning sense of loneliness that she’d felt behind it.  “Anyway, just make sure you’re clear you’re talking about sword fighting.”

    “You aren’t interested?” 

    “In learning to swordfight?”  Elaine raised an eyebrow.  “Not wanting to go swimming is just body hangups.  Swordfighting is like running–I’d love to, but it might be beyond my physical capabilities at the moment.”  She raised her right hand, fighting the unreasonable surge of anger and self-recrimination the curled, scared fingers prompted yet again.   “I’m not even sure I could keep a hold on the hilt and I’m not ambidextrous enough to think about fighting left-handed.”

    “I keep forgetting.”  Finally, though, he didn’t apologize.  “So you get to stick to magic?”

    “And ranged weapons.”  She decided not to use the g-word.  Spring it on him out at the Sinclair place instead, and let him at least get a feel for it.  “Maybe I’ve got enough dexterity left Nadia can teach me to throw knives.”

    “That could be fun, if a little awkward to carry around.”  Alan’s smile faded.  “To be honest?  I’m not sure I’m comfortable with how she just walks through security scanners with half a dozen knives.”

    “As long as we stay on her good side,” Elaine said, half to herself.  “I suspect Val’s the dangerous one even if he went through the metal detector, the body scanner, and agreed to a strip search.”

    “Oh, that does it!”  He tossed a half-eaten slice of the tea bread on his plate.  “Just when I thought I couldn’t lose my appetite . . . and what exactly are you doing thinking about Val naked?”

    “Well, for starters, it was kind of difficult to burn that image from my memory,” she said dryly.  She still suspected that Val had let them, on two days’ acquaintance, barge in on him in the nude mostly to see just how shocked they’d be.  She suspected her own choice, to act as if there was absolutely nothing remarkable about the situation, had earned her more credit in Val’s eyes than Alan’s obvious discomfort.  “What’s gotten into you today?  You’re being strange.”

    “Nothing.”  Alan looked back at the book, but she noticed his eyes didn’t move as if he were reading.  “I probably ought to get back soon.  And we haven’t even made half a dent in this food.”

    “Maybe you should share a bit with your coworkers,” Elaine said, “or we’re going to be eating the leftovers for a week.”

    “I’m hiding the bread,” Alan said, starting to pick up the dishes.  “That I’m going to eat and if they see that it’ll be like fighting off a pack of wolves.”

    “I’m amazed your office isn’t populated by the wheat-free, gluten-free, dairy-free, soy-free, free-range, vegan, non-GMO, macrobiotic–“ She had to dodge a wadded-up napkin this time, thrown with even less accuracy than the fork.  “Not only is this not any of those things, I half-suspect Nadia killed and plucked the chicken for the salad with her bare hands.”

    “Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Alan said.  “She probably used her crossbow.”

    Elaine giggled again.  “So are we sure it was chicken?”

    Alan looked momently horrified, then something flickered in his eyes that might have been devilish.  “Well, if it’s not, it’s the best garbage-eating pigeon I’ve ever tasted.”

    “I’m not going to ask what your basis for comparison is.”  She tucked the napkin in the bottom of the basket.  “Hide those cookies or whatever they are, too.  I’m not so selfless I want to share those.”

    Once again she felt a lapping flicker of Fire and saw that odd look in Alan’s eyes.  “Oh, I’ll make sure to save those for you,” and his voice was odd, too.  

    Elaine decided not to ask.  Let him be strange if he wanted.  At least it made a change from annoyingly likable.  Instead she focused on pacing up the food, keeping the bread and the honey-soaked pastries well tucked away at the bottom of the basket.  Finally there was just the blanket they were sitting on, and she looked across it and sighed.  When she’d moved to get a better look at the book, she’d left her cane out of reach. She debated her options–trying to stand up in a halfway-dignified manner using just her left leg, as she could feel her right hip throbbing from sitting on the ground and it would likely fold.  Rolling on her knees and climbing to her feet would be humiliating but easier.  Then, of course, she could just go with the obvious and completely swallow her pride . . . .

    What had Nico suggested about being more open with Alan?  She sighed.  “Alan, do you mind?”  She held out a hand. “My hip’s acting up and if I try to stand by myself I’ll probably fall on my face.”

    He’d already stood, slinging the attache case that he mostly used to hide the book of magic in these days over his shoulder.  For a moment, she thought he was going to refuse–he had an expression that suggested he suspected a trap.  But he held out his hand, and she reached up with her left and let him pull her to her feet.  

    Her hip and knee did protest, and her right leg buckled, threatening to send her tumbling back down.  Alan grabbed for her waist with his free hand, his grip on her left tightening and he overcompensated, sending her stumbling into him.  Both arms went around her, steadying them and holding her still until she had her balance back.

    The rush of heat hit her like walking through a blast furnace. Wind and Water flared in response, coiling around them both and sliding against her skin like silk.  Besides the Fire, she felt that solid, sun-warming-stone Earth Magic, grounding them both.  She could still feel the shields around them, and the noise of the Mall was damped down like hearing through water. Alan’s eyes widened, but he didn’t let go and despite having her feet back under her Elaine realized she didn’t especially want him to.  He was staring down at her, his changeable eyes storm-cloud gray, but somehow still bright.  She could feel his heart beating against her body, and even though his hands were steady she could feel him trembling.

    Oh.  That’s what’s gotten into him, she thought absently.  He was staring so intently she couldn’t keep meeting his gaze, not least because she couldn’t conceive that at this distance he wasn’t looking predominantly at the scars cobwebbed across her right temple and down her neck.  Looking down was a mistake, though, because that meant she was looking at his mouth, and that meant, whether she wanted or not, she remembered that now-or-never kiss when he was half convinced they were going to die.  Worse, there was the afternoon before, sitting on a bench not far from where they stood now, when if Nadia hadn’t intervened . . . interrupted .  . . .

    “Elaine?”  Alan wasn’t quite whispering, but she doubted anyone could have heard him any farther away than she was.  

    “Well.”  Definitely too close.  Not only could she smell the (piney, subtle) aftershave he wore so clearly she suspected the scent was going to cling to her skin and clothes, the way their magics were curling around each other was not pleasant.  Or too much so.  Water sank into Earth, Wind was doing far too good a job fanning the warmth Fire generated.  “I guess that’s what they mean about our powers complimenting each other.”

    Alan didn’t relax his grip and she realized she was relaxing into it.  “Seems so.”  He was still looking at her, head tilted just slightly inquisitively.  

    “So.”  She debated convincing herself the shortness of breath was just the effort of standing up and dismissed that as too unbelievable even for her.  “You know, I’ve got my balance back.”

    He closed his eyes, and if Elaine weren’t sure he’d said he was agnostic, she’d have thought he was praying.  When he opened them again, his mouth quirked in a smile.  “Do I have to spell it out for you?”

 
    Something about that rankled, and she knew it showed in her expression.  “You know, maybe you should,” and she knew it sounded acerbic, too.  “I keep being informed I can be dense about some things.”

    “Well, I have been informed I could be more assertive sometimes, so . . . .”  

    She closed her eyes as his lips brushed hers, much more suitable to a first kiss than that burning do-or-die moment the night they went to the cemetery.  A warmth like glowing embers flushed across her skin, along with a sensation of humid sea air, scented with fresh-mown grass dried in the sun.  If she opened her eyes, she expected all the colors of their magics would be brilliant around them so she kept her eyes closed.  Last time it had only been shock that kept her from pushing him away, and her hands were again pressed against his chest.  This time she let her hands slide up, not quite around his neck but enough to let him know not to pull away.  Alan’s arms tightened, gently, keeping her close without deepening the kiss but without lightening it either.  It was breathing each other in, hesitant, experimental tastes, without the stunning fireworks imminent death had sparked before.

    He was the one to finally draw back, just a little, enough for her to catch her breath.  The noise around them still seemed muffled, and an absent check showed Alan’s temporary wards were still in place, stronger, even.  He was looking down at her, his expression somehow more inquisitive, not less.  “That was . . . .”  He paused a long moment, but she didn’t have the impression he was fumbling for words.  Contemplating, maybe.  “Educational.”

     Elaine was relieved to have something to seize on that wasn’t the issue at hand.  “‘Educational’ is the best you can do?  No wonder I haven’t been cramping your style.  Your style is ‘awkward.’”

    Alan wasn’t going to be diverted.  “Informative?”

    “It’s a good thing I’m not a romantic.”  She pushed him back, but not roughly.  “Most women would have preferred something a little sweeter.”

    “I’m right, though, aren’t I?”  Alan shook out the picnic blanket as Elaine hobbled a few feet to retrieve her cane.  “Go ahead and tell me you’ve ever felt anything like that.”

    She bought herself a few seconds stretching her right leg, the pins and needles gradually being replaced by more familiar aches and pains.  “I’d be lying.  Now ask me what I think it means.”

    “No.  Because I haven’t sorted that out either.”  He hefted the basket with substantially less effort.  “I’m going to give it a lot of thought, though.”

    “Good, because so will I.”  Probably far more than she ought.  Hopefully Val had been telling the truth when he said he couldn’t read her mind.  “What about . . . .?”  She set the ‘orb’ of gold and blue within the shields rattling.

 
    “Oh.  Well, I suppose leaving it up would be silly.  And a great big calling card for anyone who came by that’s like our ‘friend’,” and Elaine almost kissed him again for the signs of developing situational awareness. He closed his eyes for a moment, and she felt the Earth energy sink away, almost reluctant to go.  Elaine had the absurd impression of a master patting his dog on the head as he sent it to its kennel for the night.  “That takes care of that.  Now I really do have to get back, or we’re going to have the very mundane problem of how to pay the rent if I get fired.”

    “I think you’d have to do something a lot more obnoxious than be five minutes late for them to can you,” Elaine said.  The world seemed to be righting itself and even though it suddenly seemed very loud without the wards, it was almost a relief.  “In any case, there’s my pension, my parents have money, and if you haven’t noticed I suspect Val, Nadia, and Nico are rich.  No one’s going to let us starve.”

 
    “I’d rather work than make you use your pension for my rent, or ask anyone else for help.”  That was something she hadn’t really noticed in him before, either-a genuine flare of wounded pride.

    “I do live there too, you know.”  Still, she’d been nice enough for one day, she thought.  “Not very progressive of you.”

    “I have a well-hidden reactionary streak.”  He glanced over his shoulder toward the Capitol, and the office buildings beyond.  “I really do have to go,” and suddenly his posture reminded her of a very abashed schoolboy, practically tracing arcs in the dirt with his toe.  He glanced up at her as if he was waiting for something.

    The impulse that seized her was half warmly sincere, half impish, and Elaine wasn’t sure which part was more bizarre.  In any case, she couldn’t help it.  “Have a good afternoon at work.”  And she gave him the sort of rapid peck on the cheek her mother had given her father every morning she could remember when she sent him out the door.  Alan looked much more dazed than her father ever had, though, and she took the opportunity to escape across the Mall, as jauntily as her cane and aching leg would allow.