[ She likes it when he smiles, truth be told, even if he never really smiles at her. When Crane smiles it's at the floor, at his hands, out the window. His smiles skirt the edges of the room, but very rarely find center in her gaze and she's okay with that, she supposes.
The corners of her mouth twitch again, more definitely this time, and Kathleen shrugs loosely. ] We are in the desert. Ice cream would be apt.
And get one of those squeezy bottles full of chocolate or caramel. I don't care what kind, you pick. [ She goes quiet for a moment and then presses her lips together hopefully.] That almost sounds like a treat, right?
[His lips are pressed pleasantly in return, watching the way Kathleen's expression allows a little bit of what he wants to give her (--I'm sorry it's not enough--) before he looks away with a nod and registers her words.]
I could make pancakes again. [The first and last time he'd tried had been a disaster, but Crane was never made to give up easily. For better or for worse.] Oh-! [he points, writing before the brilliant reminder is revealed:] Soda.
You could make pancakes again, [ she says and her voice lifts in what could only be described as rueful amusement. Yes, his foray into making pancakes had most certainly been a disaster, but Crane had insisted and Kathleen tries very hard not to tell him no unless it's completely necessary. ] Or you could just buy one of those boxes of the pre-mix stuff and I could try my hand for once.
[ Little known fact but Kathleen used to be a whiz in the kitchen. These days she sometimes forgets to eat. Funny, how life changes things.
Her attention turns back out towards the window and the flat, dried-out landscape beyond. Kathleen's quiet for a long time, but then she finally asks: ] Think there'll be a lot of people at the store?
[ She doesn't go out. Not unless she has to. She doesn't like being around people, because she knows she can hurt them. But sometimes, for Crane, she tries. It doesn't mean she succeeds by any stretch of the imagine, but she tries.
You could teach me. [he's excited by the prospect. Learning, being useful, treating Kathleen to a little something. Crane is ready to stand up, folding the list to slip it in his pocket when she continues, brows arched when he looks at her.]
It's practically empty at night. Like, half an hour before it closes?
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The corners of her mouth twitch again, more definitely this time, and Kathleen shrugs loosely. ] We are in the desert. Ice cream would be apt.
And get one of those squeezy bottles full of chocolate or caramel. I don't care what kind, you pick. [ She goes quiet for a moment and then presses her lips together hopefully.] That almost sounds like a treat, right?
[ (I want you to be happy. I'm sorry.) ]
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I could make pancakes again. [The first and last time he'd tried had been a disaster, but Crane was never made to give up easily. For better or for worse.] Oh-! [he points, writing before the brilliant reminder is revealed:] Soda.
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[ Little known fact but Kathleen used to be a whiz in the kitchen. These days she sometimes forgets to eat. Funny, how life changes things.
Her attention turns back out towards the window and the flat, dried-out landscape beyond. Kathleen's quiet for a long time, but then she finally asks: ] Think there'll be a lot of people at the store?
[ She doesn't go out. Not unless she has to. She doesn't like being around people, because she knows she can hurt them. But sometimes, for Crane, she tries. It doesn't mean she succeeds by any stretch of the imagine, but she tries.
She tries really really hard. ]
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It's practically empty at night. Like, half an hour before it closes?