Post by kezizi on May 1, 2012 23:36:36 GMT -5
Hey! ^^
Hm, well...I just wrote a fanfiction that I'll post here. I'm currently trying to figure out how to put written stuff on DeviantArt (which I can't figure out at all -_-
Anybody who can tell me how I'd be very grateful ^^;
I'd love to hear comments and suggestions about this story.
AMIP: Night Gift
The moon was high over Paris, washing over the rooftops and the crooked chimneys; leaving the streets in deep shadow. The city, elegant by daylight, was at night an entirely different world. One that was harsh and eerie. Mist crawled between the tallest buildings in a pale, drifting haze.
In the quiet, something stirred.
Something not human.
Silent as a ghost, a dark form appeared, creeping up the sloping side of a tiled roof. Its silhouette against the moonlight was monstrous; a hunched-over creature with spines bursting from the back of its tattered coat. Its face was that of an insect, with mandibles on either side of its sharp jaw. Warily, the creature turned its head to look around, enormous glowing eyes like smoldering embers piercing the gloom.
It continued to creep forward, looking carefully around. Then it crouched, and leaped. The dark form hurtled into the air, impossibly high. Many rooftops away it landed lightly on its feet, silently as a dove alighting on a branch. It kept looking around, scanning its surroundings until its gaze rested finally upon what it sought.
It went toward the window, leaned close against it. Crooked white teeth gleamed as the creature grinned. It hunched over, close...closer...
And then deftly began to pluck geraniums out of a window-box, one by one. Smiling, the monster gathered them up, lifted them to his face. The smell was wonderful. He chittered contentedly, sizing up his bounty.
It was then that the ear-splitting shriek sounded from the other side of the glass. A woman crouching in her bed was looking up at the ghastly being perched on her windowsill. The creature flailed all four of its arms, flowers flying everywhere. He fell off the sill and crash-landed on a balcony a couple stories below.
Oh, no. Francoeur thought, as he looked nervously up at the window he had fallen from. His eyes were wide. Screams still rang out from the room, although muffled. He crouched and pressed against the wall, hiding in the shadows.
Ah, the flowers! I dropped them all! He thought with regret. He peered over the edge of the balcony, trying to see where they could have fallen. Perhaps he could retrieve them. As lights began to come on inside the building, however, he shrank back. No, someone would see him. I’ll have to find flowers elsewhere, he decided.
Sizing up his trajectory, he leapt once again into the night.
He was supposed to be lying low, he knew. He was supposed to be in the room set up for him at the cabaret. But here he was, leaping over rooftops, trying not to scare innocent Parisians.
Perhaps this was a bad idea after all...he thought dejectedly, as he looked out over a darkened street, two of his arms wrapped around a chimney stack. No doubt it was stupid of him. All the unwanted attention, all the headlines and rumours and fear-mongering around the Monster in Paris was finally beginning to die down. Now here he was; the monster was back. He crouched down, frowning at his long, spiked limbs and at the threadbare coat that barely concealed them. His scarf fluttered in the night wind.
Well...I couldn’t very well go wandering around tonight in the white suit and mask, he thought reasonably. That wondrous disguise was the only thing which fooled the world into believing he was human. Lurking around the city and leaping over rooftops...that was the job of a monster, hence his current attire.
Where can I possibly find flowers at this time of night? Francoeur wondered. Where do people get them from? At the moment, he was merely wandering around aimlessly. Hoping that the next place he landed would give him a clue of what to do.
Once again he jumped; leg muscles bunching together and then letting loose with a powerful spring. Quicker than a blink he was high in the air, the wind whistling loudly around him. The city below was obscured by wisps of fog, and the moon was bright above him. Soon enough the city rose up to meet him and he landed on a decorated ledge above a window. How he missed the freedom of movement!
He had really missed leaping around like the flea that he was. Pretending to be human was difficult. Difficult but necessary. Standing straight in the white suit with his legs fully extended made them ache after a while. Walking that way used muscles he didn’t even know he had, and which burned terribly by the end of the day. He hoped it would get less awkward over time. Walking wasn’t a thing like dancing, which came easily to him—and which made him feel as free as though he were soaring high in mid-leap.
He looked below, and saw a wide expanse of grass and pavement dotted with many odd, stone figures. In the center of a large square was a basin with a high jet of water shooting up from its center. A few people wandered the area, couples walking arm in arm, or relaxing on benches. Francoeur then smelled something mesmerizingly sweet, the scent of many blooms wafting on the breeze.
Aha! He could see, planted in neat borders around the square, many beds of flowers. He let out a satisfied chirp and leaped deftly to the ground, where he quickly hid himself behind a large statue. Peering around the carved base, he sized up the situation. How to get close to the flowers without anyone seeing him?
I’ll just have to be very quick, he decided. He watched and waited, making sure no one was looking in his direction. And then he sprang forward, dodging behind the next large statue. He dropped low, kept still. So far, so good! No alarmed screams rang out, no gasps of horror. He saw in front of him a small group of people passing close by. He crouched down and stayed quiet, waiting for them to leave.
Once the coast was clear he darted out into the open a second time. This time, someone screamed. Panicked, Francoeur dove for the nearest cover he could find and ended up landing in a large bush. Branches cracked and leaves flew everywhere. Outside somewhere, a man’s voice was jabbering fearfully to his companions.
“Did you see that?! Something moved! It was huge! Right-right over there!” The voice was squeaky and breathless, the man’s arm gesturing vaguely.
One of his companions answered him. “Quoi? You saw something? Where?”
“I don’t see anything.” Another added.
“It was right THERE...” the first man whined.
His friend laughed. “Oh, my. What was it? Could it be the monster?”
Both of the other men chuckled.
“Maybe—I—I don’t know!” the scared man said, although he now sounded more irritated than scared.
“Don’t you know that the whole ‘monster’ thing was a sham, anyway?”
“Oh, absolutely. The entire thing was a scheme by commissioner Maynott, or so I’ve heard. Trying to scare people so they’d think he was some kind of hero.”
“Trying to get votes.”
“Exactement, mon ami.”
“Oh...” the scared man said, now sounding uncertain. “Well, if that’s the case then...but mon dieu, I could’ve sworn...”
The voices then drifted away, and Francoeur let out a breath of relief.
He moved gingerly, and lifted his head until it poked partway out of the bush. Anyone else around?
There was no one close by. All the other people strolling in the square were a good distance away. He continued to peer around, and saw with delight that the bush he currently occupied was smack beside a long bed of flowers. His head ducked down again.
At that time, anyone looking in this general direction would have been met with a curious sight, as the bush suddenly sprouted four long limbs and started tearing up flowers with great urgency. Then the limbs retracted back into the leaves, struggling with a great swathe of blooms so huge that the bush couldn’t absorb it. The bouquet jiggled and shook back and forth: marigolds, zinnias, black-eyed susans, lisianthus... The flower bed was now left with a large, quite conspicuous bald spot.
Francoeur gave up the hopeless task of pulling his bouquet back into the bush and instead stood up. Trying to appear casual, he stepped out of the tangle of branches. Hiding his face behind the great heap of flowers he stepped along the garden path, humming a cheerful, oh-so-casual tune.
He couldn’t see where he was going and so accidently bumped into a young couple walking in the other direction. Chirping an apology, he skirted around them, and then quickly scuttled out of sight. The young man and woman stared in curiosity at the large, moving bouquet; luckily not noticing anything else about the odd man who had stumbled into them.
Francoeur now stood around the corner of an alleyway, out of the light. He shifted the large bouquet, trying to see past it and decide what to do next.
It needs to be wrapped in something...he realized suddenly. What to wrap it in? Some kind of paper? Where do I find paper? He wondered. He leaned against the brick wall, feeling stumped.
His back brushed against something that crinkled. Spinning around, he noticed that plastered to the wall was a large poster for the cabaret, The Rare Bird. A picture of him and Lucille featured prominently in the center.
Perfect! He chirped gleefully.
He carefully peeled the poster off the wall with his two lower arms, then used it to lovingly wrap the unwieldy pile of flowers. Finally, he tugged a loose strip of cloth from his coat and used it to tie everything together.
He nodded, satisfied with the results.
And now, it was time to deliver his gift.
* * *
Lucille sighed and rolled over in her bed, unable to sleep. She didn’t know why she didn’t drift right off, she certainly felt tired enough. It had been a long and busy day, and she was quite glad now that it was over.
She puffed her pillow, adjusted her bedding. She laid her head down again and tried to ignore the slight headache throbbing at her temples. She closed her eyes, tried breathing slowly and evenly...
It was then that she thought she heard a scuffling noise coming from somewhere outside. Her eyes closed tighter, and she pulled her bedspread up to her ears. Was it just her imagination?
But no...there was definitely some kind of noise. It sounded like something scratching against brick. The sound slowly got louder, closer...and then stopped completely.
She remembered then that she’d left the window open.
Lucille sat up in bed and turned around.
A great black shape hung outside her window, massive orange eyes blazing.
She screamed.
The creature on the other side of the window leaped back, its own eyes going wide. Then it fell over and disappeared out of sight.
Lucille sprang up, switching on her bedside lamp as she did. She bolted over to the window, her heart racing fiercely. She saw immediately that on the desk before the window there was a large, bulky shape of colorful—
Flowers?
She paused, suddenly confused. In the lamplight, the enormous bundle of flowers was vividly hued and brilliant. They were beautiful...if arranged rather chaotically. Roots with clumps of dirt poked out of the other side of the wrapping.
Tenderly, she picked up the bundle, quietly admiring it. It was so big that she could barely handle it. The room was awash with a wonderful, floral smell.
Then she noticed that the wrapping was not simply a colored pattern but that there was an image on it. She moved her hand and saw underneath her and Francoeur standing together, the both of them smiling at the camera. ...It was the poster advertising The Rare Bird.
The bouquet left her hands as Lucille scrambled up on top of the desk, poking her head out the window. She looked around, but could see nothing in the blackness.
“Francoeur!” she called out into the night, her hands cupped around her mouth. Squinting around, she wondered if he had left already. She felt terrible now for scaring him. She must have scared him by screaming so suddenly as she did.
A dreadful thought arose as she continued to look without seeing. What if she had hurt him? There were so many people who believed he was a monster, who looked at him only to start screaming. And now she, his good friend, his first friend, had just done the same! Her heart felt heavy and wounded at this thought, and she was startled to realize that tears had crept into her voice as she called out.
Her eyes were beginning to get used to the darkness. She could now see the grand maze of rooftops spread out before her, stark against the pale moon-glow. Her delicate hands slowly dropped from her face.
There came a sweet, trilling chirp off to her side.
Startled, she spun around. Francoeur was crouched against the brick wall, balancing easily on a narrow ledge. His tattered clothes fluttering in the gentle breeze, his hat perched somewhat askew atop his head.
“Francoeur!” Lucille gasped softly. Her heart floated.
He was looking at her with his enormous, glowing eyes. Amber lanterns in the darkness. Where other people would have seen the stare of an unnatural creature, she saw far, far more in those eyes. How could other people not see the deep, honest expressions, the quiet intelligence, the passion of an artist?
Right now those eyes were full of gentle concern. No fear, no pain or sadness—Lucille was very relieved to see. Francoeur lightly stepped along the ledge, came closer to her. He reached out a thin, three-fingered hand to softly brush her cheek.
His eyes were asking her if she was alright. Lucille smiled, feeling something warm and lovely envelop her. She reached up and took his hand in hers, still holding it against her cheek.
What am I doing? She asked herself suddenly. Startling herself, she looked up. She felt strangely embarrassed. Slowly she began to edge off the desk, leading Francoeur by his hand toward her room.
“Would you like to come inside?” she asked him.
He smiled at her, and then glanced at the window. When he looked back at her his eyes held some humor.
“Oh!” Lucille realized. She sized up the petite window, realizing quickly that there was no way he would possibly fit through. She blushed a little, and Francoeur gave a small grin in response.
Laughing, she still held his hand in hers. She remembered the giant bouquet lying on the desk.
“Francoeur...I do not know why you are out this late...and in those clothes...” Lucille murmured.
His expression turned suddenly guilty, and there was a chirp low in his throat. She had to struggle not to laugh again.
Smiling sweetly, she bent toward him. Her eyes were playful. She stooped forward until her damp brow brushed his smooth, cool one. For a moment she closed her eyes, simply enjoying the sensation of being so near to him, his low, trilling sounds calming her heart. For his part, Francoeur wondered what she was doing, feeling amused and intrigued as well as painfully hyper-aware of everything around him. He didn’t want to move; didn’t want to break this lovely moment.
“Merci... for the flowers.” Lucille whispered softly, in the intimate space between them.
Then she tipped her head forward and kissed him tenderly on the mouth.
Hm, well...I just wrote a fanfiction that I'll post here. I'm currently trying to figure out how to put written stuff on DeviantArt (which I can't figure out at all -_-
Anybody who can tell me how I'd be very grateful ^^;I'd love to hear comments and suggestions about this story.
AMIP: Night Gift
The moon was high over Paris, washing over the rooftops and the crooked chimneys; leaving the streets in deep shadow. The city, elegant by daylight, was at night an entirely different world. One that was harsh and eerie. Mist crawled between the tallest buildings in a pale, drifting haze.
In the quiet, something stirred.
Something not human.
Silent as a ghost, a dark form appeared, creeping up the sloping side of a tiled roof. Its silhouette against the moonlight was monstrous; a hunched-over creature with spines bursting from the back of its tattered coat. Its face was that of an insect, with mandibles on either side of its sharp jaw. Warily, the creature turned its head to look around, enormous glowing eyes like smoldering embers piercing the gloom.
It continued to creep forward, looking carefully around. Then it crouched, and leaped. The dark form hurtled into the air, impossibly high. Many rooftops away it landed lightly on its feet, silently as a dove alighting on a branch. It kept looking around, scanning its surroundings until its gaze rested finally upon what it sought.
It went toward the window, leaned close against it. Crooked white teeth gleamed as the creature grinned. It hunched over, close...closer...
And then deftly began to pluck geraniums out of a window-box, one by one. Smiling, the monster gathered them up, lifted them to his face. The smell was wonderful. He chittered contentedly, sizing up his bounty.
It was then that the ear-splitting shriek sounded from the other side of the glass. A woman crouching in her bed was looking up at the ghastly being perched on her windowsill. The creature flailed all four of its arms, flowers flying everywhere. He fell off the sill and crash-landed on a balcony a couple stories below.
Oh, no. Francoeur thought, as he looked nervously up at the window he had fallen from. His eyes were wide. Screams still rang out from the room, although muffled. He crouched and pressed against the wall, hiding in the shadows.
Ah, the flowers! I dropped them all! He thought with regret. He peered over the edge of the balcony, trying to see where they could have fallen. Perhaps he could retrieve them. As lights began to come on inside the building, however, he shrank back. No, someone would see him. I’ll have to find flowers elsewhere, he decided.
Sizing up his trajectory, he leapt once again into the night.
He was supposed to be lying low, he knew. He was supposed to be in the room set up for him at the cabaret. But here he was, leaping over rooftops, trying not to scare innocent Parisians.
Perhaps this was a bad idea after all...he thought dejectedly, as he looked out over a darkened street, two of his arms wrapped around a chimney stack. No doubt it was stupid of him. All the unwanted attention, all the headlines and rumours and fear-mongering around the Monster in Paris was finally beginning to die down. Now here he was; the monster was back. He crouched down, frowning at his long, spiked limbs and at the threadbare coat that barely concealed them. His scarf fluttered in the night wind.
Well...I couldn’t very well go wandering around tonight in the white suit and mask, he thought reasonably. That wondrous disguise was the only thing which fooled the world into believing he was human. Lurking around the city and leaping over rooftops...that was the job of a monster, hence his current attire.
Where can I possibly find flowers at this time of night? Francoeur wondered. Where do people get them from? At the moment, he was merely wandering around aimlessly. Hoping that the next place he landed would give him a clue of what to do.
Once again he jumped; leg muscles bunching together and then letting loose with a powerful spring. Quicker than a blink he was high in the air, the wind whistling loudly around him. The city below was obscured by wisps of fog, and the moon was bright above him. Soon enough the city rose up to meet him and he landed on a decorated ledge above a window. How he missed the freedom of movement!
He had really missed leaping around like the flea that he was. Pretending to be human was difficult. Difficult but necessary. Standing straight in the white suit with his legs fully extended made them ache after a while. Walking that way used muscles he didn’t even know he had, and which burned terribly by the end of the day. He hoped it would get less awkward over time. Walking wasn’t a thing like dancing, which came easily to him—and which made him feel as free as though he were soaring high in mid-leap.
He looked below, and saw a wide expanse of grass and pavement dotted with many odd, stone figures. In the center of a large square was a basin with a high jet of water shooting up from its center. A few people wandered the area, couples walking arm in arm, or relaxing on benches. Francoeur then smelled something mesmerizingly sweet, the scent of many blooms wafting on the breeze.
Aha! He could see, planted in neat borders around the square, many beds of flowers. He let out a satisfied chirp and leaped deftly to the ground, where he quickly hid himself behind a large statue. Peering around the carved base, he sized up the situation. How to get close to the flowers without anyone seeing him?
I’ll just have to be very quick, he decided. He watched and waited, making sure no one was looking in his direction. And then he sprang forward, dodging behind the next large statue. He dropped low, kept still. So far, so good! No alarmed screams rang out, no gasps of horror. He saw in front of him a small group of people passing close by. He crouched down and stayed quiet, waiting for them to leave.
Once the coast was clear he darted out into the open a second time. This time, someone screamed. Panicked, Francoeur dove for the nearest cover he could find and ended up landing in a large bush. Branches cracked and leaves flew everywhere. Outside somewhere, a man’s voice was jabbering fearfully to his companions.
“Did you see that?! Something moved! It was huge! Right-right over there!” The voice was squeaky and breathless, the man’s arm gesturing vaguely.
One of his companions answered him. “Quoi? You saw something? Where?”
“I don’t see anything.” Another added.
“It was right THERE...” the first man whined.
His friend laughed. “Oh, my. What was it? Could it be the monster?”
Both of the other men chuckled.
“Maybe—I—I don’t know!” the scared man said, although he now sounded more irritated than scared.
“Don’t you know that the whole ‘monster’ thing was a sham, anyway?”
“Oh, absolutely. The entire thing was a scheme by commissioner Maynott, or so I’ve heard. Trying to scare people so they’d think he was some kind of hero.”
“Trying to get votes.”
“Exactement, mon ami.”
“Oh...” the scared man said, now sounding uncertain. “Well, if that’s the case then...but mon dieu, I could’ve sworn...”
The voices then drifted away, and Francoeur let out a breath of relief.
He moved gingerly, and lifted his head until it poked partway out of the bush. Anyone else around?
There was no one close by. All the other people strolling in the square were a good distance away. He continued to peer around, and saw with delight that the bush he currently occupied was smack beside a long bed of flowers. His head ducked down again.
At that time, anyone looking in this general direction would have been met with a curious sight, as the bush suddenly sprouted four long limbs and started tearing up flowers with great urgency. Then the limbs retracted back into the leaves, struggling with a great swathe of blooms so huge that the bush couldn’t absorb it. The bouquet jiggled and shook back and forth: marigolds, zinnias, black-eyed susans, lisianthus... The flower bed was now left with a large, quite conspicuous bald spot.
Francoeur gave up the hopeless task of pulling his bouquet back into the bush and instead stood up. Trying to appear casual, he stepped out of the tangle of branches. Hiding his face behind the great heap of flowers he stepped along the garden path, humming a cheerful, oh-so-casual tune.
He couldn’t see where he was going and so accidently bumped into a young couple walking in the other direction. Chirping an apology, he skirted around them, and then quickly scuttled out of sight. The young man and woman stared in curiosity at the large, moving bouquet; luckily not noticing anything else about the odd man who had stumbled into them.
Francoeur now stood around the corner of an alleyway, out of the light. He shifted the large bouquet, trying to see past it and decide what to do next.
It needs to be wrapped in something...he realized suddenly. What to wrap it in? Some kind of paper? Where do I find paper? He wondered. He leaned against the brick wall, feeling stumped.
His back brushed against something that crinkled. Spinning around, he noticed that plastered to the wall was a large poster for the cabaret, The Rare Bird. A picture of him and Lucille featured prominently in the center.
Perfect! He chirped gleefully.
He carefully peeled the poster off the wall with his two lower arms, then used it to lovingly wrap the unwieldy pile of flowers. Finally, he tugged a loose strip of cloth from his coat and used it to tie everything together.
He nodded, satisfied with the results.
And now, it was time to deliver his gift.
* * *
Lucille sighed and rolled over in her bed, unable to sleep. She didn’t know why she didn’t drift right off, she certainly felt tired enough. It had been a long and busy day, and she was quite glad now that it was over.
She puffed her pillow, adjusted her bedding. She laid her head down again and tried to ignore the slight headache throbbing at her temples. She closed her eyes, tried breathing slowly and evenly...
It was then that she thought she heard a scuffling noise coming from somewhere outside. Her eyes closed tighter, and she pulled her bedspread up to her ears. Was it just her imagination?
But no...there was definitely some kind of noise. It sounded like something scratching against brick. The sound slowly got louder, closer...and then stopped completely.
She remembered then that she’d left the window open.
Lucille sat up in bed and turned around.
A great black shape hung outside her window, massive orange eyes blazing.
She screamed.
The creature on the other side of the window leaped back, its own eyes going wide. Then it fell over and disappeared out of sight.
Lucille sprang up, switching on her bedside lamp as she did. She bolted over to the window, her heart racing fiercely. She saw immediately that on the desk before the window there was a large, bulky shape of colorful—
Flowers?
She paused, suddenly confused. In the lamplight, the enormous bundle of flowers was vividly hued and brilliant. They were beautiful...if arranged rather chaotically. Roots with clumps of dirt poked out of the other side of the wrapping.
Tenderly, she picked up the bundle, quietly admiring it. It was so big that she could barely handle it. The room was awash with a wonderful, floral smell.
Then she noticed that the wrapping was not simply a colored pattern but that there was an image on it. She moved her hand and saw underneath her and Francoeur standing together, the both of them smiling at the camera. ...It was the poster advertising The Rare Bird.
The bouquet left her hands as Lucille scrambled up on top of the desk, poking her head out the window. She looked around, but could see nothing in the blackness.
“Francoeur!” she called out into the night, her hands cupped around her mouth. Squinting around, she wondered if he had left already. She felt terrible now for scaring him. She must have scared him by screaming so suddenly as she did.
A dreadful thought arose as she continued to look without seeing. What if she had hurt him? There were so many people who believed he was a monster, who looked at him only to start screaming. And now she, his good friend, his first friend, had just done the same! Her heart felt heavy and wounded at this thought, and she was startled to realize that tears had crept into her voice as she called out.
Her eyes were beginning to get used to the darkness. She could now see the grand maze of rooftops spread out before her, stark against the pale moon-glow. Her delicate hands slowly dropped from her face.
There came a sweet, trilling chirp off to her side.
Startled, she spun around. Francoeur was crouched against the brick wall, balancing easily on a narrow ledge. His tattered clothes fluttering in the gentle breeze, his hat perched somewhat askew atop his head.
“Francoeur!” Lucille gasped softly. Her heart floated.
He was looking at her with his enormous, glowing eyes. Amber lanterns in the darkness. Where other people would have seen the stare of an unnatural creature, she saw far, far more in those eyes. How could other people not see the deep, honest expressions, the quiet intelligence, the passion of an artist?
Right now those eyes were full of gentle concern. No fear, no pain or sadness—Lucille was very relieved to see. Francoeur lightly stepped along the ledge, came closer to her. He reached out a thin, three-fingered hand to softly brush her cheek.
His eyes were asking her if she was alright. Lucille smiled, feeling something warm and lovely envelop her. She reached up and took his hand in hers, still holding it against her cheek.
What am I doing? She asked herself suddenly. Startling herself, she looked up. She felt strangely embarrassed. Slowly she began to edge off the desk, leading Francoeur by his hand toward her room.
“Would you like to come inside?” she asked him.
He smiled at her, and then glanced at the window. When he looked back at her his eyes held some humor.
“Oh!” Lucille realized. She sized up the petite window, realizing quickly that there was no way he would possibly fit through. She blushed a little, and Francoeur gave a small grin in response.
Laughing, she still held his hand in hers. She remembered the giant bouquet lying on the desk.
“Francoeur...I do not know why you are out this late...and in those clothes...” Lucille murmured.
His expression turned suddenly guilty, and there was a chirp low in his throat. She had to struggle not to laugh again.
Smiling sweetly, she bent toward him. Her eyes were playful. She stooped forward until her damp brow brushed his smooth, cool one. For a moment she closed her eyes, simply enjoying the sensation of being so near to him, his low, trilling sounds calming her heart. For his part, Francoeur wondered what she was doing, feeling amused and intrigued as well as painfully hyper-aware of everything around him. He didn’t want to move; didn’t want to break this lovely moment.
“Merci... for the flowers.” Lucille whispered softly, in the intimate space between them.
Then she tipped her head forward and kissed him tenderly on the mouth.