Nobody is smart but Daryl Hockney (the_automaton) wrote in musingslogs, @ 2011-05-25 16:57:00 |
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Entry tags: | moriarty, sherlock holmes |
Who: Adam and Daryl
What: Meeting up Again
Where: A resort in Florida
When: Last Saturday
Warnings: They're a young, engaged couple that haven't seen one another in over 2 weeks. Come on now. (Nothing explicit, but there is some staring and glossed-over naughty thoughts.)
With a sigh, Daryl adjusted her sunglasses. Despite the fact that she had carefully arranged two beach umbrellas to completely shade her body from the sun, Florida’s oppressive humidity still teased sweat from every gland on the surface of her skin. It lead to a slippery nose that acted like a ski slope for the nosepiece of her sunglasses, encouraging them to slip and slide down to the very tip. She let out a small sigh of annoyance as she returned the glasses to their proper place, turning a page of her book as she did so.
To say that the last few weeks had been tense would have been an understatement. Still riding the wave of fear created by meeting - and being tortured by - the Night Terror, she was promptly sent to the east coast to give a series of lectures at several southeastern universities. This was a favor for an old professor and his colleagues, the pay hardly worth her presence. But more and more, Daryl was coming to appreciate the importance of exchange in human goods. She had always appreciated the concept of balance, but balance to her had always been physical measurements. Services never factored into it. But now, she could understand that a speech was worth something on a level beyond its duration.
She reached out blindly, her fingers finding the cool sides of her wine glass. It was barely noon, the sun still rising in the sky. The pool was largely vacant, save for a small cluster of friends paddling about in the shallow end. Their collective ages must have had a mean of 32, with a standard deviation of no more than 3. They were close in age, she could tell by posture and the familiarity with which they spoke to one another. These were people that knew each other intimately, people that had been friends for years. The phenomenon of close friendships had always eluded her in some way, though now she found it a bit less daunting. Taking a sip of her wine, she looked back to her book.
The area was quiet, fairly undisturbed. It made his footsteps easy for her to hear, though she didn’t look up. The broad brim of her sun hat shielded her face as she turned away, crossing one leg carefully over the other. Even in the shade, it was far too hot for her to consider wearing proper clothing. Her red swimsuit had been purchased here, in Florida, without Adam’s knowledge. Daryl had been quite hesitant to wear anything with more than one piece, but the sales associate had introduced her to the ridiculously named “tankini” – she liked that very much.
A light smirk pulled at her lips as she heard him draw closer, the sound of his weight distribution familiar. Still intent on her book, she turned a page, reaching out for her glass of wine once more.