Re: Dock: Clementine & Declan
[He would not force her to own to crying. She could surely deny it with both hands on the Bible, without a blink to clue anyone the wiser. Declan thought that such a thing was one benefit of being a Murphy. The echo of tears, the way it irritated skin, was obvious to him, but he wasn't going to push her on the whys. She'd already given him that answer. Declan didn't believe that he'd ever seen her so visibly upset, as this was more serious than any tears over broken toys in their youth. He might have continued being difficult if it wasn't for that, but now wasn't the time to feign annoyance over her proximity.]
Come're. [And he snagged her around the waist with both arms, pulling her onto his good knee in the rarity of a hug. He'd been sitting on one of the deep set wooden chairs that spotted the dock. The lake was calm and quiet, stretching far off with a forest of green trees lining the bank. It wasn't autumn, and the leaves weren't changing yet, but the breeze was cool. Declan was wearing everpresent blue jeans, and his shirt was gray cashmere with the sleeves bunched up past his elbows. The shirt was silk soft, and even though it was dryclean only, Declan didn't think that it would hurt anything if Clementine wanted to cry on its shoulder.]