[He leaned back against the couch, smiling at her while she brushed the crumbs off.] I think they're just an excuse to wash down with sack.
[Local wines were, of course, preferred, but the sweet Spanish sherry was in abundance in the house nonetheless. Whoever had been securing provisions knew what to order and from where, what was fresh and who among the local farmers and merchants was reputable and whose stock was to be avoided.
It was nice here. Clean air, clean like being far into the country. It was a good thing the villa wasn't smack dab in one of the cities, as he imagined things would, in general, be a little less clean. From a twentieth century perspective it all felt like camping, and watching the kids play was a stark reminder of how adaptable they really could be. Turn back the centuries five times, and they could still find ways to stay busy, even if it was, for the moment, napping.
This was a place where peace was, or where he could imagine peace to be. He didn't yet have the option of settling down, but a long time ago in a country where he didn't speak the language was appealing, in a base, quiet way. If there was any chance of leaving the things that followed him behind, this had to be the furthest he could run. Into the past, before any of his problems had ever been born.
It was really Evie's company that made it, though. He slumped against the opposite arm of the couch, looking out past the villa and into the quiet that surrounded. There were walled cities to be found, if one rode out far enough. Even if he had, his jeans would have been an exotic enough sight to cause a serious stir, even if his coloring fit in without the slightest hitch.
It was a warm day, but the shade in the villa was cool, heat glancing from the white stone walls, neatly serving their classical intention.] How long do you think you could stay here? [He looked over to her.]