xp_logs | Moira and Nathan, Sunday afternoon

After the good news from Muir, Nathan kidnaps Moira out of the mansion for a picnic lunch. Just fluff, really.

Nathan grinned as he popped the lid on one of the containers and saw what was in it. "Strawberries," he said, looking up at Moira, across their picnic lunch, and tilting his head with a smile at the way she was watching him. "No--translation. Didn't have these."

Moira grinned at him and stretched out on the blanket, propping herself up on one elbow to watch him. She felt relaxed and calm for the first time in weeks. First, Nathan's sudden end to his visions and now that victory was coupled by the sudden 'liberation' of Muir. So they had decided to celebrate. A very impromptu picnic that was oddly well stocked. She glanced up and squinted at the sun, glad that the wind was cool enough that the heat didn't bother her. The lake helped dropped the temperature as well. "Wha' else is in there an' who did ye bribe ta get this on such short notice?"

"Didn't," he said cheerfully. "All me." Shorter sentences were getting easier and easier, but the English still sounded odd to his own ears. A definite improvement over yesterday, though. "Sandwiches," he said, lifting another container out of the bag. He hadn't been able to find a basket. "Salad... Greek salad," he said, removing another. "Root beer," he proclaimed finally, pulling out the still-chilled bottle and two plastic cups.

She couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. Really, she was incredibly charmed by all of this effort. Moira hadn't expected it in the least. She'd gotten off the phone, had had an embarrasing bout of tears and when he was done holding her, he had disappeared. Only to return fifteen minutes later and drag her out of the mansion. Moira curled a little more in the sun and sighed happily. And it was getting easier for him to talk, or so it seemed. "All by yerself, 'uh?" Moira grinned at him. "Need t' sprin' more good news on ye more often."

"Didn't... no actual cooking," he said, grinning at her again, almost mischievously. "Not hard." He poured her a glass of root beer, then handed it over. This had been a very good idea, he congratulated himself. The news from Muir had been what she'd wanted to hear, but sometimes even the best of news demanded a little break from the rest of the world, just to process it. And it was such a beautiful day, too. Both of them had spent far too much time inside over the last week.

Moira took a sip of the drink and then put it to the side and reached for the strawberries. "God, this is temptin' enough tha' I almost want ta move me office outside. Never missed 'avin' windows until today." She ate the fruit happily. Fruit was really the only food group she actively sought out. Many times, she'd be too engrossed to enjoy a full meal but fruit was pretty easy to cart around, for the most part. "Yer tryin' t' spoil me," she teased.

"You need it," he insisted, pouring himself some root beer. "Spoil you for... the next twenty years. It might be enough." Enough to thank her for everything she had done for him for seven years and these last three months, enough to show her how grateful he was, how much he loved her.

Actually, make that forty years. Or maybe the rest of her life.

The grin on her face softened to a smile as some of his thoughts leaked over the link at her. Moira sat up, careful not to disturb the food, and edged over so she could snuggle under Nathan's arm. "Could get used ta tha'. But only if'n I get ta spoil ye back." A glint caught her attention and she couldn't help smile as the ring he had bought her for her birthday sparkled in the sun.

"Looks right on you," Nathan said, peering down at the ring for a moment, smiling, before he shook himself out of his reverie. "Pass a sandwich?" he asked.

"Ye've got good taste," she replied, reaching over to grab two sandwiches. Moira handed him one and then starting eating the other. She mentally ran over things that had to be done about Muir. Not only getting there but also once she was sure everything was settled, what to do about going back or not going back.

Nathan tapped her lightly on the top of the head. "Stewing," he said reprovingly. "Enjoy the afternoon. Stew later."

"I'm nay stewin'!" Moira protested, sticking her tongue out. "I'm jus' thinkin', 'tis all."

"Stewing," he pronounced, and tried the sandwich. He had rather hurriedly mixed together tuna, cheese, celery and the necessary condiments, and there'd been some decent bread in the breadbox. The results weren't bad, if he did say so himself.

She rolled her eyes at him. #Thinkin',# Moira insisted over the link as her mouth was full with sandwich. She shivered a little. The intensity of the link had dropped greatly but it would take a few days, probably, before it would stop being so sensitive. At least to her, anyway, she didn't know how sensitive it was to Nathan. If there had been any part of the link closed before, it certainly was now wide open between them.

Nathan heard her wondering, and had to admit that he wasn't quite sure what was going on himself. Charles had encouraged him to be careful about what he did with the link, at least until he had better adjusted to the changes caused by his final encounter with Askani. There was so very much more in his mind than there had been before, and somehow the shock and strain had only deepened the link. Moira was not equipped to have all of this leaking over into her mind. So he had to be cautious.

Moira looked up at him and frowned a little. "Yer gettin' the crinkly lines between yer eyes, again," she noted. "Now who's stewin'? Wha's wron'?"

"The link," Nathan said quietly. "Too much--in my head. Don't want it in yours." It still bothered him that he had leaked enough to give so many people in the mansion dreams on Friday night. Even if it hadn't happened against last night, it still bugged him. And Moira was so much closer to him, so much more susceptible...

"Nathan, listen t' me for a moment." Moira turned so she was still under his arm but could look up at him easier. "Between ye an' Charles, I'll be fine. Bot' o' ye tend ta make sure I'll be fine, more often than not. I dinnae want ye pullin' away because ye'll think ye'll 'urt me."

Nathan stared down at her, his smile coming back. "Need reminding," he told her, leaning in and kissing her forehead lightly. "Old habits."

"We can break some o' them," she responded, curling up closer so she could rest her head on his shoulder. "We've got time."

"Patience of a saint," he said very carefully, and reached for his root beer.

"Most o' th' time, only for ye," Moira remarked, dryly. "Ask some o' me students sometime 'bout me patience wit' their late papers."

Nathan blinked, intrigued. "Late--papers? No punishment for... missing deadlines?" That was something he hadn't even thought of, yet.

"Apparently in some schools some o' these kids 'ave been in. Nay many, jus' a few. I put a stop t' tha' thought right away." Moira couldn't help a snicker. "Angie even got some o' it...was t' tired t' remember nay t' talk back t' th' teacher in th' classroom. On top o' th' dancin' fish 'eads."

Dancing fish heads? Nathan blinked. "Glad there are no fish heads in--international relations."

She beamed up at him, mischief in her eyes. "O', trust me, they'll find somethin'. They always do. 'Tis kind o' amazin' wha' they can come up wit', really."

He snorted softly. "You'll... scare me away."

"Awww." Moira mock-pouted at him. "I 'ighly doubt anythin' I could do could scare ye away from 'ere. Or me."

Nathan leaned in again and kissed the pout away. "Not now," he murmured. "Not ever."