Spring weather is changeable everywhere, but sometimes it can be downright unpredictable. In Rhy'Din, it wasn't at all unusual to get caught in an unexpected downpour. With a mackerel sky overhead, Demeter was praying for it not to rain on her as she made her way through the streets, butterflies in her stomach in anticipation of spending more time with Neville. She wasn't entirely sure what the plan for this date was - he'd asked her to meet him at the market near the theater, and suggested she not wear anything too dressy or uncomfortable, in a nod to the sight of her attempting to walk casually in heels and a mini-skirt on cobbles at their last encounter. She had dressed accordingly, after laughing herself silly over the fact that he'd needed to specify that at all, and arrived at the edge of the market, momentarily overwhelmed by the scents and sounds all around her. There was a reason she tended to avoid crowds unless she'd been preparing for them all day, after all.

They'd had a second, third and even fourth date since the first one, and though Neville had not yet expressed his feelings in so many words, it was obvious he'd become fond of Demeter and enjoyed her companionship. And yet, they'd been careful not to go too quickly, taking their time as they got better acquainted. It wasn't so much the fact that he was a widower that was making him go slow, so much as the fear that he wasn't quite good enough for her. The marketplace wasn't a place he was very fond of, knowing all too well of the violence the place was known for, and yet, it was almost therapeutic for him to be there, milling among the people both human and otherwise, while he waited for Demeter to arrive.

It took a moment for Demi to be able to differentiate between the mingling scents all around her, focusing in on the one she was specifically looking for. Once she'd found him, she smiled, easing her way through the ambling people to brush a kiss against his cheek, whether he'd noticed her or not. "Waiting for anyone in particular, or will I do?"

He was casually dressed in a pair of jeans and a navy blue t-shirt beneath a black leather jacket, not looking quite as dorky as he had the first time he'd met her. His hair had grown a little longer and was as mussed as ever, and he was looking just a little nervous at her approach, though there was a warm, welcoming smile on his face. "You will definitely do," he replied, looking almost relieved to see her. "You look ....amazing," he told her as he took a look at her, despite the fact that she was dressed almost as casually as he was. But then, as far as he was concerned, she always looked amazing.

"You know, you say that every time we see each other," she commented with a gentle tease in her voice. "It makes me very curious to know what your reaction will be when you see me wearing less." She winked at him, sliding her hand into his as she looked around. "Why here" What have you got planned for today, I wonder?"

He chuckled a little at her reply. "Maybe I'll be so astounded I won't be able to say a thing," he teased back, smiling at the kiss she touched to his cheek - warm and affectionate. "Well," he started as he closed his fingers around her hand, "I was thinking maybe we'd pick up some things for dinner and go back to my place to cook, or is that too presumptuous of me?"

Whoever said that the finer things in life had to be expensive and complex was lying. Demi had a weakness for luxury, yes, but to her, there was nothing more luxurious than being invited ever deeper into Neville's confidence. His allowing her the run of his kitchen was a big step. "I think that sounds lovely," she assured him fondly. "What do you like to eat?"

"Just about anything really, so long as it's edible," he replied, as they slowly weaved their way through the crowd that populated the marketplace this spring afternoon. "Nothing too weird, though. I'm not that adventurous!" he warned with a chuckle. Despite his easy-going demeanor, there was a sense of nervous tension he was doing his best to hide that had very little to do with her.

It was a tension she could understand, knowing him as she did, but she wasn't going to bring it up unless he did. Just the fact that he was here, in the place where Nellie had died, was brave, and Demi couldn't help feeling proud of him to have suggested it in the first place. "Nothing too weird, all right," she laughed, squeezing his hand. "Red meat or white, let's try and narrow this down a little. Beef, pork, chicken" Any preference?"

"That depends on what you intend to do with it, I guess," he replied, though he trusted her implicitly with most things, including his kitchen. "How about you surprise me?" he asked. "I'll pick the wine and dessert, you pick the meal."

"I do solemnly swear not to dose you with so much spice you cannot speak," she promised teasingly, but she could easily put together a meal from the stalls around them. "No trying to pay for everything. We're eating together, therefore I'm going to pay for at least some of it." The meat, for a start - she did not eat inferior cuts.

"Well, I don't really need my voice to make a living. I just need the use of my hands," he reminded her with a grin. "If you insist, but I didn't ask you here to get a free meal, you know," he added, though he wasn't about to argue. He might have his pride, but he was mature enough to know it was a stupid thing to argue about, especially considering she probably earned a better paycheck than he did.

"Oh, I know," she assured him. "But if we're going to be a partnership, then we really should start sharing these things, don't you think?" She'd let him win the payment conversation the last few times it had come up, but she was feeling confident enough now to hold her ground. He didn't have to pay for everything to be a perfect gentleman in her eyes. She drew him easily over to the butcher's stall, ordering two medallions of fillet steak before he could object. "And there's a hint for what wine you might want to get."

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a chuckle. It seemed he was in a good mood today, despite his nervousness, but it was hard not to be whenever he was with her. "So, I suppose I should return the favor and cook for you sometime," he said, though whenever the opportunity had come up, he'd chosen to take her out to dinner instead, as he'd readily admitted he wasn't very good at cooking.

"Or you could cook with me," she suggested, knowing it was a little intimidating to cook for someone else when you weren't very confident in the kitchen. "I promise not to paint you with chocolate sauce so I can lick it off while you're busy." She winked playfully at him, handing over payment for the meat as the butcher passed her the well-wrapped package. "Thank you."

He couldn't help but laugh at that comment. There had been a time a few dates ago when it might have made him uncomfortable, but the longer he knew her, the more comfortable he was getting and the less afraid he was of letting her get close. "Anyone ever tell you you're a bit of a tease?" he asked, once they had finished with the butcher and he guided her toward the vintner.

"Only with the people I'm most comfortable with," she promised him warmly, letting him steer her through the crowd. Someone knocked her shoulder, making her grit her teeth at the rudeness, but she didn't say anything about it. It would have gone completely unremarked upon, had not the man who had knocked her turned back.

"Hmm, something light then," he mused aloud as he looked from one bottle to another, reading each label carefully before finally choosing one he thought appropriate for the meal she was planning. Whether or not he could cook, he did seem at least able to appreciate good food and wine.

"I trust you," she promised him affectionately, her sharp nose having already pinpointed a stall where she could get the ingredients she would need all in one trip. The vendor was likely to get quite a payday for what Demi was planning on cooking for Neville today.

Having settled on a bottle of wine, Neville handed over the proper payment in exchange for the bottle which was bagged and handed over, once payment was made. It still left Neville with a free arm to link with hers as he let her lead the way to their next destination. "I'm curious what you have planned," he mused aloud as they wandered along.

"Nothing too adventurous, don't you worry," she assured him, her smile bright as they moved back into the crowd. "Steak with peppercorn sauce, saut"ed potatoes, and some form of green vegetable. Possibly beans, or asparagus, whichever you'd prefer."

"I have no preference," he replied, his mouth watering as she described the meal awaiting them. "What would you like for dessert' I'm thinking sponge cake," he suggested - something sweet, but not too heavy.

"Mm, that does sound lovely," Demi agreed, drawing him to a halt beside the stall she had been aiming for. It took a moment to catch the vendor's eye, but the list she rattled off was going to take more than a moment to put together. While they waited, she leaned into Neville comfortably. "I'm quite enjoying this, you know."

"Shopping?" he asked, with a chuckle. "It's a little domestic, don't you think?" he asked, eyes bright with amusement. It wasn't exactly an adventure, but he couldn't help but admit he was enjoying himself, too.

"There's nothing wrong with being domesticated." And coming from a woman who turned into a white tiger on occasion, that was saying quite a lot. "Besides, it isn't the activity itself," she admitted, almost shyly. "It's the company."

"I know. I was teasing," he assured her, his smile softening. "I'm enjoying myself, too," he admitted, despite the encounter with the jackass a few minutes earlier. He surprised even himself in saying it. It wasn't long ago that he'd come to her to help him deal with the grief and anger of his wife's death, and now, here he was, starting a new life with a new lady. A year ago, that would have been unthinkable.

"I'm very glad to hear that." It was strange; she was usually so good at reading people, and yet with Neville, Demi always seemed to find herself at a loss. It was as though she didn't want to use those skills with him, reducing herself to just another person learning about him in a way no amount of psychology could teach. "And you're sure you're comfortable with me coming to your home?"

"I'm fine, Demi," he assured her again. "If I wasn't comfortable with it, I wouldn't have invited you," he told her, that warm smile of his evident on his face as he looked to her. He wasn't ready to admit that he was over his wife's death - she was an important part of his life and would always be part of his past and part of what made him who he was - but he was ready to move on, due in good part to the woman beside him.

"Just making sure," she murmured, encouraged by his smile. This was her first real experience of dating at all, and without prior knowledge of how it all worked, she was trying to be patient. She didn't think he was quite ready for her to invite him back to her own place, but this was a big step for both of them. The vendor called her attention back, and she smiled cheerfully, exchanging payment for the bag of groceries now in their possession. "Well now ....it seems all we are missing is dessert. Shall we, Mr. Ashton?"

"I think we shall, Miss Forster," he replied now that they had everything they needed but dessert. That was easily remedied though, as he choose a light sponge cake with a jam filling, and then it was a not so simple matter of flagging down a carriage driver to take them to his apartment not far from the Shanachie Theater, where he worked.

Demi wouldn't have minded walking - it wasn't that far to the nearest tram station, after all - but she allowed Neville to have his fun, flagging down a carriage for their use. She couldn't mask her predatory scent, but at least in the city the horses were not likely to bolt at the first whiff of her.

He thought it was easier this way, considering all the packages they were carrying, not to mention it was a little romantic, or so he thought, albeit bumpy. He offered her an arm to help her inside before climbing in himself and pausing a moment to give the driver directions. The city was a conflict of old and new, and though he considered himself a fairly modern man, he'd never found it necessary to buy a car to get around when there were plenty of other cheaper and sometimes more efficient modes of transportation.

To be honest, Demeter rarely caught a carriage, if at all. This was an unexpected treat for her, and she reacted accordingly, nestling close to Neville as the carriage made its surprisingly smooth turn through the streets to reach his home address. She knew his address academically, but she'd never been here, unaccountably thrilled by the intimacy of being invited inside.

The apartment building was located in a decent part of town in the Old Temple District, not too far from the Shanachie. The building appeared to be an old one, but it was well-maintained, comfortable and cozy, if a bit out of date. Then again, it was Rhy'Din, and Neville was happy to have indoor plumbing and electricity and be living in affordable housing that was located in a decent neighborhood not far from the theater. One couldn't be too picky when they lived on a musician's salary. By the time they arrived, it was just starting to drizzle.

Just starting, thankfully, and not one of those awful spring downpours that came out of nowhere and drenched everyone and everything in seconds. Still, Demeter was laughing by the time they got inside, the tiny drops of rain clinging to her hair as she looked up at Neville. "Just in time!"

"The weather gods were smiling on us today!" he remarked with a grin as he met her gaze. . He wasn't sure whether he believed in weather gods, but being a Rhy'Din native, he knew anything was possible. "Second floor," he told her, after clearing his throat. Gods, she was beautiful, and he was sorely tempted to kiss her, but now that they were here, he'd grown suddenly shy.

"Second floor it is," she repeated with impish good humor, turning to lead the way up the stairs, startled by how eager she was to get started. Part of it was a natural feline curiosity to see inside his home, of course, but a larger part was a desire to impress him with her domesticity. "We'll have to get rained on properly some time, though," she said over her shoulder, almost teasing but not quite. "There's nothing quite like a summer thunderstorm to wash away all your troubles."

"Nothing quite like it to leave you soaking wet and sneezing either," he remarked with a smirk, though there was hardly much danger of that in the summer where a good soaking rain could cool things off on an otherwise hot day. He fished the keys from his jacket to open the door once they reached the second floor, stepping in first, as there wasn't much room in the stairwell to allow her to move past him. "Well, here we are. Home sweet home," he said, as he pushed into the apartment.

It was a small space, just big enough to two, neat and tidy, for the most part, with most of the creature comforts of a modern apartment, but not too tech-savvy. The apartment obviously belonged to someone who loved music, as there were testaments to it everywhere, most particularly in the piano that was the main focus of the living area. He had carefully tucked away any reminders of his life with Nellie, save for a single photograph of the couple on their wedding day, which stood in a place of prominence atop said piano.

He turned to fill two cups with coffee, not that it was brewed, adding a little sugar to hers before looking over to see her struggling with the stove. "Oh, just turn the knob," he instructed, from where he stood, stirring her coffee. "It's electric." He pushed off the counter, moving over to show her how it worked, as well as hand her the coffee. "See?"

"Oh, I see!" Laughing a little at her inability to understand electricity for a moment, she took the cup from him with a warm smile. "Thank you." She sipped the coffee, sighing happily at the sweetly bitter taste. "Oh, I needed that. Dinner shouldn't take more than about half an hour, once I get started."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked, leaving the conversation of werecats aside for now. He wasn't too worried about it, merely curious, especially since she had already admitted to the desire to take him for a mate.

"Break the green beans and find a steamer, if you have one?" she suggested. The most complex part of the meal was the sauce, and that just required keeping a close eye on it, really.

"A steamer?" he echoed, unsure if Nellie had ever bought one or not. "If I have one, it would be in there," he said, gesturing toward the cabinet beside the sink. In the meantime, he went over to fetch his own cup of coffee before getting a start on the beans.

"If not, we can improvise," she assured him, knowing he had a sieve, at least. Crouching to investigate the cupboard he had indicated, she began to rummage. "Do you have a particular type of food you prefer, or are you the kind of man who will try anything once?"

"As long as it doesn't have eyes staring back at me, I'm good," he replied with that easy-going smile of his before taking a sip of the coffee. "Oh, that is good, isn't it' There's a coffee shop near the theater that has really good coffee. Cappuccino, too. I'm afraid caffeine is my drug of choice," he added with a grin.

"Ah, so you're not a man at home with whole fish, then," she laughed teasingly, coming up out of his cupboard with a pan and lid big enough to hold the sieve as well. "No steamer, but we can work with what we have. About two inches of water in the bottom of the pan, beans in the sieve, sieve in the pan with the lid on top." Setting her find near him, she turned her attention to setting the potatoes to do their thing while she worked with the meat and the sauce. "I must try this place, then," she added with a flash of her warm smile. "I can't get through my day without coffee."

He didn't know much about cooking - that had always been Nellie's domain - but he nodded, able to handle that much, so long as he had directions. "Something we have in common, then," he remarked, as he took up the pan to do as he was told. "We are both mutual caffeine addicts." He was sure there were other things they had in common, too; they just had to find them.

And surely the process of finding those things was part of the fun of learning about someone new, after all. "Oh, a good cup of coffee at the right time, and I will do anything you ask," she assured him. "Anything at all. Mind you, I'd probably do anything you asked me to anyway, so I'm not sure that counts, really."

"Really' I'll have to keep that in mind," he said, a teasing gleam to his eyes as he turned back to go about snapping the green beans and setting them in the sieve. "I have a feeling you're a lot more adventurous than I am," he said, going back what she'd told him already.

"Now what makes you say that?" she asked him impishly. Of them both, she'd had a wider range of experiences, but she wasn't sure if that made her more adventurous at heart. She just had a better idea of what she liked to do, because she had tried so many things. "I wanted to ask you, actually ....you've already said no skydiving, before I even suggested it, so that's out. How do you feel about cliff jumping?"

"Cliff jumping?" he echoed with a dubious frown. "You mean, as in jumping off a cliff?" he asked, stating the obvious. From the look on his face, it was obvious that was not something he'd ever consider doing on his own. "Is there a bungee cord attached, or are we talking about free diving?" he asked, not that it mattered.

"Exactly what it sounds like," she smiled over her shoulder to him. "You jump off a cliff, or off the top of a waterfall, into deep water. No rope, no safety cord. It can be a lot of fun. You did say you liked swimming." All right, so cliff jumping was stretching swimming to its absolute limit, but she was at least trying to push against his limits with something he might enjoy.

"A cliff is a lot higher than a diving board!" he pointed out with a laugh. He wasn't sure he was ready for cliff diving; then again, you only lived once - at least, in theory. "What about surfing?" he suggested. "Or, uh ....water skiing?" Those seemed slightly tamer than cliff diving, and yet there was some risk involved there, too.

"I've not tried surfing," she admitted, chuckling at his comment on cliff jumping. "Water-skiing, I found a little boring. Once you know how to stand and how tightly to hold on, it's just staying upright while you get sprayed with sea water at high speed, really. Have you been to any of the hot springs outside the city?"

"No," he replied with a small frown. "Nellie and I ..." he trailed off, unsure once again if he should be mentioning that name, though she was part of his history and always would be. "We talked about going, but we could never find the time," he admitted, a little bit sadly. The sad fact was that although they'd talked about doing a lot of things, they'd never really managed to find time to actually do any of them, and now it was too late, at least for her.

No matter how often she reassured him, he always seemed worried when Nellie's name came up. Demi's smile softened. "Maybe you should do some of the things you talked about doing," she suggested. "For her, as well as for yourself." Realizing what she sounded like, she winced, turning her face away as she mentally berated herself for automatically making a very psychology-oriented suggestion to help him. "Sorry, sometimes I can't stop myself from offering practical advice."

"Don't apologize. It's part of who you are, and I could probably use a little practical advice now and then," he told her as he went about filling the pot with green beans. "Tell you what ....You plan something next time, and I'll go along, no questions asked, so long as it isn't skydiving," he added for good measure, that twinkle back in his eyes again.

"Mmm, so sexy when you give out orders and put someone else in charge," she teased, abandoning the stove for a moment to give into a particular urge that had been bugging her since they'd got into the carriage. One hand gently curled into his shirt, pulling him down into a smiling kiss. "I really have to remember that you're not as shy as you seem."

He momentarily abandoned the green beans as he was pulled into that kiss, an amused smile on his face. "I'm no virgin, if that's what you mean," he replied, which was obvious enough, considering he'd been married for a few years. He was generally a quiet man, mild-mannered, but not as shy as his quiet demeanor might make him seem. He neither encouraged nor discouraged her kisses, and yet, they both knew if they pursued this course too long, dinner would have to wait. As for his body, it was already betraying his more practical nature.

"Among other things," she murmured playfully, releasing him to return to the stove. A shake of the potatoes, a stir of the sauce, and she turned the meat over. "How do you like your steak done?"

"Good gods, woman ..." he murmured, drawing a deep breath to calm his nerves. "You have no idea what effect you have on me, do you?" he asked, quite bluntly - far blunter than usual, for him. How she could kiss him until his toes curled and then go about cooking dinner like nothing had happened was beyond him. He just couldn't turn it on and off that easily or that quickly.

"I can think of other things I'd rather do with your ass, but that can wait," she muttered, definitely not beneath her breath. Lingering a moment longer to watch him as he drew away, she bit her lip against the very girlish giggle that rose from her, twirling a full spiral out of sheer exuberance before setting her hands to the task of serving the meal that was ready for eating. Fillet steak smothered in creamy peppercorn sauce; saut"ed potatoes; green beans. Simple enough, but at least she knew it was a recipe she could deliver to a high standard. Habit made her set the pans in the sink to soak while they were eating, lifting the plates to follow Neville to the table.

He couldn't help but laugh a little at her sudden burst of energy, not to mention her comment. He was starting to see that life with this woman would never be boring, and it shocked him to realize he was contemplating such a thing for the first time since they'd met - and the first time since his wife's death. Between the two of them, they somehow managed to get the table set for dinner without any further distractions. "Tease," he told her, with a bit of a smirk, equally imagining a few things he wouldn't mind doing with her.

"Yes, but you knew that already," she laughed back to him, setting the plates down in each set place. "Both are medium, so pick a plate and get started." Admittedly, it was going to be a little difficult to eat while trying not to play footsie or tease him too much, but she could take a little hardship. They'd just proved that passion was not lacking between them, after all.

"Ah, so it's self-serve, is it?" he teased, as he snatched up a plate to serve himself some steak and potatoes and green beans, but instead of setting the plate on the table and then sitting down, he handed the plate to her and went back to get himself another.

"Well, if you need your meat cut up for you, I'm sure I could oblige," she laughed, that laughter growing louder as she was handed the first plate. "And you say you're not a gentleman. I think you may be fooling yourself there." Smiling, she settled down comfortably, reaching to pour the wine before he got to it.

"I never said I wasn't a gentleman," he pointed out, though he wasn't too sure what he'd said and what he hadn't at this point. "I said I can't figure out what you see in me," he said, letting her have at the wine, if she wanted, as he took a seat at the table. "If this tastes half as good as it smells, I may let you cook for me again."

"I see a lot of things in you," she told him, pouring the wine for them both. "But last time I listed them, you blushed and forgot how to speak coherently, so I might spare you the comprehensive list. Let's stick with gentle, intelligent, and sexy for now, see whether you can handle that." Grinning her teasing grin once again, she raised her glass to him in a silent toast.

To his credit, he didn't blush this time, only smiled and looked slightly embarrassed at what he judged to be undeserved praise. "I'm not so sure about sexy," he said, though as far as adjectives went, that one was at the top of his list for her. He raised his glass in answer to her toast. "What are we drinking to?" he asked curiously.

"The hope that you survive my cooking?" Demi suggested cheerfully. She was very good at not letting the conversation grow too serious, even when the topic could easily become a serious one, and her lack of a formal toast was evidence enough of that.

He chuckled again, this time at her toast. "I don't think we're in much danger, as far as that is concerned." As far as other things were concerned, well, he couldn't really say. "To starting over," he said, keeping his own toast as simple as possible as he leaned close to gently clink his glass to hers.

Her smile softened, nodding in agreement with his toast as their glasses touched. "That's much better than mine," she complimented him, taking a sip of the wine. It was surprisingly smooth, yet another skill to add to the list of things Neville could do - choose wine. "Well, bon appetit."

"Bon appetit," he echoed, taking a small sip of the wine before setting his glass aside. If they were in the skills appraising stage of their relationship, he wasn't aware of it, but he was about to find out if what she had cooked tasted as good as it smelled. He cut off a slice of his steak, skewering it with a fork to bring it close for a taste. No sooner had he put it in his mouth than he was making sounds of approval, his mouth to busy chewing to speak.

Demeter blushed at the sound he made, pleased he seemed to like the meal before him. Satisfied that he was happy to eat, she took up her own knife and fork, and for a while, there was no conversation. Despite the back and forth of conversation at their first date, they both seemed to be the type to enjoy a meal for its own sake, conversing before and after, but enjoying a comfortable silence during the main eating stage. It was a remarkably comfortable feeling, to eat quietly with someone and not feel the need to fill the silence with chatter. Some couples never managed to find that shared silence.

In that moment, it wasn't so much the conversation that was important, but the shared companionship - the knowledge that they weren't alone. Too often, Neville brought home fast food or made a TV dinner or skipped it all together. The whole ritual of dinner reminded him too much of the life he'd shared with his wife, and it was just too damned lonely to sit down at the table without someone to share the time with.

Wiping her mouth, Demi was the first to finish, a lifetime habit forcing her to leave a mouthful of food on her plate. For some reason, she had never been able to completely clear a plate set in front of her. She smiled at Neville over the rim of her glass. "I think that turned out rather well," she mused. "You're not groping for the wine in an attempt to calm the fire in your mouth, in any case."

"No, I kind of figured it would have a bite when you got out the peppercorns." Okay, so maybe he wasn't as ignorant in the kitchen as he claimed. He did take a sip of his wine, though, now that his plate was nearly clean. "It's been a long time since someone has cooked for me like that," he told her, and restaurants didn't count.

"Cooking gave me something to do when I stopped playing the fame game with my colleagues on Earth," she shrugged lightly. "You get some strange looks when you go to a local supermarket and you happen to be on a billboard outside, though." She laughed softly, relaxing in her seat. "I can do something interesting with just about every type and cut of meat you could name. I never really ventured into strictly vegetarian dishes, but vegetable sides kept me occupied for a few months."

"You don't have to convince me," he said, once he'd finished off what little was left on his plate. "I don't know about you, but I think dessert is going to have to wait," he said, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied sigh and patting his stomach.

"I think you may be right there," she giggled softly, drawing her knee up to her chest comfortably. "My portioning may be a little bit off. I think I need practice." Her dark eyes offered him a warm, hopeful twinkle above her smile. "May I practice on you some more" It does make perfect, so I hear."

"I don't think I'd object to that," he replied with a dimpled grin. Whether they were talking about cooking or something else didn't really seem to matter. "Should we make it official and proclaim ourselves a couple or do we need a few more dates before we do that?" he asked, knowing she had already made a decision regarding that.

Despite losing the melody, his fingers continued to move over the keys until he had finished the song, his eyes meeting hers now that she'd turned to face him. He wasn't sure what had made him pick that song. The part of her that was a doctor probably could have analyzed and explained it, but he didn't much care for a logical explanation, not when he saw the look of love and hope in her eyes when she met his gaze. Did anything else really need to be said" He touched her cheek, almost tentatively leaning closer to touch a tender kiss to her lips, almost afraid to ruin the moment with words.

Though neither one of them was virginal, somehow this felt like a new start, everything swept clean behind them. Demi breathed him in, the musky male scent that had been imprinted on her since their first meeting, the scent that could only be Neville. As his lips touched hers, she felt herself soften in a way she could not have described, twisting just enough to lean into that kiss, to answer it with her own in the hope that words would not be necessary. Her fingers found their way to his shoulder, his neck, caressing with a featherlight touch that betrayed how very frightened she was of making any mistakes here and now.

If anyone was afraid, it was him. There was so much at stake here. He didn't want to do anything wrong, and most importantly, he didn't want to hurt her, but he knew that if he continued to listen to that part of him that was scared, he might risk losing her all together. And so, he pushed aside his fears and his worries and his insecurities to listen only to what his heart was telling him, and his heart was telling him to trust her. His fingers touched her face and her hair, while his lips caressed hers, breathing her in, tasting the sweetness of her kiss.

As they kissed, Demi could feel her heart beating hard in her chest. Something had happened here, something she couldn't find words for, but had it happened to her, or to him' They both carried concerns, fears, small thoughts that might get in the way, and yet those thoughts seemed to have been pushed away. Without quite realizing it, she curled into him, twisting until she found herself straddling his lap, her fingers buried in his hair as she kissed him with everything she had. It was only when her backside played a beautifully discordant collection of notes that she realized where she was, breaking the kiss with a shy, loving giggle. "Oops."

He did nothing to discourage her affections, in fact, doing everything to encourage them. His arms slid around her waist as she found her way onto his lap, as lost in her kisses as she seemed to be in his. Whatever had brought them to this moment - be it a song or something else - didn't seem to matter. They seemed to be on the cusp of something, he could feel it, and all it needed was the tiniest nudge for it to come into full bloom. It wasn't just physical desire, though there was that, but something that went far deeper. He drew a deep breath as she broke the spell, a smile on his face at the shy giggle she offered. "I'm not going to apologize for that," he told her, that sparkle of amusement lighting his eyes.

Holding herself high to try and avoid sitting on his piano again, she shared her smile with him in another slow, soft kiss, nuzzling close for a long moment. "I think we can safely say that neither end of me can reliably play a recognizable tune," she offered in a low tease, her fingers combing tenderly through his hair.

He wasn't quite sure how exactly they'd ended up here, but wasn't that part of the discovery' Allowing things to take their natural course without forcing it or taking control of the situation. But what now" He smiled at her remark, feeling more at ease with her than ever before, but unsure where she wanted to go from here. "I've heard worse," he replied, touching another kiss to her lips, her touch doing things to him that he hadn't felt in a long time. "Demi," he started, licking his lips in a sign of nervousness. He wanted to ask her what she wanted, but he wasn't quite sure how.

She could almost smell his nervousness, that edge to his scent that told her he wasn't quite at his ease. Gently nuzzling to him, her smile softened once more as he said her name. "Too fast?" she asked in a low voice, afraid to push for more until he was sure he was ready for it, no matter how much she might want to go further.

"No, it's not that," he replied, despite what she might be sensing. Yes, he was nervous, but not because it was too soon - only because he wanted her and was afraid of disappointing her - afraid having her would spoil everything.

"Tell me," she murmured softly, feeling as though she should move off his lap, and yet not willing to do that. She was enjoying the closeness, the feeling of being in his arms, and until he made it clear she wasn't welcome there, a selfish part of her was going to make the most of it.

He licked his lips again, his eyes searching hers. Why was it so hard to say the words when it had been so easy to tell her in a song" "Demi, I want you, but ..." He paused as he sought to find the words to tell her all he was feeling, wishing she'd understand without him having to say the words. "I don't want to disappoint you."

"Why would you think that you could disappoint me?" she countered softly, teasing his hair back from his brow. One hand groped behind her to put the cover down on the piano keys so she could draw back to meet his gaze without creating more unseemly music. "Neville ....No one could ever compare to you," she told him, her voice quiet but fervent in her certainty. "I know I'm not as white as snow, but ....don't you know how special you are to me" I've played around, I've learned a few things, certainly. But I've never been loved." Her fingertips stroked his jaw tenderly. "That makes all the difference, I promise you."

He had both loved and been loved, and it made his heart ache to know she had never known such a thing, that she had never known was it was to be the center of another's life, the one and only thing that mattered. He had loved his Penelope that way and she had loved him, but she was gone forever, and it was Demeter who now held his heart in her hands. "I love you," he whispered, almost afraid to say the words, not because he was afraid she wouldn't return them, but because he still didn't find himself worthy.

"Really?" It wasn't that she disbelieved him. But she'd never heard those words given to her before, and certainly not from someone who already held her own heart in the palm of his hand. Her gaze shone, suspiciously wet for a long moment, even as she slithered closer to him, her cheek pressing to his as her arms wrapped about him. "I love you," she whispered back to him, amazed by the sudden freedom to say it without fearing the rejection she had expected from him from the start.

He never had any intention of rejecting her; he had only needed time to sort out his feelings and make peace with his wife's death. Even so, he was starting to realize a little too late that there were too many memories here in this place for him to ever really feel comfortable with her here, but at least, he was making progress, albeit slowly. "So ..." he started, clearing his throat, all too aware of the effect she was having on him as close as she was. "What happens now?"

Easing back, Demi swallowed, acutely aware that her eyes were wet with happy tears that had not quite fallen free. She was as much at a loss as he was. "The dishes?" she suggested. They were very close in that moment, yes, but she knew there was a photograph of his wedding day directly over her shoulder. The psychologist in her didn't think he would be prepared to go further than kisses in a place that was so wrapped up in the memory of his wife.

Neville brushed a finger against her cheek, almost in anticipation of those tears, a faint frown on his face. "You're crying," he said, surprised to find tears in her eyes and worried he'd done something wrong - or were those happy tears" He wasn't as consciously aware of that photo as she was, and yet, those memories would always be a part of his life, even if they were in the past.

"I'm not sad," she promised him softly, shaking her head as he touched her cheek. "Quite the contrary." A soft kiss found its way to his lips as she leaned into him, closing her eyes to breathe him in once again. "I should probably get off you before you get too uncomfortable, too."

"I didn't mean to make you cry," he said, despite her claim that her tears were happy ones. It had been a long time since he'd shared his feelings with anyone or let anyone get close the way he was with Demi.

"Oh, you're having clean thoughts," she clarified, smiling as he kissed her nose. "I'm really not." Winking up at him, she kissed his chin, and somehow managed to contrive a way to flick at least some of the soap bubbles in her hand at him in a sort of soapy shower of snowflakes.

"I might be," he replied, though he wasn't going to clarify that. He thought he'd already said too much as it was. Blinking against the onslaught of soapsuds, he laughed, but instead of letting go of her hands, he instead pulled her against him. "I'd take you over a knee, but I have a feeling you'd enjoy it too much."

She gasped, surprised by the unexpectedly dominant turn in his body language as he pulled her to him. Surprised and pleased, certainly - that flush on her cheeks was not shyness, that was for sure. "Wouldn't you?"

"Enjoy it?" he asked, letting go of her wrists so he could slide his arms around her waist. "Maybe. It depends, I guess. I'm not really into giving or receiving pain. But there's nothing wrong with playing a little."

"I do like to play," she admitted, though he had probably already worked that out from her exuberance display of teasing temper not so very long ago. Her hand groped for the towel to wipe her hands dry as she looked into his eyes, her voice falling to an intimate murmur. "I thought we were washing the dishes."

"We were," he replied, noting some sort of almost shyness about her suddenly, just as he was starting to feel comfortable enough to tease her, but he wasn't one to push his luck. "There's no rule against having a little fun while we do the chores, is there?" he asked, a soft smile on his face, warm and reassuring.

"There are rules?" she asked, almost innocent but for the teasing sparkle in her dark eyes. Her now dry hands skimmed over his arms and up to hook about his shoulders comfortably as she leaned into him. "Are there rewards for abiding by these rules?"

"Hmm, I'm not sure," he replied, his own eyes bright with amusement. "What kind of reward would you like?" he asked, as he looked into her eyes, noticing the sparkle there. There really weren't any rules, and if there were, who was to say they had to abide by them"

"Hmm, let me see ..." Demi laughed softly as she leaned into him, rising onto her toes to let the tip of her nose circle his. It was a sweet gesture of affection, offered freely, and given just before a suggestion that was definitely not in the realms of sweet. "Free access to everything under your clothes?"

He didn't have to ask what she meant by that, though he wasn't too sure she was serious or that they were ready for that yet. Still, if they kept going the way they were going, it was only a matter of time. "I'm pretty sure you'll get there eventually," he answered with a slightly awkward smile. He might have been married once, but that didn't mean he had vast experience with women.

There was the awkwardness again - only slight, and easily overcome, but she didn't want to push him. Especially here, where the memory of Nellie was so present. "Next time, we're going to my place," she told him fondly, one last kiss hoping to ease the awkwardness from his smile. "I just have to work out what we're going to do before I pounce you now." With a confident wink, she slipped from his arms, returning to the washing up.

Now that she'd brought the subject up, he didn't see much point in avoiding it, even if she hadn't mentioned the elephant in the room aloud. "I suppose I should think about moving," he said, with a brief glance around the kitchen. "There are too many memories here." It was something he hadn't admitted to anyone, much less himself, until this very moment.

"Think about it," she agreed, carefully not mentioning the slightly bigger elephant that wanted to dance off the end of her tongue and invite him to live with her. That was definitely too much, too soon. "But it isn't something you absolutely must do until you're ready to let some of those memories go, Neville. I'm certainly not going to make an issue of it."

"Must I be blunt?" he asked, wondering just why they were dancing around this issue when he bared his soul to her on more than one occasion; but then, that was before their professional relationship turned into a personal one.

"Neville, I know what you're saying," she told him, shaking the water from her hands once again. "So let me be blunt. I love you, nothing is going to change that. I want you. Nothing will change that, either. But Nellie is still a huge part of this place, and I don't feel comfortable to seduce you or to be seduced in a place where you and she were so happy and so intimate together."

"That's the problem, Demi," he admitted with a sigh as he took up the towel in anticipation of drying the dishes. At this rate, they'd never get done, but they had to discuss these things sooner or later. "I want you, too, but ..." He frowned, as if he was worried what he said next might offend or even hurt her. "It's not that I don't want to ....It just doesn't feel right. Maybe we should have gone to your place."

She absorbed this, a wary look in her eyes that told him she was anticipating being hurt when she asked the question now playing on her mind. When the words came, they were soft, quiet, almost tentative. "Should I go?"

"No," he replied without hesitation, seeing that look in her eyes. "No, it's just ..." He paused a moment, almost as if he was searching for the right words or the courage to say them. "I don't know if I can make love to you in the same bed where I slept with my wife," he admitted sadly. "I didn't think it would bother me. I'm sorry."

Drying her hands once more, Demi stepped away from the sink, reaching up to gently touch his cheek. The suggestion of hurt was gone from her eyes, proof that he was learning her as well as she was learning him. "I'm not asking you to do that," she told him gently. "This between us, it's not something we have to rush, however much we feel impatient. We'll get there, and when we do, it will be when we are both balanced in ourselves." Her thumb stroked over his cheek gently as she smiled at him. "I can smell her, you know," she admitted quietly, not intimidated or upset by this layer of scent in his home and hoping he could see that. "This was her home. And I can't do that to a woman who was so lovely and so loved. I won't do it. But that doesn't mean that I don't want you, or that I'm not ready. It just means that I have too much respect for Nellie to cross that line here."

"Nellie's gone, Demi, and she's not coming back. We both know that. I loved her, but I need to move on. I want to move on, and I want to move on with you." He met her gaze, smiling softly but a little sadly down at her. He might not be completely over his wife's death, but for those who were left behind, life went on, and he was trying hard to start over. "I love you," he assured her, needing her to know that he didn't take those words lightly. He was a little surprised to know Nellie's scent still lingered there, even after all this time - further proof that he needed to think about moving. "I don't want to lose you."

"You're not going to lose me," she promised him, one hand coming to rest over his heart. "Grief never really goes away, Neville. You'll always love her, in a way, and you'll always feel her loss. There is nothing wrong with feeling that. I would think less of you if you didn't. If moving is something you feel ready to do, then of course you should do it. But not for my sake. For yours."

He sighed again as she left the decision in his hands. What the hell was wrong with him, anyway' Here he was with a beautiful woman who obviously wanted him and he couldn't bring himself to make love to her because his wife's presence was too strong in this place. "I thought I was ready," he told her, with a frown. "I don't know what to do." He looked briefly around again. Though he had packed up most of Nellie's belongings months ago, there was still a distinct feeling of her presence here. "Well, at least, the piano is mine," he mused aloud.

"It was awful, wasn't it?" she laughed cheerfully. "You know, I think that was around the time I realized I didn't actually like anyone I was spending time with. They all thought it was a wonderful movie - I was so disappointed in them." Chuckling, she set the plates down, moving to crouch behind him.

"Was this when you were going to college?" he asked, curiously, trying to do the math in his head. The movie had come out somewhere around ten years ago, when he was still in his early twenties.

"No, I was still modeling exclusively then," she told him, leaning against his back comfortably. "Come to think of it, that movie was the starting point for wanting more out of life, though. I think realizing that there was no point in spending time with people I didn't like was the push that got me started looking for something more to do with myself."

"Your friends were models, too?" he asked curiously, not really knowing a lot about her past, other than what she'd told him already. He located the movie and closed the cabinet before turning to face her, more interested in learning more about her than in the movie really.

"Well, they weren't really friends," she admitted ruefully. "The six of us shared a pokey two-bedroom apartment and habitually were up against each other for jobs. We spent time together because we didn't know anyone else. They all thought I was strange because I didn't spend the money I was making." She chuckled, rolling her eyes. "Even at eighteen, I had better sense than that."

"Roommates," he said, understanding. "Where was this?" he asked, unsure if it was on Rhy'Din or somewhere else, likely Earth. But where on Earth, he wasn't sure. New York" L.A." London' Paris" And here he was, a Rhy'Din native, who'd never been anywhere but Rhy'Din.

"On Earth," she told him easily enough. "In London. Modeling is not a job for the faint-hearted, let me tell you. People see the glamor, but they miss the terrible wages, the horrendously long hours, and the appalling dietary choices some of those girls make. And the men! They have to spend hours in the gym every day, just to maintain that plastic Ken-doll look."

"I've never been to Earth," he mused aloud, not that it mattered much. The idea of traveling through the portal had never really appealed to him, and everything he needed he had right here, but it might be nice to explore someday. "I take you don't like the Ken-doll look," he said, with an amused look on his face. He sure didn't fit that mold very well.

"I should take you there someday," she suggested, easing down to sit with him on the floor, quite comfortable there. "There are some beautiful places on Earth; it all depends on what you like." His amusement at her comment on male models made her giggle. "Well, no, I don't like it," she agreed. "I don't see the point of spending hours to define muscles that have no real practical purpose in everyday life. For example ..." She took his left hand in hers. "You have long, strong fingers that are supple and dexterous, because that's what you need them to do. You have a straight back, because that's how you sit when you're playing. You have well defined shoulders, for the same reasons. But you don't have to spend hours in a gym, pinpointing those muscles to make them the way they are, because you use them every day."

He was acutely aware of her touch as she explained herself, though he was doing his best not to get distracted and listen to what she was telling him. So, she didn't like muscle-bound men or men who looked "plastic". That was a relief, though he still wasn't sure what she'd think of him. He was just a regular guy, after all, and could hardly compete against men who spent hours at the gym. "I've never really had time for that, to be honest, and even if I did, it never really appealed to me. I guess women like the muscles though," he said, with a light shrug of his decidedly not muscle-bound shoulders.

"Some women do," she agreed, stroking her fingertip over his palm before releasing his hand. "I'm not one of those women." Her smile was warm and reassuring. "And I'm not a gym rat myself. I have to wear three sports bras just to go for a run, so I'm not really built for strenuous exercise."

"That doesn't sound comfortable," he remarked, though he could hardly relate to that. So, neither of them was really into exercise - at least, not to the point of obsessiveness. They both liked movies, though he wasn't sure what kind. The list of similarities was growing.

"It's more comfortable than hitting myself in the chin with my own breasts every time I take a step," she assured him in amusement. "Not for me the strapless bra, oh no. The wrong move, and the girls are likely to go into orbit around me."

He couldn't help but chuckle, as their conversation turned from movies to lack of friends to her ample bustline. "I think that might be more than I need to know," he teased from where he sat on the floor.

She blew him a kiss. "Forewarned is forearmed," she teased in return laughingly. "So ....where are we sitting for this movie" Couch, floor? I have no objection to either, so long as I can snuggle. I'm developing quite an attachment to the way I fit under your arm, you know."

"I'll consider myself warned, then," he replied with a grin before moving to slide the movie disk into the player. "The couch is more comfortable," he told her, no comment about the snuggling, though he had no objections. He was simply developing quite an attachment to her. He pushed the Play button and moved to join her on the couch, sliding one arm around her to pull her close just as she liked.

Curling up beside him, under his arm just the way she wanted to be, Demi smiled, handing Neville his cake as she settled in to watch the movie. All right, so maybe the next logical step for them had been postponed a little, but that wasn't a bad thing. It just meant that things would continue at this easy, gentle pace, neither one of them becoming overwhelmed on the way. And Nellie could rest in peace, assured that no other woman would sleep on her pillow.

Of course, there was a pillow at Demi's place that was just begging for Neville's headprint ...