A waitress came over to ask if he'd like a table, but spying Gabi near the window, he politely declined and made his way over to Gabi, looking probably as nervous as she felt. "I'm so sorry," he apologized with a serious frown on his face. "There was a ..." he paused for the space of a heartbeat before continuing. "....a problem at the hospital. I'm sorry I'm late. I should have taken down your number. I rang your house and spoke to your brother. He sounds like a delightful chap, by the way," he continued in a rush of words. "May I?" he asked indicating a chair.

Rising to meet him, she smiled, the relief plain on her face amidst the pleasure at seeing him again. "Oh, no, please don't apologize," she rushed to assure him. "I understand your work is very important, and-and my brother called to let me know you would be a little late." Realizing she was practically out of breath with this little speech, she laughed a little, her own hand indicating the same chair as he asked. "Of course, please do."

"More than a little late, I'm afraid," he said with another frown. "I've had rather a hectic morning. I was doing my rounds this morning when one of my patients ..." He broke off again, his expression changing as though he was struggling to control his emotions and keep his composure. "It's never easy losing a patient. You always think it will get easier, but it doesn't.

"Oh, George, I'm so sorry ..." Without thinking, Gabi slid her hand into his as she retook her seat, gathering his palm between her own. "I wish I knew what to say. W-we don't have to stay here. You could ....I realize it probably isn't proper where you're from, but you could come home with me. I could make you something, somewhere you can relax."

He dropped heavily into the chair, grateful for her understanding and sympathy, not to mention the simple warmth of a human touch. He shook his head, touched by her desire to help him feel better. "No, it's all right. I don't want to be any trouble. You'd think after all this time, I'd be used to this sort of thing," he said, though the last part was more to himself than to her. "I would have rang you directly, but I didn't have a chance to get your number."

"You wouldn't be any trouble," Gabi heard herself insist, shaking her head. Loss, any form of loss, was not something to be considered in a public place. She opened her clutch with one hand, preparing to leave the money for her tea on the table. "Come home with me, George. Let someone look after the doctor for once."

He seemed to hesitate as he considered her request. "I must admit, it's a tempting offer," he told her, though he wasn't sure it was proper or even respectable for a young single woman to be inviting a single man to her home, even if it was entirely innocent. "You live with your father and brother, you said?" he asked.

"I do, yes," she nodded, neglecting to mention that neither one of them were expected to be at home. Gordon had a tendency to follow the twins around if they were on the Grove, and Cian ....well, she never really knew what his plans were. Setting down payment and a tip for the undrunk tea, she rose to her feet, offering George her hand. "Come home, George," she told him firmly. "I insist."

Come home, George. The words echoed in his head. When had he last heard such words" When had he ever heard such words from anyone" Certainly not since his arrival in Rhy'Din, which had become his home. There was no going home - not now, not ever - not even if he wanted to. He seemed lost in thought a moment, before blinking out of those thoughts and gracing her with a warm smile. "Very well. You're very persuasive, Gabrielle," he told her in a soft voice, the first time he'd used her given name. "And you did promise me lunch."

Given a purpose beyond being shy and nervous, Gabi came into her own, smiling at the sound of her name on his lips. Her hand claimed his, whether he was entirely comfortable with that or not. "Come on, then," she told him, giving him a gentle tug to his feet. "I parked not too far away."

"Parked?" he echoed, making no fuss about her hand in his. In fact, he found he rather liked it, though her hand felt very small in his, and moving to his feet again, he felt a little like a gangly giant towering over her. "Do you drive then?" he asked, with a hint of interest.

She smiled, her cheeks a little flushed with the sheer daring of holding his hand as she drew him outside once again. At least in her heels, she wasn't quite so small compared with him, but she was used to having men tower over her. Her cousin, Dom, sprang to mind in that respect. "I have to," she admitted a little reluctantly. "Maple Grove - the estate where most of us live - is outside the city walls. The only way to get there and back in a decent amount of time is by driving."

Though he hadn't said so just yet, he thought she looked lovely - like an angel from heaven, even lovelier than he'd remembered her. He wasn't sure why it surprised him so much that she had driven there to meet him; this was a very different world than the one he was used to, after all. "I rent a flat near the hospital, so there isn't much need for a motorcar, though I've often thought about buying one. I used to have one back home. My mother hated the thing. She never trusted anything with wheels that wasn't attached to a horse."

"Oh ..." She felt her blush recede a little as she looked up at him, leading the way out of the narrower streets to where she had parked her definitely modern car. "That would place you around the beginning of the twentieth century then, from Earth, anyway." Her fingers squeezed his gently, genuinely surprised by how comfortable she felt with such a simple little gesture. "This is me." She gestured with her clutch to a rather large vehicle on the roadside; it had definitely been created with a family in mind.

"1918, to be exact," he replied, but before he could explain further, he was face to face with a motorcar the likes of which he'd never seen so close up before. Oh, he wasn't so new to Rhy'Din that he'd never seen a car before. There were the hospital ambulances, for starters, and many of the staff members went back and forth to work in them. He'd even hitched a ride now and then, like he had today. How else could he have possibly made it anywhere near on time for their date" But this was unlike any he'd ever seen before. He whistled in appreciation as he looked the thing over. "The motor is under here, isn't it?" he asked, gesturing to the front of the car.

"Uh ....yes, I think so," Gabi offered. "At least, that's where the engine is." Pulling her keys from her clutch, she pressed the automatic unlock, and the car lights flashed to indicate that it was accessible. "You can let yourself in," she told him, gesturing to the passenger side. "I apologize about the mess and the smell. It's difficult to keep the boys from mashing banana into the seats when you're driving." George's open appreciation of what was, in her opinion, one of the ugliest cars she'd ever seen made her smile as she pulled open the driver side door, pausing to take her heels off before twisting into place.

He wasn't so unfamiliar with automobiles that the lights startled him, though he was impressed with the fact that she knew how to drive. He'd been living in Rhy'Din for a year, but these little wonders never ceased to amaze him still. He pulled open the passenger door with little trouble and climbed into the seat. Despite her warning, he didn't think the car smelled too terribly offensive, and whatever mess there was didn't bother him. He'd experienced far worse, after all. "No need to apologize. I must seem like something of a relic to you," he mused aloud, with a bit of a frown.

"It's home," she said softly. "The only place I've ever felt at home." Reaching over, she released him from his belt without a second thought, too used to doing it for the boys. Her fingers brushed his, bringing a faint blush to her face as she bent to slip her feet back into her shoes. "Come inside, I'll put the kettle on."

He noticed her blush when she brushed his fingers. There wasn't a more perfect opportunity to kiss her than this, and yet, he didn't. Despite all his talk about letting go and fitting in, he was the product of a different era and a different upbringing. Even if she wanted it, you just didn't kiss a girl on the first date, assuming that's what this was - he wasn't too sure about that yet. Of course, he'd kissed plenty of girls before, but this was different - she was different. He hadn't even realized she was barefoot until just then, and he felt a twinge of guilt that she'd gone through all the trouble to get dressed up just to find herself back home, but she didn't seem to mind. He should tell her she was pretty, that she looked pretty, he thought, but how could he say it without sounding like a bloody idiot' Instead, he only nodded and mumbled in agreement. What did the English do when they were perplexed" They drank tea.

With a little encouragement, Gabi ushered him out of the car and into the house, past the dual sitting rooms on either side that fronted the house and into the open space beyond that contained kitchen, dining room, and a play area that looked as though it got frequent use. The right wall was bright with natural light pouring in through windows that stood floor to ceiling. It was an automatic thing now, for Gabi to relax when she walked in through the door - her jacket was hung over the back of a stool, her shoes ended up under the dresser, and her bag found a rest on the dining table as she stooped to retrieve a forgotten toy or two. "Make yourself comfortable," she suggested to George gently.

He followed her into the house - keeping his hands to himself this time - and looked around. The place did remind him a little of home, but only a little. It was the grounds that really reminded him of home, though his parents' estate wasn't nearly as grand as Maple Grove. One might think it would make him a little homesick, but it didn't. Not for his parents' estate, anyway, which had often felt more like a prison than a home, though on occasion he did miss England. He knew there was a way to go back and visit, if he really wanted to, but he didn't think it would be wise to open that Pandora's Box. "It's quite nice, thank you," he murmured, some toy or other squeaking under his foot. He paused in mid-step and bent down to pick up a strange-looking stuffed carrot with a face that made a squeaky nose when you squeezed its middle.

Tossing her own treasure into the open toy box, Gabi glanced back as she heard the squeak, laughing a little in embarrassment to find her guest picking up one of her boys' favorite toys. "Oh, that's Torky," she offered by way of explanation. "Just toss him in the box. I'm sorry, there's always something lying around, no matter how hard we try and keep up with them." Gesturing for him to come into the open kitchen, she moved to fill the kettle, setting it to boil. "Would you like tea, or something different?"

"Hullo, Torky," he greeted the carrot, wondering just how he'd come to be known by that name. "I'm very glad to make your acquaintance," he said, as though the carrot were a living member of the family. He squeezed the carrot's middle a few times, causing it to squeak in reply. "Mmm, you don't say' Very interesting. I shall keep that in mind." Instead of tossing the stuffed carrot in a box, he propped it against the corner of a chair, as though the carrot was taking a seat there, before following her into the kitchen. "He says he likes it here very much, but ..." He lowered his voice as if what he was about to say was a secret. "He's a little claustrophobic and doesn't like being shut away in the toybox very much."

Gabi stared at him, torn between disbelief and laughter as she watched a fully grown man hold a conversation with the toy that most often caused fights between her sons. Her brown eyes were wide with humor as George joined her in the kitchen, leaning in to catch the big secret he divulged. "Oh, I didn't know that," she nodded sagely. "I'll try and remember it, for his sake." A moment later, she laughed aloud, turning to inspect the contents of her fridge. "I think you may have missed your calling, Dr. Bradford."

"And what is that exactly?" he asked, a silly grin on his face, which made him look almost boyishly charming. "A psychiatrist for mistreated and misunderstood toys?" he guessed, partially unzipping the sweater he was wearing over his shirt. He had opted for a shirt, tie, and slacks, but topped by a wool sweater, rather than a jacket, so that he didn't appear too overdressed or pompous.

"A father." She looked up at him as she said it, a soft smile on her pretty face in echo of the silly grin on his, and for a moment, they might almost have been far more than mere acquaintances. And then Gabi realized what she'd said. Her face lit up in a crimson blush, words stammering to get out. "I-I mean, well ....I-I didn't mean to imply ....I ..."

He arched both brows at her remark, though he wasn't offended by it. In point of fact, he'd had very little experience with children, but he'd always wanted to have a family of his own someday - until the war got in the way of things. Of course, it would have helped to have had someone to start a family with. "Perhaps someday," he replied, his grin faded to a soft smile, though he made no promises. He'd laid enough on her shoulders already that day with his admission of having lost a patient, but he really didn't want to think about that now.

Relieved that he hadn't taken offense at her unthinking comment, Gabi's smile returned as she let out a low breath. "What sort of thing do you like for lunch, George?" she asked him then, reaching up to pull her hair haphazardly out of her face. Barefoot and already a little scruffy, there was no guarantee that her dress was going to survive the day unstained, especially if the boys came home sooner than she was expecting. And yet she looked more herself than she had done outside the cafe. "The tea is in that cupboard," she indicated to him, clearly prepared to let him make his own tea. "Cups and pot in that one."

She had said for him to make himself comfortable, and he was more than happy to do so, feeling a little more at ease in her company than he had at the cafe, for some reason. He thought he could get used to this sort of companionship very easily, if he had the chance, but it was far too soon to get his hopes up. They were hardly even friends yet; never mind even considering anything else. "I'm not picky," he told her, as he went into the cupboard to search for tea and cups. Nothing could be worse than what he'd suffered through during the war, though at the clearing station, they'd had it far better than those in the trenches.

"Hmm ..." Inspecting the contents of the fridge once again, Gabi pulled out leftover risotto, cold chicken joining it on the counter as she considered her next move. "I'm afraid it won't be anything too fancy," she admitted. "But I can promise it will be edible. One thing I have learned how to do in the last few years is cook." A sauce from scratch would moisten up the chicken and risotto, and that was easily done. Cream of mushroom soup came in handy for all sorts of things these days. "Is there anything you're allergic to?"

"Me?" he asked, looking over at her curiously, as if there was someone else in the room he hadn't noticed. "Not that I'm aware of," he replied, setting a teabag in each cup before adding hot water. "You needn't fuss on my account. I would be just as happy with cucumber sandwiches as with anything else."

"Well ....this is the first opportunity I have had to have a decent meal in the company of an adult who doesn't know what I look like at four in the morning covered in spit up, so I am going to make a fuss," she informed him, the risotto already warming in the oven along with the chicken as she stirred the beginnings of the sauce in a pan. She flashed him a smile that was almost challenging. "Besides, good food and company help people to relax, and you've had an awful morning."

"I'll wager you look rather adorable at four in the morning," he blurted, before he had a chance to think better of it. His cheeks flushed just a little, but thankfully, his head was turned away from her as he busied himself preparing the tea. Hers merely needed steeping, but his needed just the right amount of milk and sugar. He didn't bother to argue the fact that his morning was less than pleasant, but he didn't really want to bring it up again. "Have you thought on what we talked about the other day at all?" Namely, finding a job or some vocation that would give him an excuse to get out of the house now and then.

He listened to her quietly, blue eyes sympathetic as she told him her story, or at least, some of her story, and the pieces of her life started to fall into place in his mind. He let her hold onto his hand, sensing she needed that connection, if only to remind herself that she wasn't alone, and he found himself hoping and wishing he could make her life less lonely, grateful to whatever Gods were watching over them for causing them to meet. "I shall have to thank Jacob later for bumping into me," he said with a soft smile. "I'm so sorry for your loss, Gabrielle, but you are strong. Far stronger than you know or give yourself credit for. Your sons are proof of that. I read somewhere recently that we are all works in progress. If that is true, then I would like to think I'm a better man now than I was before I arrived here. Everything in life is a lesson, Gabrielle, and how we react to those lessons and what choices we make that make us who we are."

She looked into his eyes as he spoke, sensing a little perhaps of the tragedies of his own life, though she would never push him to tell her. "You're a very good man, George," she told him softly, one hand uncurling from his to hover between them for a moment - evidence that, with a little more courage, she would have touched his cheek for his reassuring words. "I think I'm actually glad I lost Jake the other day. He found you."

"Not just a good man, but a very good man," he echoed with a soft and slightly ironic smile. "I'm flattered, but there's really nothing so special about me. I'm just a spoiled little rich boy who decided to rebel." That description of himself wasn't quite true; in fact, it wasn't even close to the truth, but if he was anything, he was modest. "I'm glad he found me, too, but I think perhaps we should eat our lunch before it gets cold." His blue eyes sparkled with a hint of amusement as his reminder, forcing himself once again not to lean close to kiss her or even touch his lips to her hand, as he wanted to do.

"And I'm just a spoiled little rich girl who never rebelled," she countered with a soft smile, reluctantly easing her hand from his to take up his plate and spoon out a serving of the risotto for him. "If I am not allowed to call myself a coward, George, then you are not allowed to deny that there is obviously something very special about you. Just because you can't see it, doesn't mean it isn't there." She set the plate down before him, smiling as she turned to serve herself.

He frowned at her, reluctant to share his own story, though he knew if they were to truly become friends, he would eventually need to share more than just hints at what his life had been like before he'd arrived in Rhy'Din. There were some back home who'd even dared call him a hero, but he knew that wasn't true. The real heroes were the ones on the front lines and the ones who were never coming back. "If I'd become who my parents wanted me to be, I have been shallow and without purpose." His gaze lingered on hers for a moment before picking up a fork and turning his attention to his lunch.

"If the woman who gave birth to me had been given the choice, I would have been forgotten," Gabi told him softly. "I was lucky to be given a home here. Life is what you make of it, and it will make of you something you could never have imagined." She shrugged lightly, knowing he had stories to tell, but sure they couldn't be pleasant in the telling. She ate quietly for a moment, watching him from beneath lowered lashes. What was it about him that had spurred her to want to know more, she wondered. What was it about this man that helped her shed her shyness so easily, just to see him calm and well"

"I'm not so sure about that," he replied uncertainly, letting her see a little of his own self-doubts. "I'd like to think I'm a good doctor. I care about my patients. There was a time when I wanted to be more than that, but ..." he trailed off with a light shrug. Had he given up on that dream, and if so, why"

"Rhy'Din is full of opportunities," she said gently. "If that wish is still inside you, there must be some way to make it come true." She paused, looking down at her meal thoughtfully. "One thing I do know ....no one can cage you but yourself."

"I don't feel caged, Gabrielle," he said, looking back at her again. "If anything, I feel free. If I had not been brought here, I truly do not know what would have become of me. I surely would have been dead by now." That much was certain, even if he had survived the shelling that almost ended his life before he found himself in Rhy'Din. "Do you know, when I first arrived, I used to wake up nights and think I was still back in France. I'd lay awake and wait for the sounds of shelling. You might as well know, I can no longer abide fireworks. Ironic, isn't it, how we use fireworks to celebrate the end of war when all they do is serve to remind us of the sound of cannons and gunfire." His attention seemed to drift for a moment, as if he was reliving some memory she could not see.

So he'd been a part of the Great War on Earth, the First World War. That explained a lot. "Fireworks frighten me," she admitted softly, the only offering of any relevance she could make. It wasn't much, but perhaps it was something, to know that he wasn't alone in his dislike of such loud displays. "Thunder frightens me, too. And I have no good reason for it." Setting down her fork, she reached over to touch his wrist. "I'm glad you came here, however it happened. And I'm glad you feel free."

"Thunder," he echoed, laughing. "It takes all my self-control not to crawl in a closet and roll up into a ball when a bad thunderstorm strikes. I can only imagine what it must have been like for those on the front lines." He gave another shrug, as if to hide a shudder and shake off the memories that still troubled him, even after a year. "We would make quite the pair during a storm," he remarked, the smile returning as she touched his hand and drew him back to the present. "Sometimes I think I must be dreaming. I worry I'll awake and find myself back there and all of this will have only been a dream." In the early days when he'd first arrived, he'd thought perhaps he'd gone mad and Rhy'Din was just a figment of a sick mind, but he'd eventually come to accept his fate and find a place and a purpose in Rhy'Din. "I never want to go back."

She laughed a little at his consideration of both of them together during a storm. It was only too easy to imagine - she'd lost count of the number of times Cian or Frank, or even their father, had willingly clambered into her closet with her when the thunder was bad. "That's part of the wonder of Rhy'Din," she offered gently. "You never have to go back, but it's always there, just in case."

He wondered if he'd made himself clear and turned to her now with a somber expression on his face. "I can't go back, Gabrielle." It was as simple as that. He'd done his research; he'd looked himself up. Missing, presumed dead. They'd never found a body, but how could they, when he'd ended up here" Had his family shed any tears for his loss" No, there was no going back, not anymore. The England that had been his home was nearly a century in the past, by Rhy'Din's reckoning, and he was old before his time. "There's nothing back there for me," he went on, forcing his voice to sound a little lighter and less serious as he scooped up a bit of risotto onto his fork. Certainly, no sweetheart to cry for his loss.

"That doesn't mean there's no one for you here." Again, for just a moment, the way she looked at him presented far more than a friend's visage, before - again - she realized what she'd said, blushing as she ducked her head. "Nothing," she corrected herself, embarrassed to have made such a slip.

"Perhaps," he said, allowing for the possibility, especially since he'd met her, though he wasn't going to get his hopes up. His attention on his risotto, he'd unfortunately missed that look from her, and what would he have said if he hadn't' "Forgive me for asking, but what are we eating" It's not rice exactly. Is it some sort of pasta?" he asked, curiously. Even as the son of an aristocrat, he'd never tasted anything quite like it.

"I'm quite certain I would not be," he assured her with a smile still in place, which did nothing to tell her whether he was still teasing her or being sincere. In point of fact, it was a little of both. He really couldn't imagine her looking anything but lovely, even with mussed hair, morning breath, and circles under her eyes. In fact, he found the thought of it rather ordinary and charming. "I'm sure she'd be horrified by my wardrobe," he said with a chuckle. When he wasn't in scrubs or a suit, he could mostly be found in his pajamas lounging about his flat. Today was an exception, of course, but it was rare that he needed to dress for anything but the hospital.

"I'm sure she would love to dress you," Gabi countered with a surprisingly mischievous grin. "She has a soft spot for tall, handsome men. She might even ask you to model for her sometime." Which said a lot, in fact, for the way that Gabi herself saw the good doctor sitting with her at that moment. "No dip allowed when you're wearing Miranda."

Handsome" Him' He couldn't recall having been called that in a very long time. He cleared his throat, very nearly blushing himself. "Yes, well, soft spot or not, I have my eye on someone else." He wondered if she'd misunderstand or realize it was her he was referring to. "I hardly think I need worry about that," he added. "I'm mostly in scrubs these days." Though if anything gave him reason to consider his appearance, it was her.

Shy Gabrielle might be, but she was far from stupid. Though she hid away from people, she was intuitive, not needing him to be more specific to understand the allusion in his blushing reply. "Married or not, she'd still have to get through me first," she heard herself say, shocked by her own boldness. "I bite when I'm cornered." Blushing herself now, she subsided into silence, filling her mouth to continue eating in the hope that she didn't offer up any more assumptions about where this unexpected - but very welcome - beginning might one day end.

"I shall try to remember that," he told her, remembering what she'd told him about the father of her children and how he'd tried to convince her to marry him. He did not doubt that the other man had good intentions and that he had loved her, but he also knew there was no forcing the issue. At that moment, he secretly promised himself never to make her feel trapped by speaking too much of his own feelings until he was sure of hers. He, too, turned his attention back to his food, quiet and thoughtful as he tried to sort out those feelings. Like her, he was feeling hopeful, but after all he'd been through, hopeful was a good place to be.

As he subsided, Gabi sagged a little, unable to shake the feeling that she had done something wrong. Said something wrong, certainly. It wasn't an unusual feeling; she generally felt that way when she spent a longer amount of time with anyone older than two. Silent herself, she managed another mouthful before she lost her appetite, playing with the food on her plate absently as she searched in vain for some topic of conversation.

He finished his lunch in silence, a little lost in thought, though it wasn't a bad thing necessarily as most of his thoughts were revolving around her. "Gabrielle," he said abruptly, thinking he at least owed it to her to tell her a little of how he was feeling or he might never see her again. "I don't want you to, uh, make you feel cornered," he started, obviously nervous again, for some reason. "I haven't been out with anyone in a long time. Not since ..."

When had he last been on anything even remotely resembling a date" It seemed like a lifetime ago; in a way, it had been a lifetime ago. Certainly, since before the war. There'd been no time for it then; there'd hardly been time to sleep, much less indulge in romance. There had been a girl his parents had been trying to force on him once upon a time, but it hardly counted or mattered. Not since before she was born" Before her mother was born" Good heavens, he realized. He was old enough to be her great great grandfather, though he was only just thirty-five years old.

"The truth is I like you. I like you a lot, and if you don't mind me being so very forward, I would like to see where this ..." He gestured with a large hand between the two of them. "....might go."

When he started to speak, Gabi could feel herself tensing, certain that she'd said or done something so awful that he was trying to find a polite way out of ever seeing or speaking to her again. She didn't dare look up, not until he went on. He likes me. The blush she hated so much made a fresh appearance as her soft eyes darted up to meet his, bright and hopeful, a very small smile twitching to life on her lips. "I ....I like you, too," she ventured, as nervous as he seemed to be. "I like you a great deal, George, and ....Well ....I don't think you're being forward at all, I ....I'd like to see where this, where we might go."

"We're in agreement then," he said, beaming a smile and exhaling a sigh of relief. He didn't remember ever being this nervous or awkward with women, but then it had been a very long time since he'd met one he was actually interested in spending more time with. "We can go as slow as you'd like. I confess I'm rather old-fashioned when it comes to courting. I hope I won't disappoint you." Once again, he had to hold himself back from reaching for her hand, his fingers curling around his fork instead, though his plate was clean.

"I-I don't think you could disappoint me," she murmured softly, very aware of the unexpected hammering in her chest. How was it, after just a few hours in his company, that agreement had meant so much to her" "I'm not sure I will be able to ....go slow, or as slowly as you might think," she offered nervously. "I, um ....Well, I like you. And I don't want you to feel cornered, either, and I promise I won't trap you into anything ..." She trailed off, chewing her lip once again rather than continue babbling.

He set the fork down and, despite his fears, followed his instincts, reaching over to curl his fingers around hers. "I know you won't." He wasn't sure how he knew, but he did. Maybe they were not so different as they seemed. "What do you say we clean up the dishes and go say hullo to the horses?" he asked, making an effort to change the subject again and banish both of their fears, at least for the time being.

Caught by his hand wrapped about hers, Gabi let go of her lower lip, her smile almost only in her eyes as he changed the subject with knowing skill. "I think that's a lovely idea," she nodded in agreement, squeezing his hand between both her own as she moved to rise onto her bare feet. "I may have to find more practical shoes before we go, though."

"White might not be a good idea either," he remarked, though the white looked lovely on her with her soft brown eyes and honey wheat hair. "I have a better idea," he said as he moved to his feet. "Why don't you go get changed while I do the dishes?" he suggested. A man volunteering to do the dishes" Well, there was no arguing the fact that he knew how to scrub up!

She blinked, surprised by the suggestion, but couldn't deny it had a core of very solid good sense. "Um ....all right," she agreed with a nod, her smile brightening as she realized she could wear something a little less self-conscious in short order. "I won't be long," she promised. "Really, it doesn't take me long to change these days. I've become an expert at it."

He laughed, amused by her apparent worry that she'd be wasting his time by changing her clothes. "Take your time. I have all day!" he assured her with a grin before turning to start clearing the table. And he had Sunday, too, if she wanted it. They hadn't set a date yet for the theater, but if they wanted to catch Henry V before the run was through, they couldn't procrastinate too long. The real trick was finding someone willing to take the boys for a few hours, as they'd be bored silly by Shakespeare.

It might not be such a trick as he thought. Gabi had spent two years not calling in on all the offers of babysitting she'd been given; she had a list of willing victims to call on, and not all of them were family. Nodding at his reassurance, nonetheless she ran out of the kitchen, soft footfalls declaring her progress up the stairs and into one of the bedrooms, where a thump declared that she was still as clumsy as she had ever been.

He turned to face her, understanding her argument, but not quite agreeing with it. They were both products of their life experiences, and there were certain things he just could not accept or tolerate. "There were once cultures on Earth who sacrificed humans for the sake of their religious beliefs. Not only men, but women and children. Is that something that should be tolerated on Rhy'Din just because it is part of someone's culture, Gabrielle" I understand the clash of cultures and the need for tolerance, but how can we hope for a civilized society without some commonality and some order" I am not saying we all need to be alike in our beliefs, customs, and lifestyles, but life - all life - should be regarded sacred. And without commonality and laws, for lack of a better word, there would be nothing but chaos. But as I said before, laws are for the law-abiding. There will always be those who refuse to conform. The question, then, is what do we do with those who do not conform to the rules of a civilized society' Do we lock them up, banish them, put them to death? Is it not our responsibility as a civilized society to make life safe for all our citizens?"

She stared at him, shaken by just how passionate he was in his argument. Though she knew that there was little that could be done, she understood the reasoning behind his argument. She envied him his passion for the subject, a little frightened by it at the same time. "I ....I don't know," was all she could offer as an answer. "I only know what I have seen, and what has been done. Those are questions I can't answer. I'm not important, I don't have any power. I'm just me, and all I can do is teach my children right from wrong."

He seemed to realize that he'd gone too far; that he'd overwhelmed her with the passion of his beliefs. He frowned, hoping he hadn't frightened her off. "I'm sorry," he told her in as gentle a voice as he could muster. "I get a little carried away sometimes. It's just ..." Should he explain and try to help her understand or let it go, he wondered. "I come from a life of privilege, and unlike some of my peers, I believe it's my responsibility to give something back. To make the world a better place for those less fortunate than myself. Even here, I may not be rich, but I better off than many. During the war, I learned to never take anything for granted." He turned quiet, reaching tentatively for her hand, repeating quietly, "Anything."

Despite the shock of his sudden passion, there was no hesitation in the way her fingers curled into his as he took her hand. "I envy you that passion," she admitted softly. "That ability to feel so deeply for people you have never met, may never even see. I-I feel very selfish, to only think of myself and my family, especially when we are so very privileged."

"You're not selfish, Gabrielle," he replied, smiling down at her, his expression soft with growing affection. "If you were selfish, you wouldn't be raising two small boys. You wouldn't have family and friends who adore you. And you certainly wouldn't have asked a lost soul like myself to share your day. You have a warm, loving heart, and that is something that is much needed in the world, whatever world that might be," he said, reaching over to tuck her hair behind her ear in a gesture of affection, afraid to go any farther just yet.

She swallowed against the lump in her throat as he spoke to her, caught by the affection in his brilliant blue eyes as she gazed up at him, deeply touched that he could see so much in her when she could see so little. She opened her mouth to speak, and something determined butted her in the back, knocking her forward against George's chest.

Without thinking, one arm went around her to catch her as she collided with his chest, laughing when he spied the culprit behind her. "I think perhaps someone is jealous that I'm taking up so much of your time and attention," he told her, smirking in amusement.

Startled to find herself not only up close and personal, but held there against his chest, Gabi turned a beautiful shade of crimson, stammering out an apology even as he laughed, drawing her attention to the palomino mare that that nudged her back so insistently. Any irritation she might have felt was swept aside as she smiled. "Hello, Echo," she greeted the mare warmly, and was rewarded with the familiar whinny in return, reaching out one hand to rub the offered forelock. "George, meet Echo. She was mine a few years ago."

He arched a brow at her statement or perhaps more at the way she'd chosen to word it. "And whose is she now?" he asked, reaching around Gabi offer a hand palm-upward for the mare's inspection. "Hullo, Echo," he offered. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"I don't know," Gabi admitted, easing aside to let Echo wuffle happily over George's palm. "I'm not sure whether she was given to one of the children yet. I do know Cian taught Leilani to ride with her, though." She bit her lip, trying to stifle a loud giggle as Echo, having established that George had no sugar or apples in his hand, proceeded to raise her head and attempt to eat his hair.

"I see," George replied, laughing as the palomino rejected his hand and made a play for his hair. "Sorry, girl. I promise to bring you a treat next time," he told her, ducking his head before she actually got a mouthful. He thought he had little enough hair as it was. "She's got quite the personality," he said, taking an almost immediate liking to the old mare.

"She's always been very friendly," Gabi laughed softly, letting out a soft grunt as Echo's attention returned to her, the long nose butting her in the shoulder this time. "I chose her, when she was a foal. She suited me perfectly." Ducking under the mare's head, she reached up to embrace the strong neck, braced for the weight as Echo laid her head comfortably on the human back now presented to her. As Gabi sighed, hugging the familiar presence affectionately, the mare eyed George as if to say, See how easy it is to get a hug"

He frowned a little at the familiar affection between the two of them, eying Echo back, but not quite getting the message. It might be easy for her, but it wasn't so easy for him. He let Gabi slip away from his accidental embrace to hug the mare, remembering a similar friendship he'd shared many years ago. "What suits you now?" he asked curiously, hoping that didn't come out sounding too rude or too forward.

It might have seemed forward to him, but Gabi answered the question without thinking. "Attention," she said simply, smiling as she drew back to rub Echo's forelock once again. "Someone who sees me, who notices that I'm not just a mother or a sister or a daughter, who has the mind to challenge me and the sense not to push too hard to make me see the world they do." Brown eyes flickered briefly toward him. "I think ....someone standing not to far away, actually."

He was well acquainted with horses, but not with this particular horse and so didn't presume to touch her forelock in such a familiar manner as the woman who'd known her all her life. Instead, he maintained a short distance, allowing woman and mare to have their moment without his interfering. He flicked a glance at Gabi, brows raised at her answer to his question. It was obvious she was referring to him and it surprised him a little. "Well, I wouldn't want to come between you," he replied, with the hint of a teasing smile at his lips, referring to her love affair with the palomino, not himself.

She laughed softly, easing back properly from the mare. "I think she could handle sharing me," she smiled, looking up at the horse fondly. "Couldn't you? Where's Gandalf, anyway?" Her head tilted as she looked at Echo, repeating the name, and the mare turned abruptly and trotted away, nickering for another horse's attention. Gabi smiled, wrapping her arms about herself as she looked at George. "Gandalf is her son," she explained. "The only foal she ever managed to rear herself."

He hadn't meant to best her at the climb; after all, it wasn't his fault he was so tall. "Where were you a year ago when I first arrived?" he asked, though again didn't really expect an answer. "If I may ..." he said, as if asking for permission before setting his hands against her waist and lifting her off the gate to set her on her feet, as easily as she might do for one of the twins.

"Oh ...thank you!" She seemed genuinely surprised by his offer to lift her down, taking it happily enough, though it was no surprise by now to see her blush at what was, to her, intimate contact. In an attempt to set aside that stimulating flush as she looked up at him, her hands lingering against the wool of his sweater, she made an effort to answer his question. "A year ago, I was ....mostly half-asleep."

Once she was on the ground, he found himself reluctant to let her go, his hands lingering a moment longer than necessary against her waist, just as her hands seemed to linger against his sweater. "I'm not following," he said, unsure what she meant exactly.

Gabi couldn't help chuckling a little, though it took her a moment longer to slip her hands from his chest. "I've only recently rejoined the land of the living," she admitted with a smile. "Since the boys were born, I've been mostly cleaning up after them, chasing them, feeding them, or grabbing naps when they were asleep. I was definitely sleep-deprived for a while there."

"Oh, I see," he said, wondering why he hadn't figured that out for himself, but then, he'd never had small children or even known anyone else who did. He certainly knew what it was like to go through life like he was half-asleep thought, but he thought he'd shared enough about his own life for one day. He only mumbled, "I know what that's like."

She eyed him with no small amount of concern as he mumbled, reaching up to gently touch his jaw with her fingertips, drawing his eyes back to hers. "I won't ever judge you for your experiences or the choices you make," she told him quietly. "All that matters is that you are content with those choices, and the consequences that come from them. No one else's opinion should have any bearing on what makes you you."

"You don't think me a coward for not trying to go back?" he asked, though they had already touched on this a little already. Perhaps they weren't so different, after all, even if they did come from very different worlds. "If I'd found my way back there," he started, taking her hands and pressing them against his chest, close to his heart. "I'd never have met you."

She gazed up at him, touched by the way he took her hands in his, holding them to his heart, holding her close without crossing that line that seemed to be ingrained into him of what was proper. "I don't think you're a coward at all," she promised him in her quiet way. "It might be selfish to say it, but I'm glad you didn't go back."

Selfish or not, he was glad he hadn't gone back either. If he had, there was no question he'd be dead by now, but that was irrelevant. He'd made his choice, and he had no intention of changing it now. There was something else he'd decided, too, though he wasn't quite sure what she might think of that decision. One hand let go of hers so that he could tip her chin up to face him and meet the blue eyes that were looking into hers, though she was already looking at him. "With your permission, I would like to kiss you, Miss Granger."

She felt her stomach flip over as he lifted her chin, something subtle changed in his expression enough to shorten her breath with the unexpected tingle of anticipation. His question, when it came, didn't set off a surge of panic, the way she might have expected it to. Yes, agitation flowed through her, but it wasn't a bad feeling. Her brown eyes flickered to his lips briefly before she found his gaze again. "On one condition," she heard herself say, with almost a tease in the fond tone. "That you stop calling me Miss Granger. I like the way my name sounds, when you say it."

He smiled back at her, not only relieved that she had not rejected his request, but that she felt comfortable enough with him to tease him a little. "Very well, Gabrielle," he replied, her name as soft as a prayer against his lips. And then his head was dipping closer, heart racing in anticipation. It had been a long time since he'd kissed a girl - no, a woman - and even longer since he'd kissed anyone he cared about as much as he cared for her. His lips when they touched hers were soft and warm, with the just right amount of pressure to entice without being too forward. It wasn't the kind of kiss shared by friends or by siblings, tender but not too tame, soft but unafraid.

The kisses in Gabi's life had been few and far between. One boy in her senior year, who had asked her to prom only for the opportunity to fumble his way through kissing her; Ennis, whose kisses had burned out too soon for his peace of mind; and now this kiss. A kiss that soothed and excited her, drawing her in, respecting the shyness in her without using it as an excuse to keep her from feeling too much. Her fingers tightened about his as she closed her eyes, only too happy to kiss and be kissed, feeling almost like a princess in a romance, rescued by her white knight. But that was a fantasy, and the man whose lips brushed hers was only too real, stealing her breath as easily as he might steal her heart, if she could only take that leap of faith.

It didn't matter if she took that leap of faith just yet. There was plenty of time to get comfortable with each other, to get to know each other. What was important was that with that first kiss, they seemed to have taken the first step toward a serious relationship, toward the romance that had alluded them both all their lives. It wasn't just a kiss then, but an unspoken promise to open their hearts to the other and find the courage to take a chance at the love that had always alluded them.

Even when the kiss broke, that promise stood, unspoken but heartfelt. Gabi forced her eyes open, not wanting to miss a thing, her lips warm with his kiss even as she smiled shyly up at him. It was a beautiful moment ....and she didn't have the first idea of what to say.

Because maybe at a time like that, nothing needed to be said. His eyes said it all, warm with affection and hopeful for the future. It wasn't nearly time yet for them to ride off into the sunset and have their happily ever after, but they had taken the first step, and with any luck, things could only get better from here.

((Certainly not what you might call a normal first date, but what the hell ....it worked!))