you're the only one who can get me on my feet

[unsanguine]

WHO: Hal and Riley! (2.0)
WHAT: Fishing, hilarious bouts of self-control
WHERE: House 7 and presumably the ocean
WHEN: Day 89!
NOTES: I should stop putting Hal in awkward situations, but I won't.



Hal has never had this much time to himself.

In some ways this has its charms; no one is prodding him to get a job, to go outside and interact with what some other vampire, in some other universe, had once called Happy Meals on Legs (Hal would get the sentiment, if not the reference). He doesn't have his routines here, but he can establish new ones. He accepts resignation better than most.

So left to his own devices he probably would just brood in his Man Attic forever, actually, and that might be fine, even if one imagines it might get a little weird for Shiala eventually, living with someone who never emerges from his own room.

On this day he has just finished doing approximately a fuckbillion pressups, and is now puttering around the living room because ...it needed dusting, and that did require leaving the attic. He is imminently botherable, so this is probably about when a dedicated person would pounce on him.

Comments

[unsanguine]

Fool that he was, Hal had labored for a sweet, ignorant second under the delusion that she meant to walk faster. So he was stymied initially when she took off for the trees, and gave due consideration to finishing the trip sedately, like a sane person.

But she'd made it a challenge, and he'd always prided himself on his ability to meet those. Dedication to the difficult was the only reason he'd made it dry the last 50 years. He followed the thick growth of trees visually, the same way he'd watched Riley close in, only this time with intent. With purpose. Choosing to forsake the path entirely meant that he was occasionally thrown by a tree or debris he hadn't anticipated, but once he stopped thinking so damned much, the creature that he was knew how to account for those obstacles without breaking stride.

At its core, without the measurement of good or evil, a vampire was a hunter. He let his instincts take him, and so arrived at the riverbank disheveled, sweaty, and inordinately proud of himself. He'd give it a minute to see what Riley made of that before his general neuroses drove him to start neatening his hair or brushing his clothes free of twigs and leaves.

[undomesticated]

She beat him there, turning around once she reached the embankment to see which way he'd come from. That he'd followed her, come through the trees on her tail, so to speak, had her smiling proudly at him. She came over and picked a leaf out of his hair before she threw her arms around him for a hug. Squeezing him, she drew back, hands on his shoulders as she gave him a very pleased look. "Well done, Hal. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

He'd almost looked like he'd been enjoying himself, but she didn't want to jump too far ahead. He'd done it and that was the key. He'd smiled and she wouldn't rub it in his face. Little steps (or giant leaps) at a time.

[unsanguine]

Hal's shoulders tensed inside the hug, but he was too surprised to do anything but return it with intense awkwardness before pulling back into his own bubble.

This was a challenge too, even if he suspected he was being heavily manipulated. (Although with no ill intent.) He could have kept moving back, away from the reach of her hands, but he made himself stand in place. After a second the urge to straighten his appearance proved too strong an itch, but he'd done it. He'd let her in even as briefly as he had, and no great catastrophe had dropped out of the sky.

She reminded him of Katherine, the same spark and steel, and there hadn't been a woman like Katherine in over a century. She'd been--exceptional, and it wasn't lost on him that she'd also been a werewolf. "You did make the proposition rather irresistible," he pointed out as if he'd just made some marvelous deduction of logic. "I'd be loathe to disappoint a lady."

[undomesticated]

That had her laughing in delight, her hands clapping together as she beamed at him. "Hal, you are just too much. You sound like a Jane Austin movie and it's just... wow. My mom would love you." She watched as he pulled himself back into that carefully ordered appearance, but there was something in the way he almost smiled that hinted he might actually be enjoying himself.

She hoped so.

Turning to the river, she gestured a little further down. "I usually fish over there. There's a spot you can rest if you want, m'lord," she added with a very low sweeping curtsy. It was probably the worst curtsy in the history of curtsies, but did she at least get points for trying?