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julie

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It still feels new, like they're finding the shape of it between the three of them. He has faith that it'll all work out. Tonight, it's just the two of them where, so often lately, it's been the three of them together. He's a little early, having come straight from the Vet's office, and he's slid into a booth, sketching idly as he waits for her to join him.

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"Until she's had pie, anyway," he says, clearing his throat and sobering. "Well. What shall we talk about? What's safe, Will?"

"I am sure I don't know what you mean," I say gravely, holding off my grin as long as I am able. If that isn't really long at all, I am sure I can't be blamed.

I can, however, direct a conversation in a respectable manner, especially to make someone I care for more comfortable.

"How is your lovely boat, Will?"

"Well enough, thank you. It may require a new coat of paint at some point, but not too terribly soon." Laurence was more than happy to take refuge in such safe, mundane topics. They provided a welcome sense of security. He knew precisely where he stood with such things. "It can be gone without, but I would prefer her looking smart."

Granby does love listening Laurence talk about his boat; it feels like a bit of the universe slipping more comfortably into place.

"Well, you know I can always be pressed into service if needs be."

"Me, too," I say, very interested in the idea of doing something so satisfyingly useful. "I might not know much about boat fashion, and I am not much of an artist, but I can certainly manage a paintbrush."

Laurence smiled at their offers of assistance, his earlier, more businesslike aspect softening somewhat. "Thank you. Though I very much doubt I will ever find suitable paint here, if I ever do you shall both be the first I ask for help."

The way that Laurence softens is enough to make Granby smile - he recognises it. There is possibly no-one that he knows better on the face of the planet than the man sitting in front of him.

"I still think I'd make a terrible sailor," he says, with a sniff. "I'm an Aviator in my bones."

"And I will never love to fly," I say, because though of course I will do it, it will never not feel like a terrible necessity. "What are you doing, with a girl like me?" I ask, laughing.

"We shall stay on firm ground if we must," Laurence said in response to Julie. It was only after he had reassured her that he turned to Granby's statement. "You would make a terrible sailor. The Lord only knows what might have happened if you had come aboard one of my ships as a lieutenant."

"She says that because she hasn't met them," he says, fondly. "She'd change her mind if she met them." He snorts a laugh at Laurence's next statement, rolling his eyes. "You'd have had me flogged for insubordination and thrown over the side. I know. I'm terrible."

"'She' might," is all I will allow, as I am not so sure there's that much difference between dragons and airplanes, as far as a fear of heights is concerned. "He would never! Would you, Will?" I have slipped my hand into his, unconsciously confirming the comfort of the safe, solid ground that he offers.

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