[Open post] ..life's a hall of mirrors..

[lanselos_du_lac]

It's been an exhausting few days. While the zombie siege was dangerous, Lancelot is proud of how they handled things, together -- even though not everyone is friends. He was also, he must admit, grateful for the diversion. There is too much on his mind, after the truth-telling spell, and most of it sits like a stone in him... making his sleep even worse, weighing on his heart.

Still, all of that is strangely intermixed with hope. He has a few new friendships that feel like how he remembers friendship feeling -- pleasure in each other's company, time well spent, connection. There's a little piece of him that feels as if he gave that up with youth. (He was always glad to be in Arthur's company, or Guinevere's, he misses them in a way that's sometimes physically painful now that they're away from him. But all of that feels shored up by duty, devotion, love -- nothing simple.) He is glad he could speak plainly with Galahad, glad for all of these new possibilities. Glad of Susan, Laertes, Grantaire -- even Sagramore, whom only months ago he would have given little notice.

So he's reverted to keeping to himself, a little, while he thinks things through. He keeps his schedule: sleep (or not sleeping), drills in the morning, finding something to eat after that, wandering the mansion or the grounds. He's not as adrift as he was, and he is sober most of the time now, but it's an adjustment.

This afternoon he's determined that it's been too long since he took proper care of his sword. He's found a bench and has set himself up there to clean, hone, and oil the blade.

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[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot gasps at this but returns the kiss with equal fierceness, one arm tightening around her waist -- his other hand rests lightly at the back of her neck, and he shifts against her.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan gets caught up in Lancelot, in the feeling of his body and the intensity of his kiss, for a few long moments. She forgets, briefly, what they've agreed to, and starts tugging at his top -- only to come back to herself a moment later and pull away with a small, rueful smile. "You make it very easy to get carried away," she tells him; it's not an apology.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Aye," he says, sounding a little dazed. It's not meant as a boast. He takes a breath. "Susan," he says, still unsure at how informal, how familiar it sounds. He worries for a moment, against even his own judgment, that he's over stepping.

Another breath. "I would like--" He glances away for a moment, then back. "I would like for us to have dinner. Tonight, or any other night. So that we may speak, and understand one another."

He stops himself before he says and determine how to proceed, because it sounds too formal, even to him, and he's suddenly sharply self-conscious.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Yes," Susan says, and there's that tiny, genuine smile again, shining out. She moves her hands to his shoulders, creating a slight and necessary distance between their torsos, then brushes his cheek with the backs of her fingers and strokes that hand on through his hair, smoothing it back. "I would like that very much. Tonight, or any other night."

[lanselos_du_lac]

He smiles a little, though he's clearly still a little nervous. "Tonight, then."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Tonight," Susan agrees, and indulges herself by leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. She thinks about sliding off of his lap and finishing the picnic, but she's loathe to move, so she hesitates.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot reaches up to draw her close, and kiss her sweetly again, as if for good measure. After a lingering moment, he murmurs, "Shall I come to thee, then?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan hasn't had a gentleman come fetch her, or to her, in well over a year, and the thought charms her. "Please do," she says, kissing him once more.

And then, with the greatest reluctance, she slips free of his grasp and moves to sit next to him. "I'm going to get carried away again if I'm not careful," she explains, mock-reproachfully, already missing his warmth.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Thou'rt wise," his tone is faintly teasing. He does reach for her hand, as if missing the contact. "And beautiful."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan takes his hand in hers, and leans against him, and starts to crane her head up for another kiss before she catches herself. She's feeling less indecisive now, so she says, "I am," with a wicked gleam in her eye. Rather than reiterating that he flatters her once again, decides on a double entendre, to see how he reacts. "And you've got a nimble tongue."

[lanselos_du_lac]

He chuckles a little, flushing again, "Ah, perhaps, my lady, but not for speaking."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Blithely, summoning up her easy, flirtatious smile - but this time it's a little softer, a little more genuine - she says, "Then I look forward to becoming better-acquainted with it."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I am eager to show thee," with the faintest teasing tone. "Should I meet thee at thy quarters?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"At sundown?" Susan suggests.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Aye, 'tis a good time." He squeezes her hand gently.