Prompt: Fairground Attraction
Start time: 10.29pm
Finish time: 1100pm
The roller coaster shot overhead in the eveining skyglow, greased wheels clattering against expansion joints, the solid hardwood of the trestle scaffolding sending faint tremors into the ground and up through the four inches of Nico's heels to tickle at her feet. The Dopplering scream of the riders' exhilaration trailed away after a moment; the smile it put on her face remained.
Huh, Redgrave had said, as she'd emerged from the washroom with makeup and wig.
Huh, what.
Different look.
You're surprised I clean up nice?
He.. must mean a lot to you.
Yes, he does.
No need to rush back. He'd leaned back in the chair. I brought a book.
So here she was, waiting in the chill of the deep winter seabreeze, as the scent of deepfried dough and batter came sharp to her nose.
"I don't know why they always build out to sea."
Nico turned with a smile.
"Dilly! You're early."
"Nico." He handed her a bouquet and a paper cup of hot chocolate. "I managed to finish up at the studio after all."
She slipped her arm through his, falling into step beside him and sipping at the cocoa, passing under a pair of streetlamps warming from red to gold.
"Sorry I've been busy."
"Sudden project?"
"You could say that."
He doesn't know?
What I really do?
Yes.
No.
Is that wise?
He's not part of this world. He's part of a better one. One where people love and live.
Redgrave had declined to comment on that.
I'll tell him... someday. Not today.
"I was glad to get away." He smiled. "One day off isn't going to slow down the painting that much."
Dilly looked the part, too; his turtleneck, greatcoat and glasses could have come from a mock vintage catalogue. Except that they weren't, as he'd explained when they'd met under this roller coaster, half a year ago, two strangers pushed together by the Brownian motion of mutual acquaintance.
Father's clothes.
Genuine.retro, then. None of this, she'd gestured at their comrades arguing about the finer points of poetry slamming, authenticity in a can.
They weren't retro when he bought them.
And the glasses?
Ah, I did buy those. Accessorising.
The smile as he'd said that had sold her; the crooked expression that admitted his awareness of the joke while living it out. A man capable of complex thoughts, even if he didn't always show it.
An old man with a steam organ tipped his hat at them and began turning the handle as Dilly dropped change into his tin. The cardboard rolls began to scroll, their punchcard music flowing up through the guts of the clockwork amanuensis and steamblasted fluted music into the darkening sky.
"Can you afford that?"
"More than he can." Dilly shrugged. "I got my advance yesterday."
"Congratulations." She finished the cocoa. "You should have called."
"Couldn't cash the cheque until this morning. Didn't think you should be the one buying dinner."
"Starving artist in a garrett is a bit overdone, don't you think?"
"Oh, I had enough to eat. Just nothing nice for entertaining guests."
"I'm still your guest, after all this time?"
"You're certainly not my servant." He glanced sideways. "Or anyone's." He nodded to the organ grinder, who turned a switch; extended a hand to Nico as the music shifted key.
"Oh." An intake of breath. "You sneaky romantic."
"Sneaky, anyway." That smile again, simultaneously admitting the foolishness of the facade and engaging in it. "May I have the pleasure of this dance, Miss Shirotori Nico?"
"My pleasure, Dillinger Fyrd. My very great pleasure."
And the last of the skyglow faded and the stars came on like streetlights, and the world was alive again.
Prompts: Tropical rain
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