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[ersatzdivinity]

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[tothefly]

I know, he says, and what else is left to say? He's made his choice, and so has she. Maybe if she does this, she'll be able to regain perspective, clear her head and his of all the ghosts still haunting them. It's a thin excuse. She shouldn't need an excuse. She makes her choices and doesn't look back.

The words are barely out of his mouth before she rises just that tiniest bit higher on her toes and kisses him, heedless of the death and destruction around them. That doesn't matter. Bodies are just that, dead and gone and of no concern when he is warm and alive and right here in front of her. The adrenaline rush spikes again, and her lips move on his, parting to taste him. It isn't at all like it once was, but that's for the best. She doesn't want what used to be. She wants to know him, too.

[praeteriens]

His brain does an odd thing when she kisses him and goes quiet. Minimal chatter, a consideration for the gas that may still be rising through the building's subterranean floors towards them, an awareness of the hall itself but the rest? The awareness of his arm, all his various aches, and pains, concerns about the invisible minefield called his memory, fades to a murmur in the back of his mind.

So that's...interesting.

Opening his mouth to more of her is easy. Keeping his hands loose against her waist, breathing her in. She smells so similar yet different, changed over time and circumstance or perhaps because his memory is just worn thin in strange places and he wonders how much is different for her. Wonders, discards it. Wonders instead at the way she tastes, her lips against his own.

Wonders at how he woke up this morning with no idea he'd kiss anyone today. If someone had told him, he would have laughed in their faces.

Eventually one of them will need air, and he'll give her a small, lopsided smile. "I'll follow your lead." The hell out of here, at least.

[tothefly]

Somewhere along the way, he let go of her wrist. Somewhere along the way, both of her hands ended up on his shoulders, in his hair, fingertips on skin and her body not quite pressed against his, just barely brushing. It's a long moment, an endless moment, although it has to end eventually. Eventually, it stops, although her mind still floats in that strangely calm silence, distantly cataloguing sensations. He tastes different. Feels different. But that could be her as much as him, couldn't it, and their bodies still fit together in a way that makes her wonder if they still fit together other ways. Considerations for another time, maybe, or for never. Or for now, because there might not be another time. Never a good time, she thinks absently, tongue briefly touching her lips, tasting him as her eyes slowly open. She doesn't want to move. She should move. They both have to.

"We should go. That gas won't stay downstairs forever." There's a town a few kilometers away, too far to walk for most people, but not for everyone. The dead men at their feet probably brought their own transportation. She'd hidden a bike in a small stand of scrub not too far away. "How did you get here?" She still doesn't pull away. That's probably not immediately necessary. A secondary concern. When they have a plan, then--then this can stop.

[praeteriens]

"Walked." He glances at said dead men. They could take one of their vehicles, but it's likely being tracked so it wouldn't really be worth it. Might be fun to dump it somewhere interesting, though; he'll consider it once they're clear of any possible death via poisonous gases.

Other things his mind would seriously like him to consider now versus later: the idea that she may be pretending. The idea that he may be hallucinating, dreaming, or dying. The idea that she is going to kick him to the curb the moment he becomes a liability, which, fair really.

The idea that he is going to disappoint her wholly by not measuring up to what he can only partially remember.

"How did you get here?"

[tothefly]

"Bike's parked out back." More or less. A short hike, one they've both made before. She can see the hesitation in his face, uncertainty that's not exactly like it used to be, but enough so that she can't quite help the automatic response that still comes to mind. "I can give you a lift back to town. Or wherever." He could come with her. It's better, a time like this. They'd probably tripped some new security system that hadn't been in place the last time they were there. Hadn't known who was there. Next time, they'll be more prepared for their best weapons coming back to haunt them.

Stepping away and holstering her weapons, she checks the bodies quickly for any sort of personal belongings. Nothing. They're professional, at least.Finally, she stands again. "You coming or what? Maybe you'd rather stay with them?" A gesture towards the bodies on the floor as she looks at him, and the curiosity in her eyes is gone for the moment, replaced by practicality and the priority of living.

If he agrees, she'll lead the way out to her bike. There's only one helmet. She doesn't offer it to him, but then, he probably wouldn't accept it. It's about a twenty-minute ride back to town if you take the direct route, twice that if you cut cross country and confuse your trail enough to approach the city from the opposite side. They do the latter, of course, and at the very end of the ride she pulls up to a run-down apartment building, idling the bike at the corner. "This is me." For now, for the moment, for the hour. She's not sure yet. Things could change. "You want the bike? To get back to wherever you're staying." He has to have some place, right? Some plan. He always had a plan.