Rafferty lay with her head in Vincent's lap, stretching her legs into the sun. The warmth felt good, and she let her head slip back as she closed her eyes.

Every so often, Vincent would lean down and kiss her gently on the lips. Rafferty didn't have a lot to compare them to, but she thought these were nice. She had found most of her previous kisses had fallen into one of two unfortunate categories: overwrought, insistent, and wet, or almost annoyingly timid.

She felt his lips on hers again, and pushed back, just a little.

Mmmm…. he's good at this.

Not that she was actually going to tell him that.

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No, but I suppose the fact that you let him keep doing it is a pretty big clue.

Once, she sat up and nipped at his collar bone. She worried that it was silly, but he seemed to think it was cute. Rafferty liked the way he had looked at her afterwards, anyway.

They had found a shady spot about halfway along the path to the shower pool. Vincent sat under a short rocky overhang, with his back against the stone. It was a hot day in late summer, and Vincent said it was the perfect sort of day for doing nothing. For once, Rafferty agreed. Doing nothing actually sounded kind of nice.

She reached around Vincent, and dipped her hand into the little bag they had brought. She was looking for more cookies, but found only crumbs.

"We're out. I think there's an apple, though," he said.

Rafferty made a long, slow sound, sleepy and disappointed.

"Apples are boring," she said.

"I might still taste like cookies. Here…" he said, leaning down once again.

Rafferty didn't have time to finish rolling her eyes before his lips were on hers again.

No cookie taste. Darn.

"Do you have to get back?" he asked.

As a matter of fact, she didn't. In the jumble of reactions to their trip to Grackle, the powers that be had forgotten to give J Hall a new assignment.

"No, I like it here," she said, enjoying the heat, the companionship, and the fact that for the first time in weeks, maybe months, nothing hurt.