#papidega

“I haven’tthought about her in a long time.” Louis shook his head, “No. That isn’t true.I saw a woman in town, she reminded me of my ex-wife with her dark hair andpretty smile,” The man frowned, “which then reminded me of how she decided tomarry my lawyer and leave me stuck onthat damned island.”

Henri chuckledand took a drag off his cigarette, “You used to draw pictures of her.”

“Don’t remindme. They were very terrible. I was very desperate.”

“You’veimproved greatly, if that’s any consolation.” Henri smiled coyly. Louis hadseemed to very quickly trade in hasty and awkward sketches of his former wifefor artsy, dedicated portraits of the former safe cracker.

Louis rolledhis eyes, “Why are you even asking about her?”

“I wasn’tasking about her specifically. Moreabout your marriage. I’ve been thinking about it lately.”

“Thinkingabout marriage?” Louis quirked a brow, “Didn’t you have a fiancé? What was hername…? Nancy?”

“Nennette.” Henri tapped his ashes into atray and looked out into the garden, “And she wasn’t my fiancé. Eventually Iwould’ve asked her to marry me, sure. And she was dying for me to. I just wasn’tready, I was having fun living a life of danger and intrigue. That doesn’texactly work well with marriage and domesticity, at least not for long.”

He worriedvacantly at his beard, wondering for just a moment if she had managed to findsomeone nice to settle down with, maybe even someone law-abiding.

 He wasoblivious to Louis’ gaze, but he was quite used to being stared at by those darkeyes. They could be on him for hours, accompanied by the dry scratching of apencil on paper. He had never before been an artist’s muse.

“Papi, why areyou bringing any of this up?” The question brought Henri back to focus.

“It would benice to be married now. In fact, I would be quite happy married here. Wouldn’tyou?”

“Are youproposing?” Louis sat up, a bit too quickly for his aching leg to adjust to. Heseethed softly but kept his eyes firmly on the now smirking Frenchman. “Pleasetell me you aren’t proposing.”

“If I were, wouldyou say yes?”

“Can’t you doanything normally?” Louis immediatelyput his hand up, “No. Never mind. Don’t answer that.” Memories of being flungoff a cliff into an uncertain ocean rushed him like a crashing wave.

“Don’t you ever think about being Mister Charrière?”

“Why can’t yoube Mister Dega?”

“Because I’mthe one proposing, so that means you’d take my last name.”

“You haven’tactually proposed yet.”

“And you haven’ttold me if you would say yes if I did.”

 Louis leanedback into his seat. Of course they both knew the answer, no matter how Henriwent about asking the question. There was no secret in regard to the affectionthey held for each other, even if they weren’t overt and public. Even if theycould not really get married. It wasthe thought that counted.

“If you wereto ask me properly, and it would haveto be with a ring and a speech and bent on one knee – the works, I think Iwould have no choice but to say yes.” He looked at Henri with a fondness he hadshown him probably a million times over, and most certainly would show amillion more times to come. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“We’ve beenstuck together for over twenty years, I like to think I know you well enough bynow.”