#peaceverse

@thehearsc

         “ Age wrinkles the skin.” Despite his disapproval of her words, his own face doesn’t line as much as one would expect — She has that effect on him. 

A small smile appears at the edges of Jean’s mouth at the contact. One of her arms comes up to gently rest around Richter’s shoulders hugging him a little closer to her. “Hey you,” shifting her head a bit to the side the red-head is able to press her lips briefly to the zealot’s temple before returning to her original position.

           Away from Nucleus and its prying eyes, the rare show of affection continues with a gentle hand that lingers at her arm. After a brief hesitation Richter risks a soft kiss to her forehead in turn, gloved fingers lowering to brush against hers– an offer to take her hand and guide her to walk with him toward a surprising yet solid concrete wall with a worn but functional bench next to it.

Rubbing the heel of her hand into her aching eye the woman gives a quiet grunt in acknowledgment. It’s been two days and it’s beginning to show in the way that the pack weighing down her shoulders seems to be taking an even bigger toll on Jean. Circles under Jean’s eyes seem to make her look like she’d taken coal and smudged it into the sockets.

It isn’t for lack of trying, however. Every time Jean lays down her mind doesn’t seem to get the message and spirals off into the ether taking her chances of rest with it. Hours of staring at the mold growth of the cabin ceiling counting the loops on the woodgrain like sheep to attempt at lassoing her brain into a state of rest. All of it failed in the end.

“M’fine,” Jean mumbles absently as her hands mechanically follow the motions of slipping into the pockets of her canvas coat for warmth as her expression changes into a small sleepy smile. God even just sitting down to give her body a rest would be wonderful at this point, but it wouldn’t last long.

           Unhidden skepticism lines his features as watches her motions. If she numbered among the Children he could command her to rest. And would–            Exhaustion rendered even the most capable of Zealots a liability.

           But she wasn’t one of theirs. And in fact he wouldn’t have let her into his life like this if she were beholden to his orders... He liked it like this. Her independence. Her choice. To listen only if she wished. See him only because she wanted.

           And if he could convince her...

           Stern expression remains as he draws near, but it’s a gentle grip that finds her shoulders, a soft tone that addresses her,          “ Please... ”

 A quiet hum is the only response from Jean at first as she continues to rub circles into the zealot’s shoulders, easing out the knots of stress that seemed to make up his entire back. Under the occasions that the armor did come off, Jean didn’t even try to keep her hands to herself. “All the stress takes a toll on you,” Jean mumbles sleepily as her fingers apply a little more pressure along the space between his shoulder blades. The bed was small of course, but they didn’t have qualms about being close at this point.

           The press of fingers soothes and aches in tandem. Eyes closed, Richter sinks into the contact a mere half-minute more before shifting while insisting,           “ It’s not that demanding... ”

            He lets his arm come around her– Why would she touch him if she did not want to be touched? His own thicker fingers take hers and he rests his bearded jaw against her bright hair, affection a distraction from the depths of her own generosity.

         “ Biggest would be October 23rd– The day Atom struck this world two centuries ago. But some remember… Other days.

Things had actually remained pretty quiet between the two of them. Having had their night together and not spoken much of it since Jean picking up on the fact that Richter had a very particular look about himself that he needed to maintain as Grand Zealot. So, they met every once and while for trading and Jean’s trips to the Nucleus when it was permitted.

This time he’d made a request to meet her near one of the lookouts of Far Harbor that had a lovely vantage point of the island over the fog. Hiking up there with her backpack over her shoulders Jean could feel that one of the fusion cores hadn’t been packed right and were currently digging into her lower back.

“This place is beautiful,” she calls out when she notices him leaning against one of the picnic tables near the ridge. Letting the backpack slide onto the worn wooden table she leans next to him. Jean knows that he’s not quite one for small talk so they watch the fog roll down in the valley for just a few moments before she shows him the contents of her backpack. As they sift through the things she had for trade Jean glances up at the Grand Zealot for a moment before speaking.

“You know, I’ve been hearing a few rumors down in the Harbor. Just keep an eye out for yourself out there okay? If I’ll be honest with you I rather like seeing your mean mug around.” Jean gives him a crooked little smile before boosting herself on her toes to press her lips lightly against his.

           Of course he hasn’t forgotten their time together. It springs to mind every moment he sees her, and every moment it does he shoves the thoughts away– While in her a presence. A night here or there, when he’s alone in his quarters…

           Well. Different story then.

           Outside of his bed and fantasies, he’s accepted it was a fluke– like those handful of other encounters he’d had years prior. Fine enough. He enjoys her company as it is–            She's decent. Kind. Treats the Children fairly in her deals. 

           Accustomed to diverting his thoughts this way something contrary in her look today surprises Richter. His brow tenses as he discerns her words but he’s caught off guard by her sudden affection– Lowering his head enough to lean into only the end of it.

         “ Atom keeps me safe,” the Grand Zealot mumbles in automatic reply, uncertain if he should return the gesture. She’s just kind, he thinks but still remains close in case she may close the distance again.

           For all his teasing, he’s all too eager to close the distance between them– But as her hunger so invites his, her pause gives him pause with equal effect. 

           The request to meet him alone is not one he’d deny happily— and with a promise of a surprise his mind already drifts over what possible buckled or lacy things she could be wearing when he meets her. The imaginings don't cease when she greets him in her usual attire, after all it’s whats underneath that gets his heart pumping.

           Instructed to sit, Richter lazily obliges. Leaning back with legs parted comfortably, he watches her move to a cabinet—

           Only to sit up when she pulls clean, dark metal from it.

           All previous thoughts disappear by the time she places the rad rifle in his hands. Holding it, Richter’s eyes flit from one modification to the next, hands testing its weight while he admires her work.

         “ You did this?” Of course she did, but he’s impressed enough to be conversational. Practiced hands cycle through different holds as he already envisions himself at the gate, on patrol, putting something in the ground... He knows enough to guess some of the changes but Jean– Clever Jean who’s made work of this, who always offers deeper insight to any old Guns and Bullets issue he’s paging through, who’s a far better shot than him than he’d care to measure. Well...

           Surely there’s more underneath the fine surface to get his heart pumping.