Valentine's Day Extras 3/3 Jewel

MC - indirect, discomposed, reserved, timid

Post-game

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Despite leaving the restaurant about an hour or so ago, the snow has just now stopped falling. Not that the short pause in the onslaught changes your situation; the frost covering the streets of Elazar has yet to melt after all. The Pyromancers seem to be seriously slacking off this year, perhaps surprised, as everyone is this season, by the persistent winter. Then again, you suppose, considering the occasion, they could be excused this time.

Or not. Having barely thought that, one of your feet lands on a particularly slippery patch of ice, and had it not been for Jewel's assistance, you'd tumble on your backside in a heap of knee-high snow. Nevertheless, she's responsive, reacting even before you can let out as much as a gasp. To be fair, you've been keeping her on her toes ever since the winter came somewhere in late December last year, pouring down on the city like a flood, covering the streets in a thick white quilt.

"Careful!" Jewel shouts, a perfect mixture of mirth at seeing you stumble for the umpteenth time tonight and pure unfiltered concern for your safety both in her voice and scent.

With an efficient yank, she pulls you back up and stabilizes you scrupulously on your feet. Yet now, instead of patting you consolingly on your back as she's been fond of doing lately, Jewel locks your arms together, pressing you against her side. When you shoot her a surprised glance, she explains with a chuckle, "We can't have you getting a concussion today, of all days, can we?"

"Today?" You parrot, half-indignance and half-amusement coloring your tone. Even as you try to keep your face placid, the warmth of Jewel's skin so close to yours, even if separated by several layers of clothing, never fails to bring a flush to your cheeks. "So tomorrow's fine then?"

Jewels snort a sharp, unrestrained laugh at your jibe. "Absolutely not," she says, at last, offering you an indulgent smile. "But that's not up to me."

"Oh?"

"Sadly, I can't have my eye on you 24/7, now, can I?"

Holding back the whiny 'and why not?', you turn all your focus towards putting one leg in front of the other, slowly and cautiously, so that you won't fall. Again. An admirable attempt for sure, and you conduct yourself admirably, walk a few feet without losing your balance even once.

Thus drunk on the confidence, you begin, "I don't need supervi-"

You slip. Of course, you do. Jewel only laughs. The overseeing hand on your shoulder saves you from smashing your brain on the concrete. "You were saying?"

Taking a deep breath to stifle a foul curse, you swallow a mouthful of air; the regular blend of strong emotions, exhaust fumes, and city odor fill your senses. But there's something else under the composite. When the appetizing tang of freshly baked bread reaches your nostrils, you're more than glad for the pleasant distraction.

Yes, you've already eaten, so what? The meal was extremely fancy and you shudder to think how much it cost. The portions, however, were so minuscule you could fit a large burger or two alongside the dish inside your stomach with complete ease. And a huge portion of fries to top it all off. Not that you're going to admit to your hunger out loud, it would hardly be proper.

As you slowly pass by the bakery, you catch Jewel looking at the window display with affection you can't describe as anything but longing. The sentiment is undoubtedly mirrored on your own features, regardless of your best attempts at hiding the truth.

"Are you hungry?" You manage, though narrowly, to conceal the eagerness under an aloof question. Your cover is blown when your stomach rumbles. That little traitor.

Jewel doesn't comment, sensible as she is. "I could eat," she shrugs, moving her hand. Before you can start to mourn its loss, you feel warm, dry fingers intertwining with yours. Then, she all but drags you to the window where she somehow skips the queue, and using her loyalty card she orders a large pretzel with salt and caramel for herself and your favorite snack without having to seek out your input. It's heady, not to mention astonishing, to have someone who's this mindful and considerate of the littlest matters that concern you.

You're fortunate; not only to have Jewel but also because of her acquaintance with the store clerk, your food is prepared before anyone else in the line. It spares you from lollygagging in the freezing, snowy square. Although you wouldn't mind having an excuse to linger around Jewel longer before you have to separate for the night, you can barely move your toes.

As the dawn ascends, the temperature drops. As it is, your frame trembles after just a moment of standing still. Settling in an alleyway next to the bakery where you're shielded from the worst of the harsh wind and the snow that once again decided to plague you with its existence, Jewel passes you your treat. The dough is blessedly warm, and you hold onto it reverently, seeping the heat as you try not to stare at it with a watering mouth like a ravenous dog.

Jewel, contrary to you, doesn't care about politeness, enthusiastically biting into her pretzel and humming with obvious pleasure as she swallows the morsel. Polishing off her food faster than you can chew half of yours, she waits patiently until you're finished. Leaning on the brick wall she busies herself with gazing at you out of the corner of her eye, the bridge of her nose nearly scarlet and a fond grin blooming on her face - the one that always, without exception, wrangles your insides into a tight knot.

Distracted by the sight, it takes you a moment to realize that the intense smell of cinnamon you've been smelling for a while now doesn't, in fact, come from the bakery. When the recognition hits you like a bag of bricks, your already red face darkens further with blood. Yes, Jewel loves you and has felt such for a while. It still seems as unreal as it was the first time to have that tenderness turned on you.

"You're done?" Jewel asks seeing you pause, and you find that you can't move your tongue. She has that effect on you, you realize. You expected - wished - it would cease once you started dating, but it only seems to be getting worse.

Jewel doesn't seem aware of that revelation, which surprises you greatly - she's usually so perceptive. Still, you're hardly going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so using her ignorance as a diversion you plop the remaining bite between her teeth before she can put together another query.

"Mm," she mumbles, rolling with it seamlessly. "It's really good." For some reason, her eyes fall to your lips when she says it, there and gone again in a blink. "Thanks."

Your entire face is numb, and Jewel's attention, no matter how brief, makes you suddenly self-conscious of it. It doesn't unnerve you as strongly as it did before, but you're far from used to the sensation of your pulse speeding up at being placed under Jewel's scrutiny."You're welcome."

A little awkwardly on your part, due to the snowdrifts and ice, you return to the main road where at once Jewel takes a hold of your hands, stuffing them inside the pocket of her coat where they regain their proper temperature.

"Did you have fun?" She muses, guiding you towards the bus stop. All the way there, her thumb traces the alleys and bumps on your skin in an absentminded fashion, distracting you terribly. She has to know the answer; your heart is beating so intensely it's impossible for her to miss, especially when she can feel the rhythm of it drum against her palm.

"Did you?" You deflect her inquiry on autopilot, correcting yourself as soon as your brain catches up with your throat. "I did. Did you?" Previously, the understatements and half-truths have only led to misunderstandings between you. You know better now than to play defense.

"I got to spend a whole day with you." The corners of Jewel's lips curl up. "Of course I had fun."

"O-oh." Shit, how does she do that? Forget Telekinesis, turning you into a stammering idiot seems to be her true affliction. "I'm glad."

She laughs again, a sound sweeter than the caramel she licks off her lips. Lately, she's been doing it more often. Laughing, that is. Being the cause of her joy is a rush headier than anything you’ve ever experienced. Including the fiasco with Victor.

Her fingers squeeze yours once, reassuring. Strolling side by side, the air around you consists of nothing but the aroma of bread, cinnamon, and Jewel. And that's how you like it. "Me too."