Welcome to Gaia! ::

The response that included 'wonderful' was almost literally the opposite of her own opinion on the current projected outcome of this endeavor. That was normal, because he was almost literally the opposite of everything that had to do with her, largely excepting the fact that they shared a division.

Old rainboots did not offer the best flexibility, so when she found herself placed on his feet, she struggled to keep her balance. She felt a lot like a cat on a plank above water - or a woman who couldn't swim above a pool - and she clung to him to avoid any accidents or injury. She wasn't sure that she liked how this was becoming so commonplace, but the results were still being calculated.

"I am not a child, Robert," she mumbled into his shoulder. But he was expecting her to learn, and she was curious to see how long he would do the work for both of them, so she made no effort to actually prevent him from doing this. It wasn't unbearably uncomfortable for the moment, anyway.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was a tall order for her to 'stay loose', so she didn't. Couldn't, really, but the semantics were unimportant, because she was as tense as ever, despite how hard she was trying to relax and let these things happen as they needed to happen.

"The boots stay on." It was a firm statement, because she was very much done with being barefoot today. "You will have to determine another solution, should that need arise, because you are in charge."

"Yes, I imagine so. I mourn the absence of music and its beneficial qualities." She didn't. Music made it very difficult to concentrate on anything - which might have been the point, but she preferred to have her thoughts neatly contained, not strewn about or tied in knots. Music was very problematic for that effect.

When Mimsy's boots found the ground again, she pressed her feet flat against them, content with the regained stability. This felt better, and the surge of nerves and shame slowly started to recede, replaced again by straight lines of thought, point a to b to c, a goal achievable by connecting the dots.

The apprehension threatened to return when he put his arms around her, and her toes began to ache from being pushed so firmly against the insides of the boots. Boots that didn't belong to her. She was very aware that she was borrowing them, that they were not hers, that she'd have to put them back where she found them. She didn't even want them and it made her want to keep them for herself.

She wanted it, and she was going to have it.

The same action that incited panicked anger began to feel soothing when he rocked them back and forth; this was a dance she could do, she thought, if this was a dance at all. Her feet were still touching the ground, and this was safe, and controllable, and the hum sounded so much like a lullaby. Heavy lids blinked twice before she gave in and closed her eyes, stifling a yawn. She thought that would probably give the wrong impression.

"There is a plethora of definitions, but overlaps do exist. For instance: are you having fun?" Her voice was groggy and quiet, and she had to stop speaking just long enough to avoid another yawn. Her hand reached to languidly pet his hair, arm lazily resting on his shoulder.

"I am."

For every bit of amusement or excitement that she felt when he believed one of her untruths, Mimsy felt twice as discouraged when he didn't believe the honesty. She almost laughed along with him, almost too unwilling to admit it to herself, but she spoke before she could talk herself out of it.

"I was not being dishonest. I enjoy this dance, if it is a dance. If it isn't, I still enjoy it." Now he couldn't claim otherwise. She was sure of it, even when he turned her around to face him.

He looked ill, and his face was flushed in a way that was indicative of some kind of flu or fever. What an odd time to be sick. Had she somehow done this to him? She wondered if piercing a shield with scissors had these kinds of effects on a body (and Svensyl giggled instead of offering any assistance). Or he could have been in shock, and only just realized what she'd done. Maybe that was why he so specifically indicated that he didn't want to leave with her.

Because 'I should' was singular, and she paid far too much attention to details to miss that fact.

"You could stay," she tested, holding her hands behind her back. "The stars will inevitably be more brilliant from this height, if you would like to wait for them to be visible."

If he felt as uncomfortable as he appeared, there was very little possibility that he was going to stay. But she didn't understand yet, wasn't sure if this was somehow where the line was crossed, or if it had nothing to do with her at all. She had to know where this event landed on the scale of importance.

While she considered other options, she looked towards the boots, frowned, narrowed her eyes, and shook her head.

"I think that I will keep them. I am not opposed to locating a replacement pair, if you would like to do that at a later date."

These reactions were so impossible to place. A groan could still indicate sickness, or it could indicate unhappiness, or a dozen other things that fit into this equation. At least the question that he asked was a simple one.

<Yes, say yes!>

"Yes, I do." The only time she had not uttered the opposite just to spite Svensyl.

And then the simple questions were out of the way. He drove a hard bargain. This game was played with stretched truths and shaky lies and it was probably not the truth that he wanted to hear. Was it? She was so unfamiliar with this that she legitimately had no idea what the ideal response would be, and this was now a bargain with a gamble and high stakes, and she didn't want to lose.

His eyes met hers, and he was looking at her in that way that people did when they expected to ascertain the verity of her statements. What did he expect to see there? Her gaze flickered away, almost shyly; when it returned, it held determination to match his.

She'd decided what she wanted to say, regardless of whether or not it was the correct answer.

"Okay. I don't know." Why was he always the one that heard those words? "You have to understand - this is a theory that I have built upon since childhood. It has been altered tremendously along the way, but it is my longest running theory, and it cannot change so drastically within one day."

The boots made a rubbery squeaking noise as she shifted and unclasped her hands. She moved one hand to press her fingertips against his chest, and smiled again when his heart continued to speak to her. A quiet sigh thanked him for not asking what she felt.

"However, I feel as if I have made significant progress with your assistance. I feel as if I may soon have an answer. I do believe you, and presently have no intentions of looking for a 'physical thing' by attempting to view your heart. If you are concerned for your safety if you stay, you should not be." Her fingers idly pressed a little drumming rhythm in response to the one beneath them.

<What?! That's blibbering nonsense! He said honest, he said it! You were doing so well, jubling!>

Mimsy kept smiling. 'Presently' means 'at this moment'.

Svensyl had no further comments.

In the instant that she heard his response, it was as if a switch was flipped. This entire interaction was one big experiment - she was doing science, and she was doing a damn good job of it, if what he'd said was any indication.

And that delighted her that this portion of the experiment had been a great success.

Her eyes lit up, followed by a small smile. She relished in being right, especially when it meant being right about one of her biggest projects. It had been a long time since she felt this way, considering the general lack of 'important' experiments to be done here. This felt good. She wanted to test more hypotheses! She wanted to excel at the scientific method! She wanted to be right over and over and over again!

An excited little noise eked past teeth that were clenched in eager anticipation. This was the kind of manic drive to explore new knowledge that previously happened while nobody was watching, in closed rooms with piles of research surrounding her. Apparently, the reaction changed very little to suit the circumstances, because now she was outdoors, in the presence of another human being.

Who happened to be directly involved in her pursuit of knowledge.

She had to keep going.

"Now we have the entire evening to discover the reason," she suggested, tugging him down towards her until his lips met hers. An application of observed information was the next logical step, after all.

Mimsy made a small noise that was lost into the kiss when his hands brushed against her neck and held her tilted towards him, and a more audible one when he pulled her up, almost onto her toes, keeping her pressed against him with arms that held her tightly and gave no indication of letting go.

She blinked through blurred vision and a loss of breath when he pulled away from her, trying to focus. With all of the smiling he'd been doing, she expected to see the same again - instead, she found glassy eyes and tears welling up within them.

What?

"Why are you crying?" Was that not the correct step to take? The way he was holding her made it feel as if it was right, but crying suggested a negative reaction.

Just when it seemed to be on a path to positive results, when it began to make linear, logical sense, she found herself confused and disoriented again. She curled one arm around his shoulders and used her free hand to carefully poke the skin beneath his eye with one shaky finger.

"I'm afraid I don't understand. Should I not have done that? Was it not right?" Was it that bad? She thought she remembered comments from other students during classes in high school that had to do with kissing skill. How had she forgotten to factor that in? "If it was unsatisfactory I can try again, or I can...I..."

She tried another quick kiss anyway, checking post-kiss for any signs of improvement in his mood.

Crying, then laughing? It felt a lot like this was directly related to her lack of capability, and Mimsy shifted uncomfortably, gently chewing the lip he'd bitten. Even as he assured her that she wasn't the problem, the sinking negativity didn't quite go away. What was he thinking about that didn't have something to do with her, in the midst of a situation that she was directly involved in? This was her experiment, and she was somewhat insulted that it seemed as if he was trying to escape it so soon.

She wasn't sure that she wanted to obtain humanity when just trying to understand love and its related emotions was dragging her through so many ups and downs and uncertain twists.

"Oh." The attempts to continually redirect his thoughts appeared to have failed, if his thoughts were on going somewhere to work something out. Going to someone. She didn't know if she could coax his mind back from this point, so she tested the waters with something more simple.

"If you need to be elsewhere, I won't continue to discourage you." Her fingertips brushed his eyelid. "You will encounter tremendous difficulty when attempting to view the stars with your eyes closed, after all."

"Yes. I know." Mimsy couldn't tell if he was teasing, or if she had somehow given the impression that she had forgotten he was married. The fact was not forgotten - it was simply a non-essential variable in this portion of the equation.

But his explanation clarified that for her; on the other side of that statement was the implication that women didn't just do this with married men. Interesting. Was there not a clause that assured happiness? As dedicated as she could be to an experiment, the thought of only allowing herself to work on one for the rest of her life was a thought that was nothing short of horrifying.

Marriage was a foolishly brave endeavor, and that concept of lifetime exclusivity was beyond her. And, on her end of that idea, the thought of refusing love just because it came from someone who was married was ridiculous. This was what she wanted, and no rings or titles were going to change that.

Still, it bothered her, for fear that he did not share the same thought.

"I see." Oh, wait - the feeling of envy. Was that all it was? Now it made much more sense. Envy was more justifiable than most responses to these kinds of actions. "And I understand. I appreciate your explanation. However..."

Frowning, she inspected his face, the tear-filled eyes, and almost reached to touch his cheek. When she couldn't, she moved to sit on the grass instead, tugging him along with her, then neatly crossed her feet to her side. The bees continued to smile at him.

"I wish you would not cry. We should enjoy this to its greatest extent, correct?" Unless she kept him captive in the greenhouse (which, if previous experience indicated anything, would probably eradicate any remaining love as an unfortunate result), the stargazing would inevitably end. He would return to his life. She would return to hers.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, because it felt like the right thing to do.

"That aside...thank you for staying. It is exponentially more difficult to discern the reasons behind my need for your companionship when I am alone." I like being around you, she failed to say.