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Having gone from unfamiliar ground to slightly more familiar, the stiff nervousness that had characterised Beatrix Darnell the last time was gone -- she could hardly say she knew Akuti, apart from surface features, but what surface features were there she found -- well -- fairly charming. It was an optimistic start. She did not want to physically throw up whenever they met: that was a good start for sentient beings, wasn't it.

It was a pleasantly warm afternoon, deepening into evening; they'd agreed to meet in front of the fountain in the nice part of town, and she sat on the bench with Thwomp in her purse busy eating the hell out of a piece of taffy. The sunlight helped her 'see' a little better -- warmth and light, radiant heat, as she straightened the collar of her impeccable apple-green linen blouse purely through habit and waited. (Her children were still in the realm of hysterical laughter and major-league gross-out -- they were preteen girls, it was to be expected.)

She felt positive, actually. Bea relished the feeling.

"No, you are perfectly punctual," said Beatrix, and smiled -- for a moment was absolutely lost for what to do. On a second date, did you kiss the other person on the cheek? What was culturally acceptable? God only knew. She was struck by the desire -- and she'd felt it, the last time -- to see Akuti, to know what expression she was making. The other woman was sitting in front of her, anxious fingers fixing her hair -- it was endearing. "Don't worry about the closing, Akuti -- I understand."

She stood up from the bench and -- in a move that was bizarrely reminiscent of Jack, without thinking about it -- offered Akuti her hand, to help her stand as well. "Besides, I doubt the university orchestra runs on a stopwatch. They're a treat to listen to, but what they make up for in energy they lack in professional orchestra finesse -- and besiding which, they are my secret."

They played for all comers in the early evenings on Thursdays, and she hadn't had the chance to listen to them for a while -- it was an old pleasure. "Anyway, I thought we could get there leisurely and talk as we went, so we still have plenty of time."

She had to relax anyway. Irelia, Jace and Wisp could take care of themselves: they would probably just eat mac'n'cheese, have a fight, suck up to Becca and go to sleep.

"Er," said Beatrix.

She immediately relaxed her grip on Akuti's fingers, without thinking about it, privately grateful that she could chill a blush before it could start on her cheeks. "Don't worry, I'm not quite that disabled," she said briskly, as though the issue had been all about that in the first place. "I can get from one place to another without falling on my face -- I hope."

Smooth moves.

"Is there anything new in your life?" she said lightly, pivoting on one foot and taking a step forward, waiting for Akuti to match her easy pace. "Since I met you last, that is. How is your son?"

The sunlight dappled on their faces as they walked down the avenue -- it was in the more pleasant part of town, the music faculty obviously having a nice situation, and Beatrix seemed to walk easily down the street without bumping into anybody or anything. "My eldest's best friend has moved in with us," she said, "she was in an abusive family situation... three seems to be better than two, actually, she has a calming influence. My two aren't known for being placid."

Rather the opposite. "You'll miss the days of toy-chewing and kindergarten when they're gone. Jacoba managed to have a screaming fit the other day because I banned her wearing dog collars. Something about my infringing on her natural human rights and Not Understanding Her."

They had both stopped walking; hesitating over at the side of the pavement, as other people passed, Beatrix switching her handbag to the other shoulder as though that too had been her intention all along. Her eyes were as ever unreadable -- covered up by the bandage as she tilted her face towards Akuti -- and after a few moments, her mouth looked a little lopsided. Wry, even.

"I apologise," she said. "I was being passive-aggressive. To tell you the truth, I haven't dated since I became blind, so -- so I'm needlessly focused on it."

She paused again, and then dug around in her purse; she brought out a little stone that was basically just a block, covered all around in what looked like nubbly little teeth that stuck out. It had little nubbly stone eyes and a little nubbly stone mouth, and was chewing avidly on a piece of taffy. It turned a little to look at Akuti, still more focused on the taffy than anything else.

"This is my familiar," she said, "believe me, I would be utterly sightless if not for him. If I don't look clumsy, it's because I can 'see' with magical signatures -- I can take care of everything except not making you feel bad, apparently."

It sounded like a joke, just a little like a lame one. Beatrix popped Thwomp smartly back in her purse.

"You care a great deal about people, don't you?"

Beatrix's eyebrow raised. Then there was a short, sharp burst of something like laughter. "I can see well enough for that," she said, and it was sort of in the same planet as flirting, or at least in the atmosphere of it -- even if her voice was so dry she could have smoked meat.

(Thwomp had seemed to enjoy the waving, though it was hard to tell; it had gone back to chewing taffy, obviously fixated on what was the most interesting thing for it at that present state and time.)

Instead, vaguely in the realm of chivalrous, both of them found Beatrix offering her arm out to the taller woman. "Come on," she said, "our lives will be like a Lifetime movie if we stand on the street talking about my disability. You're a bleeding heart, Miss White."

However, none of the last was said with any acid -- not even a trace.

"Never mind," Beatrix agreed, seeing as how two women out on a date (with one blind) was fairly Lifetime. There was a short pause: they were arm-in-arm, nothing more scandalous than anything that might have been seen on Victorian streets -- and they were two women, anyway; nobody cared. Holding hands might have been more of a red flag. Again she absurdly wished she could see Akuti with her own two eyes. They continued down the broad, leafy avenue together.

"When did you identify yourself as a lesbian?" she suddenly said, briskly, "if that's not too personal a question."

It was actually more than a little bit of a relief. Considering Beatrix's own approach to lesbianism (which had thus far been, I seriously don't care any more) she'd worried that she would fall in with staunch cultural lesbians who would kick her out on her arse for being disrespectful about the holy altar of Sappho, or something. She hadn't met a great deal of lesbians. Examining herself as one was problematic.

"So you're not very..." Beatrix wriggled the slim fingers of her free hand. "... political? No Indigo Girls, no rainbow flag, no... plaid wardrobe? Being brutally honest and vain, they'll shave my head when I am cold and expired, and lumberjack shirts aren't allowed in my wardrobe. Not that I have anything against anyone who does: except that Birkenstocks are the most hideous things, and I can't see why women seem to associate a sexuality with unpretty shoes."