ic contact;

[originallutece]

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[uncertainrelation]

You are ASTOUNDINGLY easy to persuade.

[originallutece]

Just don't come crying to me if he eats one of the dragons.

[No, they're definitely going to have to figure out a way to prevent that, that's a horrifying thought. But it's also sadly a distinct possibility; Punnett doesn't even like the backpack Rosalind sets him in. He hisses and spits, and only quiets down once she hefts the entire thing and holds it to her chest, like a child carrying a cat.]

[uncertainrelation]

[And zzzzzzzip! There's Robert, quite literally out of the blue — and recoiling sharply backwards at abruptly getting a Whole Lotta Punnett in his personal space.]

Good god!

[originallutece]

[He's about to get a whole lot more: Rosalind hands off the backpack to her other half, her movements brisk and efficient. If she's getting any enjoyment out of the act, well, that's for her to know. It does have a purpose; she's gathering up the little baggies of food she's prepared.]

[uncertainrelation]

Why am I holding it?

[He hisses, urgently, attempting to at least hold the backpack at arm's length and failing miserably from the weight.]

You're its custodian, you should be carrying it...

[originallutece]

Because I'm busy. I've heard giving them food helps the imprinting process; the trick will be getting it to think Punnett offered it. Don't drop him.

[Is she taking more time than she needs to sealing those baggies? Surely not. Surely that's not a smile she's trying to hide.]

[uncertainrelation]

Then why precisely can't I gather the food while you play nanny to the...this?

[He managed to avoid calling Punnett "the menace" again, which is improvement! Improvement probably prompted by the fact that he's actively holding Punnett right now, but who's counting.]

[originallutece]

Because you need to get used to him. For all intents and purposes, he's our first child, and I shan't have you shrieking in terror each time he comes round the bend.

[She deftly seals another bag and adds:]

And honestly, Robert? It amuses me.

[uncertainrelation]

And here I was given to understand that the point of keeping him was to inspire shrieks of terror each time he comes round the bend. He's quite horrifying, you know.

[THIS IS THE WORST]

You truly do have a wicked streak, you know.

[originallutece]

As if you're not just as bad, my love.

[She is in a good mood, if she's calling him that. But enough is enough. Setting the snacks down, she reaches for the backpack again, grinning as Punnett's tendrils wiggle excitedly. He's like a child going from one parent to the other, perfectly content so long as one of the Rolutes are nearby.]

Get the snacks, then. Which beach are we going to?

[uncertainrelation]

But of course. My wicked streak is your wicked streak.

[Ah, blessed freedom from The Plant. Casting a wary eye at it anyway as he's relieved of its charge, he takes up the snacks as bidden and extends an obliging arm to her.]

The one to the east, I think, on the far side of the woods. Unless you'd rather the other? There's always both, if you'd like to compare the lay of the breeding grounds before we render our ultimate verdict.

[originallutece]

The other. I've seen the east beach, we might as well discover the other together. Are you hoping for a particular color?

[She'll be fond of the little dragon, of course, but just as Punnett is primarily Rosalind's pet, the dragon will be Robert's. Rosalind shifts, propping the bag on her hip and taking his arm. A beat, and her hand snakes down, her fingers interlacing between his.]

[uncertainrelation]

I want the best color, of course. And I shall have it, once I've seen how "best" is defined.

[Cheeky. He gives her hand a light squeeze, loops their arms a little more tightly-wound together, and in the blink of an eye, they abruptly cease to be in their manor, and suddenly begin to be at the beach.]

[originallutece]

[She doesn't even have time to pull a face before they're suddenly there, standing in the sand, wind whipping at her skirt and the waves crashing hard against the shore. Setting Punnett down, Rosalind grabs Robert's arm to keep balance and tugs off her boots and stockings, a process that takes an awful lot of effort.]

We're going to have to stock up on all the usual items one takes to the shore. Towels and the like, I mean.

[uncertainrelation]

[He eyes the Big Bag O' Plant for a minute, suspiciously, as though he's half expecting Punnett to wrench itself free and take off running down the sand like some sort of dog let off its leash — but the majority of his attention is on helping to keep Rosalind supported, both from the posture and from the unsteadiness of the sand.]

Meaning we'll be returning here often, I presume?

[originallutece]

I'd like that.

[She can't very well push all this into the backpack, not if she wants to wear it again; after a moment, she simply stuffs the stockings into her boots and carries both in her hand. Punnett is once again slung over her back, and she takes Robert's hand once more, far more comfortable.]

We'll be the only ones here. We can try it with people around, of course, but I'd rather like our first official trip to the beach together to be on our own.

. . . not least of which because I've seen what women are supposed to wear. I'm going to have to commission Miss Everett for a swimming costume.

[uncertainrelation]

[Wordlessly, he shuffles his own cargo about long enough to reach for her boots and knot the two sets of laces to each other, making a little handle of sorts for her to use to hold them rather than having to keep track of them by the sides.

The secondary bonus is, it gives him an excuse to keep his face tilted down, which is helpful in light of the mention of swimming costumes. He recalls the pictures he'd been shown; imagining Rosalind in one of them is both scandalous and nervewracking.]

A proper one, I hope. The contemporary variety aren't at all fit for...well, anything, really.

[HUFF HUFF VICTORIAN SENSIBILITIES]

We're by far her best customers by now. Surely she'll agree to something appropriate.

[originallutece]

Oh, no, Robert, I'd fulled intend to wear little more than fifteen centimeters of cloth on my person. I simply hoped she'd make it to my tastes, that's all.

[She's joking, obviously, though most wouldn't be able to tell it from her expression: she's kept it entirely open and helpful, a pleasant correction to his assumption. Isn't that nice of her?]

[uncertainrelation]

[Most wouldn't be able to, but most people aren't literally her with a chromosome flipped, either. So if she's going to play with him, then very well; he's perfectly willing to play right back.]

And what would your tastes involve, precisely? Ruffles, polka dots?

[originallutece]

Oh, nothing so ostentatious. Red or white, which would you prefer?

[Look at these two fucks, mildly bullying one another as they stroll down the beach. Truly, this is love.]

[uncertainrelation]

[Red, of course.]

White. Pure and feminine — like a sacrificial lamb.

[originallutece]

[She laughs and steps in closer, til she can bump up against him as they walk.]

Is that how you're going to be looking at me? As some kind of innocent?

[uncertainrelation]

Certainly not.

[He gives her hand a squeeze, flashing a half-conspiratorial smile in her direction.]

I simply think that if you're going to be biting your figurative thumb in the direction of Columbia's standards for modesty, you might as well make a mockery of their fanaticism while you're at it.

[originallutece]

Ah. Then of course it'll have to be white. Though really, I'm going to have to ask Miss Everett how on earth they make it so those don't turn translucent the moment one hits the water. Simply for my own edification, you understand, I'm certain there's something wonderfully tricky about the fabric.

[uncertainrelation]

Perhaps there's nothing tricky at all about the fabric, and you'll simply have to take your chances.