she's got a way about her, a sort of subtle grace that i guess some people call "civilized." you can tell just by the way she rhymes "leisure" with "pleasure."
that was the first thing he noticed about her. he told her she was "undaunted by petty convention," and that she had a knack for getting by. she didn't know what he meant, and she forgot to ask since she was, at the moment, in the middle of sucking on a lobster claw -- her first intimate experience with the insects of the sea.
- now that the rain is stopped, the night is almost sultry.
- yeah, it's really quite balmy.
he smacked her shoulder, laughing.
- yes, balmy. that's the word. that's the right word.
the rain was replaced with a rolling fog which made the drive home even more introverted. on the way there, the rain had inspired in them a nervous reverence for the place: the craggy coast-line and the luminous horizon beneath the dark rain-cloud which accosted them, the only car on the road, created a mythical, mystical quality which neither of them mentioned. she didn't quite believe him when he said he wouldn't have wanted it any other way; he was not the sort of person who had simple wants.
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