Derek realizes suddenly that he's about to change everything. He's never talked about this before when he didn't have to, and his responses in mandatory psych evaluations have been minimal; he likes to handle his problems himself, not to show weakness and not to break down in front of other people, not to expose himself to their sympathy and curiosity and even their genuine love and concern when there's nothing they can do for him, at all.
He's had a few crazy moments of wishing he could tell someone, the way you might wish you could fly, not as if he could actually do it because he always knew that he couldn't. They always passed without any real anxiety on his part, until now. But right now he wants to.
When it comes right down to it, though, nerves are eating him up. Derek looks at her couch, looks back at Penelope. "Should we - are you sure you're not busy?"
"I'm never too busy for you, sugar," she says playfully, but her face is sweet and sincere when she smiles up at him. She doesn't drop her hand on his arm coyly, but takes his hand in a strong grip and pulls him after her to the couch. "Just sit down."
After Derek sits, she fusses around with the cushions, arranging herself next to him, her bare feet curled up next to her, peeping out from the bottom of her silky pajamas.
"I thought maybe we could talk about something," says Derek. She looks at him steadily with those big beautiful blue eyes, solemn, waiting.
"Anything."
"I've just got to figure out how to start," he says.
"Darling, whenever you want to, whatever you want to say," says Penelope.
Her toes are curling next to his thigh. The big one is robin's egg blue, and the next one is red. Derek wants to touch her - or rather to touch more than her foot - so he looks up at her face, gauging, and slides his arm along the back of the couch.
She smiles slightly at that and immediately leans into the couch and scoots closer, until she can wrap an arm around his shoulder and he's got her softness through the slippery silk of that crazy kimono pressed all along his side. She smells not completely flowery up close - after a day at the office he can catch a hint of womanly sweat and musk, and it's comforting and real.
"I was in a club full of people in Miami and I couldn't get this case out of my head," he explains. "I wanted to get away from it, but I couldn't get away from it in my own mind. A girl asked me if I needed someone to talk to, and..."
"You jumped on a plane and ran straight into my arms," Penelope finishes for him, playful.
2
He's had a few crazy moments of wishing he could tell someone, the way you might wish you could fly, not as if he could actually do it because he always knew that he couldn't. They always passed without any real anxiety on his part, until now. But right now he wants to.
When it comes right down to it, though, nerves are eating him up. Derek looks at her couch, looks back at Penelope. "Should we - are you sure you're not busy?"
"I'm never too busy for you, sugar," she says playfully, but her face is sweet and sincere when she smiles up at him. She doesn't drop her hand on his arm coyly, but takes his hand in a strong grip and pulls him after her to the couch. "Just sit down."
After Derek sits, she fusses around with the cushions, arranging herself next to him, her bare feet curled up next to her, peeping out from the bottom of her silky pajamas.
"I thought maybe we could talk about something," says Derek. She looks at him steadily with those big beautiful blue eyes, solemn, waiting.
"Anything."
"I've just got to figure out how to start," he says.
"Darling, whenever you want to, whatever you want to say," says Penelope.
Her toes are curling next to his thigh. The big one is robin's egg blue, and the next one is red. Derek wants to touch her - or rather to touch more than her foot - so he looks up at her face, gauging, and slides his arm along the back of the couch.
She smiles slightly at that and immediately leans into the couch and scoots closer, until she can wrap an arm around his shoulder and he's got her softness through the slippery silk of that crazy kimono pressed all along his side. She smells not completely flowery up close - after a day at the office he can catch a hint of womanly sweat and musk, and it's comforting and real.
"I was in a club full of people in Miami and I couldn't get this case out of my head," he explains. "I wanted to get away from it, but I couldn't get away from it in my own mind. A girl asked me if I needed someone to talk to, and..."
"You jumped on a plane and ran straight into my arms," Penelope finishes for him, playful.