Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight

Yellow Pages 

What time had passed had done well to chip away at her night terrors and general feelings of awfulness, even if just so. However, the idea that she had not done well enough to thank Dylan for what was ultimately a high-tier act of kindness gnawed at her with increasing sharpness. He may have saved her life, in a way. That was big! And so, after rooting around the bottomless pit of her purse, she found the slip of paper with his number.

Hey Dylan, this is Minerva. I just wanted to reach out and say thank you again! I don't know how to tell you how much I appreciate your being a good Samaritan to me. I would love to treat you to breakfast or something! I owe you one.

Even breakfast did not feel adequate. Maybe she could paint him something, a gift of thanks he could keep with him always. Really, she didn't know the man at all, much less what his taste in art might be, but he was good enough to warrant something meaningful!

When he felt the thump of an incoming text against his arse cheek, Fletch whipped it out expecting someone else. A new number, from someone calling him Dylan. Those five letters drew his brows together in a frown before he read it in entirety and felt his heart constrict.

Minerva of the vampire attack. Who'd been left feeling less than her divine namesake. Heather, if he squinted, whom he'd driven home for much the same reason. Remembering her then evoked a swell of paternal affection; his expression soft as he thumbed a reply.

Good to hear from you, kid. No thanks needed - I wanted to make sure you got home safe that night.
You can pay it forward if you want. But I never say no to breakfast.

Or any free food for that matter.

When he responded, his message had that same cool air to it - no big deal, just doing the right thing. Paying it forward, however, was not really something she'd even considered. It was a lovely idea, really, but Minerva didn't know if she'd ever find herself in the situation to rescue someone after they'd been mauled by a supernatural being. She needed to think out side of the box. After some fumbling with words, unsure of what to respond to in his messages exactly, she decided to just get to the point.

Okay :) You say when and where!


Her reply came through, and despite its ambiguity, Fletch chose to read it as an offer of breakfast. He was left tapping his thumbs on the side of his phone a moment as he decided what was best.

OK. Where's local to you and not too pricey? I'm free after this weekend. Name your day. :-)


For all she was trying to do something nice for him, he still seemed so considerate of her drive time and her wallet. But she wouldn't argue with him, just glad he would let her do this!

Yes! There's a place up here in Avondale called Momma's. It's like a fifties style diner and they make really good omelettes. How about Monday?


You could never beat a good omelette. Had to break a few eggs, though.

Sounds great! 10am work for you?

A small part of him hoped she hadn't chosen a fifties diner in a bid to hark back to his youth.

Perfect. See you there!


Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)