A figure in white seems to fade in from the shadows of the garden. Sitting with legs crossed on piece of broken stone. Hair damp with rain and robe cool in the rain. His blue eyes watching her coolly. He had been there for some time. Hands folded in his lap, listening to the sound of thunder. Water dripping off the loose, black curls.

He should have known better really. Close, close. She had started to close her eyes before she panicked. Close. The impatient drumming of a finger on his thigh. It had been so close, and so wonderful. No matter, he had time.

A small cloud of condensation in the air as he breathed out a sigh. A drop of water clung to the end of his nose as he thought. There would be time yet.