When it became apparent earlier that afternoon the planes were going to be snowed in in the Netherlands as well as in Belgium, Bel realized she would probably spend Christmas Eve, and possibly Christmas Day, alone. Lux was out with friends, Antonio laid up in bed with a bad case of the Lovinos, and so on.
The fort began simply enough. Initially, she had curled up on the couch with a blanket and a book and found it... lacking somehow. Still cold, still lonely. Two hours later, her TV was in the kitchen, her sofa bunking with the kitchen table in its little nook. Her mattress had been sprung from its boudoir prison and laid out on the floor, covered in every pillow she owned. Then came the sheets. The extra blankets. A few bathroom towels, guest bedding, and a discovery of three boxes of white fairy lights in the bottom of a faux leather ottoman that served as a storage compartment for things immediately forgotten.
By the time Francis called to wish her joyeux noel and let her know he'd be in the city a bit longer, as per the trapped planes, she was munching on snacks and reading her book again in the middle of a giant fort.
Naturally, knowing he shared her favor of that particular book, she invited him forego the hotel fees and visit her instead. They could read their favorite books, drink their favorite wines, eat their favorite snacks and forget all the reasons winter sucked more than usual this year.
And now, they were doing just that.
Once more practically settled and her hands free, Bel turned off all the lights except the little strung Christmas lights and fetched a couple of empty, clean canning jars and some candles. With a candle in each jar and lit, she nestled them on a tray just outside the fort door. When her hands were free again, Francis held up the empty half of the quilt he was snuggled in under and Bel crawled carefully in beside him. Francis had already set up with a pillow under his chest: Bel did the same and snared a little stuffed plush of a white dog and settled it between them. Francis gave it a look of approval and withdrew a stack of books from his side of the fort.
“Which one first, ma cher?”
This was not an easy decision. Finally, she pointed. “That one. Nature isn't so mean in that one.”
“Ah, but she is very tricky.”
“Shall we read it out loud?”
“But of course. In parts though.”
“Agreed. Which would you like?”
“I will take the secondary role,” Francis smiled. “You take the titular role.”
Bel grinned. “Are you sure?”
“Would I offer it if I was not?”
“All right then,” Bel said, and opened the book. “But you have the first line, Captain.”
Francis grinned and took a sip of wine. Bel munched a handful of her snacks. In his best seaman's voice, Francis began, “Ah, the merry month of May! Spring, the sweet spring music. Cuckoo, jug-jug, tu-witta-woo! The chorus of birds... The woodland flowers... the fragrant perfumes... the sweet-smelling earth! Breathe deeply, Tintin, Fill your lungs with fresh air...”
Re: Wine, Snacks, and a Good Book - 2/2
The fort began simply enough. Initially, she had curled up on the couch with a blanket and a book and found it... lacking somehow. Still cold, still lonely. Two hours later, her TV was in the kitchen, her sofa bunking with the kitchen table in its little nook. Her mattress had been sprung from its boudoir prison and laid out on the floor, covered in every pillow she owned. Then came the sheets. The extra blankets. A few bathroom towels, guest bedding, and a discovery of three boxes of white fairy lights in the bottom of a faux leather ottoman that served as a storage compartment for things immediately forgotten.
By the time Francis called to wish her joyeux noel and let her know he'd be in the city a bit longer, as per the trapped planes, she was munching on snacks and reading her book again in the middle of a giant fort.
Naturally, knowing he shared her favor of that particular book, she invited him forego the hotel fees and visit her instead. They could read their favorite books, drink their favorite wines, eat their favorite snacks and forget all the reasons winter sucked more than usual this year.
And now, they were doing just that.
Once more practically settled and her hands free, Bel turned off all the lights except the little strung Christmas lights and fetched a couple of empty, clean canning jars and some candles. With a candle in each jar and lit, she nestled them on a tray just outside the fort door. When her hands were free again, Francis held up the empty half of the quilt he was snuggled in under and Bel crawled carefully in beside him. Francis had already set up with a pillow under his chest: Bel did the same and snared a little stuffed plush of a white dog and settled it between them. Francis gave it a look of approval and withdrew a stack of books from his side of the fort.
“Which one first, ma cher?”
This was not an easy decision. Finally, she pointed. “That one. Nature isn't so mean in that one.”
“Ah, but she is very tricky.”
“Shall we read it out loud?”
“But of course. In parts though.”
“Agreed. Which would you like?”
“I will take the secondary role,” Francis smiled. “You take the titular role.”
Bel grinned. “Are you sure?”
“Would I offer it if I was not?”
“All right then,” Bel said, and opened the book. “But you have the first line, Captain.”
Francis grinned and took a sip of wine. Bel munched a handful of her snacks. In his best seaman's voice, Francis began, “Ah, the merry month of May! Spring, the sweet spring music. Cuckoo, jug-jug, tu-witta-woo! The chorus of birds... The woodland flowers... the fragrant perfumes... the sweet-smelling earth! Breathe deeply, Tintin, Fill your lungs with fresh air...”
bonne nuit, my dears