A quiet breeze blew through the long grass that surrounded the tree, carrying the scent of summer flowers. Craven Lorne leaned against the tree and sighed contentedly.
“Pass me that bottle, would you?” Voss asked. A smart, black fox mask covered the top half of his face, revealing a narrow chin and thin, Cupid's bow lips.
Craven Lorne passed the wine and smiled. “Here,” he said.
Voss drank from the bottle and passed it back to Craven.
“We should get a place, don't you think?” Craven said after a minute. “Set ourselves up.”
Voss smiled. “Yeah, where?”
“I don't know. There's that old warehouse. It's quite big. We could clean it up, some.”
Voss chuckled. “I'm sure we could.”
Craven Lorne took a sip of wine and passed it back to his friend. He looked up at the leaves of the big tree and at the bright light on the grass that lay beyond their circle of shade. “You know,” he said, “I think today might be perfect.”