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.”
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