A wild Tim appears, despite the lack of tall grass.  He's dressed in a long, warm black jacket that comes down around his knees and a dark grey pair of pants with ankle-length combat boots.  In his left hand, is a half-drained fluorescent-orange energy drink, which he raises in greeting. "Hey.  I wrapped up a little early, today."  I'm going to make up for it tomorrow, I'll be able to push a little harder.  Little smile?

"Tim! Hello!" Would he like a hug of greeting? "Oh, it's a little cooler here than it is à Québec!"

She is wearing only a sweater and no jacket, though she has an impractically long brown scarf coiled multiple times around her neck. Luckily the weather was such that she is wearing thick winter leggings under her skirt, though, so her legs won't get cold. 

Little pause of surprise, but: one-armed hug, colorful energy drink held out to the side!  "That's a little surprising.  They used to complain that we Vermontiers never see real cold."  Wait, should you be making fun of Quebecois?  It's the state sport, but she's from up north.  "How was your trip?"  It was a literal teleport, Tim.

"Very easy!" She lets go, and- well, she's wearing gloves, so there's no guiding purpose to holding hands. Hm. 

She shakes her head, "It must happen every once in a while, I suppose. Wait while I get my coat out?" 

She sets her bags down to do that, extracting a fur-lined jacket which she pulls on swiftly. It's just long enough that a hint of her skirt is visible beyond the hem. 

Tim is capable of waiting.  Most of his old job was waiting.  "That looks quite a bit warmer."  Don't just drain your drink, you need to be able to sip it.  "Shall we head back to my silo?  Or are you hungry?"

"I could eat, I came home straight from class," she admits, "But! I could wait a couple hours. Lunch wasn't too long ago, and I'd like to put my bags somewhere." 

Now looking something like a pine tree in dark green and earth brown, she picks up her duffle again and slings it over her shoulder. 

"How far is it?" 

"Perhaps twenty minutes walking.  We picked up an old movie theater for cheap.  Sometimes we put on movies, we pick them by poll every few days."  Should you offer to carry that?  She has esper strength, but it's - wait, this is a business meeting.  And she might think you're going to steal her bag.  Wait, why would - nevermind.  "Let's head for the silo first, then get something to eat?"  I hate how dry my eyes get at this level.  Hmm.  Tim will attempt his recently-developed Hand Dangle technique while guiding showing Sara the way to the Healing Silo. 

-well, it's not so cold Sara minds going gloveless. She carefully tugs at one finger with her teeth, and then tucks that glove in her pocket before taking Tim's hand. 

"That sounds wonderful. What kinds of movie do you put on? Do you have any old film- reels? Hm. Is that the word?" 

Ahhhhh.  Sara can definitely tell that Tim was working under heavy load today.  Insofar as 'sitting in a room' counts as heavy load, anyway.  "Reels, yes.  But it's not that old, I'm afraid.  This one had special hard drives they shipped around to different movie theaters.  'Sneakernet' was the nickname for it, and you can get an adapter for the projector these days.  We mostly wind up seeing comedies, but I admit to have heckled a bad action movie or ten in my time.  The kind that doesn't track reloads, or even sometimes what gun someone was using scene-to-scene."  Tim takes another sip of his energy drink. and sighs a little.  Funny how guiding beats caffeine every time without even trying.

She squeezes his hand, but that's all the comment she makes on his backlash load. 

"I suppose I never considered what they changed to after reels," she muses, "But hard drives does make sense. Are the action inconsistencies truly that bad? I confess I tend to watch more historical settings than anything else, which is where I find most of those myself." 

"Well, nobody ever reloads except at dramatic moments, you've got a one in three shot at firearm safety, ricochets don't exist, nobody thinks about the backdrop, and yeah, sometimes a gun gets completely swapped between scenes."  Don't yawn.  "But it's still fun, just - junk food fun, if you know what I mean?"

"Yes," she covers her smile, "It's the same with historical movies. The fashion is so often off, customs are wrong, and do not even get me started on 'courting'," she rolls her eyes. "But it's still fun. They will often film at incredible locations, and the acting and story will often make up some for the innacuracy." 

"Is your smile shy?  You're always covering it a little."  What.  where the fuck did that come from.  Why does anybody let me do thinking after a long day?

"Oh," she lowers her hand, "No, I'm sorry, it's a bad habit." 

"Oh, I mean.  No, it's not a - " shit how do I recover " - problem.  Um."  Don't ask her if her teeth were messed up before awakening.  "It's fine, really."  Handsqueeze?  Is that a thing people like?

She smiles up at him, without hiding it this time, "It's okay! Just- when I was small, there was- someone who would tease me when I smiled. And then I had a partner who did it too. I just have to relearn not to do it, again." 

"I get it, a little  I used to have, er.  Not perfect skin.  Before I awakened." Tim gestures vaguely at his face with his soda-holding hand.  But I'll never forget the names of half the craters on the moon, so at least it'll help if I ever take an astronomy course.  "It's not the same, but it's maybe the same - idea?"

"Mm. I got braces when I was eleven. Jeremy, though-" she shrugs.

"So, partly." 

"Jer - " wait fuck is this a good thing to even ask about.  "Um.  We don't have to talk about it, if you don't want.  It's - " none of your business?  Not a big deal?  a touchy subject for you?  all of the above?  " - um."  Tim.exe has stopped responding.

She squeezes his hand, "It's a bit of a heavy topic for a walk from the train station," she agrees. "Movies? Could we watch something tomorrow?" 

"Er, yeah.  Sorry.  Um.  I think there was a comedy in the lead, last I looked."  Tim can ramble about movie choices until they arrive at the silo?  This is a thing he is capable of doing.

Sara will listen and make the occasional comment and hold his hand and chip away at his backlash bit by bit. 

Tim is feeling a little perkier after ten minutes of conversational autopilot.  Making smalltalk with strangers is part of being a combat esper and an EMT, but for most of those calls, his conversational partner isn't someone who matters to him, not in the long run.  Of course, every rescue is important and every person he's helped get up after an injury mattered.  But not to him, as a human being with whom he'll have to interact in the future.

Sara?  She's higher-stakes, despite the remarkably low risk of injury while crossing two streets and strolling one point three(1.3) miles hand-in-hand.

"Well, here we are."  Tim gestures with his can at the Montpelier Recuperative Care And Rehabilitation Facility.  "It's not much, but here we are."  He reaches down with his canned hand for the key, only to realize that his hand does in fact have a can in it.  "Er.  Pardonnez me."  Tim, you're language mixing again.  Bad habit.  The door is keyed, and Tim opens a door extra-wide to accommodate one Sara Lepine and her duffel.  "This is the official silo, my place is technically next door."

The foyer is, essentially, a movie theater.  There's a huge 'reception' desk that still has a popcorn machine.  Gesturing at it, Tim notes "We still fire it up for movie nights, small batches only, though.  Seemed a shame to get rid of it."  There are a handful of couches in foyer, but there's remarkably little decoration.

She spins - partway, given hand-holding - to take it in. 

"It looks like something out of childhood. I haven't been to a movie theater in years..." 

She just hasn't had a need to, with movies available wherever she called home. She wasn't wealthy enough to waste money on an experience she didn't see need for, before, and afterwards she had more important things to do with her time. 

"It's kind of nice.  I like the ambiance, if you made just a couple of changes it could be a movie theater again.  Or if you - blur your eyes, a little bit."  Tim used to having to take a little trip if he wants to see a movie.  It was only a few months that he won the lottery twice in a row - once at becoming an esper, and again by surviving Hell Week.  "Nobody's here, they finished cleaning already.  D'you want to stash your bag behind the counter so we can feed you?  Or would you prefer the guided tour tonight?"

"Let's eat, first. Will we have time for a little guided tour while things are being set up tomorrow?" 

Counter-wards she tugs him, and she leans over it to see what kind of space there is before sliding her duffle and backpack underneath it. 

There's plenty of space!  It's a glorified receptionist's desk, with tons of space for a duffel.  There are computers and very comfy office chairs galore, along with various office accoutrements like post-its, pens, a rubber-band gun and two tablets.  Perhaps Sara might catch a glimpse of the heavy-duty security door from this perspective, perhaps not.

She trusts her things will be safe enough beneath the counter without inquiring after the security door. In they go! 

That done, she straightens again and nods happily at him, "What foods are there nearby?" 

"Well, there's this really nice - " Thai place.  "Er.  Scuse me, tickle in my throat.  Ah."  Tim clears his throat repeatedly.  Get your self together.  "Pizza place nearby.  It's good for guiding because you don't need forks and knives to eat pizza.  It's owned by this really sweet couple from the old country, I don't know where the old country is, exactly, because the accent is so thick.  But they're really nice."  An old lyric pops into Tim's mind, unbidden: If you smile at me, I will understand.  That is something everybody everywhere does in the same language.

"Pizza sounds nice, actually. Filling and customizable! Just a moment," she lets go of him briefly to dig a knitted red hat out of her pocket, which she pulls over her head. "There, all ready. Let's go see if I can identify their accent?" 

Mmmmm, guiding.  Sara can probably tell that this is going to take A While of just handholding.  Tim swallows a yawn and hip-bumps the door open, scooching left so let Sara past.  "Is that your handiwork?"  Inquisitive chin-tilt at the headgear.

Well, she brought shorts and a midriff-baring top for tomorrow, so at least there will be more skin contact then. 

"Mhm," she adjusts her hat slightly as she waits for him to lock up, "It's the same yarn as the sweater I wore at the mixer. I brought the orange yarn for you, too," she adds, and that's actually in her purse so she shakes it a bit. 

"Um."  You knew this was going to happen, Tim.  Will you please stop with the 'um's and say something.  "I'm - looking forward to it."  Augh.  You sound like you're some corporate slob.  "Wearing it, I mean."  You'd think it would take me a little less time to get used to an actual partnership.  Wait, she's not even a real partnership.  This is just getting used to each other.  For five days.  Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday.  Anyone nearby who happens to see Tim's left hand will see him counting off the days on his fingers.  Augh.  I'm so grateful she got the hotel, five days with a complete stranger is.  A lot.

...She raises an eyebrow at him, "You know, you can say no, Tim. It's okay if you don't want a hat." 

"No, I just - I could use a hat.  And yours is - cozy.  I'm just.  Not used to that kind of thing, really?"  Well, not since shut up.  "Y'know."  I sincerely hope you know because I don't actually know.

"...gifts? Gifts from friends? A gift from a friend she made herself?" 

It sounds so stupid when she says it out loud but here I am I guess???  "Er.  Yes?  Not, never.  But."

Handsqueeze! "Okay. I'm not sure how to help. I like making hats and I like to see them on people, keeping them warm. Making your favourite colour makes it feel special- oh," she stops them for a moment so she can actually dig the yarn out. 

It's a more dull orange, sort of autumnal, or burnt, rather than anything close to traffic light neon. "Is this okay? I thought too dim would be better than too bright." 

"No, it's - it's good.  I do better if I have a plan, right?  And I don't."  Augh.  "I don't plan to get gifts, because - that would be."  Taking up space?  "Arrogant?"  Timothy Bartholomew Delgado is not an introspective man by nature, but if you ask him a question he's willing to answer he will do his level best to do it.  "It would be - " special?  Too cringe.  "Um.  Nice to have something you made.  For me.  And a hat, because, well." 

Timothy retrieves his hand long enough to grab his jacket and pull.  It streeeeeeeeeeetches like Lycra on steroids. 

"It's inspired by some dungeon material, I forget the name.  But I can't wear regular clothes if I want to use my power.  You know how they say, 'don't stretch in jeans, you'll break the button'?  It's like that, but for everything.  So, a hat would be nice.  No muscle groups in your head, you know?  I'd be pretty, um, upset if you took the time to make me something and I broke it because."  Because you're a clumsy idiot.

"Oh." 

Hugging him feels like a lot, but she is going to wrap both her arms around his and squeeze. 

"Okay. The yarn I picked is still soft, but a strong um... Spin?"

She sighs. 

"The hair is long and strong, so it is more durable. Of course you could break it, but it will last longer, I hope. If you do tear it, though, I can fix it," maybe that will be reassuring, some? "I could even put decoration on it, if it breaks. Leaves, maybe." 

Oh.  Well.  This isn't quite.  Expected.  "No, I - a hat is fine, I've never torn a hat in my life."  You should hug her back, you idiot.  A three-month old reflex springs to life, and Tim's hand finds the small of Sara's back.  "And if I somehow manage it, I'll bring it back to you.  Okay?"

"Yes," he can have a totally uncovered smile, and then she will return to her former position so they can keep moving pizzawards. 

Okay.  I got through it.  It's fine.  Tim feels a mixture of relief and emotional tiredness anything after tap-dancing through that particular conversational minefield and will just hold hands guide Sara to a little pizzeria.

Sara will observe the architecture! So many lovely 19th century New England buildings, and the abundance trees leaves one feeling they are in the middle of the forest, despite the asphalt and road. It's beautiful here. 

It really is.  And look, it's a lovely little restaurant!  The accent is indeed thick - how is Sara at identifying Mediterranean accents?  A smiling middle-aged couple would like to know, presumably along with her order. 

She is not terribly good at Mediterranean accents! Oh well, the origins of the nice middle-aged couple may continue to be a mystery. 

She would like- actually, now she's here, she would really like a nice Margherita pizza? Earlier she'd been thinking something more Western, but now she's craving something more simple and clean. 

Do they make personal pan size, or will she be taking some of this home?

They do make personal pan size!  Tim is going to order a large Greek, with extra feta.  And some handholding on the side?

Yep! While they're waiting she will even take off her other glove and they can hold both hands. 

Whoah.  Doubled efficiency!  Along with an incredibly dirty leer, courtesy of one of the owners, from over Sara's shoulder.

Sara is oblivious! 

"Should we have asked for an appetizer?" She is looking at one of the other tables, "Is the bread here good?"

Tim is stuck in the awkward position of not wanting to inadvertently glare at his potential business partner while also wanting to give Papa over there the stinkeye.  Truly, a dilemma.  Wait.  Bread?  "Oh, um - sometimes I get the garlic bread.  Are you really hungry?  I could go ask for some."  And give him the evil eye while I'm at it.

"Yes, please!" Handsqueeze! "I can come along if you don't want to stop guiding?"