Enough Time Spent Thinking

“I didn't expect a girl,” he said.

Mouth quirked to the side, she asked, “Am I not good enough for you?”

He chuckled, scratching his chin. “Just never met a girl called Jack.”

“Jack of all trades, that's me. Go by Sarah the rest of the time.”

Offering a hand, he replied, “Michael.”

She cleaned her hand on the apron before shaking his, sporting a grin after he grimaced. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” he said.

“So, what're you after?”

His shoulders dropped a touch and the curve to his lips levelled out, a deep breath drawn in only to ease out. “I'm going on a journey,” he said while she leaned closer. “I don't know where I'm going, how long I'll be, what I'll do. I just know that as soon as I find someone to go with I'll be off.”

She swallowed, looking away when his eyes rose to meet hers. “Why d'you need someone?”

“Ah, I've got a fair pile of spares for my battle bot, so mainly that. I'm not too good with anything other than general maintenance. If they could fix up my bot when there's no workshops around, that'd be nice, same for a little cooking.”

Without a reply, she turned to the side, hands fiddling with each other.

After a minute had passed, he added, “But I'll keep looking.”

Taking a step, he paused when she grabbed his arm.

“Do you know why he told you to ask me?”

He shook his head, still facing towards the door, and her grip loosened.

“Give, can you give me a day, to think about?”

While nodding, he brought his other hand across, resting it over hers. “As long as you need.” He squeezed her hand before letting go. “It's taken me nearly five years to make my decision.”

She held him for a few seconds longer, before her hand slid off. “Same time, tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

Another few seconds, and then he walked out. For a while, she stood there. Then, she closed the door, took a seat in the lounge, and pulled out a locket. Inside, a picture of a baby in a woman's arms, with a man to her side, both of them gazing down at the child.

Closing it, she ran her thumb over the name inscribed on it.

“Five years, eh?” she muttered. “I guess I should make mine.”