Firefly Glen autumn jazz

The hug came as a huge surprise for him. Charles didn't see it coming and so he didn't manage to avoid it either. Woah, woah, easy, he said with a burst of laughter that he couldn't contain (a rare thing for him). While Charles breathed in Leta's scent — it smelled of home — he tried to push her away, though gently so, to keep up his cool act. Eventually he managed (or she let go herself, but in Charles' version of the story, he had some say in it) just as she exclaimed how happy that made her. 'Happy' was such a strange word for Charles; he had found out about its existence pretty late, and he found it hard to pinpoint what it really was to be 'happy'. He wasn't really used to good feelings that didn't come paired, or were preceded by, bad feelings.

Leta suggested they should find the best stick spot in the Glen. Always good to have something to chew, Charles agreed. His love for sticks wasn't actually as big as Leta thought it was — he just liked chewing on them, but it wasn't like he actually had collections or anything — but it had become a them thing that he cherished nonetheless. Leta seemed absolutely pleased and Charles suggested: Lead the way, madamme. Some fancy word for 'girl' that he'd picked up in his time away from home.