Firestone Hot Springs come and lay your bones on the alabaster stones

Cruddy post-work post. ♥

Lotte laughed, a low, rich ripple of sound. “I speak yours,” she admitted, “but sometimes my tongue trips over itself and I become mixed up.” Her argent eyes twinkled with merriment as she waded as close to Birk as she dared without leaving her pool, resting her chin on the mossy stone edge. From this closer vantage point, she discerned that the male was not simply white but a mixture of ivory, cream, and a cloudy gray lighter than her own. “I am Lotte,” she said, intrigued by his plain speaking manner and kindly expression. “What may I call you, herra?” She drew her tongue carefully across her lips as she watched him attentively, gauging his reaction to her attempt at continuing their conversation.