...And More...

Posted on Tue Apr 5th, 2022 @ 1:15am by Senior Chief Petty Officer Mason Malone & Ensign George Paxton

Mission: Character Development
Location: George's quarters
Timeline: Inbetween Missions
5601 words - 11.2 OF Standard Post Measure

In his quarters, George slipped into a professional looking pair of shorts and a short sleeve button up shirt, not wanting to look too dressed up or too casual. A pot stood in the corner of the dining area on a heat generator boiling some delicious smelling liquid and allowing him to make his favorite family meal from scratch. Well, that is, build it from raw pieces from the replicator. Bowls of shrimp, sausage, rice, and an assortment of peppers and onions lined the dining table and George carefully watched over the cooking base, waiting for the right moment to add the extra ingredients.

It was just shy of thirty minutes, when Mason announced his presence at the door. He'd taken his time to get cleaned up, even made the effort to look properly groomed. Unlike George however, Mason had gone for comfort, wearing uniform slacks, but had opted for a dark green T-shirt that fell loosely around his frame, and was a little longer than standard length, coming halfway around his hips.

"Make yourself at home," George motioned towards the couch as Mason walked in. "Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes. Do you have any allergies I should know about?" He asked, always the one to be accommodating and considerate of others.

"None that I'm aware of," Mason said as he sat down, visibly sniffing the air. He took a cursory glance around, taking in the room. "Not got roommates either?" he queried curiously, taking note of what looked to be a one-person household.

"No roommates, I like my own space. Even this feels a bit cramped at times," he shuddered slightly as he removed any thoughts of his claustrophobia from his mind. "Are you ok with spicy?" There was no way to make this dish without a hit of spice and for a moment George hoped that not having asked earlier wasn't going to ruin the whole night.

"Hmm I'd say keep the window uncovered at all times then," Mason smiled, giving a quiet nod at the spice query. "Just not too hot please, if possible. And I have my own space too.... pretty much the whole deck I suppose, because I'm living down in what was supposed to be the barracks. But this ship doesn't carry marines so those places are all vacant. I asked permission to take one of the smaller quarters, as I don't need much space on my own, and that was alright. Been a marine for most of my career so that's really home for me."

"Sounds cozy." George grabbed the bowls of ingredients and started to pour them all into the large pot. He then set it to simmer and walked over to the replicator, creating a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. "Can I offer you a drink?" He grabbed the materials and turned towards Mason with a thoughtful and inquiring expression. A close inspection would reveal the tiniest bead of sweat beginning to form on his forehead from nerves. George enjoyed Mason's company but didn't want to move too quickly or do the wrong thing. All he wanted was to provide a nice dinner that they could enjoy together without pretences or external pressures. Yet George, being George, was worried he would somehow get it wrong.

Being trained as he was, Mason could see the anxiety from his position on the couch, and he offered an encouraging smile. "Please," he said with a nod, "just a small one. Synthehol please though... I'd like things to remain pleasant." His smile widened into a grin. "Don't want to risk getting drunk on one real drink." He too was enjoying the evening so far, and like George, he was really in no hurry. "How are things in engineering?"

"Synthehol only, I promise," George filled the glass and handed it to the security officer before taking a seat himself. "Engineering is good. Finn's been more...distant lately." His face indicated slight concern, but only for a second before he shrugged. "We've seen some increases in efficiency, which is great.
Other than that it's been pretty standard maintenance. Oh! And Ensign Fenn actually made it to a shift on time, so that was a surprise," he chuckled.

"Did he now..." Mason murmured, nearly choking on his drink at the mention of Fenn. "Wonder what's wrong with Finn...." He remembered what she'd told him but as he'd sworn not to breathe a word he couldn't mention it in any way. "Maybe she's under the weather?"

"Maybe," he shrugged. "Either way, she's not one to tell and although I think talking about problems or admitting to them is healthy, I'm not one to force someone to do so. It never affects her work anyway." George took a contemplative sip of his drink. "How's security?"

"Pretty quiet. Not got a great many investigations at the moment." Mason was glad George seemed to have missed the near choke just seconds prior. "Maybe she has found someone to confide in," he reasoned, "but I do agree, hiding from issues isn't healthy, and i do know from experience, I'm afraid. Burying experiences can come back to bite, and bite hard."

"Oh?" George raised an eyebrow. "Does this have anything to do with how you almost choked on that whiskey when I mentioned Fenn? You don't have to answer," he quickly added, "but I have heard the rumors."

"Not really the event I was referring to in regards to coming back to bite," Mason answered quietly, "but yes...I suppose that counts too. I had hoped that little thing would've remained private but alas, it's all across the ship now. It was stupid, a mistake... one I won't make again." His cheeks darkened with embarrassment. "I'm not like that at all," he muttered, "I'm not that easy..." He looked up, feeling awkward. "It took months you know... before my ex-husband and I even got that far. Hell...it took weeks before he even dared to kiss me!" but then, Alex had been different to begin with but that wasn't something he'd share. Even though they had grown apart, Mason still did respect -and even love- his ex, despite all the pain the divorce had caused him.

George offered a kind smile and his eyes were filled with a sense of understanding. "Although I can't say I've slept with Fenn, I have been in a similar situation before. In my Academy years...I've found that there's no sense in feeling regret when you can't change it. Best to just learn from the experience." He stood as the food signaled its readiness and lent his hand to Mason. "Ready for dinner?"

Mason accepted the hand up and smiled. "There's nothing I can change about something that happened but that doesn't mean I can't feel it shouldn't have. Not quite sure what to learn from it though.... I'm still not even quite sure how it even happened." He shook his head as he followed. "This does smell good," he offered instead.

"Maybe you just learn that it's not something you want to do again," George shrugged and chuckled lightly as he placed rice into two bowls and then covered it with a stew like topping. He placed a bowl in front of Mason and replicated some water to go alongside the meal and the whiskey. "It's called gumbo. Ever had it?" He asked, finally taking a seat on the opposite side of the table.

"I'm not like that," Mason answered, somewhat defensively. He sniffed the bowl, closing his eyes a moment. "No I don't think I've had this before, what's in it?" The gentle and warm smile returned to his face and he forced a feeling of dread back to where it belonged. "It really does smell good."

"It starts with a roux and then a variety of cajun spices and broth. I let that simmer for a good while before throwing in andouille sausage, shrimp, peppers, and onions. It's a very old and traditional food, but always delicious." George picked up a spoonful and tasted it, smiling as a sense of tradition and flavor entered his palette. "Try it, let me know what you think!"

Carefully, Mason sampled a spoonful and allowed himself to get a good taste of it all. He felt beads or sweat form on his brow but he bravely took a few more bites. "It does taste very good," he praised honestly, "who taught you to make this?"

"My grandmother. When I wasn't curled up with a book in the barn, I was across the street at my grandmother's. She taught me everything I know about cooking and baking," George said, sampling a few more bites. "She was the kindest and most compassionate person I ever knew. I swear she could heal someone's soul with her cooking," his lips transformed into a thoughtful smile as he remember the woman.

"Sounds like she was a very kind woman," Mason said, somewhat sadly, "makes me wonder what mine would've been like. I never knew my grandparents, I don't even know what they were like, or when they passed. Now that I think about it..I wonder if my sisters knew them... I never even considered the entire concept of grandparents until now... How strange is that?" He took another bite, savouring the -to him somewhat odd- taste. "I really like this," he praised after another moment of thought.

"Your parents never talked about them?" George asked with a note of sympathy. He had valued so much of his time with his grandparents that he couldn't imagine life without them.

Mason shook his head. "I barely remember my parents," he answered softly, "I mean my sisters talk about them once in a while, but I don't have any real memories of them. I can't even recall their faces."

"I'm so sorry Mason," he put his hand on top of Mason's. "I knew they had passed and your sisters raised you, but didn't realize you were that young." George left the statement there, leaving room for Mason to either change the subject or continue to talk about it. Either worked for George, he didn't like to pry for information but understood the value in talking about hard subjects at times.

Glancing down at the hand that covered his, Mason turned his hand over, but didn't remove it. "I was just five," he explained, but that was all he really wanted to say about it. While he was sad about the loss, and a little jealous on possibly having missed out on things, he didn't want to sell his older siblings short. If anything, he was insanely loyal to them. "Maybe you can teach me to make a simplified version of this for out in the field?" He asked, wanting to move things on.

"Sure!" Excitement was clear in George's voice. "I love teaching people the recipe. It's really simple. I could even craft a packet of mix with freeze dried meat that you could take in the field and then you'd just add hot water and, voila, gumbo!" He chuckled and removed his hand from Mason's, not wanting to overstay his welcome so to speak. "I'll tell you what. How about an exchange? I'll share a field worthy version of my recipe and you show me those clothes you said you like to make."

Amusement returned to the security officer's eyes at that, and he gestured at what might be perceived at his slightly too long shirt. "I did cheat a little with this one, as I have the design in the replicator, but I have made these myself before, using the holodeck as obviously I don't carry a sewing machine or any kind of fabrics. Anything casual I wear, barring these pants, usually is of my own making. I don't make fancy dress, or well... dress up stuff. I do make comfortable wear for myself. It's not that hard though..."

George let out a small gasp. "You made that?! It looks fantastic! You're obviously quite talented to make so many of your own clothes. You say it's easy, but you've seen me trip over the carpet," he chuckled. "I'm not sure sewing is the hobby for me. What about your other hobbies? I believe you mentioned baseball before. How did you get into that? Perhaps we could play a game sometime."

"I got into that back when I enlisted, turned out I was pretty good at pitching. I continued to play throughout my service until I uhm...overdid it I guess? Busted my shoulder, and I've spoken with Doctor Ki about surgery, I've just not had the courage to go through with it yet. Because I'd be busted off duty for a while, and I'm not someone who can sit idle and do nothing. So...I've been living with the patch up jobs, and just trying to be careful when doing work-outs. But yeah I'd love to play again some time, I just don't think I should pitch, and I can't just switch hands." He grinned openly now. "Left-handed pitchers used to be in high demand as far as I remember."

George furrow a concerned brow. "It sounds like you ought to get the surgery. I imagine you won't be off duty too long and you have all that sewing to keep you busy! I'd be happy to be there for you if it helps," he offered.

"Doctor hinted that it'd be at least several days... I probably wouldn't be allowed to use my arm at all.. and there's not a whole heck I can do right-handed." Mason echoed the frown. "I can't even fire a phaser right-handed. What if this goes wrong? Not that I don't trust doc, because I do, and I'm sure he'll do one hell of a job, but what if? I'd no longer be able to do my job, and I'm back to just being a linguist and then what? What would I do?"

George tilted his head for a moment. "I would think these days if someone went wrong he could replace your whole arm with a mechanical one...Not that that's the solution you'd want." He quickly added. "I'm sure you're an excellent linguist, not that it matters. I'm positive everything would go just fine..." George then put his hands up, not wanting to push the matter. "You should do whatever you feel most comfortable with, but just know that I'd happily come with you if that's the decision you make and you want company. In the meantime maybe we could watch a game together? My older brother, Griffin, likes baseball too. He used to waste transporter credits going to New Orleans to watch the Zephyrs play a game."

"I'll go through it when I'm ready to," Mason smiled, "which will be eventually, probably sooner rather than later, "and if you want to come with me I'll gladly take that officer. And I'd love to watch a game, even though in all honesty, that's far more boring than being at a game." He paused as he reconsidered his words. "How old is your brother? Because I don't think I've heard of the Zephyrs.....though could be I just know the European teams... from when I was ah...much younger." He grinned. "Either way, I'd love to see a game..with you."

"Griff is 26, two years older than me. He's a bit of a rebel. The rest of the family is into football and I think he enjoyed the challenge of sneaking out to a game," George chuckled as he recounted the memories and continued to whittle down his bowl of gumbo. "Can you imagine if we got ever got both of our families together? Your four sisters and my six siblings. It'd be quite the large crowd. I bet some of them share similar personalities though,"

"Probably.... I'm the baby among the five of us. Miranda is about seventeen years older than me..." Mason chuckled, "and as far as I know, they all have partners too... Miranda has a daughter too. She'd be about six by now I think?" His cheeks coloured in embarrassment at not remembering his niece's age. But then how could he when he hadn't really seen any of them in quite some time?

"I don't think I knew you had a niece! That's wonderful. I have," George tilted his head, counting the offspring that each of his siblings had. "I have 5 nephews and 4 nieces. I think. It's a little hard to keep track of them all, but I try to video call one of them every week or send them a video message if we aren't in com range. I have a couple of long distance games going with some of the oldest ones. They're great kids, though I do wish I could see them more often." A hint of longing could be seen in his eyes as he continued. "I love being a part of Starfleet, but I also love my family and I miss being close to them from time to time. Especially when they send photos of family gatherings."

"Yeah I get that... but one of my sisters is a counselor, and married to a starfleet officer, so she gets around space too, and another lives on Mars, while Miranda stayed in the family home. So we're pretty scattered as it is, but we do try to come home once in a while. My last times just happened to be just before I got married, and a little after my divorce, so it's been about a year now I think? The down side is that I haven't spoken with my daughter in some time either, she lives with her other dad on Mars. Assuming Alex stayed there because he's just such a wanderer..."

"I'm sorry you haven't had a chance to talk to her. Have you written to her?" George finished his bowl and pushed it away from him slightly before reaching for the area where he would normally have placed garlic bread only to be met with nothing. "I forgot to make the bread! Oh, I'm so sorry. That's the best part. Oh well," he sighed. I guess you'll just have to come back again some other time and I'll get it right then," he chuckled.

"Yeah I have, just there haven't been any replies so far." Startled, he looked up. "What? What bread?" he managed, "oh....well that's just as good as excuse as any right? Unless that was planned as dessert? Which is kind of weird, right? Bread as afters?"

"Definitely weird. To be honest, I completely forgot to consider dessert. I do have an incredible replicator recipe for bread pudding though if you're interested, but I don't want to keep you too late either." George's expression indicated hope to further the night but a laid back understanding that neither of them seemed to want to move too fast. Dessert could always come another night, assuming Mason was interested in continuing contact.

"How about breakfast tomorrow?" Mason suggested instead, sitting up a little straighter.

"Day after tomorrow?" He countered. "I promised Finn I'd help her with a project early tomorrow."

"Lunch tomorrow?" Mason counter-proposed, "or dinner and uhm... A dance?" He really did want to help George improve on his footwork, during their sparring.

"Dinner and a dance it is. Your place or mine?" He asked.

"Mine," Mason prompted, "and I'll make the effort to cook too. I think I'll have enough room to do some footwork.... Otherwise I'll book a holodeck. Sound good?"

"Sounds great," George smiled and pushed away from the table. "It's been a wonderful night Mason. I enjoyed every bit of it."

Watching him, Mason did pause for a moment. This seemed like a closure to him, was he being asked to leave now? "I'm enjoying the evening too," he finally answered, keeping it in the present tense even though he really didn't want to overstay a welcome. "I haven't felt this... relaxed... in quite some time." In truth, he really did find himself relaxed, and able to just be himself.

"I have to say the same," George got up and grabbed his own bowl to put back in the replicator before pointing to Mason's. "Finished?" He asked, noting that it was empty.

Mason nodded, getting up and grabbing his bowl before holding it out to George. "Too bad about dessert," he chuckled, "though I suppose we could just randomly replicate some cake or something?"

George stood in confusion for a moment. He had mentioned his replicated bread pudding that was delicious, but then it seemed as though Mason wanted to leave. Now he wants to stay? Not that he would argue having enjoyed the security officer's company so much. "Um, yea, if cake is what you prefer. I'm sure we can find a good recipe in the replicator."

We. Mason smiled, definitely welcoming the 'we' part in that statement. "Do you have any favourites?" He asked curiously. "Personally, I like any kind of cake that's kind of... soggy? You know...as though it had absorbed any kind of drink, or even sauce."

George furrowed a confused brow. "So, now you do want the bread pudding?"

"I don't even know what that is," Mason laughed, nodding slowly. "So yeah... I'll have some."

George chuckled to himself as he put the empty bowls on the replicator to be recycled. He then produced his family's bread pudding recipe and added a scoop of vanilla ice cream to the top of the warm delicacy. "I'm so sorry," he said, dropping off dessert at the table for them both. "When you said no to it earlier, I thought you wanted to end the night." His expression as he sat showed the delight felt inside at Mason's decision to stay longer.

"Now why would I want that?" Mason countered as he studied what had been put in front of him, "so...breadpuddig... I honestly have no idea what this is. I thought you were meaning to serve us bread."

"It is bread. A sweet bread," George took a bite and closed his eyes in enjoyment. "Try it, you'll see!" He egged on the security officer while devouring his own bowl of the warm, sweet and sticky dessert.

Carefully, Mason took a bite and though he did enjoy the warmth of it, he didn't really like the idea of getting his fingers all sticky. Still, he put on the brave face and did it anyway. "It's extremely sweet," he commented carefully, "but I suppose it tastes better warm than it does cold?"

A bellowed laugh came in return from George. "It's probably better with the spoon," he lifted his up and motioned towards the utensil next to Mason. "But yes, it's best warm with some ice cold ice cream on top. Try a bite with the combination of the two." George followed his own suggestion, scooping in a bit of ice cream and then separating a piece of the sticky bread pudding onto the same spoon.

"I see..." Mason did as was suggested, then shuddered visibly. "Oooh gosh that's way too sweet for me. I'll stick to the bread part, that does taste good." He did, however, use the spoon from then on, but licked his fingers when he was done. "What do you usually do in the evening?" He then asked, as he pushed his bowl away.

"I like to read. I spend a good bit of time making videos to send to my nieces and nephews too, at least once a week. Or catch up on the games I have going with the older ones. Besides that I have a couple of small side projects," George took Mason's bowl and his own and placed them back on the replicator. "Would you like to see?"

"Definitely," Mason answered excitedly, "I read too... Mostly books that need some deciphering though, as I still enjoy linguistical challenges." He stood and walked up to George, assuming they'd be moving to some other part of the room. "Where to?"

"Over here," he moved towards the corner of the room, to a bin that contained some small wooden pieces that were roughly shaped into two bowls. "I've been attempting to learn wood turning. An old technique used to create things like bowls out of wood. These are the ones I've started on but haven't quite finished yet. I'm still refining my skills." He noted the rough edges and not entirely symmetrical openings.

"Then there's this," George pulled out another bin filled with tiny furniture like pieces. "These are for my nieces and nephews. My parents have a big dollhouse at their home which they all love to play with, but over the years some of the pieces have broken, so I'm trying to make new ones. I like the idea of having handmade ones instead of something just out of the replicator. Maybe one day my own children will join their cousins in playing with them." A soft smile lit up his face.

"Not maybe, they will," Mason insisted as he examined the woodwork. "Wow, this really looks amazing George, you're very talented. How long did it take you to learn this?" He picked up a tiny table, turning it over in his hands before carefully putting it back. "It really does look good."

"Oh, they're still very rough, drafts, for lack of a better term. But thank you. I'll get better as I go. It's a hobby I've always been interested in, but I've only gotten serious about it since I left the academy," he replied, his face slightly reddened by the compliment.

The man was positively cute when he blushed, Mason noticed. "Even so...it looks really clever, I couldn't do it." He reached for one of the bowls, then froze as his hand brushed against George's. He smiled, holding his breath a second, before picking up the intended item. "Maybe sand them?" He suggested, "I'm obviously no expert but that may smoothen the wood?"

"Oh yes, I plan to. Once I get the shape perfected," George looked at Mason with a kind smile yet his eyes flickered with a sense of longing.

Though Mason did notice the look in the man's eyes, he didn't really have any idea what it meant. "Define perfected shape," he challenged mildly, "these things look unique on their own, and they look usable... so why change how they look?" He leaned forward a little, holding the bowl he held up to the light, turning it over this way and that. "This looks perfect to me?"

"You're right, it is usable, but I have a final look in my mind that I'm going for, so it'll be a work in progress until then." George maintained his smile. Maybe to others it looked good, but to him, it lacked the refinement he aimed for. "They're close though."

"Still usable," Mason insisted, putting the bowl back onto the stack. "Very unique," he added, visibly pleased with how they looked. His smile wasn't a teasing one, his expression otherwise dead serious. "What oiling or varnish are you going to use?"

"I'm not sure yet," George twisted a curious brow. "Do you know much about oils and varnishes? I didn't know you were into such things?"

"Only for canvas painting," Mason admitted, "but I'm sure someone in science will know?"

"That's a good idea. Truthfully I had planned to just dig around in the database and try a few different ones to see what worked best," George shrugged. "Can I offer you a coffee?" He asked, moving towards the replicator to get himself a warm cup o' joe.

"Sure, but after that I do need to go. I have an early shift tomorrow and I don't want to end up being late." Mason didn't really want to go but he had to be responsible and get a good night's sleep. "Just black, please, nothing in it."

George ordered a black coffee and one with sugar and cream. "Couch?" He motioned towards the furniture and placed Mason's cup on the table before taking a seat himself. "If you're interested in that wood working I could teach you sometime. You could make a piece for your daughter?" He offered.

"Oh I bet she'd love that." Mason beamed at the engineer as he sat down on the couch, right next to George. "Maybe something useful to her though, she's a little old for a doll house. Maybe a cup and plate? Or cup and bowl? Something she could use, maybe while traveling with Alex."

'Both would be fitting. You could start looking at designs in the meantime. I'll send you some of my favorites," George smiled as he thought to himself how comfortable he felt in their current setting. Coffee in hand and Mason by his side on the couch. So comfortable in fact that it took concerted effort to keep from sliding closer to the security officer and nestling in.

Sipping his coffee, Mason nodded, unconsciously leaning in a little. He really wasn't aware he was doing it, this just felt so familiar and like home...well ... Prior home, from his married time. "I'd like that," he finally said.

"I like this," George said simply, wanting to acknowledge the fondness that was growing without going too far.

"Me too," Mason murmured, leaning in further, "this feels good." He felt really comfortable, the lack of pressure was paying off for sure. He took another sip of his coffee als he leaned back to stare at the ceiling. "Have you ever thought about putting stars on the ceiling? Those glow in the dark things?"

"Not really," George chuckled. "Though I did have those on my ceiling when I was much younger. I haven't thought about them in a very long time." He looked at Mason. "Do you have any on your ceiling?"

"Not yet, but I was considering it for the bedroom... I just can't decide on constellations or just randomly put patterns. What would you suggest?" He turned his head a fraction, practically leaning against George's shoulder now.

"Hmm, you could do the milky way or andromeda would be nice, but there are so many options. I'm not sure how you'd choose just one." George set his now empty cup back on the table quietly, not wanting to cause too much disturbance to the peaceful togetherness they were sharing in.

"That would require insanely small stars to stick to the ceiling," Mason chuckled, "I'm not sure I have the patience for that." He shifted, resting his head on George's lap. "I just want these self sticking glow in the dark things."

"Oh THOSE. Wow those are old. I was thinking more the ceiling projections." George paused for a moment. "Leo has always been my favorite constellation. If you have a favorite, you should go with that," he smiled.

"I'm not sure I have a favourite...Orion the hunter maybe?" He smiled, looking up at the man. "Though I suppose projections are an option too. Good idea, actually."

"If you need help installing a projection module, let me know. Do you need a refill?" George asked, unsure if Mason's cup was empty like his was.

Turning his head to look sideways at the cup he'd set on the table, he then looked back up at George. "No, I'm good. If I have any more I probably won't sleep," he said, smiling sheepishly. "I probably should go in a minute anyway, before I fall asleep right here.

George chuckled, though he was starting to wondering if Mason wanted to stay all night. As much as he loved the company, it wasn't the best idea this early on and with all of the rumors surrounding Mason right now it could lead to more trouble. Right?

"Yea, we both have early shifts. If we stay up much longer we won't get much sleep. At least we'll still get to see each other tomorrow night though," George said, truly looking forward to dancing with Mason.

"Barring unforeseen circumstances, definitely," Mason promised as he first sat up, then got to his feet. "I really enjoyed this evening," he offered sincerely, waiting for George to get up too, to show him to the door.

George paused for just a moment, he really didn't want the night to end. Perhaps this could keep going for a bit longer.
He could offer for Mason to stay on the couch ..No. He needed sleep for the early morning ahead and having Mason stay so early in their, whatever this was, didn't seem the right thing to do. George stood and walked to the door.

"I enjoyed it too Mason. Really. I already can't wait for tomorrow," his softened face offered a sincere and loving smile.

At the door, Mason turned to face him and gently reached to touch the man's cheek. "Me too," he said softly, "thank you for a lovely evening." His cheeks colouring just a little, he leaned in and put a gentle kiss on the other's cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow," he added, stepping back just a small step so the sensor would register his presence and the door would open.

"Good night, Mason," George called out just before the doors closed. His cheeks were flushed red and the heart that resided in his chest felt like it was beating a mile a minute when Mason had leaned in and kissed his cheek. George finally turned away from the door with a giddy smile on his face. Perhaps there really was something to this relationship they were building.