plantfood | (no subject)

With the dogs racing around the yard, Mathias steps back from the work he's completed on his hut and dusts his hands off on his jeans. Even if Veronica decides that moving in is not in the cards just yet -- although he thinks she will decide to do it -- he's glad that he's built the extension. The hut was large enough with the two bedrooms, but it's nice to have the extra room for the dogs now.

And for Sam, of course, if they move in that direction.

He doesn't mind being up in the air, especially since he thinks Veronica likes the idea of living together. She hasn't said no and she hasn't run away, so he's hoping her response in the long run will be a positive one.

"There is more room for you now," he tells Hal in German. Ever since adopting them, he's fallen into the habit of speaking to them more in German than in English, with the exception of their names and the commands they know. It isn't the same as having an entire conversation with someone who speaks German, but there is little opportunity for it on the island and he enjoys the chance.

"You two can run around all you want, but if Sam and Veronica move in, you will have to be careful," he continues, rubbing the dog's ears when she comes over to him, wagging her tail. They're good dogs. They're his dogs now.

This is, he thinks, a good life.

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"A chicken with your head off," he repeats with obvious amusement. Despite all the time he's spent outside of Germany, there are still expressions that occasionally surprise him, things he never would have thought to say on his own and this is definitely one of them. "I am very glad you are not running away like a chicken with your head off," he agrees with a grin, having given it some thought and deciding that the image it gives works in an interesting way.

Veronica laughs, letting herself be distracted by the way he takes to it, how much she likes when she still manages to happen upon something he's not familiar with. "You and me both," she says. "I'm pretty fond of my head. I like it right here."

"As do I," he says, reaching up to smooth one hand over her hair, then leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. "It would be very awkward were I asking a headless woman to move in with me. That would add too many complications. Where would we keep her head, for example."

He's being silly not, as silly as he gets, to let her know that everything will be alright in the end. He's sure of this.

"You think of all the important things," sighs Veronica, tugging him toward her for a kiss, though she starts laughing. "I wouldn't even know what to do with my own head." They'll be fine, she tells herself. If they can talk about it and they can make jokes, they'll be better than fine. This is them, after all, and they've made it this far for a reason.