Delia has gotten back from her grandfather's place and decided to rest her head before she begins to look into her mother's accident. The day was beautiful, no doubt. A gentle, cool breeze swept through the garden of their private residence, carrying the sweet scent of the lavender and roses that she herself had planted. She sat on the large wooden swing that hung from the branches of an old, sturdy oak tree before Eric joined her. Her head rested comfortably on his shoulder as she kicked her feet playfully, the motion making the swing sway in a slow, lazy rhythm.
"Are you sure your grandmother won't scold you for not being at work today?" she asked, her voice a soft, contented murmur. " I don't want you to use me as an excuse for lazing around."
Eric chuckled, a low, warm sound that vibrated through her. "Well," he replied, "she probably would, if she knew."
