"Now we just need to christen every other room in the house," he joked.<br/><br/>She blushed, her lips stretching thin as she tried to hide her thoughts behind a modest smile. It was a big house, built in 1890 and use to be an inn. Or a children's home. Or ...something. Cynthia never really paid attention to that stuff when her grandmother talked about it. Regardless. Big house, tons of tiny, compartmentalized rooms. Maybe this place wasn't so bad after all.<br/><br/>Her brain chose that moment to remind herself that her grandmother had died in one of these rooms.<br/><br/>She swallowed hard, her appetite lost as she moved in to snuggle closer. He rolled to face her. She didn't meet his gaze, giving herself three seconds to wade through her emotions before that was it. She shoved them away, smiling up at him. "I kinda threw a lot of plan your way yesterday, what with the shopping, and the dinner, and then the boardgames. But I don't really care, I was just looking for something for you, because of how awesome you've been." She rubbed down his arm, squeezing his hand. "I want you to have a you day, whatever it is, yeah? Staying in bed, games, I can get booze. Or we can go to those stores." Cynthia was ever the planner. Most morning's he would be met with this-- a good morning kiss and her, fleshing out the plans for the day before she was even out of bed. It made her feel centered.<br/><br/>She also had come to realized that it could come off a bit intense, so like always, she backtracked and amended, "Not now. Whenever, you know, just before you have to go back to those shit-head kids." Before their vacation, if that's what you'd call this, was over and work resumed.