[ seven months have passed in cassidy's world since the last time he was here. during that time, he often wondered whether eudio had been one long, vivid dream. more worrisome were the mornings where he awoke expecting to be in their beach-front squat, or the moments where he reached into his pocket for a futuristic communicator that wasn't there. gradually, those moments became few and far between. he fell back into the rhythms of his old life, consumed by his plans and ambitions. so, being in eudio again is strange for him too. not in the way it is for roxy, but strange nonetheless.

rediscovering old, familiar things — the creature comforts of a past life — helps somewhat. places like the pub. people like roxy, even if she doesn't remember him. their friendship was fleeting enough that becoming acquainted all over again won't feel that odd.

while he waits for her, he leans against the side of the building, smoking a pipe that looks like it belongs in a museum. he's forgone the frock coat for the day, though he's still decked out in his usual accessories: necklaces hanging down the v of his loose-fitting white shirt, gold studs in his earlobes, and rings on several of his fingers. absent, too, are his pistol and cutlass, though there's still a dirk tucked into one of his boots.

when he catches sight of roxy, he returns her smile with one of his own, releasing the smoke from the corner of his mouth. the pipe is tamped out and tucked into a leather pouch on his belt. then he takes the hand that touched his elbow gently in his and raises it to his lips, bowing slightly as he presses a kiss there. gentleman-like. ]

Miss Morton. [ this time, she can hear the teasing inflection in the words. ] It's a pleasure to see you.

[ he leaves off the 'again' for her sake. ]

As lovely as you appear in that tiny picture [ he means the device screen ], you're even lovelier in person.