Based off an amazing doodle by Greetingsdr 3

Doodle here: post/142825011297/greetingsdr-10-minute-doodle-of-the-cuties-i

Greetingsdr's blog here:

Edmund Hewlett was a fastidious man, known for his good breeding, attention to detail, and punctuality. Which was to say that everything had to be perfect. If his reputation didn't depend on it, his heart certainly did.

Ms. Anna Strong had finally agreed to an outing.

Nothing serious, Hewlett reminded himself, even as he packed his best cheese and a bottle he'd ordered special for the occasion. Just a simple picnic. When she'd suggested this excursion - leaving him somewhat at a loss for words, playing the fool and dunce simultaneously - Hewlett had blurted that perhaps she'd like to meet by the water, on a warm day after they'd both completed their duties? Anna had smiled though and suggested the stars instead, a picnic late at night.

At first Hewlett had thought it was so they wouldn't be seen. A practical measure, if anything. He certainly understood the gossip Setauket would spring forth if their still-married Anna were seen with a high ranking officer… her wariness was entirely logical. It had nothing at all to do with the potential shame of dining with Edmund…

Such worries (foolish, preposterous things) must have shown in his countenance though, for Anna had approached him just hours before, claiming with a curtsey that she couldn't wait for them to view the constellations together. She knew of his love for the heavens. She'd noticed. It made Hewlett wonder what else Anna may have noticed, at least when it came to the things he loved.

Hewlett drew in a deep breath. Perfection then. As close as he could manage. He had still secured them a spot by the water, deeming that the night's temperament and the flat earth would ensure that Anna didn't become too chilled. He'd cleared the area of sticks and brambles the day before. Around one arm was a quaint whicker basket piled high with food - half the pantry, surely - and tucked under his other arm was a quilt, worn and soft to the touch. It was his. Or rather, his mother's, gifted to Hewlett when he'd stepped from his home. He preferred not to think too closely on the fact that he'd be treating it like a common throw tonight. On the other hand, it would act as a seat for her…

Concentrate. Food, quilt, bottle of wine. Their haven awaited and Hewlett was pleased to see that the clouds were parting to reveal a sea of stars ahead. As a final thought he stuck a spyglass in the basket and set off, light of foot and with a smile crowding his lips.

Hewlett was so focused on 'perfection' that he missed a rather crucial aspect to any outing: his appearance.

Oh, everything seemed in order from his perspective. Stepping out into the muggy night, Hewlett admired the polished surface of his boots, being careful to avoid any wet areas. If he'd had a free hand to spare he would have dragged it down the front of his shirt, reassuring himself that it remained wrinkle free. He did swipe his tongue briefly across his teeth, checking for anything foreign, coughing to catch any rancid breath. Everything seemed to just as it should be.

It was only when he arrived and met with Anna - beautiful Anna, her hair quite literally sparkling in the moonlight, a tether between the reflective water on their Earth and the stars above their heads goodgod she stole one's breath - that Hewlett realized something may be awry. Anna took one look at him and laughed.

To say that did nothing for his confidence was quite the understatement.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said, rushing forward. Hewlett allowed her to take the quilt and basket from his numb arms. "It's nothing. Truly. Here," and she laid out the quilt with a flick of her wrists, beckoning Hewlett to sit.

The gesture startled him back into sensibility and Hewlett shook his head, helping her to her knees instead. It was a common, gentlemanly gesture, but the palm of Anna's hand still burned something fierce against his. To think he'd ever send thanks that the women of Setauket had no need for fine gloves.

They worked in silence then, the sort of awkward but strangely thrilling silence of two companions suddenly out of sorts, too aware that they were not currently bound by their roles, or keeping up appearances for the sake of curious stares that would often peer their way. Anna and Hewlett had no company but the fauna around them - the bugs chittering away and an owl hooting overhead. Hewlett felt no immediate need to join them in on their conversation.

Neither, apparently, did Anna.

Instead the two of them worked side-by-side setting out the food, stealing bites for themselves along the way. All the while though Anna had an… amused? Secretive? Some sort of smile gracing her face that Hewlett was quite unable to decipher. It was only when they were seated together - her hair drifting against his neck, his fingers barely touching her skirts - that he dared to break their silence.

"Does something about this amuse you?" he asked and damn him he hadn't meant that to come out in such an accusing tone.

Yet to his everlasting surprise and mortification, Anna nodded. She turned to him, gentle in their closeness, and cast him an arising look that sent Hewlett's heart to pounding. She tilted her head.

"Do you know the kind of humor that's at the expense of another… but it's not malicious? More like a joke shared between friends?"

Hewlett forced his mind to think past her initial words and found images: an old schoolmate bumbling before the headmaster, his mother hilariously misspelling a phrase in her needlework. Anna, spilling a bucket of milk and the both of them laughing.

"Yes," Hewlett said, throat dry.

"That's it then."

He meant to ask what exactly she meant by that, but before he could the most extraordinary thing happened. From out of the dark a sensation - the feeling of Anna's fingers playing with his hair.

Hewlett stifled a gasp. He'd never seen her move. One moment her left hand had rested innocently on her lap, the next it explored the back of his shivering head, nails raking lightly across his scalp, fingers threading through the strands -

- Hewlett froze.

His face, horror stricken, was clearly seen, now nearly as pale as the moon. Bless and save him, he'd forgotten his wig. A status symbol, an honor… but more importantly a welcome reprieve from one of his least appealing features. Hewlett knew that most of him could never be termed conventionally handsome, but his hair had always been a particularly unwelcome atrocity. Plain and brown, mousy and perpetually flattened against his skull. One 'companion' had commented that Hewlett looked like a bedraggled, unwelcome kitten who someone had tried to drown and god above, Anna was playing with locks that hadn't seen water or soap in days -

"Edmund."

Her voice sliced through his thoughts like a knife, deadly and expertly wielded.

"Y-yes?" he managed.

Anna firmly pressed the spyglass into his hands. "Tilt your head back and look at the stars."

So he did. Still shaking, hardly breathing, but who was he to deny her command? And when Hewlett looked, his sight filled with nothing but pinpricks of light amidst a void, Anna's finger's unexpectedly tightened.

She fixed fast as her shoulder came to rest against his and Hewlett had the wondrous sense that she didn't intend to let go…

Perfection.