Shrugging into his favorite leather coat just as the wards sizzled against his skin, Tristan smiled and walked the few steps to the front doors of the manor before Bas could appear to take over the duty. He'd been purposely obtuse about explaining his plans for the evening, pleased with the idea of surprising Romilda, and wondered how annoyed she'd be with him after trying to decide what to wear from his ambiguous directions. He'd also kindled a spark of curiosity about her refusal to allow him to collect her from her home since receiving her reply owl, and idly considered the likelihood of finding an acceptable answer as to why as he opened the door.

His lips curled further as he took in Romy's outfit; she'd chosen well, though he doubted he'd ever quite understand women's penchants for preposterously heeled shoes outside of formal occasions. "Very pretty, Miss Vane," Tristan admired, standing aside to allow her entrance to the house, "Good evening."

"Thank you, Tristan," she said, smiling at the compliment as she stepped across the threshold. "You're looking particularly fine this evening yourself." Biting her lower lip, she raised a curious brow. "Do I get to know where we're headed now, or will I have to suffer in anticipation for a bit longer?"

"So impatient," he admonished, amused, as he let the door click closed. "Anticipation is a heady spice upon the palate, enriching the experience before it has even begun, creating a fuller taste and appreciation in the end." Tristan winked, and relented. "Only a moment longer, though, if you're ready to go now." He drew his wand from his sleeve and offered Romy his arm. "Are you much acquainted with the Welsh countryside?"

Curling her hand around the offered arm, Romy tilted her head up to look at him as she replied. "Not intimately. Enough to be pleased to visit again. It's quite lovely as I recall." Her smile went a bit crooked. "And I'm quite ready to go, though I'll attempt to be patient if you believe delaying will enhance the sweetness of the reward."

Tristan smirked at the bit of wordplay, adjusting the coordinates of their destination slightly in his mind's eye. "In select circumstances, certainly, but you've had most of the week to wonder, and as I'm fairly sure your presence is required at the Ministry tomorrow, I'll endeavor not to keep you out too terribly late."

Fixing the necessary information in his thoughts, he Apparated them to a fork in the path not far from their intended dining locale, affording them the glimpse of both the hillside and the harbor of Porthgain. The sun was nearly finished sinking to its evening rest, dimming their surroundings noticeably, but he was immensely fond of the area, and had thought it a setting Romy might enjoy. The tiny wizarding village housed the Sloop Inn, an old-world establishment brimming with charm and possessed of a nearly perfect view of the docks.

Taking in the view all around her, a bright smile lit Romy's face. She loved the water; the way the breeze surrounded her and the air was scented near it. She closed her eyes and tipped her face towards the sky, just breathing for a moment. When she opened her eyes again she smiled at Tristan a bit shyly. "It's beautiful here. I'm very fond of the water. You've made an excellent choice, Tristan."

"I'm glad you approve," Tristan allowed, turning their steps toward the sea and the little pub at its edge. He kept his longer stride to a leisurely stroll, giving Romy a chance to look around as they walked, laying his free hand over the one she'd tucked into the crook of his arm. "This is one of my favorite places. There's a bit of a river that joins the sea just south of us, and it's unequaled for an afternoon hike in the summer, even on foggy days, or if it's threatening rain. The harbor is rather peaceful as well; I do believe Regan would sit in the sun watch the boats come and go for the duration of daylight, would it not cause her to burn to a crisp."

Romy ducked her head, grinning to herself. She didn't know Tristan well, but she'd gotten the impression that he was reserved and private in nature. It pleased her that he'd share not only this place, but his own partiality for it with her. Personal things. She tightened her grip on his arm just slightly as they continued on towards the establishment at the end of the road. "I share your sister's love of boats. When I was very young - before Hogwarts - we had a sailboat. There's nothing quite as peaceful as the soft bobbing of the waves. When I'm established and settled, I'd like to have a boat again."

Lips quirking at the things they seemed to have in common, Tristan suggested, "Perhaps one day you'll come sailing at Ivy's Run. Regan and I hardly ever go out, anymore, though I know my groundsman keeps the boat in good repair." It was one of the few things his father had ever invited Regan along for, and while the small craft was easy enough for him to crew on his own, it was better in one way but not quite the same without Antony there, and he'd made only a handful of trips in the intervening summers.

"I'd like that very much. I haven't been out on the water in years." They walked in silence a ways, but it was a comfortable silence. Tristan didn't have Joscelin's mischievous nature, but there was a similarity in the calm that both men exuded. Something innately soothing in their bearing. Romy found herself quite at ease. Having reached their destination, Tristan held the door for her and she stepped inside, waiting for him to reach her side again before moving further into the building.

One hand cupping Romy's elbow as he regained her side, Tristan led them to a table near the windows overlooking the docks. He lifted her cloak lightly from her shoulders, hanging it on the wall peg - one of the features that so amused him about the little restaurant - and drew her chair out for her. Seating himself once Romy was settled, he waited for the server to deposit their menus, observing his companion across the table. "If it has been so long," he mused, picking up the thread of their conversation, "I would consider you overdue for a measure of peace. As you haven't the bearing of one who is stressed to the brink of wearing thin, I suppose you've found other avenues of relaxation?"

Romy's mouth twitched as she pondered her answer to the question. Until recently, her tension had been relieved by visits to Oliver's home, but that wasn't the sort of thing you shared with a gentleman who'd invited you to dinner. "I have a few activities that keep me from becoming too frazzled. As you know, I'm fond of window shopping. I read quite a bit. On occasion I go out to a club and people watch or dance." Laughing quietly, she met Tristan's gaze. "Nothing of great import, really, but it keeps me sane."

"As is the purpose of any leisure activity; things of great import should be left to those periods of our lives dedicated to productivity," Tristan asserted, smiling as Romy's eyes found his. "What is it that you read? I will admit a fondness for Shakespeare, courtesy of my mother, and an appreciation of a number of other poets, not least Tennyson and Noyes. Aside from that, I'm afraid I tend toward broom theory and history, which seem to induce selective narcolepsy in others, so I'll refrain from further detail."

A wistful expression stole over Romy's face and she began to recite.

"Flower in the crannied wall,
I pluck you out of the crannies;
I hold you here, root and all, in my hand.
Little flower, but if I could understand
What you are, root and all, and all in all,
I should know what God and man is."

"I'm rather fond of Tennyson myself," she said, eyes twinkling as she smiled. "If I'm being honest, though, most of my casual reading consists of less scholarly things. I enjoy mystery and fantasy, and a good fictional drama. When I've a taste for something more cerebral I lean toward poetry or mythology, Greek in particular. I appreciate Shakespeare, and I enjoy seeing his works performed, but I'm not an avid reader of his plays."

It was a little disconcerting, being questioned about herself. By design, Romy rarely spent time with individuals who would truly have an interest in her as a person. Tristan was reciprocating freely, though, and she was convinced it was as unusual for him as it was for her to share these personal details, so she didn't mind, really. Passions and pursuits were innocuous enough topics. There were only a few things she was truly loathe to discuss, and they were intimate enough that she didn't think Tristan would pry.


More than passingly surprised by Romy's easy recitation, Tristan smiled broadly, genuinely pleased, and returned,


" Many, many welcomes,
February fair-maid,
Ever as of old time,
Solitary firstling,
Coming in the cold time,
Prophet of the gay time,
Prophet of the May time,
Prophet of the roses,
Many, many welcomes,
February fair-maid!"


He'd had a bracelet made, once Regan was old enough to wear and care for such things, with the entire poem etched in tiny, elegant letters on its gleaming surface, the clasp a perfect silver snowdrop. She still wore it often, and the thought pulled him briefly into memory before he shook it away with a barely discernible blink.

"I enjoy words a great deal, and untangling the Bard's various dramas is a particularly worthy exercise, to my mind. I'm versed in the continental mythologies, as my sister very nearly breathes the stuff, but on my own I'd rather have a history, some arcane treatise or other, in hand of an evening. That and a proper scotch," Tristan shared with a chuckle, glancing up as their server reappeared. "I find myself in the mood for a nice port, if that suits," he proposed, arching an eyebrow at Romy.

"I'm fond of scotch as well, but a port sounds lovely at the moment." The server nodded and went to fetch their wine, and Romy turned her focus back to her very agreeable companion. It struck her that Tristan was the sort of person whose company she could enjoy on its own merit. How odd that she'd met two such men recently. She felt rather proud that the feeling seemed to be mutual, not that she'd count on that. It was nice to talk and have someone listen. She'd never allowed herself to regret the lack of that sort of thing, provided there were other, more useful benefits to spending time with someone, but it was a pleasant experience in any case.

"You've said you travel often for work. Do you do much traveling for pleasure?" she queried, genuinely curious as to what other things Tristan indulged in for no purpose beyond his enjoyment of them.

Propping his elbow on the arm of his chair, Tristan sat back, relaxing in his space. He'd met few enough women who would voice a taste for scotch, and as if Romy's admission had been the key to his ease, he found himself far too entertained in the moment to fight for formality. "Some," he began in answer to her prompt, "though again, many more day trips than extended jaunts - mostly to France, occasionally Spain or Portugal. I've a two-week holiday planned for the summer, to Greece; my sister's birthday gift, as she's never been. If the hints continue in the same direction, I believe it will be the Caribbean for her school-leaving trip."

There was real warmth in Tristan's voice and demeanor when he spoke of his sister, and once again Romy felt a bit of envy, though not bitterness. "You're a very good brother. Regan couldn't ask for a better one, I'm sure."

Their wine arrived and Romy took a sip of hers, a pleased hum indicating her approval of his choice. "I was in Greece earlier this year, but only for a couple days. There's so much history there, and the landscape is beautiful. The friend I visited with was quite tempted to buy a villa there. He'd never make the time to use it, though, so it's better he didn't."

"She's a sweet girl," Tristan said fondly, thinking of his sister's newfound kinship with Gwen, a smile pulling at his lips. "I try to make sure there are things for her to look forward to." She's had few enough of them from anyone else in her life. He dragged himself out of the potential melancholy of that path, lifting his own wineglass in a trace of salute to Romy and settling back with it.

Swirling the fragrant wine in the bowl of his glass for a moment, watching the play of the light through the liquid, Tristan took a contemplative sip before returning his focus to Romy. "I've never quite understood the purpose of having residences in all manner of exotic locales. They're lovely to visit, yes, but in the end it's no more trouble to arrange lodging than to not, and with so many options from which to choose, I can't imagine establishing a home, only places where you might lay your head for the night, with no real connection to the house or the land."

"It is extravagant. I suppose there's a certain added comfort in having your own things about you, but it is a grand expense for someplace you wouldn't spend much time. If you were particularly enamored with a locale, and went there regularly, I could understand the expenditure. Provided, of course, that one has the funds for such things." She herself did not, of course, but as a child she was privileged, and knew something of that sort of life. Opening her menu, she read over the various offerings. "Do you recommend anything especially?"

Tristan shook his head, setting his glass on the table and steepling his fingers. "Nevermind the expense. Even assuming money to be no object, why spread the... hearth... out like that? Short of perhaps being pursued across borders, I cannot fathom wanting to skip along to a different house, a different sort of life, several times each year."

The chuckle her question provoked chased away the frown threatening at the tail end of Tristan's thoughts. "I'm afraid I'm a terrible person to ask about food, as I'm quite apathetic toward the stuff in general. Nothing served here is bad, and I'm having the braised beef, because the caramelized flavor of the onions will pair well with the port. Beyond that, my dear, you must fare for yourself, or perhaps question our server, who I'm sure has some sort of opinion to share."

"I'll try the braised beef as well, I think," she said, a bit taken aback by Tristan's vehemence. Very attached to the idea of a secure home. A place for his sister to know as her own, perhaps? Romy contemplated the man across from her, intrigued. "I'm out of the habit of feeling an attachment to a particular dwelling. My flat holds no particular sentimental value for me, and I quit my family home a few years ago. At this stage, I could reside anywhere and it wouldn't make a great deal of difference to my day to day living."

Turning the idea behind Romy's words over in his mind, Tristan placed their orders almost absently as their server returned, then looked to his dining partner with a nod, as if answering some question, though she'd asked none. "My family has held Ivy's Run for seven generations, and the estate on the same grounds for ten before the fire that razed it to bare earth. For myself, aside from wishing space to house my books, I believe I would live well enough as you describe, but I could not do it now."

Romy smiled at the mention of space for books. Her father's house had had a rather substantial library, in which she'd spent considerable time. Gone now, except for a few favorites. "Well, with that kind of history in a place, it's no wonder you're attached. My father's house was not in the family nearly as long, and there was no real alternative but to let it go. I do live 'well enough', as you put it, but I suppose I don't feel as rooted and secure as I might had I been able to keep it."

As it would be glaringly impolitic to inquire as to the circumstances under which her father's home had been lost, Tristan filed the bit of information Romy had given him, to be researched at some later point. As she was a pureblood, it was entirely possible that her parents' choice of social group had played a part in the seizure of assets, though beyond the fact that her father was dead, he'd not garnered much detail on that front while gathering information about his questioners prior to his interview.

The trailing words of Romy's explanation called Regan to mind again, the shiftless, unhappy wraith she'd become in the wake of his father's death, rootless and frail, as if the wind would stir her from the ground and carry her away. He looked past Romy, eyes fixed on a speck of light reflecting off the water in the distance, as he quoted,

"Come away; no more of mirth
Is here or merry-making sound.
The house was builded of the earth,
And shall fall again to ground."

Face creasing briefly with sympathy, he added, "I doubt that to be a pleasant feeling, though you bear it well, as there is little outward sign. Perhaps in time there will be another such place; never to substitute, as it cannot be done, but to augment what there is of memory."

"Perhaps. And thank you. We each have our crosses to bear, and mine isn't so terrible in the grand scheme of things, eh?"

The food arrived, and Romy was grateful for a few moments to collect her thoughts. She didn't generally talk about her father, and she'd done it twice this week. As Tristan seemed a private sort, she wasn't concerned he'd share the information with anyone - not that they had any friends in common of which she was aware - but it was still a little disconcerting that she opened up to him with such ease.

Arranging the food on his plate by type, Tristan allowed the burst of apprehension that had suddenly been broadcast at him from across the table time to settle, silent as he sliced a small bite of the beef and ate it. The taste was followed by a sip of port, and as the sound of a soft exhale reached his ears, he looked to Romilda once more, raising the line of their conversation to conclude the topic. "Little is, in the proper context; the scheme is the same for no two individuals, as we see each through different eyes."

Romy smirked, bringing her wine glass up to hide behind, as she watched Tristan move his food around methodically. It was an endearing trait, and gave a little more insight to the man himself. Tristan was very deliberate in his actions and words, and he seemed to be able to sense when to give her a moment, or change the subject. That he was considerate enough to not only notice those things, but act on them, was another mark in his favor.

"Very true, and what a dull world we'd live in if it were not so. Don't you agree?"

"Indeed. I believe we've already discussed the horrors of raving artisans. Merlin save us all," Tristan quipped dryly, the words lightened by the spark of humor in his gaze and the smirk curling his mouth. Father is a touchy subject, then, he observed as Romy revived, safely on to an easier topic. "You mentioned Greece, and then we were derailed into other thoughts; I would think that the Auror training program keeps you rather close to the Ministry... have you had time to indulge in much other travel?"

"Only rarely. The Auror program does keep me busy. Occasionally a friend will invite me away for a mini-holiday, as was the case when I went to Greece, but there isn't enough time off from my schooling to do any kind of extensive trip. I'm nearing the end of the training, though, so hopefully I'll have a chance for a decent break before I start working in earnest."

Tilting her head, Romy said, "That's a nice benefit to having your own business. Setting your own schedule, to a certain degree, at any rate."

Tristan nodded. "It's useful, when it works out the way things are planned, as opposed to the way other people's emergencies tend to like to arrange themselves. I do enjoy having the freedom to decide that I'd prefer to spend the weekend in Paris, when it suits me, and to postpone my obligations during Regan's school holidays." Snickering quietly, mostly at himself, he continued, "not least, too, it's good that I'm not disturbing anyone when I decide that two hours before dawn is a perfect time to be carving, or working on concept sketches."

Romy wrinkled her nose. "There are very few things that could drag me from bed at that hour. You artisans really are raving," she teased. "Although once I'm a full-fledged Auror I suppose I'll have to go whenever I'm needed, no matter the ungodly hour. Criminals are horribly inconsiderate about proper sleep schedules. If you prefer the wee hours of the morning for working, it is handy that you've a quiet estate of your own on which to do it." Winking, she added, "And you're considerate enough to schedule unnecessary Auror visits at a more reasonable time."

"I've not claimed else, to my knowledge," Tristan acceded, "and I keep odd hours, even for a craftsman. Possibly not as odd as criminals, though, and I do try to be accommodating of my fully diurnal associates." He smiled at Romy's assumption about his estate, the thought pulling another image of Regan to the fore; her merry, lilting voice in the midst of some song or other, twirling along the corridors on her slippered toes. "The manor is only quiet if I'm its sole resident, save for the elves, but sound doesn't disturb me, so I manage well enough regardless. I'm quite sure I would end in Azkaban prison if I were required to spend a significant portion of my hours at the Ministry, however; I must say I admire your tolerance."

"Oh, it's not so much tolerance as contrariness," she admitted with a laugh. "The Ministry and I each give as good as we get. Tonks and I get along much better now than when she first took over as my mentor, but in general I'm considered a bit of a problem child. I tell myself that I'm a beneficial challenge to the management. Expanding their point of view and keeping them from growing complacent." Romy's eyes twinkled with wry humor, and she gave a little shrug. "They haven't gotten rid of me yet, so I must be doing something well."

A deep laugh answered Romy's explanation, Tristan's face alight with mirth. "Contrariness, then, and the only word I doubt of it is your 'problem child' status; a bit of sass doesn't tend to hurt anything, especially when paired with a keen mind." Settling with his wine again, as he'd eaten enough of his supper to not be inclined to pay it any further attention, he watched the woman across from him for a few moments in silence. "I imagine you do a number of things well; you've a naturally easy mien with people, from what I've seen, and if your wand is as quick as your tongue, I'd not worry for you in a duel. Give as good as you get, indeed," he finished, raising his glass as a smirk stole over his lips.

She couldn't help but to laugh along with Tristan, a light blush creeping into her cheeks at his kind words. "Well, if you're inclined to think more highly of me than I've claimed is common, far be it from me to disillusion you. I will own that my demeanor varies greatly depending on the company I keep, so if I am pleasant and easy in your presence it's as much to your credit as mine." Her own smirk forming, she added, "And if I may be so immodest as to say so, I am adept with both wand and tongue."

One eyebrow arching at her boldness, though it was hardly unexpected, Tristan nodded at Romilda, acknowledging, "Duly noted, on all counts." It amused him to no end that she would both pinken at a compliment and volunteer such a suggestive statement, though he'd knowingly begun the gambit with his word choice. "And your society has been most pleasant, though I'll leave whatever that should imply about myself unanalyzed, for now, and say only that more of your associations should be cause for such lovely evenings, assuming that you're not merely indulging me out of politeness."

"I rarely offer false compliments, and I don't mind that there aren't many people who inspire me to be especially good-natured. It makes me appreciate the rare gems all the more." She was pleased he didn't take offense to her brazen comment. His reserved nature made her doubt that he was the type who usually cared for such forward remarks, but it was her nature to push the envelope. If they were to spend time together regularly, Tristan might as well know what he'd be getting into. Crossing her silverware on her plate to indicate she was finished, she blotted her mouth with the cloth napkin that had been on her lap. "You are excellent company, Tristan. I'll risk erring in decorum and say I hope to have the opportunity to talk with you often."

"I never do, and I'll hold it as high honor, then, if you're inclined to be so engaging and sweet in my presence." He favored Romy with a smile as she concluded her supper, accepting her hint with a gesture of his glass. "Decorum has its own place and time, and is best varied in degree by the sensibilities of those present. I believe you'll have to try harder if you want to offend me, as I find myself sharing the sentiment. Might I infer that you would be amenable to a similar outing some other time?" Repeatable diversions were rare enough in Tristan's experience, as few people, male or female, proved capable of holding his attention so thoroughly as to prompt further encounters. As the evening had thus far managed admirably in keeping him entertained, it stood to reason for him to extend a new invitation.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Romy managed not to laugh out loud at being referred to as sweet, but she was fairly certain her eyes showed the amusement she felt. It was a very kind thing for Tristan to say, even if she could almost hear Natalie McDonald gagging at the idea. In response to his question, she inclined her head. "I would indeed. In fact, it would please me very much. There are few people I enjoy spending time with as much as I have with you this evening. I'm admittedly a self-indulgent creature, and I'm loathe to deny myself animated and intelligent conversation with an attractive man if I have any choice in the matter."

Regarding Romy in wry fascination, as she was obviously finding something he'd said quite humorous, Tristan pursed his lips minutely, saying after a beat, "I do believe you're laughing at me, Miss Vane, and I'm not entirely sure how I feel about that." It was not something terribly many people actually dared to do, and save for the sparkle of her eyes, she'd covered it well, but it was still there.

"I'm most glad you would care to repeat our evening, selfish as you claim your motivation to be. If Ursus didn't give you too much fright the first time, you may expect to see him again before too very long; it seems lately to be unusual for me to end an accompanied meal more relaxed than I began it, but that is presently true, and something I would not mind a greater measure of." Finishing his wine, he set the glass aside, indicating Romy's own place setting. "If you'd care for a sweet, I have it on good authority that all the pastry here is very nearly perfect."

Romy's eyes crinkled merrily, though she tried to look sheepish. "Not laughing at you, Tristan. Only amused at being called sweet. That's not an adjective I've often, if ever, heard used in reference to myself. I believe you were sincere, though, and I appreciate the compliment."

As she thought of the enormous owl Tristan kept, she did laugh. "Well, I wouldn't care to run into your house elf-sized owl in a dark wood, but so long as he's come only to bring me some note from you, I believe I can withstand the terror. As for the sweet, I'm not sure I could finish one on my own. Could I tempt you to share one with me, or is that too familiar?"

Tristan left his reproach as Romy had let it lay, as he'd only been teasing, and chuckled at her description of Ursus. "I've recently had him described as pony-sized, and likened to a gargoyle. I'll not lie and call him amiable, but he's well-trained and tends toward civility, if in a cold sort of way." Considering her question, though he'd not have been at all disposed to order dessert for himself, he eventually nodded. "You needn't, as they're hearty enough to not brook finishing, but I thought you'd appreciate a bit of something sugary. If it will placate you so that you might enjoy your dessert, though, yes, I'll aid you in eating it."

"Brilliant. You're very accommodating."

The server was summoned, and the pastry procured with two forks. As she sampled it, Romy closed her eyes and gave a happy little sigh. "Oh, that is good. Desserts were created solely to ply women into submission, I'm convinced. We have an innate weakness for sweets that renders us quite senseless." Lips quirking up, she eyed him with flirtatious mischief. "How fortunate for me that you're such a gentleman."

Obligingly eating a bite of the dessert, which was admittedly well-made, Tristan smirked at Romy's assertion. "I'll keep that in mind, although it's true that I could no more take advantage for knowing it than not, nor would I. I will ask, though, while you're so thoroughly subdued, if you might be enticed into a walk along the cliffs, when we've finished here? Or is it nearly time for good little Aurors-in-training to be snug in their beds?"

"It may very well be time for good Auror trainees to be in bed, but as I mentioned, I am not good," she quipped. "And subdued or not, I'd love to take a walk with you." She was actually quite happy with his suggestion. She'd enjoyed the bit of walk they'd had on their way into the restaurant, and she was no less inclined to take a stroll on Tristan's arm after dinner.

"Very good, then," Tristan said, pleased with her acceptance. He enjoyed the outdoors, and while it was still rather cold out, the sea air was refreshing, and the view from the high walk was quite lovely, even in the dark. It was clear, and there would be stars, and the unique visual puzzle of the lights from the boats still out, reflected in the rippling water. He nibbled his way through another bite of the pastry, then set his fork down, not fond enough of sugary things to want more of it. Their server was directed to bring the cheque, which he paid and sent off, relaxing while Romy enjoyed her choice of dessert.

Feeling her stomach begin to protest, Romy pushed the plate away with a sigh. "I think I've overdone it a bit. I'll need that walk to get into any of my clothes in the morning," she said, grinning. She took a sip of the water she habitually requested along with her wine, just to refresh her mouth a bit. They sat for a few minutes, allowing their stomachs to settle and enjoying a comfortable silence. At length Tristan inquired if she was ready for their walk, and at her nod, led her into the crisp March night.

The bitterness was fading from the air in increments as the year progressed toward spring, but the sea breeze was insistent, and after Romy's second shiver Tristan retrieved his arm from her grasp long enough to slip out of his coat and drape it over her shoulders. He directed their path toward the low headland overlooking Abereiddy, standing to gaze out at the sea for several minutes together. "We're not far at all from Ramsey Island," he volunteered eventually. "It's a Muggle wildlife sanctuary, and in the summer when the water is warm, the dolphins swim out this way, and right were we are is perfect for watching them frolic and antagonize each other, of an afternoon."

Though the air was brisk against her face, Romy was quite content, wrapped as she was in Tristan's coat. It was warm from his body heat and carried a pleasantly masculine scent which Romy inhaled happily under the guise of pulling the coat more tightly around her. The moonlight danced on the water's surface and the soft sound of waves breaking below served to augment the rich, soothing tone of Tristan's voice as he spoke. A contented sigh slipped, nearly inaudible, from her lips and she looked up at her escort. "Perhaps, if you've not tired of my company by the time the weather is warm, we can venture out here to see them together. Your sister too, if she's inclined, since she enjoys the boats."

Reminded forcibly of Regan by Romy's mannerisms as she tipped her face up from where she was curled against his side, Tristan smiled faintly. She was so very young, in that moment, and he refrained from reaching out to pet her hair away from her face, laying his free hand over her hold on his arm, instead. "We shall see. I very much doubt 'tiring' of you, as you put it, but Regan does not always tolerate other women in my presence well." It was not information he was wont to share, but leaving it off would be harsh, and not what Romy seemed to need to hear.

Nodding, Romy smiled. "I can hardly blame her there. If you were my brother I wouldn't care to share you either. I'll settle for whatever moments you can spare." She wondered a bit at the near neediness in her statement. In truth, she hadn't much considered what exactly she wanted from her connection to Tristan. All she really knew was that she enjoyed talking to him and that it was rare to find anyone who seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say. This liking people thing is tricky.

"I shall endeavor to have a surfeit of them, then," came the gentle reply, Tristan's mild surprise at Romy's blunt and hopeful statements well-hidden. Gryffindor, I suppose, though she plays around it admirably. Turning toward the harbor again, they set off at a stroll, very slow for him to compensate for the difference in their heights. "She's quite shy, as well," he commented as they walked, thoughts returning to what Romy had said about Regan, "where you are not, though I believe you might find a common ground, given the chance." He paused thoughtfully, glancing at the woman beside him. "The two of you are not so very far apart in age."

Romy stepped a bit closer, mind on the bits of information Tristan offered about his sister. Shy and very attached to her brother, who doted on her. It was true, Romy had never really been shy, but she was quite familiar with being pampered by a beloved family member. Regan was fortunate that Tristan was of such solid character. "I'll leave it to you to decide whether we might try to find that common ground. I've no desire to make her uncomfortable, and I know very well the unease that goes along with feeling displaced, even if it is only a perception."

Significantly more at ease with the idea of introducing the two young women after hearing Romy's apt assessment of the situation before him, Tristan nodded, allowing her to burrow further against him. Having been told on occasion that he was less than approachable, and given his tendency to avoid casual touch, her easy familiarity was rather unexpected, but not unpleasant, perhaps because it was reminiscent of Regan's need to be in contact with him whenever possible. "Perhaps in time, when she is less focused on school and other new friends. My appreciation for your understanding, though - few enough people realize that it isn't unfriendliness on her part, merely worry over the unknown."

"Uncertainty can bring out all manner of behaviors, especially when it's related to a grounding force in one's life. I'm making assumptions, but it sounds very much like that's what you are to your Regan." Her eyes drifted out to the harbor and her voice dropped low. "I know I've never been the same since my father..." Romy's cheeks flamed and she was grateful for the cover of night. Brow knitting in confusion, she wondered how she'd managed to let her guard down so thoroughly.

Already in the midst of wondering who it was that had abandoned Romy cruelly enough to merit her painfully perceptive statement, Tristan's thought process skipped to a halt as her murmur reached his ears. He'd not have asked, and the slip of information, the catch as she realized what she'd said aloud, pulled at him. Their stroll had slowed all but to a stop, and he did pause their progress, for once permitting a natural reaction to be seen as he drew Romy lightly into his arms.

To say she was surprised to find herself in Tristan's embrace would have been an understatement. He did not strike her as the sort of man who was prone to openly affectionate displays. Her own alarms were warning her of sharing too much, but she put them aside, allowing herself to take the offered comfort as she was certain it was a gift not often bestowed on anyone other than his sister. Softly resting her head on Tristan's chest, Romy stood for a long moment enveloped in the strength of his presence.

Tristan weathered the tense seconds of Romy's alarm patiently, satisfied as she let herself relax against him that his quick decision had been the right one. "It is what I try to be for Regan, yes, as she needs such an anchor," he acknowledged quietly. "I'm... sorry that that person was taken from your life." Sympathy was not an overly familiar emotion to Tristan, as he was rarely invested enough in anyone save for Regan to deeply consider their plights, but he remembered the death of his own father and found, as his words took shape unbidden, that the sentiment was true.

A small smile pulled at Romy's lips, though she kept her head down. She was genuinely touched by Tristan's desire to comfort her. Not wanting to appear as though she was fishing for further sympathy, she didn't expand on her father's death - that it was his choice to leave her behind. Pulling away slowly, she looked up at Tristan, brushing his cheek with her fingers. "Thank you, Tristan. You're very sweet." She smiled a bit shyly, hoping he could see how much she appreciated his kindness, especially given the fact that they hadn't known one another very long at all.

"Not in the slightest," Tristan countered amicably, letting Romy's hand touch his face briefly before catching it and settling her on his arm once more, "But neither am I cruel. I know what it is to lose one's father, and I think it something I would not wish even on an enemy, which you are certainly not." He started their journey back to where they'd arrived in Pembrokeshire at the same slow stroll that had preceded their halt, wondering idly with a small part of his mind what had prompted Romy to allow such an admission.

As they walked slowly back to their point of origin, Romy reflected on the evening with almost complete satisfaction. She would have preferred not to end on a melancholy note, but she couldn't regret the moment entirely because of the glimpse Tristan had given her of his compassion. "I've had a very nice time tonight, Tristan. Thank you for inviting me out," she said as they neared the end of their path.

"Most welcome, as I've enjoyed our evening immensely myself." A smile quirked the corners of Tristan's lips upward. "And now I shall see you safely home," he informed Romy pointedly. "I imagine I might even be persuaded to say 'please', if you require such, but do humor my peace of mind. I should so hate to spoil a lovely experience by leaving you to be maimed between here and your door."

Romy was not usually inclined to let people see where she lived. Robert, Terence's manservant, knew because Terence had insisted, and Cormac had been there on very few occasions, but no one else. Her flat was modest, far more humble than the image she liked to project. Lifting her eyes to meet Tristan's, she considered the idea. She'd already mentioned giving up her father's house, so he wasn't likely to expect accommodations on par with his expansive estate, and he'd been very good to her over the course of the evening. It would be rude not to allow him to see her safely to her door if he was inclined to do so. "I'd be grateful for the escort," she replied at last, supplying him with the necessary coordinates.

Watching Romy consider his ultimatum as she met his eyes, Tristan's smile rounded fully when she acquiesced. So long as the area was not crawling with seedy types, he was untroubled by where she might live; it merely grated to be unsure of her unscathed arrival once she left his presence. He kept an even hold where Romy's hands were curled around his arm and Apparated them to the location she'd indicated, his gaze quickly taking in the uniform and well-kept appearance of the building. Lips tipping askew, he teased gently, "I shall spare you further paranoia, as I foresee no murderers leaping from shadowy alcoves."

"Well, they have to take a night off from time to time," she responded, eyes dancing merrily. "All that crouching and waiting wearies you after a while." Rising onto her tiptoes, she placed a light kiss on Tristan's cheek, grasping his arm for balance. As she removed his coat from her shoulders and handed it back to him, she gave him a genuinely affectionate smile. "Thank you again, Tristan, for a lovely evening."

Tristan shook his head and sighed in amused exasperation at Romy's joke, obligingly holding still as she entered his space to kiss him. His coat was folded over his arm, and he nodded at her thanks. "It was, and should be repeated, as we discussed." Stepping back at such an angle that he would not be able to see into her flat as she opened the door, he bowed and bid softly, "Good night, Miss Vane."

"Good night, Mr. Bole," she said, winking at him before slipping inside, already looking forward to their next meeting.

{Summary: Tristan takes Romy out for dinner and rather a lot of conversation.}