Hope You Remember How to Dream.

[Imogen] It's full dark outside and Imogen stands on the patio of a bar, a cigarette in hand, a tumbler of whiskey in the other. She leans against the railing of the patio of the Fox and Feather, while inside, there live music plays and friends gleefully throw back their drinks, well on their way to getting drunk, this long weekend.

She is not alone outside, there are pockets of smokers sitting at tables on the patio, but the weather is too cool for it to be packed. She has her particular corner to herself, the nearby table empty. A drag from her cigarette, a sip from her drink, and her gaze is out over the sidewalk and street, not particularly paying attention to anything that passes her by.

[Roman Turner] There came that damned fool Stetson up the sidewalk. Beneath the hat was that stupid kid that liked to stare all dreamy-eyed at Imogen every chance he could. It didn't take him too long to pick out that red hair even with night fallen. The faint light from the Fox and Feather was enough to make her hair like a shining beacon for him. So in the blink of an eye he leap over the railing to join Imogen with a sweep of his hat and a "Howdy Miss Doctor Slaughter, Ma'am."

[Imogen] Her eyebrow arches as the boy leaps the railing, straightening slightly from her lean. She studies him a moment before deliberately turning away, tapping cigarette ash into the tray beside her.

"Roman," she greets him before turning back, lifting the cigarette back to her lips. "Out for a walk, are you?"

[Roman Turner] "Always, Ma'am. It's part of the job. Hunt evil wherever it may lay. Search out trouble and right the wrongs done to the world."

He held his fingers up in a Boy Scout salute.

"And to follow the Boy Scout ways."

[Imogen] Her eyebrow lifts slightly, a smirk twisting her mouth. "That sounds more like Superman's credo, rather than the litany," she observes, before adding: "What's the Boy Scout's Ways, then?"

[Roman Turner] "Pretty much the same as what I just said."

He grinned as innocent as could be.

"So, are ya hear for the music, drinks or atmosphere? I gotta say, for a beautiful woman like yourself, you spend a lot of time alone."

[Imogen] She pauses.

"I ha' people inside," she says, tilting her head toward the pub. "I came out fer the fresh air." A comment which she makes ironic by raising the cigarette to her lips.

[Roman Turner] "Ah, so you came with others? I guess they don't smoke so you ended up out here alone."

He nodded slowly, half his face in shadow from the brim of the hat. The lower part of his face shown enough for her to see he didn't smile that time.

[Imogen] Imogen does not smile either, though she never does. He's not seen much more than a smirk from her. It does not appear to be an emotion that comes easily to her face.

Tension flickers at her mouth, but she arches an eyebrow nonetheless.

"I chose to be out 'ere alone."

[Roman Turner] "That happens. Sometimes though most folk are born social, it's stomped out of them for one reason or another. Problem is, all them thoughts start running in circles and the only answers ya get are your own and sooner or later ya start to talk to yourself and don't realize what you've shut out, ya know?"

He leaned against the railing next to her completely changing the subject

"Feels like fall is right around the corner, don't it?"

[Imogen] She balances her cigarette on the railings edge, taking a swallow of whiskey as he leans beside her. As he speaks of shutting things out - and not realizing it, Imogen casts him an unreadable glance.

Then he changes the subject. She moves along with it.

"Certainly better than it was," she says. "The weather in this city is intolerable."

[Roman Turner] "Always hotter in the city. All the pavement and lack of trees makes for a big ole bar b que pit, ya know?"

He was silent for a moment as he looked up towards a sky he couldn't make out with all the reflected glare from city lights.

"Wheat is ripe now, it's coming on harvest time back home."

His chest expanded as he inhaled deeply.

"I can almost smell it now."

[Imogen] The doctor eyes Roman steadily for several seconds, her gaze hooded by her eyelids.

"Miss it, do you?"

[Roman Turner] "Yeah, I do. I miss the openess, the smell, the sense of family. I mean, Sparrow is family and all, but I barely see her since we got here. And I miss the sounds. This time of night instead of cars and horns and voices, ya got the smell of wood smoke, earth, growing living things. The sound of frogs and crickets warring with the hoot of an owl and whisper of leaves in the trees. Ya can hear a fox yip in the distance now and then, keeping clear of our territory. Coyote pass through from time to time."

He'd closed his eyes as he spoke. A faint smile ghosting over his face.

[Imogen] She is not watching him as he speaks, her gaze instead finding another point of reference, some thoughtless and meaningless place to put her attention.

"So why stay here, if you miss all that?" she asks after a few seconds of silence, lifting her glass to her lips.

[Roman Turner] He turned his head and looked at her as he spoke soft as the caress of the wind.

"A promise."

[Imogen] She glances at him, a sharp flick of her eyes, her brow furrowing faintly.

"Ah." It's the only response she makes.

[Roman Turner] "Life is an interesting adventure Miss Doctor Slaughter. It can seem to drag on and on if you're not pleased with your lot. And yet it can end in a flash when you're most content. About the best ya can do it grab hold and take the ride with all the life ya have in ya before it comes to a sudden end."

His attention had gone back to the sky while he spoke.

"So, Sparrow decided she got the calling to adventure and come here to join the war on this front. I told her daddy, my Uncle John, that I would come with her. I promised I would try and watch over her. Then we met up with Miss Kora and I promised Miss Kora that unless I died, I would never run off on her like the others had. Ain't no one should live life alone."

[Imogen] She looks away again, quiet, picking up her cigarette to lift it to her lips.

"That's very kind of you," she says, mildly. "I'm sure she appreciates it."

[Roman Turner] "It was not meant as kindness Miss Doctor Slaughter. If it were, it would be a kindness to myself. She deserves Pack just like each of us deserves the chance to bond with others while we are on this leg of the journey. Don't ya think?"

He was looking at her again.

[Imogen] Her gaze returns to him, meeting his gaze steadily, evenly.

"I wouldn't know," she says.

[Roman Turner] "Sure ya do, it's just letting it out that ya can't do because it would make it real."

He winked and turned his attention to the street this time, giving her back that feeling of invincible armor.

[Imogen] Imogen exhales her breath sharply, "Whatever yeh want to tell yerself."

[Roman Turner] "Yessum. I extend the blessing back atcha."

[Imogen] Her mouth draws briefly tight before she straightens from the railing, crushing out her cigarette in the ashtray.

"Have a good night, Roman," she says, simply, firmly, before turning and heading back toward the pub.

[Roman Turner] "You too Miss Doctor Slaughter. Hope ya remember how to dream."

He touched the brim of his hat with a faint nod of his head as he watched her head back inside. When he left it would be the same way he arrived, over the railing.