Some Autumn and Lawrence Stuff

Just some scraps and pieces I've had lying around in my files for a while.

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She felt an arm descend around her shoulders and jumped, whipping her head around to face the intruder. She blinked to see it was only Professor Bradley.

“Wh – “

“Bit late for a stroll isn’t it, dear?” he squeezed her shoulder gently, flicking his eyes somewhere behind her head. So he had noticed.

“Feel like a coffee?”

“Um, I don’t drink coffee actually…” She mentally palmed her forehead. It wasn’t about the coffee. He covered her tracks.

“Tea, then. Come on, I know a place nearby.”

He led her away briskly, and she let him tug her around a corner and out of sight. The man was still back there, but she felt safe enough without his eyes boring into her back to let out a sigh. Professor Bradley’s arm was still resting on her shoulders.

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Somebody, I don't recall who now, requested a sort of "Bradley rescues Autumn" scene. I'll write an actual short with it sometime, but this has been sitting for a while now.

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"You can't swim?"

"I can swim;" Bradley held up a finger. "It just makes me nervous. Nearly drowning will do that to you."

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 Lawrence nearly drowned as a child. He never really got over the fear completely, but it's a distant enough memory that it doesn't bother him very often.

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 "Here," he presented the bloom to her. "These grow all along the border of my fence at home. They're rather tall, so I have to cut them down every year." He smiled. "I thought you might like a few for your collection."

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The first vaguely romantic thing Lawrence ever did for Autumn was give her a larkspur flower. It's meaning is "beautiful spirit." Autumn keeps books of pressed flowers.