Especially now, a week after those fliers had gone up, Jacoba had become keenly aware of the demographics of the Alley's usual suspects.  Those that were supportive of her being there were few but easily recognizable.  They were the ones that offered a smile, a nod or even a few friendly words as she passed on her way to or from work.  She knew where these few shops were located and knew how to get to them in a hurry if the need arose.  She also knew which directions the hostility came from - and knew what store fronts, corners and (especially) alleyways to simply avoid.

With those basic facts in the back of her head, Jacoba had slipped out of Reducto a couple hours early and had started on her way to muggle London and home.  There was really little that could spoil her mood.  Last night had been fantastic.  Despite the unfortunate start to the evening, it had turned out very nicely.  This evening was bound to be another enjoyable evening and had been looking forward to it for ... since the offer to spend Chanukah with Adon and his family had been presented. 

The pending changes and decisions didn't really seem to have that much of an impact, either.  Since a simple "of course, we love you despite being a wizard" to her brother had been an impossibility from her parents, getting sent off to school had been the next best thing.  She was still working on convincing Sasha of that but she was confident he knew getting away from home was better than remaining stuck there.  An unfortunate bump in the road but, considering all the alternatives, it wasn't the worst that could have happened. 

What she was going to do, though, was the question.  The fliers had raised some rather consistent questions amongst both supporters and indifferents alike (the adversaries really didn't care what she had to say).  How many times had she simply explained 'she was there to support her brother?'  But, now her brother was leaving the wizarding world.  Was she supposed to follow suit?  Did she have a place here when he wasn't there?  Packing up and leaving had always been easy for her.  She was used to not having roots.  This was the first time the thought of leaving gave her reason to pause.  She hadn't told anyone of her considerations - she hadn't decided and, obviously, she wasn't going to be going anywhere until her brother had left.  And, to be honest, she was content staying where she was for as long as possible.

The elevator reached the fifteenth floor and Jacoba stepped off, glad to be ... well, home - or at least what had been home for the last two months.  And, in so many ways, it had come to feel about as much like home as any place else she'd stayed.  Pausing at the door, Jacoba shifted her bag to her left shoulder and tugged her gloves off her right hand with her key.  After sprinkling a pinchful of salt on the doormat, she let herself in through the door and shut it behind her before realizing something was very different. 

Even though the residual saline on her fingers should have been proof enough, Jacoba felt obligated to tug the door open and glanced out into the hall.  Sure enough, the jar of salt was there and the right number was on the door.  "Blutig ... Totaler Quatsch." 

Eying the ... new wall ... curiously, Jacoba shrugged her jacket off and hung it up, carrying her bag over and dropping it on the end of the couch.  "Allo?" she said, loudly enough to, hopefully, carry to Adon or whoever's flat she might have walked into.  She couldn't resist the temptation to hum the Twilight Zone theme as she turned to stare at the room's new appendage.

There it was. The sound of the door opening, the sound of her shifting her things around. What he could only assume was a German curse .

"Allo?"

"Allooo," a voice from behind the screen parroted. There was a shift of light from behind the rice-paper screens; movement was happening. The door from the partitioned area cracked open before, quickly it shut again. There was the sound of a faint pop as Adon appeared near the kitchen, proclaiming in his best Omnipresent Voice "Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!" and pointing at what, quite predictably, Jacoba was already gawping at. The furniture had been shoved around somewhat to make room for the new space. Where once had been the record player and coat rack stood a small space enclosed by rice-paper screens and a light, wooden door. "You still found the coat rack, though, I see," he observed, noting the garment already hanging on its customary peg.

"Didn't expect you back quite this early," he added as he sauntered over to the couch, smiling with a glint of mischief. There was a brand of arrogance that was particularly becoming on Adon's features: when he'd told a clever joke or done something unexpected. He picked up her bag and slung it over his shoulder, glancing back at her as he did so. "You're not going to want to put it there. Here. I have something to show you." He'd been working on this all day-- had even taken the day off, in fact. It'd been more fun than most of the projects he'd undertaken recently.

He moved until they were positioned directly in front of the door. Adon put down the bag at his feet in order to gesture more broadly. With a flourish before the doors, he announced: "Tada!"

He was met by a fantastically vacant, dubious expression. She'd not seen this one coming at all. Victory: Adon Eleor won this round. With a lopsided smile, he said, "It's your first Hanukkah present, Joh. You have to open your presents, you know." There was a momentary pause as he added, "You know I hate waiting."

There was a mindset one achieved as they were approaching something they weren't sure they were supposed to investigate.  Kids experienced it as they neared a newly filled cookie jar.  Petty thieves felt it as they eyed a particularly valuable looking necklace.  Jacoba was fully immersed in it as she took a hesitant step towards the partition.  It was there, in that mental place, where one was fully expecting their curiosity to get the better of them. 

Three things happened in close succession that took full advantage of that frame of mind.  "Scheiße!" Jacoba yelped as she jumped and turned around to face where Adon had materialized behind her.  "You bloody bastard," she laughed and took a deep breath.  "What in the world are you -"  She glanced over her shoulder at the partition and back.  "Was the spaciousness of the room making you feel exposed or something?  Wonder if he was a bitter squib," she mused, absentmindedly as she followed Adon back towards the screen.  Wouldn't surprise her.  Being a squib would explain the Wizard of Oz' drive for magic and bitterness and all that. 

"It's fairly recognizable.  By its coat-rack-ish shape," Jaocba said, her voice still a little detached as Adon lifted her bag off the couch.  This was really weird.  "I got off early.  Things are kind of slower at the shop since everythings up at Hogsmeade.  I don't ..."

The new wall was weird.  His obvious ... strange ... enthusiasm was a little weird.  The theatrics - definitely weird.  Tada?  One side of her mouth remained stationary; the other half had twitched up in an amused, confused and slightly uncertain grin.  The type of grin one used to try to placate an angry-happy drunk.  "My present?"  She stared at the door a moment before, with a sudden wave of excitement and a full goofy grin, looked at Adon.

"It's got to be a spatula!"

She pushed open the door and stepped inside and froze, staring at a bed in the center of ... the room?  "Wha-"  She glanced over her shoulder at Adon, her eyes wide, wavering somewhere between confusion and elation.  "This ... you mean ... you're kidding?"  She looked around the room, again.  Slowly, as she turned, "you know, when people get tired of me hogging their couch, they usually just tell me to bugger off.  Or, they start leaving old cans of tuna lying around."  Actually, that'd only happened once.  It had been rather effective, though. 

"It's got to be a spatula!" she gasped before lunging for the doors.

There was no understanding her. And he wasn't going to try; it would take away some of the charm if she were intelligible. He grinned, shaking his head, maneuvering himself so to the side so that he could see her face when she first caught sight of it. He smirked before drily remarking, "Well, no, actually. I'm afraid you'll be disappointed--"

"Wha-"

"--in that case. I mean it's just--" Adon stopped to evaluate the reaction. A space, he was about to say. Of course, he'd not expected to drop £700 on this particular space, but it had come together nicely, and he was excited to show it to her.

"you're kidding?" Adon's smile, while firmly attached, wavered slightly. He dearly hoped he wouldn't need to be. Of course, this could always become a study. . . most of the things were returnable. . . Jacoba was perched precariously between emotions -- reservation and elation, and Adon considered what it might take to shove her more towards the latter.

"Me? Kid? Impossible." He put his hands in his pockets, grinning as he waggled his eyebrows. "Much better to believe it, Joh."

Adon smirked, enjoying the look of perplexity on her face, and the restrained beaming as her eyes flitted from place to place. For several moments, they evaluated together in silence, Adon frowning and tilting his chin as he might in a modern art gallery that didn't make any sense.  It looked pretty stark from what it had been about a half-hour ago: the trial run of the full effect. The pillows, the posters, the decoration would all come the other seven days of Hanukkah, bit by bit. "Would you like the grand tour?" he asked, battling between embarrassment and the need to gloat. "Bed," he pointed, "lights," his finger waggled overhead, "and dresser," he said with a vague flip of his hand towards the black monstrosity he'd spent three hours assembling that morning. "Shouldn't wobble, but if it does, let me know."

"Yeh, well, you know, the tuna wouldn't have worked anyhow. Tabitha'd start coming around for it and my shoes haven't fully aired since our last encounter. This seemed the better option. I can only speak for myself, though. You'll have to ask the couch her feelings on the matter." Despite the collected delivery, calculated to produce the minimal effect, Adon observed her face closely, hoping the emotions and girlish squealing, jumping, or clapping would spill over anyhow. Adon didn't quite know what Jacoba's reaction would look like; and he didn't know what to do with any gratitude that might come his way beyond an awkward shrug and assurances that it was nothing -- which it wasn't. Easier, then, to minimise effect; but how disappointing that would be. He was spending this money to see her smile.

Which she hadn't done yet. Not fully or to his satisfaction. He paused a moment, cautiously, his muscles taut as he waited, as his hands shifted in his pockets, feeling a bit. .  . suspended. "You do like it, right?"

Chances were good a spatula could have been lying on the floor behind that door and Jacoba wouldn't have been disappointed.  And, while the reality waiting on the other side of the door was proving difficult to wrap her head around, disappointment was leagues from her mind. 

He reassured her this wasn't a joke and she believed him, of course.  But, she still felt compelled to step forward and touch a hand to the bedspread before she could fully convince herself this wasn't some sort of magical mirage.  It wasn't.  The plush comforter yielded under her fingers but was, unquestionably, material and existent. 

She looked up as he conducted the grand tour, smiling softly as he indicated the three main - only - features.  With each stop on the grand tour, the question grew, cancerously, in her mind.  She hadn't really mentioned to anyone about her thoughts of leaving.  They'd only materialized in the last day or two and it had just, really, seemed like the right thing to do.  What was there really to stay for?  The only real family she had was going back to Munich.  Those thoughts and ideas had all been so much easier a half hour ago when that question was much easier to answer.  But now - this ... it just complicated things.  Not the least because this was, easily, the most touching thing anyone had done for her.  And, whatever certainty she'd felt before about going to Germany being the right decision was fading quickly. 

That realization was, admittedly, just a little unnerving.

"You do like it, right?"

The question prodded her out of her thoughts and her eyes focused on Adon.  "I love it."  The admission came quickly and easily and it was, she knew, entirely truthful.  "I -"  To be honest, she was speechless but that was probably pretty obvious by now. 

Then, it hit her.  A broad, full grin spread across her face and her eyes widened excitedly, the elation finally winning the battle of emotions.  "I have a bed!" she exclaimed, brightly.  "Oh my, thank you!  You've no idea how much this means to me.  I love it!" She side-stepped the end of the bed, brushing a quick kiss against his cheek as she wrapped her arms around his neck in a warm hug. 

Adon was no stranger to receiving kisses from young women. But the kisses he usually received were more . . . forward. Which, paradoxically, meant they tended to mean less. The brief brush of her lips against her cheek caught him off guard; while in the hug, Jacoba could not see the knitting of his brow or the pursing of his lips as he thought. Bizarre, was perhaps the only word that came to mind to describe it. The hug, on the other hand, was quite pleasant, and Adon had no qualms about extending it a while longer. "Well, yeah," he said, confirming her outburst. She had a bed and she most certainly loved it. It was a reaction, at least, better than he had been anticipating. He couldn't be more pleased with himself.

A subdued smile tugged the corners of his lips upwards as he leaned in He gave a light laugh before lifting her off her feet just slightly, her toes barely skimming the ground as he spun her once, then twice. He stopped, facing the bed and dropped her down on it before turning on his heel so that he could perch on the edge beside her.  He placed his hands behind him, leaning his weight on them as he considered the paper globes overhead which were emitting light. He'd illuminated them with his wand, he realised. He'd have to figure out a way around that.

"Good thing I didn't take you mattress shopping with me; the sales attendants would not know what to do with that sort of exuberance." They'd actually looked like the Living Dead. Then again, they were Muggle. Maybe they didn't appreciate that fact. Jealous. "I can just see you, dancing around each bed." Well, he couldn't, really. Though after this display . . . perhaps.

"But here," he said, getting up so she'd have the space to stretch out. "Try it out!" With Jacoba's positive affirmation, Adon's excitement was increasing. If she was this excited about a plain bed and a black dresser, imagine her reactions to the pillows, the mirror, the reading chair and lamp, the posters, the rug! Everything!

Maybe he'd get more than a peck on the cheek.

Not that that was why he was doing this. If anything, that was why he shouldn't be doing this. He lived with the girl. He shouldn't --

After years of practise, Adon was particularly good at dismissing shoulds and shouldn'ts. You just did. When you could. He folded his arms across his chest, evaluating the bed, Jacoba, everything. "I got talked into getting the extra long, too," he teased slightly. They were the same height, and Adon was on the taller end, compared to most men here in England. That was how they usually were: stumpy and stout or tall and lurpy. "So you should have room to stretch out your legs."

Adon's arms closed around her, returning the hug and, oblivious to the confused scowl on the man's face, a soft smile settled on her face.  There was something distinctly warm and satisfying about the embrace, enough so that she didn't notice if it lasted longer than one might have expected.  The tightening of his grip, though, she couldn't avoid taking notice of as her heart beat faster against her chest.  "Wha-?!" she half-laughed, half-cried out in surprise as her feet left the ground, her own hold on him reflexively tightening as he swung her. 

She was still laughing, her face beet red when she found herself sitting on the edge of the bed.  The laughter faded into a broad and thoroughly happy smile as she watched him settle on the bed next to her.  She inhaled deeply, quickly catching her breath - he hadn't swung her that hard; she shouldn't be this winded.  But she was.  And, with a delighted laugh, she fell back onto the bed - her bed - her head hanging a little off the other side.  "This is amazing," she admitted, slightly aware her cheeks were growing sore from all the grinning. 

Her head rolled to the side so she could look at Adon, still grinning like a goofy fool.  "Well, we could always still go back and pretend."  Of course, her dancing around the beds, if not on the beds, would be more of an act now that she had her own.  But, "I'd gladly dance around a room full of beds, if you wanted.  They won't know it's already a done deal." 

She didn't need a second invitation.  She kicked her shoes off and shifted on the now-open bed to lay on it lengthwise.  True to his words, there was plenty of room - a trait that was often lacking on couches.  Her arms flopped to the side, she stared up at the ceiling, slowly shaking her head in disbelief.  This was too amazing - too good to be true yet, she knew, it was.  "You're wonderful," she added. 

He was standing next to the bed, over her, when her head tilted to the side to look up at him.  Of course the man was handsome, she'd known that for weeks but, now, she found herself just watching him as she looked up at him.  Maybe it was the perspective - she wasn't sure - but it took a few breaths before Jacoba realized what she was doing.  Color rose in her cheeks and she pushed herself upright, looking for a diversion. 

Presents.  Right. 

Reaching for her bag, she tried to pointedly ignore the obvious caliber difference between the two presents.  And, it would be her luck that the big, real present would prove to be taking a few extra days to get to her.  It was the plight of the muggle, she supposed, having to be patient.  "Ok, so the real one's not here, yet.  And, it's not, you know, a room but it's not a spatula, either."  Okay - so a spatula might have been an improvement.  She didn't know - but would, apparently, find out soon.  She'd, admittedly, splurged a fair bit on Sasha's presents - she figured she had a good seven years of birthday and Christmas presents to make up for and he needed the encouragement.  And, she'd lucked out on Adon's real gift - whenever it came.  The others were, really, just for the fun of it.

She tugged the small, wrapped box from her bag and handed it over, grinning sheepishly.  "It's not much but, I thought, it might help you enjoy the colder season a little bit more.  You know, help you express your artistic side."

"Oh--" he began, unable, immediately, to come up with a properly snide retort that might defray some of the awkwardness. Several silent moments elapsed until Adon realised that however wonderful he might be, his wit had decided it wasn't worth sticking around for. He shrugged dismissively. "--well," he concluded, waving his hand in the air.

Whatever Adon did, he liked to do it well. It was hardly worth the bother, otherwise. And so to lie and say that it had been nothing would have been so transparent it would have been a waste of breath. He hoped it had been something. It was, really, what he'd been going for.

Jacoba didn't seem to notice his stilted response because she was, well, just looking at him with a sort of vacant half-gaze that Adon typically saw on people who were doing something and thinking of another thing entirely. "Glad it works," he said, running a finger along his thumbnail as he thought. "Course, it's a bed; I figure they are all pretty functional. You may need to try them all out, though." The smirk returned, Adon feeling a bit more himself.

Adon realised he'd not felt fully himself since coming to London. There had been that brief time between August and October 1, where he had. But since then--since Deen, then the Dream--Adon was finding it difficult to show the returned vivacity everyone else seemed to be showing, with Sasha back. For himself, December 15th had made the Dream not a mere paranoia on Dreogan's part, but a distinct possibility. There was something in it that felt imminent. Adon fluctuated in moments like this between an "Eat, Drink, and Be Merry," attitude--because, hey, maybe tomorrow was the day--and a steeled resolve.

Moping wasn't an option. Not when he could do things like this.

"I like spatulas," Adon replied, hands in his pockets. "Clearly not as much as you, but--" he chuckled as he reached out to receive the present. As he untied the bow, he glanced up. "You didn't need to get me anything, you know. You're poor Muggle-folk." Granted, he'd have been a little put out if he'd not made the list, but she was--had been--bumming off his couch. He tilted his head as he glanced into the box. One eyebrow arched inquisitively, trying to, for a moment, decipher what this might mean. It was bright. It looked like a child's toy. Adon was pretty proficient with most Muggle do-dads, but -- Oh!

Adon let out a bark of laughter, shaking his head as the connection was made. "So you've noticed my lack of fresh produce in the icebox, have you?" he teased before allowing a genuine smile. "It's great. Thank you." It had been a while since he'd enjoyed the snow properly. Once, in the IDF, he and his men had tried to make a snowman in Galilee, but his men... well, they had been acting like 19 year-old boys and Adon'd had to put an end to it there. These would be much less awkward props. He placed the yellow plastic piece over his nose, balancing it there a moment as one might a spoon. "Lifelike, no? Technology. You have to marvel."

He fished in for the blue plastic piece, grinning as he held it out, approaching her. There was a soft clatter; Adon noticed the returned use of his nostrils and looked down to see the yellow piece scatter across the hardwood. He shook his head and bent down to retrieve it. A recollection brought a private smile to his face as he considered the two pieces of plastic in the palm of his hand. He looked up at her, a bright smile. "Gotcher nose! You know, I had an uncle who actually used to play that game. My mum's brother. Horrifying when a mage does it, you know. . . I always wondered if that was why we were never close to that side of the family. . ."

She couldn't help smirking as she watched as Adon seemed to get flustered.  There was no shortage of times when he'd achieved similar results in her; to have managed to accomplish the same was, admittedly, a little satisfying.  She did resist the urge to chuckle, though, as he waved his hand.  Of course, she loved it - and she loved the bed she had.  But, an adventurous and mildly mischievous outing in the bed store seemed potentially amusing. 

Jacoba wasn't a fool - she was well aware of the periods of uncertainty and somberness that found their way into the scene.  Though she hadn't been privy to all the details, she was aware of Dreogan's dreams and what that vision in the mirror that day Jacoba had gone stumbling through the man's fireplace had meant.  She also wasn't naive enough to think that, just because they knew where her brother was that that trouble had simply dissipated.  The men who'd taken her brother were still out there and Jacoba knew Sasha well enough to know the emotional hold those people had held on him was still there. She didn't fully understand the whole scrying thing but she knew the risk was still there.  The immediate crisis had, seemingly, come to a close but that didn't mean all of the various factors had done the same. 

She'd done her best to gauge when it was best to follow Adon's lead and when those few occasions when it was best to stubbornly push the emotional tone in whatever direction it seemed to need to go.  She was certain she hadn't managed perfectly but there were some benefits to spending the last seven years of her life coexisting with random people, many of them strangers. 

"I'll keep that in mind for later in the week."  Jacoba grinned a moment and then laughed as she realized there was a distinct possibility at least one spatula would show up as a Chanukah present before the season was through.  Jacoba shrugged her shoulders as he initially dismissed the need to get him anything.  "Well, I am employed."  That still didn't really make her any less of a poor Muggle-folk.  "It's not much and, I admit, my brother got most of my holiday budget.  It's as much a thank you as a first Chanukah gift." 

Nervously and expectantly, she leaned forward as he unwrapped it, knowing full well the gift was just as likely to be considered stupid as it was amusing.  But the suspense was quickly relieved with a sharp laugh.  Jacoba's shoulders relaxed and she grinned back at Adon, only arching a brief, confused eyebrow at his question.  "Produce?"  She wasn't quite sure what the gift had to do with produce but he seemed to like it anyhow.  The yellow plastic on his nose was hysterical - already light-headed from the round of bed-gift-euphoria, the laughter came easily and robustly.  "Vast improvement!" She tried her best to sound serious as she applauded the instantaneous nose job but forcing her mouth closed against the laughter only made it try to escape through her own nose. 

Like some hilariously scary clown, Adon was advancing on her, a blue pair of lips held out suspiciously.  Only because attempting to escape seemed appropriately amusingly obstinate in this current situation, Jacoba quickly scrambled over the bed to the far side, still laughing, just as Adon's alternate nose made an attempted escape.  The bright earnest smile on his face when he straightened back up was wonderful to see and she smiled back, taking several deep breaths to calm her own laughter and her aching sides.  "I ... you mean with actual noses?" She asked, just to clarify.  Another bright chuckle and she nodded, able to see, entirely, how that would be unsettling.  "You sure you got your own nose back?"  If more than one fell off at once...it wasn't like they were labeled. 

Her laughter seemingly under control (and Adon seemingly adequately distracted from giving her a set of blue lips), she circled around the end of the bed - taking the long route this time - to look at the plastic molds in his hand.  "And, you know, if you find you need a demonstration from a true muggle on the art of decorating snowmen, I'm sure I know one who'd be willing to assist.  Or, I could just stand at the ready with warm towels to do some hand defrosting." 

"Improvement!" Adon echoed indignantly, shaking his head and reaching up with his free hand to feel at his naked nose, freed of its yellow shell. "Cruel, Joh. Just cruel."

"Yeh, actual noses. Uncle Alberic's really not the sort to settle for any feigning when he thinks he can get away with the real thing," Adon said with a shrug. Considered, the philosophy was not too far from Adon's mindset, but really; Adon did not go about hiding pieces of people from their proper owners. Adon was considering this when he heard Jacoba's next brassy comment.

"Yes I got my nose back!" he echoed her accent and tone, rolling his eyes. "And it's a fine nose! Aquiline, even." He tilted his chin upward and turned his head so she might admire the profile. "This," he said with a gesture that was not quite as elegant as he had wished--being impeded by the two pieces of plastic hidden beneath his curled fingers--, "is the nose Alexander the Great wished that he had had." Well, no. Alexander the Great had wanted a Grecian nose, really. But of course for the benefit of argumentation, this suited Adon's purposes better, and Mediterranean was similar enough. Provided, of course, it wasn't his mother's nose that he had. That would be British. No, but he had his own nose. They'd established this. "At least it isn't a carrot," he finally retorted. "Now don't tell me that would be an improvement or I'll find a way to stick these on you permanently," he said, vaguely lifting his hand that held the lips.

He frowned thoughtfully, making a show of considering her offer. Between Chirskindslmacheitenalereninan, going to visit his old haunts, vak-a-mohl, and now snowman building, they were racking up a fair list of activities that would take at least a fully dedicated week to accomplish. Which wasn't a bad thing. No, not at all.

With a careless air, he said, "Nah. I like your other methods of hand-warming better." His eyes flitted over to hers expectantly, but should not stay focused for too long; part of him did not want to know her reaction to the indirect suggestion. No, that was too bold by half, considering the situation. She lived with him, after all.

There was a certain sort of dread that pulled down the euphoric rush -- the feeling of trepidation that Adon now experienced whenever he cared to think about how a certain action might change the future. There was a feeling of inevitability in this, too. He'd tried to reason; there was nothing to keep them together, really. Nothing but a couch, and now, a little screened-off room in his flat. She wasn't a mage, she wasn't even Jewish, really. She wasn't Israeli or British. She was . . . there was nothing about this that dismissed the anxiety he felt about this.

And yet there was nothing which could dismiss the thought.

In fact, he was thinking it now, and Adon suspected it might have shown. He looked down to his hands, still holding the blue lips and, with a mischievous smirk, waited until she inhaled. He quickly darted his hand out, pressing the blue plastic to her lips , feeling bit of suction created from when she breathed in. "Bam!" he proclaimed.

Jacoba laughed, brightly, at Adon's mock indignation and merely shook her head in the face of being declared cruel.  There really were no words to follow - which was all for the best; Jacoba doubted the laughter could have subsided enough to allow her to form the words. 

"How can you be sure?"  Jacoba couldn't resist asking.  The laughter had subsided some but a broad grin still lingered.  "For all I know, you'd been eyeing someone else's nose for quite some time.  I mean, if the opportunity to discretely ... swap my ears arose, I can't say I wouldn't be tempted.  She took a slight step forward, drawing a little closer to Adon so as to gain a better vantage point from which to give the offered nose the careful scrutiny its owner seemed to be expecting. 

Gently, Jacoba cupped Adon's chin in her fingers and tilted his head from side to side.  Pinching her lip between her teeth, she gave his nose careful consideration from a couple different perspectives.  The gesture had been entirely innocent, at least that had been her intent - just an extension of the casual joke. But, Jacoba couldn't deny the slight flutter in her stomach as she grinned up at Adon and nodded her approval.  "Definitely, not a carrot."  Her assessment was complete but her hand lingered a few moments longer than necessary.  Finally, her thumb brushed over the point of his chin before she lowered her hand and looked down at the blue plastic in his hand.

"Now, there's no need to resort to threats," trying to sound convincingly concerned.  "Besides, now if I agree, how do you know it's actually what I believe and not out of a fear of blue lips?" 

Her method of hand-warming?  It took only a moment before her mind recalled the evening she'd gotten her brother's first letter and ... well ... had held Adon's hands in his own.  Her eyes widened with surprise and darted up from blue plastic to find Adon looking intently at her.  For the second time, her stomach fluttered. 

Was it her imagination?  Or, perhaps, wishful thinking that was causing her to read too much into the silence that followed?  Normally, Jacoba wasn't really one to hesitate but she knew, all too well, what was at stake if she misjudged.  For the first time in so very long, she felt settled and like she was in a place where she really, truly belonged.  There was no question, at times, she'd found tempted to try for more and, if she could predict the outcome, she probably would. 

But, now, was she reading the same temptation in his features?  Was he hesitating for the same reasons or a whole different set of them?  "I could do that, too," she finally agreed, simply.  Feeling a little emboldened, she started to lean forward but, by then, Adon had diverted his gaze to the plastic lips.  Jacoba closed her eyes and sighed, exhaling a deep breath she hadn't been aware she'd been holding.  Her eyes were still closed when she started to inhale but suddenly flew open when she felt the suction on her lips. 

Behind the blue plastic, her lips thinned out into a shallow smirk and she set her fists on her hips.  "O id id eder?" she asked, her eyebrows lifting expectantly.

Adon's breath hitched as her thumb ran over the stubble on his chin, his lips parting somewhat as he tried to think of some quip, some comment that could distract from this. But his face remained slack. When she removed her hand, he remembered to swallow.

This wasn't fair. She was able to think and to talk and Adon felt like he'd had several drinks at least. Everything came to him through a thick haze.

But despite this, or perhaps because, he was able to perfectly comprehend plastic-lipese. The response was easy. "No." Leaning in, he removed the blue lips with one hand, cradling the back of her neck with the other. As Adon tilted his head forward, her lips brushed against his. He stood so close he felt her body against his. Things didn't make much more sense after this; like he'd had more than several drinks. He felt light-headed and his thoughts. . . weren't. There were lips, there was the feeling of the hairs on the back of her neck beneath his fingers, there was the smell of her shampoo, but there weren't thoughts.

When he pulled away, he was fairly aware that he'd had a clever comeback in mind before the kiss; it had had something to do with what she'd said, but he couldn't. . . Well, what did it matter, anyhow. He gave a bit of a smirk, wondering if that was the most clever thing he'd done in a while or the stupidest. Whatever it was, it had been nice. He wouldn't mind going in again--Adon once more leaned in before pausing to regard her, considering in a burst of coherence, that he ought to know her response first.

The simple, unadorned answer stood out, glaringly, in contrast to the casual humor and banter of the last fifteen minutes - if not the last several weeks.  Her grin lingered, the two dimples still curving into her cheeks betraying what was, otherwise, concealed by the opaque plastic.  Despite the grin, a wordless, curious question wrinkled in around her eyes.

The confusion melted faster than it had settled in.  Adon was leaning towards her; the space between them steadily closing.  Was this for real?  Or was this another ploy or decoy like the one used to sneak the blue lips onto her face.  Jacoba grew perfectly still, certain any stray or unexpected movement would startle Adon back to indecision.  She was barely cognizant of the slight suction of the plastic or even when it loosened its grip on her mouth.  Her awareness narrowed in on the man leaning towards her and every detail of where he was and what he was doing.  The hand on her neck; the fingers in her hair; his lips against hers; his body against hers.  The breath she'd been holding escaped her in a long, satisfied sigh as she kissed him back without hesitation. 

There was a healthy pinch of color in both of her cheeks when she gazed up at Adon's smirk.  She grinned broadly at him, only then becoming aware of her heart fluttering against her chest at a much faster rate than usual.  "I- " she started but there was no cognitive backing to the sentence and it died as soon as it started.  Besides, anything she might have said would have distracted from him leaning towards her again.  Jacoba hadn't been aware of the pause on Adon's part; she reached a hand out and rested it softly against his cheek, pulling him towards her just as she leaned towards him.  Jacoba's lips pressed firmly against Adon's, her arms snaking around his shoulders.

Adon couldn't say no.

But, after several minutes, when he felt the back of his legs brush against the edge of the bed, he had to. Pulling way breathlessly, he pressed his lips together, ending the kissing. He took a step away. "Okay." This was harder than he had thought. Normally, a girl in the bedroom -- well, that was -- well this wasn't that.

"So. . ." he said, rubbing the back of his neck as he thought. He looked up at her sheepishly, smiling. That was nice. "Happy Hanukkah."

He grinned, taking her hand and swinging it a little. He'd never felt short around a girl before; not one he'd dated at any rate and he felt himself, instinctively straighten a bit, trying to gain an inch on her by mere spine alignment. "Though," he said, realising something; something that made the panic in his stomach grow a bit. "I did not do all of it  . . . you know, for that. I simply. . ." Adon looked at the bed, then to the screened walls, and then dipped his eyes down to his wrist, where he read the hands on the watch. He gave a bit of a sigh. "I like to make you smile." He smirked again before going in for another brief peck. "This is a good way, yeh?"

Apparently, several long, blissful minutes had passed though Jacoba was only slightly aware of them.  The kiss seemed hard to believe, even when she was still in the midst of it but there was no denying the wonderful, awkward grin that had settled on his features when he finally stepped back and smiled at her. 

She beamed back.  "Happy Hanukkah."  That, most definitely, it was. 

Jacoba drew her fingers through her hair, pulling it back from her face.  It had been entirely unexpected, but it also had been very nice.  Whatever it was.  She knew, as well as anyone, there could have been any number of explanations and motivations for that kiss.  Those kisses.  Momentary opportunity, convenience, spur of the moment impulse.  She only knew what she hoped that kiss had meant and her mind was all ready searching every gesture and response for confirmations that there had been more to it. 

She glanced down at his hand as it took hers, watching the gentle sway for a moment before his words drew her attention back up.  If she were being entirely honest, she really wasn't that concerned with what had prompted the turn of events; he could have given her that spatula and she would have readily accepted the kiss.  But, she certainly hadn't felt obligated in anyway.

"I know," she answered, simply.  She hesitated a moment.  The stakes were still there.  Those really hadn't changed much.  They were just ... the game had entered a new inning where the rules just weren't that clear.  She considered her words, carefully, wanting to be perfectly honest but, at the same time, remain appropriately tactful.  "Whatever the reasons, I'm glad you did," she admitted.  "I -"

A brilliant blush blossomed on Jacoba's cheeks which lingered even after the brief kiss.  Did he have any idea how he was making her insides flutter?  She brushed her hair behind her ear as she nodded, trying desperately to put her thoughts in some semblance of order. 

In a sudden swelling of courage and certainty, Jacoba took a deep breath and offered a fully, unabashed and honest answer.  "It's a very good way."  She loved the room, of course, but that was hardly the 'it' she was referring to.  "You're welcome to use it anytime you want."  It was a risk, she was well aware of that.  But, given the events of the last few minutes, it seemed a rather calculated risk - and one well worth taking.