Eventually, as he always does, James Bond returns. Despite knowing exactly the type of woman Sarah Jane is, he expects to smell dinner as he enters the flat. He grins at himself for thinking this. She's not a housewife and she never will be. Dinner, for them, will be his task, or a joint effort, or outsourced to one of the many restaurants willing to prepare dinner regardless the expense or the healthiness of the meals.
He's comforted by the presence of another person when he returns, though he suspects the novelty will wear off when Sarah Jane runs out of things to do. Thinking on that wipes the smile off his face. Had she done anything today?
"Sarah?" he calls out, peering around a corner. He can hear the shuffling of her feet. Pacing. Not a good sign.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2007-04-16 05:55 am (UTC)He's comforted by the presence of another person when he returns, though he suspects the novelty will wear off when Sarah Jane runs out of things to do. Thinking on that wipes the smile off his face. Had she done anything today?
"Sarah?" he calls out, peering around a corner. He can hear the shuffling of her feet. Pacing. Not a good sign.