James feels like he's in one of those great romantic scenes of films, the ones that can only exist on a giant screen, not on a street in London. But it's fitting, isn't it? He's under scrutiny of a camera in another world, a mythic figure who has no business existing on a mundane, three-dimensional street. Perhaps it wasn't a stretch for him to be here, romancing the woman he loves before an avid audience.

Ha! He did have an avid audience, didn't he? Figures. They don't matter, now. She matters. He stares down at her, smoothing her hair beneath his hand. As long as forever lasts. The last forever he thought he had lasted only a few weeks. How long would this forever last? Staring into her eyes, he wishes forever would be just that: forever. But he never had a say in these things, did he? Still, looking at her he's confident that, for however long forever lasts for them, forever would be wonderful.

He kisses her again, soft and sweet and not too short, not too long. The audience is starting to get to James and his stomach is rumbling for attention.