[Past] You, Me and a Pitcher of Cream

Nairn grinned at her pout, the corners of his lips pulling into a half-smile. There's gonna be a next time? He raised his eyebrows at her, surprised. He'd not thought that far ahead; perhaps he was in over his head...

And they turned the corner, walked down the short street, only to stop in a garden. Yeah, this spot's much better. He grinned, and lowered himself onto an old, broken stone bench under the tree.

It's one of the best sights in the city, in my opinion. It wasn't the nicest garden, or the most furnished garden, but it was something that the poorer folks had come together to care for. Sometimes the small basket would be filled with fresh produce or baked goods for the street-rats. Nairn had survived off of that kind of thing as a child.