AN: So, in my old age (and being a relatively new mum) I find myself rewatching old Disney classics under a completely new light. And fangirling over characters I'd never considered before. Or not in this way. Here's to Roger and Anita, from the animated version of 1961, although the story takes place some 15 years earlier.
The sight of his soaking wet excuse of a handkerchief finally snapped her out of her self-pity and Anita gave an involuntary chuckle. There she was, soaking wet, having been dragged to the pond by a lanky man and his ill-behaved dog, her purse and book and hat ruined, and she was laughing. Maybe it was plain hysterics, but he was laughing too, in rich, amused tones, and all of it was utterly ridiculous.
"I am very, very sorry," he finally mumbled. "I don't know what happened with Pongo, he's usually a good dog…"
The good dog in question was actually sniffing her own dog. Perdita didn't seem to mind at all.
"He had me fooled for a moment," she said with a small laugh.
"You've lost all credibility, Pongo," he addressed his dog. "My name is Roger, by the way," he added, taking his eyes off the dogs and offering her a very wet hand. "Roger Radcliffe."
"Anita Greene," she said automatically, briefly taking his long fingers in hers.
He gave her half a smile. "I'm so sorry about your things, I'm... How can I fix this? What should I do?"
She looked around, assessing the damage. "I have to go back home; I need to get changed. And you too, I suppose…"
She suddenly realised she was wearing a very large tweed jacket over her shoulders, and she couldn't recall how exactly had it ended there. It was his jacket all right, she had noticed his lanky form when he had walked in front of her bench mere moments ago. With trembling fingers, she started to take it off-
"Never mind that. Keep it," he prompted. "It's not much, and it's wet, but at least it'll help."
"But you need it…"
"Not really," there was that half smile again. He took off his hat and gave it a good shake in an attempt to get rid of some of the water. She noticed his eyes were hazel, with tiny wrinkles on the sides. "Let me walk you home. You can give it back to me then."
For a moment Anita wasn't sure what to say, but a sudden gush of cold spring wind gave her goose bumps and made up her mind. "All right."
"It's the least I can do."
The dog… Pongo, was it not?... and Perdita were oblivious to the whole exchange and the moment she called her name the dog looked at her and she could have sworn it was with reproachful eyes.
"Come on now, Perdy, let's go home."
"You too, Pongo," Roger echoed, taking both lashes in his hand. At this, both dogs started walking with enthusiasm and she couldn't help but smile at them. "Let me take them, you try to keep yourself warm," he added.
"A wet dress and a ruined hat might not be a very high price to pay for Perdy to make a new friend," she said with a small smile.
At her side, he chuckled. "There were other ways to make friends in the park, I'm sure."
"Not many would make such an interesting tale, though," she retorted.
Now he laughed, and it was her turn to join in.
The skirt felt heavy, sticking to her legs like glue, but she was barely registering it, as he started asking her questions about Perdy and about how often they would visit the park.
It took them too little time to reach her flat, and she found herself wishing for a reason to extend the easy conversation.
"Thanks for accompanying me here," she said.
"As said, the least I could d-atchoo!"
"Bless you! Now you're going to catch a cold because of me taking your jacket."
"No I don't think-choo!"
"Why don't you come inside and dry up a little before heading home?"
He looked down at her for a moment, and suddenly Anita realised it was a somewhat improper thing to say. Only, it was said already and there was no going back.
"That would be… yes… thanks."
With a quick rummaging in her bag she found her keys and a moment later they were climbing up the stairs.
"I might even have some dry clothes that might fit you," she said distractedly. "From my husband."