A/N: written for Gen Prompt Bingo Round 16, "Rainstorm".
"Looks like we won't be going anywhere for a while now." Drover laughs to himself as he walks towards the homestead, red mud splattering his boots with each step. He looks like a drowned dog, choppy hair matted to his face while rivulets of water run down his head and shoulders. "Wet season's just started."
The rain buckets down once he's on the verandah, turning dust and dirt into watery mud, and puddles into small pools. He can hear it pound the corrugated iron roof, each drop echoing loudly as if it were hail. Shirt drenched, he quickly strips it off and hangs it over the back of one of Sarah's new cane chairs.
At least the kitchen will be warm, Drover thinks, squeezing the excess water from his hair. Once his boots are off and turned upside down, he hoofs it straight to the kitchen and finds Sarah. She's standing over a pot, glaring at him as if he just shoved her into the river.
"Brrr. The weather's finally turned." He feigns a shiver. "Guess we better snuggle up then and keep each other warm. It's gonna be cold tonight."
"No, thank you. The only member of this station who's going to be doing any snuggling is you and that towel."
Her English accent is still as strong as it was last month, the same as it was last year. Part of him keeps hoping it'll fade, but she seems determined to hold onto it.
"Alright," Drover sighs. He pulls up a stool and sits himself by the woodfire stove. Even as they talk, it's a struggle to hear each other. He tells her about the new fencing that's up, to deter foxes and the like, and she tells him about a new design of cloth she spotted in a months-old magazine. "But we'll snuggle after I'm dry?"
Sarah gives Drover her best disapproving look. "Don't push it."