To follow 'Crane' by a few months.
She was sitting on a railing, a hand holding on and one leg extended for constant contact with the cold metal, her weight constantly shifting to keep balance in the wind. And even though she never looked up, he knew she was well aware of his presence. She stared intensely at her hand, where her fingers lightly held a well worn paper crane.
"Do you think about what might have been, Batou?"
He shrugged, hands in his pocket. "Sometimes. Sometimes it's better to make a decision not to."
"What do you do when you do think about it?"
"Grab a beer and turn off my alcohol processing," he said, walking over and leaning on the rail behind her. There was a pause, her hand beside his elbow, head bowed; patiently waiting. He sighed. "I think until I've reached a conclusion."
"How often does that happen?" she asked.
"Not often," he admitted. "There're a few things… I don't think I'll ever reach a conclusion on." He glanced over, finding her still gazing at the crane face gentle and somewhat sad. "Sometimes," he said quietly, cautiously, "I just have to come to terms with the fact that I can't change the past."
She half-turned to look at him, giving him a searching stare before looking out on the cityscape, half smiling. "You're right," she murmured, and stood up, uncurling the fingers that trapped the folded paper in her hands to set it free to the winds.
Together, they watched the wrinkled, white, bird flutter away until it disappeared into the afternoon breeze.
I like these two.