Sorry for the bit of delay in updating; RL intrudes:end of semester crazies/much grading to do! And as far as pics, I have uploaded them, but not sure best way to post the link. Will keep trying, though. Anyway, here's the next chappy; will also try my best to add another chapter later this eve. Enjoy!:)

-9-

Harry awakens a little bit after 6. Glancing at the time, he realizes that he's been out for more than two hours. Then he looks at at the door separating him and Ruth. Closed. No light. No sound. He continues to stare at it, and not for the first time since being here, he wishes he had X Ray vision. But mere mortal that is he, Harry simply goes up to the door and listens. Nothing. He moves in a little closer. The door opens.

Both gasp. Both back up. Both stare at one another. Eyes wide. Mouths open. In fact, the only thing that actually is moving is the door. It continues to swing open of its own accord.

Ruth finds her voice first. " Oh!" She manages to say.

"Sorry." He manages to say, taking one step back. "I was just going to knock on your door. "

"Me, too. "

Both stare at the other.

Harry swallows. "Shall we try this again?" He finally says.

"I suppose we should." She replies.

He takes a breath. "Ruth. Would you like to have dinner?"

She smiles, then. "Yes. Very much."

Both seem to notice for the first time that each stands with one foot in the threshold, still inches from one another.

He says, "Would you like to try the Oak room? For dinner, I mean?"

She nods. "It's a lovely room."

"I'm glad you said that."

She tilts her head at him.

"I …uh.. took the liberty of making a reservation there. Before. Before I fell asleep, that is. But we can cancel of course. I just didn't want to take the chance that—"

"I'm glad you took the initiative."

"Yes. Initiative." He says. "Initiative is. Good. Sometimes. "

She nods. Then says, "Well, I think I'll just freshen up." She begins to turn.

"You look fine."

She turns back and looks down at her wrinkled outfit, her skirt and turtleneck sweater, twisted a bit from sleeping in it. "Just give me a few -"

"- Take as much time as you need. Dinner's not till 8."

"Good. That will give me more time." She looks towards her bathroom. "I'm ... going to take a shower, actually."

"Me too." he adds.

They stand looking at one another, not quite meeting the other's eyes. Finally, Harry says, "Just knock or let me know when you're ready."

She nods. "Of course. I'll knock. And I won't be too long, either." She smiles.

"Maybe we we can have some of that champagne. If you like. Before dinner." He jerks his head on his side of the room to the Edwardian table where the bottle is still untouched, still in ice, refilled by the maid during the day. The chocolates in the basket next to it are untouched as well.

She hesitates.

"Or not," He says, quickly.

"I think that will be lovely. I'll try not to be too long."

"That's...good. Fine."

She nods, then she slowly closes the door. It opens again." Um..Harry.."

"Yes?" He asks, turning back to her.

"Is it casual? I mean is there a dress code?"

"Casual." He answers. "No tie. He smiles at that. "But no t shirts. "

"I don't think either of us will have a problem, then." She smiles as well.

Not long after, there's a knock on the door.

"Come in." he calls out. He's freshly shaved, a scent of aftershave in the air and is wearing a lightweight knit sweater with crew neck, light tan in color. His trousers are dark brown, almost black, the material soft. She's wearing a dark green knitted sweater which clings to her curves over black slacks. She's wearing her flats again. And her hair, unlike the afternoon when it was pulled back, is now loose with soft waves framing her face.

She steps into the room.

"You look..very nice." He says, his eyes resting for a moment on her sweater.

"So do you. I don't think I've ever seen you in that before."

"Well. I don't often wear…I mean at work."

"Of course." She says.

They stand next to the bed, admiring one another for a moment longer. "Oh. " He says, "Right. Champagne." Grabbing the bottle, towel wrapped around its neck, he tilts it away from her. "Stand back." And in one expert move, pops the cork. It makes a satisfying sound.

"Good job!" She says.

He looks inordinately pleased."Never quite know how it's going to turn out." He says, pouring some in a wineglass for her. After he hands it to her, he pours himself some, too. "Well," he says, holding his out to her. "Cheers!"

"Cheers!" She says, They clink glasses and she takes a sip. Immediately, she begins to choke.

"Good God, Ruth." He says setting his glass down. "Are you ok?"

She flaps her hand at him. "Fin..." But she is unable to say anything else. She continues to make choking sounds. He begins to tap her back. Now she starts to cough. He begins to pound her back. Finally, she is able to take a breath and speak. "That. That …. God. That was…so ..embarrassing."

"You ok?" He asks again, his eyes searching her face.

She nods, still a bit red in the face. "I. Don't. Know. What. Happened. Actually."

"Let me get you some water." He grabs a water bottle, pouring her a bit in a cup.

She takes the tiniest of sips.

"Ok?" He asks, still watching her.

She nods. And takes a another breath. "Ok."

"You sure?"

"Of course." She says, now speaking almost normally. She clears her throat. "I guess you can't take me anywhere."

"Can happen to anyone. And does." He adds.

She shrugs. "But it seems to happen to me more often than others. Especially when I 'm ner..." She lets it hang there.

"Don't be." He says into the silence, very softly. "Please." No one speaks for a moment. Then he says, "I'm just glad that you're ok."

She nods, setting down her glass next to his. "I'm afraid to have some more, actually."

"Chocolates?" He grabs the basket and holds it out in front of her.

She begins to laugh. "I don't think so, either. And at this point, I'm afraid to eat dinner."

"You'll be fine. " He says and touches her arm. She reaches out to touch his as well. And when she does, she feels his bare skin where his sleeve is pushed up, exposing his wrist and forearm. His skin is still warm from the shower.

They stand there looking at one another, still touching. Then they draw a little closer. And closer still. This time there is no little boy with woolen hat and frazzled mother to get in their way. But there are mobiles.

It rings.