"I like how riding the Tube is still enjoyable to you."

"It is far more vast than when I was...around."

Helena takes my hand in hers, pressing her thumb against my palm. In the middle of the workday, pretty much no one else is riding the Central Line and we're essentially alone in the carriage, aside from a teenage couple most likely playing hooky and necking at the other end. We sit sideways, next to each other, stretching out our legs with one of mine resting against the middle pole. She dislikes taking taxis everywhere (as do I), preferring the dark subterranean world that is the Tube.

Once we arrive at our station, we get out and look for the appropriate exit to street-level. "The way out is over here."

I take a moment to rile her up a bit as we walk towards the exit. "Not sure why it can't be called an 'exit' when it's two letters and a space shorter." I always have loved it when she gives me an earful on the origin or meaning of something.

"Myka, it's always been 'way out.'"

I smile at her and playfully tug the hem of the coat she's wearing. It'd be easier to say "her" coat, but it's actually one of mine. She knows I'm teasing her, but perhaps she is not ready for that. Our relationship is still new and this is the first time we've traveled anywhere alone together, granted it is for work and we have tried to make a bit of a break built into it. We have a few days in England before heading home, garnering even more stamps in our already bulky passports.

We climb the steps up to the street and Helena again takes the lead. Each time we leave a Tube station and get up to street level, I look in her eyes to see if she is amazed or taken back by the changes around the city she once loved. At this exit, some things are familiar and some different to her, but overall she looks at ease. She holds out her arm to me as we walk down the street together.

It's not terribly cold and no one is really around at this time of day, which is why it's the best time to go to the movies. The chances that we'll have the entire place to ourselves is high. The movie theater is just a couple blocks from the Tube station; Helena insisted on going to this one rather than an ultra mega-duplex around town.

Early in the afternoon, there's no line at the ticket window and no line inside for treats. I check out the candy selection and am disappointed to not see any Twizzlers in there, then sadly come to realize that they aren't sold in Britain. Helena picks out some malted chocolate balls and a bottle of water, but pauses when she sees me still looking in the case for something I'd like.

"It's alright," she says as she gently touches my arm. "You can share with me."

I tilt my head downwards and peck her cheek. "Thanks."

We walk into the theater, immediately noticing that there are a few other people here, but nowhere near the typical crowd one would see on a Friday evening. Once I stop taking note of the audience, I pause for a moment at the splendor of this movie theater. It's old, built when Helena was still at Warehouse 12, and was originally designed as a music hall. I have no problem imagining this place as a loud home to live entertainment back in the day; it's pretty, red plush seating, yellow curtain, molding and decor that remind me of Helena's past.

I'm still gawking at my surroundings when she calls to me.

"Over here!" She's already seated with the coat off, popping open her bag of candy as the lights dim. I quickly remove my coat and settle next to her. Helena places the bottle of water on the floor between our seats.

"Before I forget..." Helena reaches into her pocket and pulls out a packet of Twizzlers. "...these are for you." The wrapper is a bit beaten up from being tossed in her carry on, nonetheless it's unopened.

I am so smitten.