A/N: So, here it is, the next installment of Some Twilight Interim. As evidenced with the first two, some of these drabbles are, indeed, interrelated. Others won't be. I have no idea which themes, when, or why. It's just a matter of my not so methodical whims. Hope you all enjoy, anyway. Peace, all.

"She gave her heart to the man in the long black coat." --Bob Dylan

Picture

Her head tilted just slightly, a gesture Kurama noticed that she often made when in thought, before she placed the snapshot back upon his dresser with care.

"Something troubles you?"

"No."

The fox eyed her curiously, and she offered him a soft smile of reassurance.

"I was just wondering how you managed to get him in the picture."

Kurama grinned. "I never said he was happy about it."

"...Is he ever?"

The emerald gaze sharpened, an expression Sango couldn't decipher written in its depths. "Is that important to you?"

"...No." She didn't really know.

Amusement tugged at his lips. "Liar."

Autumn

"You're getting awfully comfortable with the slayer."

Kurama paused in his writing, casting a sidelong glance at the fire apparition. "Does that bother you?"

"Don't be absurd, fox."

The kitsune sighed, looking up from his assignment. "We've met before."

Hiei might've looked disinterested, but his eyes betrayed him.

"It was Autumn," he recalled. "We'd raided a mountain village." Kurama repressed a smile. "Nearly took my head, if memory serves."

The koorime snorted. "Fool."

"Perhaps." The fox hesitated, then, "...We're just friends, Hiei."

The demon pinned him with a scalding glare. "I care not."

Kurama grinned, remembering a similar conversation. 'Liar.'

Peach

Sango peered around curiously before settling her suspicious gaze back to the kitchen counter.

It was a peach.

They didn't have any peaches. She knew. She'd checked.

...But it was there, sitting harmlessly on the Formica, as though it always was.

And it occurred to her, suddenly, that this wasn't the first time she'd been thinking of something only to have it appear within her grasp shortly thereafter. Her missing bath beads...keys to her lockbox...her favorite CD...and now...

Delicate fingers plucked the fruit from its resting place as she considered whether that whisper of dark was simply imagined, after all.

A/N: So...yeah, "Peach" was three words over the limit. I couldn't compress it any more and keep the tone I wanted; somehow, I don't think anyone's going to kick up an angry mob over it. Thanks for reading! And please feed the author!