How Green Becomes Wood

Rumy laughed. "It might be! It's hilarious because it comes right after this four-part, tragic fantastical story thats nearly half an hour long, qnd it's all big and kind of space opera-like, and then... twanga-twang-twang-twang! It's supposed to be like the 'happy' ending, or whatever, but it just comes out of nowhere."
 
"Oh, I love that song!" Rumy grinned, but quieted as the lights dimmed. The trailers started, and she held the bucket of popcorn between them for easy sharing, settling back to enjoy some time in the dark.
 
Sloan also at back, occasionally whispering a joke to Rumy about a trailer but never so loudly that it disturbed other people. Once she correctly predicted who was directing a movie and felt very proud of herself, even though the director had a very distinct style.
 
Rumy was properly impressed by Sloan's predictions and tried a few herself. She wasn't very good, but she usually managed to be mostly on the right track. Then the movie started. Rumy watched, enjoying herself and eating her snacks. The popcorn she mostly relinquished to Sloan, and when the bucket was empty, she put it on the floor to act as a trash can.

Maybe about three quarters of the way through the movie, perhaps less, Rumy took her chance. She hadn't tried anything silly with the popcorn, putting it all into this one moment. Casually, she stretched. And when her arm came down, it rested on the back of Sloan's chair, not quite around her shoulders, but close.
 
Sloan's eyes widened, obviously noticing the gesture but not knowing what to do about it. It was accident, right? Just a casual thing. Had to be. Had to be? She didn't pull away, but she took a sip of her drink trying to logic out what was happening.
 
Sloan didn't react. At least, not as far as Rumy could tell when trying to catch tiny glances at her out of the corner of her eye in the dim theater lit only by the constantly changing lights of the giant screen. She didn't seem disgusted by the idea, at least, nor was she particularly receptive. She just... accepted that it was a thing. Maybe she didn't notice because of the movie? That seemed likely. Rmy chose to stay as she was and not make things more awkward by moving her arm. Maybe this wasn't going exactly as hoped, but it was still one of the better dates she'd been on, so she'd take it.
 
As the movie continued and Rumy's arm stayed where it was, Sloan gradually relaxed and forgot about it. It wasn't that big of a deal. And the movie was fun, so she was enjoying herself. It was a nice day out.
 
After the movie ended, Rumy stood but stayed near her seat as she stretched and waited for the rush of people in a hurry to leave to ease. "That was a lot of fun," she admitted. She leaned over to pick up their trash before asking, "Do you have to head home, now, or do you want to, I don't know, grab a bite or a drink somewhere?"
 
Rumy went to her car - a battered old golden thing that looked to be held together by duct tape and prayers - and headed out. She reached the dessert place first and waited for Sloan before going in. When they went in, she called out a fast string of Spanish, greeting the workers behind the counter and getting a loud, hearty greeting in return. They chatted briefly, and then Rumy gestured for Sloan to go first.
 
"I didn't know you spoke Spanish," Sloan replied, impressed, "But no, you should order first since you've been here before. I need a moment to figure out what I want." After looking over the flavours for a moment, though, she ordered a cone she liked and then said, "I wish it was nice enough to sit outside, but we're past those days for the year, I think, especially if we're eating ice cream."
 
"I learned it alongside English. It's hard to say which was my first," Rumy told her. She ordered, ignoring the Spanish words of teasing she was getting about her new friend, and examined her multi-colored cotton-candy flavored ice cream with great satisfaction. "I guess it's the season for hot chocolate or cider and doughnuts, but I'm kind of used to the ice cream habit." She pointed to one of the worn but clean wooden booth seats along one wall. "Want to sit inside?
 
"I speak a little bit of Hebrew but not enough to be helpful. Really just religious stuff, I still remember most of my Bat Mitzvah passage." Sloan said, walking towards the booth, "Inside is better than cramming into a car. It's better for gas too."
 
"No kidding. I've been considering trying to save up for an electric," Rumy admitted, sliding into the booth. "Maybe with one of those solar panels on top. They look stupid, but potentially better if there's, like, an apocalypse, and, you know, better for the planet and all of that."
 
"I think if the apocalypse comes, I'm just out. Do you know how bad my hair would be without modern conviences? I can't live that way." Sloan laughed, "It wouldn't be bad to help the environment now, though."
 
"I dunno. I think you'd look pretty cute with a frizzy 'fro," Rumy teased gently. "I know I look smoking hot right after a shower! As soon as I'm done with my 'drowned rat' phase." She laughed at herself and shook her head with its thick braids. "Anyway, would you get an electric car? I think I'd get one as a car, but if I need to haul stuff, I don't know if an electric truck would be powerful enough."
 
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