ofthefamily | Carlisle-Rosalie.

Rosalie is upstairs, finishing up her shower after several hours of work in the garage.

Carlisle might hear some soft humming coming from her bathroom.

He waits a proper amount of time before he calls up:

"Please tell me you didn't tinker with my baby."

There's that initial hint of embarrassment, when she realizes Carlisle is in the house and could hear her. But it's quickly forgotten and she can't help but smile.

"Alright, I didn't," she replies tauntingly, her tone clearly implying that her statement is in no way a guarantee.

She's done washing, but she continues to let the hot, steamy water run over her hair and shoulders. Just another minute or so.

"She did nothing to necessitate abuse," Carlisle rebuffs, but says nothing else afterward; she's still going through her ablutions.

"I don't know; I think she was looking at me funny," Rosalie teases.

Letting out a breath almost like a sigh, she turns off the water and reaches for her towel.

Carlisle scoffs, but is still pretty lost in...whatever it is that he's doing.

Esme's outside within view of the windows. He does manage to look up enough to wave.

Rosalie dries herself off. She doesn't bother to use the blowdryer on her hair right now, settling for pinning it up instead. She slips on a light, comfortable white sundress and makes her way downstairs.

"So what have you been doing so quietly all this time?" she asks, leaning over the banister on the second-to-last step.

"I thought I was always the quiet one."

Still not looking up, but he's smiling at his paper now.

"True," is all Rosalie says, and she leans her cheek on one hand.

He doesn't look up, so she's free to enjoy his smile. Carlisle has maybe the second-best smile in the Cullen household, in Rosalie's opinion. It's soft and warm, like the silver lining on cloud.

Carlisle flips his paper around finally to show Rosalie.

It's Esme, outside from his viewpoint at the window. Rough, surely, and nothing Carlisle would call a good picture or even finished -- it's a thought. (He spent a lot of time going over the curls in Esme's hair.)

Rosalie's smile widens. She can't help thinking it's sweet.

She saunters over and sits down beside him on the armrest. "It's beautiful," she says. "Are you going to show her when you're finished?"

"Pfft. No. I prefer to not run up to my wife with bizarre doodles."

Rosalie giggles.

"I can understand that. But you know she'd think it was sweet."

"Or she'd call me a stalker."

What? It's possible.

"Yes. Because Esme would say something like that. About you."

Rosalie is just barely containing more giggling behind her sarcasm.

Carlisle thwacks his book against Rosalie's shoulder, all Respect your elders! without any real force behind it.

"Want to see some of my other ones?"

The giggles come out when Carlisle twacks her. She playfully nudges his shoulder back.

"Sure, I'd like that," she replies both enthusiastically and sincerely, as she leans forward slightly.

He's had most of the afternoon to himself, so there's a selection.

There's not a horrible one of the family, with the crest in the corner. (Edward's and Alice's hair come out just looking like two different length versions of the same haircut.)

There's another of a woman Rosalie may not know in profile with scribbles across the bottom. Next to a pile of gummi bears.

Ooh, big mistake.

"Wait, who's that?" Rosalie asks, touching Carlisle's wrist to stop him from flipping.

Hopefully, Carlisle won't expect her to let this go. Because she's not going to.

"A friend from Milliways. Esme and Edward know her as well.

"She's...unusual."

In an oddly pleasing sort of way.

"How so?" Rosalie asks, genuinely curious.

It could be anything, really. You never know with Milliways. Rosalie is finding herself more interested with the place and the people there, now that she's decided to start visiting more often.

"She's..."

:D?

"Her name is Star. Like...the tarot card?"

Rosalie blinks.

"The tarot card?"

Why would he use that comparison? Rosalie hasn't put the pieces together yet.

"As in. She is the card.

"Or perhaps she's just confusing. I do not know, my dear. But she knows me as very few do, and we have become friends.

"Or at least I consider her mine. To be honest, I have no idea what she thinks of me."

"She sounds... very mysterious," Rosalie notes.

"How long have you known her?"

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