Perchance

~two~

Rory jumps, startled - she hadn't heard a customer come in while she was searching for the first aid kit. He'd even moved the evil spinning wheel for her, now safely perched a few feet to the left of the door.

"Oh, uh, hi," she mumbles, flustered. "You scared me."

Then it finally registers what he said to her, and she flushes with anger.

"But I really don't appreciate you taking Mary's side. The last thing I need is some stranger offering up unnecessary opinions on my personal appearance-"

"No, no, I didn't mean that she was right about that," he hurriedly assures her. His gaze sweeps quickly over her petite figure and back to her flushed face; he smiles, his eyes taking on a new sparkle, and raises an eyebrow in approval. "Not about that at all, actually. I meant she was right about the stitches and tetanus booster. I'm a paramedic, and you really should get that looked at."

He has a kind face, one that looks like it's always on the verge of smiling. Or maybe Rory just thinks that because of his accent - Australian, maybe, or New Zealander. Something pleasant and jaunty, where the syllables seem to bounce around the words on kangaroo legs. "I'm sure I've got some basic stuff in my truck, just to fix you up before you make it to an actual doctor..."

He's still speaking, something about risk of infection, blah blah blah, but Rory isn't paying much attention.

She's too busy ogling.

His hair is caught somewhere on the spectrum between sandy blond and light brown, and seems to defy the laws of physics, as indecisive in direction as it is in color. It's at least three weeks past desperately needing a cut, standing in defiant swirls and spikes above his wide brow. His eyes are the sparkling, deep green of the sea in sunshine, and his dimpled, lopsided smirk completes the handsome-but-mischievous look.

Rory knows that if she isn't very, very careful, she could wind up in serious trouble with this guy. He tugs at something deep within her, dusty and cramped from disuse; he makes it want to stir and stretch and breathe back to life.

And she is not a woman with time in her schedule for anything of that sort.

He reaches for her, taking her forearm in his hands, and the touch jolts her back to reality. His hands are warm and calloused and seem huge against her bony arm, trying to be gentle enough to examine her without hurting her further. He's close enough that Rory can smell him, coconut and salt and sun-warmed skin; he makes her suddenly feel a thousand miles away from this cramped, creaky shop or the crisp New England air.

"No, really, I'll be fine," she says, swallowing thickly when she pulls her hand away from his touch. She tries to compose herself, to remember that she's still at work. "Was there something I could help you with?"

"Yeah, actually," he says, clearing his throat, and taking a small step back. "My name's Finn, and I was just checking if you had an early copy of Alice in Wonderland - it's my mom's birthday next week and it's her favorite book."

"What a lovely gift idea," Rory says with a genuine smile despite the throbbing pain of her still-bleeding finger. "I'd be happy to check our stock-" she turns toward the inventory log on the counter, but stops short when she sees the time displayed on the large clock hanging on the far wall.

Her heart sinks; she has to go.

"Actually, you'll have to get Mary to look into it. I'm so sorry - I'm running super late for class." She starts backing toward the door, bumping into a wardrobe and nearly falling over.

"You okay?" Finn asks, barely suppressing a smile.

"Yeah, great, just - I have to run."

"Make sure you get that hand looked at - and get a tetanus shot!"

"I will," Rory calls over the doorbell tinkling overhead. "I promise."