Trees! There are trees here. Kinda. Matt is entirely dissatisfied
with the fake grass, the silk flowers, the plastic trees, and has
wandered off the path to lean against the dome. Arms crossed, head
tilted sideways to rest against the plastiglass, he looks out at
the red desert in thoughtful silence.

"Feels a bit like a doll's house, doesn't it?" comes a soft voice
from behind Matthew, followed by a pair of arms gently encircling
his waist from behind. "A children's play-set. Or possibly a
television set, complete with astro-turf lawn. Needs the perfect
people on it, though. Having a picnic or something."

He didn't even hear her coming, tensing briefly at the voice and
then relaxing again when he recognizes it. Matthew smiles and
lowers his arms to cover her hands with one of his. "We could
always clear the pretend trees away and have a football game. Or
we could draft in some of your artificial life-forms, this is the
perfect place. Hi, you."

"Would be, yes," answers Daisy, sounding a little funny about it.
She adds a little defiantly, all the while leaning her head
against Matt's back, "though they could have taste if I wanted
them to. Complain about the fake plastic trees, dump out 'Lite'
beer with a disgusted snort..." A beat, and she squeezes before
letting go one side and trailing around him. "But I wouldn't.
Hullo, Matt."

He doesn't know whether to be happy or afraid, turning his head to
watch her and recrossing his arms again. "We should probably...I
mean, I think..." Matt exhales through his nose and looks back to
the desert again. "Blue sunsets are just wrong."

"Just look at it like you need to adjust the hue on your viewer,"
says the girl practically, still leaning a bit. "Then it looks
perfectly all right. I will admit, though, that at the very least
I expect to see a bit of brush out there."

"Freezing Arizona." Matt still doesn't uncross his arms, because
if he does he'll hug her and that's going to lead places. And he's
trying to think. "Daisy?"

"Yeh?" Oblivious. At the moment, anyway. Aside from the
everpresent little nagging doubt thing back there somewhere, and
the everpresent little nagging ecstacy warring with it. Daisy
glances at Matt.

Matthew darts a glance at Daisy, meeting her eyes. He's
frightened. Very frightened, tension betrayed in the set of his
shoulders. "I think...I don't know what I think. You make it hard
to think."

The fright there, and the statement, they hit Daisy like a slap.
Or a bucket of cold water, at the very least. She lets go, steps
back as if burnt, and watches Matthew, eyes wide. "I'm sorry," she
breathes. Please don't be talking about what I think you might be
talking about. "I don't want to control -you-, either," she adds
under her breath, to herself.

"No, no, no, don't be sorry!" Matt is dismayed - nice one, you
upset her already - and he stands straight, arms uncrossing as he
reaches a hand towards her shoulder. Don't go anywhere, I need you
to stay. "It's not - I don't - Daisy, look, I'm not very good at
this. Mind if I talk for a minute?"

Now *she's* scared. Don't don't don't. No. Wait. No, it's all
right if you do, as long as I don't. But if you tell me you do,
then I'll have to recognise that funny flutter somewhere in my
guts for what it is, which is what I don't want to do. Holding her
hands twisted together just below her throat, willing them to stay
off her face, Daisy doesn't move. "...I - now? You want to - Matt,
don't - don't say anything you don't want to," she says with a
hint of desperation.

Oh. Boy. You almost walked right into that one, didn't you? Idiot.
Now that's egotistical. "...you don't want me to say it?" Matt
manages to keep his voice steady through that sentence, just
barely.

"Maybe I do," says Daisy miserably, looking away, holding her
hands together tighter. "I do want you to say it. But I don't want
you to say it. I don't - I know, or maybe I think I know, what you
might say. And I want to hear it. But I...oh, please, let me get
drunk first so I can say whatever I want. No! No, that's not
right. I'm sorry. I...you make it just as hard for me to think,"
she finally laughs, with absolutely no mirth.

"Daisy, I - " Matt hesitates, afraid she might run away and afraid
she might stay. "I don't want to mess with you. That's not why I -
it - I have real problems. You know that. I might not be the kind
of ... let me start again." He's not doing very well with this,
running a hand through silvering hair. "Okay. I've been - hurt,
before. And please don't think I'm assuming you'll do the same
because I'm not, but..." Argh.

Now the knuckles go to the mouth for chewing purposes, and Daisy's
pale as a sheet. Then she holds a hand out to stop him from
continuing, and drops her hands, almost massaging them.
"Matt...hold up a moment, will you? I - before you keep on, I have
to tell you. I might. I've never - this has never - this is all
new to me. And I came here because I didn't want anyone. I didn't
want to need anyone, and I didn't want anyone else trying to
change my life." This said, she falters. "And I don't think you
will. But you might. You're already...I mean, you don't like what
I do. But I love what I do. It's creation. And - but - the other
part. I don't..." Want to lose control. Want to need you. Want to
love you, be beholden to you, have part of me owned by you. "I'm
afraid," she whispers.

It feels like the floor just dropped out from under him. And it
wasn't all that stable to begin with. She doesn't want you, that's
what he gleans from Daisy's speech. She doesn't want anyone. "I
understand," he whispers, turning his head to look out of the dome
again. "I'm sorry for - I'm sorry."

Now she's -really- frightened. Because for all she doesn't want
anyone, my god but she wants Matt. "No! No, you don't, no," she
says, speaking even more quickly than normal, almost babbling. "No
you don't understand. I don't -want- to need you. But I don't know
what I'd do without you. Matt, I don't know how to say this. I
mean, I do. I know how. But I'm afraid to. And that's why I want
to hear you say it. Because if you say it, then it'll be real and
I'll have to find out how to say it." She reaches out, catches at
his arm, holds his sleeve incredibly tightly like she's afraid
he's going to fly away. "Don't go. Don't go, _please_."

"I don't want to go." Matt turns to look at her, one hand braced
against the dome, the other arm effectively captured. He looks as
if he might cry, or laugh, or explode with some other pent-up
emotion. "Daisy..." His voice drops to a near-whisper. "I think
I've fallen in love with you."

The girl stares for a long moment, her eyes getting quite bright.
Daisy holds the other hand out, tense, shaking a little, then
softly pushes his shaggy hair away from his face. One thing is so
important to her. So important she can't even say anything else,
she can't reciprocate until she's said it. "Don't *ever* /make/ me
do anything." And then hesitantly, slowly, she comes even closer.
"I had a feeling," she says, and then her voice catches, "that
this was what being in love felt like." Faint grin. "Kiss me, you
fool."

"I would never want to." Matt speaks shakily, but earnestly, his
hands moving first to her waist, then linking behind her back. He
bends his head to kiss her, gently and carefully and still not
really certain of what's going on here, or where they're going, or
what comes next.

So short a time, and yet so much can happen that it feels like an
eternity. It's -been- an eternity since she arrived, since she met
Matthew, since their initial three minutes and fifteen seconds.
Who knew? Daisy's hands travel up until they're clasped behind
Matt's neck, loosely, gently, and she does all the reciprocating
that her words were so miserable at attempting. If you're going to
-stay-, then make sure you *stay*. After a long moment, she pulls
her head back just far enough to let out a quiet laugh - the kind
of laugh that if you looked closer at it would be closer to a sob
- and ask, "You better not lose interest in the sex now, buster."

Yeah. Who knew? "I don't think that's gonna be a problem." Matt
buries his face in her neck and hugs Daisy tightly, briefly
overwhelmed and still scared and delighted and, ultimately,
confused. Always confused. He speaks, the barest whisper right in
her ear. "Don't leave me." Don't be gone one day with no warning.

"I-I won't," whispers Daisy back, clinging tightly. Magnetgirl!
She won't, either. Now that she's said it. Remains to be seen
whether or not Matthew will. He hates it here. Hates it. And he's
creeped out by her robots. And once the mystique wears off her,
then what? Will he like what he sees? "I won't leave you, love."
Not for all the coffee in Seattle.