Taraga props his hand up and rests his chin on the back of it while staring with unmasked fondness across the table. For all their playful bantering, hearing that really means something to him.
"Funny, that sounds exactly like something my husband would say." Then a dramatic sigh. "Let's accept that we'll never be rich on the salary of a painter and a cop."
"Well, I'm not a cop so there's that. But I really don't need much."
Miles chuckled and leaned back to accept their drinks which had been brought to the table. When they were alone again, he leaned forward. "I don't mind not having money as long as I have my husband though."
"I bet you say that to all the guys you're about to marry," he teases with a lilting note of laughter.
Taraga's smile softens, but doesn't dim entirely. Something about being with Miles always makes him feel happier. Not that he's a particular morose sort of painter, but even he has his moods. Whatever it is, he always feels a little lighter with Miles. He takes a sip from his drink and sighs, satisfied with it.
"I'm really going to start believing you're not a cop at this rate."
"Well since I've only ever had one fiancé, I can say that's very true."
This really no longer felt like a joke. Yet that didn't bother him in the slightest for some reason. It probably should if they were just going to go get married tomorrow but here he was instead. Continuing to indulge this. For who exactly at this point he could no longer say.
That last part made him laugh though. "I hope so because I've never lied about that. I'm not a cop."
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"Funny, that sounds exactly like something my husband would say." Then a dramatic sigh. "Let's accept that we'll never be rich on the salary of a painter and a cop."
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Miles chuckled and leaned back to accept their drinks which had been brought to the table. When they were alone again, he leaned forward. "I don't mind not having money as long as I have my husband though."
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Taraga's smile softens, but doesn't dim entirely. Something about being with Miles always makes him feel happier. Not that he's a particular morose sort of painter, but even he has his moods. Whatever it is, he always feels a little lighter with Miles. He takes a sip from his drink and sighs, satisfied with it.
"I'm really going to start believing you're not a cop at this rate."
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This really no longer felt like a joke. Yet that didn't bother him in the slightest for some reason. It probably should if they were just going to go get married tomorrow but here he was instead. Continuing to indulge this. For who exactly at this point he could no longer say.
That last part made him laugh though. "I hope so because I've never lied about that. I'm not a cop."