Work Text:
Frequent diplomatic travel had it's benefits and this was it.
The vibrations of the brass band were practically inside her, humming through her feet. Though it was night, deftly-decorated trees made pockets of light beside stalls and the air smelt far from cold. Atop the cobblestone, tributaries and confluences of shoppers, stood tent after tent, excitedly clamouring as though lining the streets for a parade.
Above, a Van Gough of windswept stars giggles down on them.
From her right, a flash of blue catches her eye. It's mostly hidden within a stand of stacked high with teacups and intricate ornaments and seems to call to her - like a tractor beam - through the market.
A delicate bird model with a minute hole in the top and a sign to fill with water and blow to hear it sing.
From her left, through a smile, Henry's voice wends softly.
“It’s you, babe. A little bluebird.”