The touch of the plastic shield against his lips and the rubber nipple filling his mouth caused him to open his eyes. He focused on her face, staring at her lips with glassy eyes. Her words floated to him through the fog in his mind. The fog was a thick blanket that made it hard to think. He smiled at the compliment. It made him feel good when people liked his dolls.

The nipple once again morphed his speech into a toddler’s lisp. “Dey okay. Others make pwettier dowws.” His dolls were okay, but other doll makers online were more skilled and innovative than he was. Their dolls were prettier.

“Others make prettier dolls?” Pru translated his slurred lisp. How could he be so drunk after just those little drops? Had he never drunk before? Alcohol could hit a virgin lightweight hard, especially on an empty stomach. Had she miscalculated? She barely felt the bourbon. She’d also been a hard drinker since she was young, when she first stole a bottle from her old man.

“Yeth.” He nodded again. He was pleased she understood and wasn’t going to argue with him.

“Maybe. But yours are very beautiful. When I look at them, I see how big your heart it. All the love you put into them. You’re a giver. Prudence…all she does-did- was take.”

Luc shook his head to argue, but she pressed a finger to the pacifier button, cutting him off.

“Even now. Look.” She gestured around the small booth. “Here you are. Fighting your anxiety. Raising money for needy animals. You give even when you’re hurting. That-” Emotion choked her, overwhelmed her.

Pru swallowed thickly and wiped at her too bright eyes. Luc touched her deep, twisted her feelings all up inside. Churned up things she’d long ignored. All of that tangled up in knots clogging her throat. How did she tell him everything that ate her up inside? It wouldn’t come out. She’d never been good at this touchy-feely shit.

Luc saw the pain in her gray blue eyes. They made him think of an autumn sky just before it rained. He knew that feeling well. Harsh self-judgement, when he fell short in his own eyes. Everything he did was wrong. He was a screw up. A royal fuck up. Prudence felt like that; he read it in her face.

With a soft, sympathetic little noise, he reached out to her with one hand. He didn’t think, didn’t know what he was doing. He just acted. He knew she needed comfort. She had no diapers, no pacifier, no Fiji. No Rosie. Her eyes screamed lost and alone. His heart ached for her and tears welled in his eyes.

Pru’s eyes widened in surprise when his hand moved towards her. She froze, unable to breath. Afraid if she did, she’d shatter the moment. Her heart skipped a beat as she watched his fingers closing the distance between them.

His fingertips lightly touched the back of her hand. Electric coursed between them. They both gasped and pulled back, staring at each other. Luc looked scared, adrenaline sobering him up.

Pru smiled. “See? You’re giving right now. You have no idea. It comes so natural to you. I wish I could be like you.” Pain brightened her eyes again.

Luc shook his head. What was wrong with her? There wasn’t anything to admire about him. His love of diapers? His anxiety? His inability to interact with the world like a normal human being? The way he so easily fell to pieces because he was an insecure crybaby? She was off her rocker. “Yew nice, too. Yew bought me hot chocowit.” She was nice, too. She’d bought him hot chocolate.

His fingertips still tingled. The jolt made his already fuzzy head spin and his heart jump. What was this feeling? He wanted to touch her again while at the same time he wanted to run and hide. He did neither; just sat there in his chair and stared at her. He’d take his cues from her.

Pru rubbed the back of her hand. The skin tingled. Damn, she liked him. It wasn’t lust so much as it was how funny he made her feel inside. She was getting attached. She never got attached. Over the decades, she’d had plenty of drinking buddies, bed mates, partners in crime. But she kept the walls of her heart up. With a single glance, this diapered boy tore them down. She felt so raw and exposed.

“That doesn’t count. It was just something small.” She brushed his words off. She’d lied to him, got him drunk, and betrayed his trust. She’d had a selfish, ulterior motive in getting him to relax. Here she was, blowing it. “I really am an idiot.”

“Yew nice to me.” She was nice to him. Luc insisted.