February 14th, 1921: Atlantic City and Washington, D.C.

While Clara changed into her pajamas in the bathroom, Richard took the extra blanket from the closet and laid it on the floor next to the bed.

"What's this?" she asked when she walked back into the room. She was toying with the hem of her pajama top because, she reflected, it was a little anxiety-provoking to change into pajamas and walk back out to the bedroom of the man after kissing him. Her anxiety was made worse by the fact she'd forgotten to grab her kimono in her haste to get out of the Ritz, and so she didn't have anything to cover up with.

Richard looked down at his feet. "Mmm, you can. Have the bed."

"I'll sleep on the floor. I'm here uninvited, I burst into your room..." Richard shook his head. "Or, we shared the sofa in New York. I'm sure we can manage to share this." She wasn't sure, actually, but she was willing to try. She laid down on her side against the wall and closed her eyes. The room was silent and curiosity made her desperately want to open her eyes until she felt the mattress dip when Richard sat down and she heard the bedside lamp being extinguished. The mask made a distinct noise when he placed it on the bedside table. She kept her eyes closed while he lifted the blanket and stretched out next to her. The narrowness of the bed meant their feet and legs entangled immediately, but it was the feel of his breath on her face and his hand tentatively landing on her waist that made her finally open her eyes to find him looking at her.

"Mmm, I..."

"You don't have to ask," she said quietly. In a few seconds, his mouth was back on hers.

The early morning light cast odd shadows around the room. As Richard woke up, he felt like every part of him was entwined with Clara. He doesn't ever want to move, but suddenly he realizes he's pressed against her leg and it's becoming more noticeable with every passing second. He doesn't want to frighten her when she wakes up, so he slowly starts pulling away from her. When he stands up, Clara stirs and reaches for his hand. He tells her he'll be back, and watches as she falls back to sleep.

When he returns, Clara is dressed and standing in front of the mirror pinning her hair. The bed has been made, badly.

"Here's breakfast."

"Thank you, I never ate dinner last night, I'm starving." He puts her food down on the desk and sets his on the dresser.

"I have to. Go to D.C. And drop something off." Richard tells her.

"Oh, I can go somewhere..."

He shakes his head and looks right at her, which makes her breath catch. "I thought. You could. Come with me."

Clara smiles at him.

Everything feels so good that it makes Richard nervous. It's as if one of the collages from his book was coming to life around him. He wasn't able to sit at a table with her, but she was at the desk while he stood across from her at the dresser eating breakfast. He helped her with her coat. She had to stop and call the Ritz (Eddie told her in no uncertain terms to stay away), but then she's his for the entire day. Instead of a long, lonely car ride Clara sits next to him, reads him articles from the newspaper (although he notices not the ones about her father covering the front page), convinces him to play twenty questions, and sometimes just looks out the window. The silence is nicer when it's shared.

When they finally arrive in Washington she directs him to Mount Vernon Square and the largest library he's ever seen. The building is made of marble and looks at how he's always imagined the Capitol to look. He leaves her there and goes to run Jimmy's errand.

When he comes back, he walks past the oak desk and up the large staircase to the reference room. Clara was at a table with a stack of books, frowning as she wrote notes, so focused she doesn't notice him watching her. She finally sees him, smiles, and gathers her things.

"Does. All of the Capitol. Look like. This?"

"You've never been here before? Do we have time to sightsee?"

Richard nods. "The car. Has headlights. We can do. Whatever you want."

First, she directs him north through the city to the Mall so she can show him the Capital building and the White House. "Can you believe that fool Harding is going to be president in about five weeks?"

"He won't. Be good. For the country," Richard said. "Did you ever tell. Your father?"

Clara laughed. "That I didn't vote for Harding? I told no one but you."

"The Democrats. Should have nominated. McAdoo. I did like. The vice-president."

"Considering how Franklin Roosevelt went after Tammany Hall? I wouldn't mention that to Rothstein next time you see him."

Following Clara's directions, he parks in front of another columned white building. This one has a green dome rising from the roofline. Clara's face is bright with excitement as she takes his hand and pulls him along with her. When they approach the counter in the rotunda Clara takes her wallet from her purse.

"Mmm, no," Richard starts to object.

Clara shakes her head. "No, please. This was my idea, let me."

After she buys their tickets she leads him up a staircase that's bathed in light from the windows in the golden dome he noticed earlier. When they step onto the landing of the second floor Richard freezes. He's read about them since he was a little boy, but somehow never realized he could simply go see them.

The light dances down the bleached bones of two large creatures, one on four legs with a long neck and tail, one on its hind legs with short arms sticking out. Richard never lets go of her hand, and goes from exhibit to exhibit, reading with each display with complete concentration.

"I always. Liked. The brontosaurus. Best. But I didn't know. It would. Be. Like this." Clara smiles up at him, thrilled that he's as happy as she thought he might be. The right side of his face is relaxed, and he looks like he's genuinely having a good time. She's glad he likes her friends.

"I like the T-Rex. We share an issue with short arms," Clara says and imitates the tyrannosaurus.

He makes a noise that Clara thinks might a laugh. "Your arms. Are fine. But do you know. Mmm. Who looks like a T-Rex? Alderman Neary."

Clara clamps her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. "Oh my goodness, I will never be able to look at him again."

"Excuse me," an older man says to them. Clara's afraid her laughter has brought the museum staff over to chastise them. "I just wanted to say thank you for your service."

Richard almost visibly pulls back into himself. His head dips, and he looks down at the ground.

"And you, miss, how kind to bring your brother here for the day."

What Clara wants to do is rip the man's teeth out with her hatpin. Instead, she wraps her arm through Richard's and fixes the man with her haughtiest gaze. "He's not my brother, and he brought me."

The man has the grace to look uncomfortable, but not the insight to understand why. He mumbles good-bye and walks away. Clara tries to get her rage under control.

"I can't abide people like that," Clara said. "How easy to feel like you really did something to help when all you did is interrupt someone's day."

Richard doesn't respond. Clara's heart sinks. She leads him back to a bench and sits down.

"That's. What it would always. Be like."

"So? People will always find a reason to talk." He doesn't answer. "Did you know I used to work here?"

"With. Mmm. The dinosaurs?"

Clara smiles tightly. "I considered them colleagues. I named Alderman Neary over there Punch and the brontosaurus Judy. During the war, the War Department took this building over. My table was over in that corner. I was transferred from New York to the actuarial department after the Armistice. I sat over there under those dinosaur bones and filled out reports about the dead, dying, and..." her voice catches slightly. "Maimed. From December 1st, 1918 until December, 1st 1919 I helped catalog America's dead and wounded. And the thing is I still don't why any of it happened. I'd go visit Jimmy at Walter Reed and wonder what in God's name made all that suffering worth it."

"Mmm, I got a draft. Card. Then they. Gave me a sniper's shield. Told me to kill. I still. Don't know. Why. Germany had accepted they. Were going. To lose. But they still blew my face off. Before the fighting ended. Then the Army gave me. A metal mask. And sixty dollars."

They sit for a while. "I went home that spring for Easter, and Father was entertaining the Yacht Club set. This one old man-I always thought he was horrid-he started talking about how much money he made off the war, and I swear I considered sliding my steak knife between his ribs." Clara stares off in the distance. "I'm not comparing..."

"I know. Mmm. Next time. You see him. Tell him I'm sorry. I had but one face to give. For his cause."

Richard looks down at his hands, which are twisting around each other. Clara blinks hard and smooths her skirt repeatedly.

"Am I. More war work. Or. Mmm. A fossil. You've befriended?"

Clara turned and put her hands on his shoulders. "Do you know how many wounded veterans and soldiers I've met? Countless. Do you know how many I've had feelings for? One. You."

Richard opens her door and helps her up into the car. "I always wanted. To see. Dinosaurs. I'm having. A good. Day," he says softly before she pulls her hand away.

Fear licks at Clara. She doesn't want to mess this up, and the situation seems fraught. Finally, she leans forward and aims her mouth slightly right of center. The feeling of the cold tin under the left side of her mouth contrasts sharply with the warmth under the right side, but slowly they work out the mechanics of it all.