It has a song— / It has a sting— / Ah, too, it has a wing. [closed]

[apidae]

Bee waits by the fountain. She got there early with an impromptu picnic and a book, and has been sitting and reading calmly ever since. She clung hard to her dream upon waking, intently focusing on the people she met there - she remembers Peter and Dana of course, and the Doctor with his unforgettable face, but the Balladeer, with whom she actually made concrete plans, strangely eludes her, the memory of his features somewhat shifting. She hopes he remembers and comes to find her. She's excited to see him and to see his patterns. It's very strange to her, to forget a face. She does remember getting a very curious and sort of muddled view of him, more than the general haziness of dreams accounts for. His patterns are going to be very strange, she is sure of that.

She sets her book down after a moment and stretches her legs out, her feet bare as usual, and takes a moment to look around at the crowd of people moving through Bethesda Terrace. Perhaps he's among them. Will she recognize him when he appears? What if he decided not to find her after all? She's more nervous than usual, she thinks. Tired, too. That was a lot of socialization she had in her sleep. She hopes, if he does come, they can go somewhere a little more secluded.