Climb | ?

Following the aftermath of dinner with her mother, Winter had indulged in some much-needed introspection. It had finally occurred to her, after more than 16 years of life, that she need not define herself by other's actions. So, while she was on the whole still bothered by her mother's lack of care, she decided that she would put in the effort to not be so bothered.

It was certainly easier said than done, but the distraction that the mix of work, friends, and art brought was enough to keep her mind settled most of the time. However, when she did think about it, her spirits were notably in disrepair.

That's why, while manning the till at Sharpton Rocks midday on a Monday--by far the least busy time of the week--Winter found her mind wandering, and Murdoch found her sighing. He came rounding around the counter, a bundle of cords and harnesses in his arms as a group of climbers waved him off and left the building.

He leaned into Winter's view, jolting her awake from her mindlessness. With a sly smile and quick chuckle at her expression, he asked "Help with some detangling?"

Winter spared a look to the entrance for any incoming customers. She was the only one at the front counter currently, and Murdoch one of only two workers on the floor. When she determined that the front could last a few minutes unmanned, she followed Murdoch into the storage room.

When he flicked on the lights, they both took a moment to behold the sight in front of them: across the whole of the 10ft-by-10ft storage closet was a heap of tangled cord, harnesses and other climbing paraphernalia.

Murdoch, unaffected by the mess, dumped his pile on the floor in front of them and squatted down to begin disentangling the confusion of rope.

"Ronnie always just drops the stuff here when he leads the kids' camp," Murdoch commented as he began feeding a length of red rope through a knot of green rope.

"All in good fun," Winter sighed good-naturedly.

She kneeled beside him and began detangling from the other end until Murdock spoke up.

"You feeling okay?"

"Yeah," Winter hummed absently. She really was now that her mind was occupied.

"Okay," he said softly.

When Winter looked to him, she noted the way his dark eyelashes caught the light as his downcast eyes concentrated on the material in front of him. In the dimness of the storeroom, the bones of his hands contrasted against the deep shadows along his knuckles and tendons as he struggled to undo a knot.

Shuffling over to him, Winter carefully, as if approaching a wild deer, brought her hands to his grasp, grabbing to take the knot in her own hands. Despite allowing her to take over, Murdoch kept his hands decidedly in place, forcing her to maneuver around his hold on the rope. He watched her as she began pulling at the braided cord.

Even the slightest skim of their skin felt hot to the touch, and Winter could feel her cheeks turn red from the heat of it all. Murdoch drank it in, holding back a boyish smirk by ducking his head away from her. It only made Winter's blush deepen as she finished and the freed ropes slinked through their holds and fell to the ground between them.

Yet their hands lingered in the space between them when Murdoch set his hand on one of hers, pinching her small fingers between his and gently resting it between their laps. She watched as he did so, as her fingers turned white at the tips from his firm hold, and felt the buzzing feeling erode her as his hand shifted in hers to intertwine their fingers, entangled much like the rope before.

She returned the gesture, sliding into his grasp and wrapping around until the pads of her fingers met his knuckles, and-

"Hello?" someone called from the front.