2019-03-28 - The whole point of Ferris wheels.

On the day after building puzzles, Alex left a little voicemail - because he calls when she's at lunch or something, and she doesn't bring her phone for some reason. That probably isn't intentional on his part, but that's how it works out. His voicemail game is significantly better than his text game, at least.

"Hello, Violet. I'm thinking about you. I'd like to see you. I'll call you later."

But a text follows later that day.

Alex: Hello, Violet. I'm so sorry. I'm stuck at an appointment.
Alex: Can I see you on Sunday afternoon?
Alex: They say the weather may be fair. I'd like to go to the boardwalk.
Alex: With you. If you'd like to go.
Alex: With me.
Alex: [...]
Alex: I should stick to phone calls.

Violet got his voicemail later that evening; she put him on speaker and listened to him on repeat, letting his voice and his kind words fill her tiny apartment with quiet promises. She thought to call him back, but her eyes drift to the bruises on her wrist and the harsh words that put them there. She didn't listen to the voicemail again.

But the texts that follow were harder to ignore. She was at her piano, plunking away at the keys, when her phone buzzes once, twice, six times in rapid succession. And there he was, in all his awkwardness, and it makes her smile.

Violet: The boardwalk?
Violet: I like it there.
Violet: I don't have any plans for Sunday.
Violet: Can we ride the ferris wheel?

Alex: Yes?
Alex: I mean, unless you know of some reason we wouldn't be allowed.

She's the local, after all. Maybe they have a strict 'no brown people' rule? Anyway.

Alex: I'll come to the shop around 5 PM.

If she's not like OMG NO DON'T, then he does, in fact, show up around five, in his after-church uniform; today's sweater is dark blue, white collared-shirt under it, and he used up his one voucher for jeans for the year, so he's probably going to have to wear Dockers every Sunday afternoon now. Still no car, but fortunately it doesn't seem like a far walk from downtown to the boardwalk, based on our snazzy map. He knock-knocks.

There was no text instructing him not to come, just a simple 'ok 🙂' that ends the text string before things get too out of control. Then for the rest of the week, she agonizes over what was to come on Sunday, as the bruises on her wrist slowly start to yellow around the edges. They remain unsightly by the time Sunday rolls around and thus her outfit is strategically picked - a navy blue collared dress, belted at the waist, that features a flare, calf-long skirt and a cream-coloured cardigan which tucks to the wrist to hide that insanity. She was downstairs in the shop proper, busying herself by tucking random strands of frizzy pale gold hair behind her ears when the knocking happens, startling her regardless of the expectation that he would be here soon. She sucks in a breath, holds it for half a second to calm her already racing pulse, and steps over to the door on the exhale.

"Hi," she finds her smile, not quite enough to dimple her cheeks, but bright enough, and swipes another errant strand of hair behind her ear. "You look very handsome."

Considering the way Alex looks at Violet when she opens the door - not so lingering as to be untoward, but he sweeps a glance from the tips of her shoes to he top of her frizzy hair - it's probably redundant for him to actually say, "You look adorable." But he says it anyway, and it brightens his expression to a smile, whether because she looks adorable or because he's permitted to say it aloud. That glance doesn't notice the fading bruises that she was clever enough to hide, just picks out the cuteness of Violet in the broad strokes. Since they're going out, and he hasn't been invited in, he stays on the sidewalk, under the awning, and tilts his head in a 'come outside / join me' gesture. "It's a nice afternoon for a walk," is the roundabout way of saying he still has no ride (excepting the bike chained to a light-post in front of the shop).

Violet certainly notices the way Alex looks at her; it's the kind of look that most girls bask in, but makes Violet shift uncomfortably on the toes of her black ballet flats. She unconsciously tugs at the cardigan sleeve that hides her bruises, bright red splotches of 'blush' at the apples of her cheeks already. "Okay," she replies, which is not the right reply to someone telling you that you look adorable - which is probably why she adds quickly afterward: "Thank you." Manners, Violet! You have them! But she does step outside, closing the door shut behind her as she goes, to join him there underneath the awning. There's a curious glance to the sky, before her bright blue eyes land back on him, the smile not fading and ever-present there at the corners of her mouth. "Is your car still stuck in a snowbank somewhere?" she jokes, laughing a little with the words. "I actually enjoy the walk down to the beach. When you get over the hill, you can see the entire bay. It's an amazing view."

It's okay. Alex didn't even say thank you, 'cause he was too busy thinking Violet is adorable. So.

Once she's out under the awning with him, Alex dips a quick kiss to her cheek, then offers a hand before his steps start to lead them along the sidewalk. They've got an hour to go before sunset, not that he picked this specific time with that in mind (he did), so the walk needn't be especially hurried. "More that there are other people who stomped their feet loudly about getting their cars first, so mine is taking a west coast tour. The last time we spoke," Alex and his car, "it was somewhere in central California." Talk of the view has him uttering a curious hmm, like this is a thing he'd like to see. "I'm looking forward to it. To date, the 'amazing view' has been shrouded in a perpetual drizzle." Le sigh~.

She manages not to pass out when he leans in for the kiss, even going as far as to tilt her chin up in anticipation, though he can probably hear the way her breath catches when his lips make contact. Then she takes his hand, lacing her fingers with his own, listening to him talk of the car and the rain while they step down the sidewalk. "I'm sorry to say that you'll have to get used to that. The rain, I mean. It isn't very bad, unless you're used to the sunshine? Then I hear it makes people very depressed," this is great date conversation, Violet, keep talking! "But I was raised here, so it doesn't bother me. I wonder if seeing the sun often would have that sort of affect on me, the way the rain does to people who are used to sunshine?" she tilts her head, looking up at him from the corner of her glasses. Then, she shrugs her shoulders, and continues with the 'great date conversation' by bringing up her sister. "It rains a lot upstate, too. They don't let them out in the courtyards unless the sun is out, but Alice tells me there's a beautiful garden in a big greenhouse that they can sit in. There's even a waterfall there."

Doctor Alex shares helpfully, "It's actually been clinically studied. Less sunshine means less vitamin D, which leads to fatigue and depression. Though I'm sure there are psychological impacts." He means to stop that train of thought, tacking on as a closer, "Not just physiological ones." His eyes are bright with humor when he glances them sideways to Violet, seeing the stupid comedy of the two of them rattling on about vitamin D deficiency in their own ways on what's meant to be a lovely walk down to the beach, the merriment only intensified when she segues right into the whole Crazy Sister conversation. "It sounds as pleasant as it can be," he decides, giving her held hand a small squeeze. Normally, he might try to steer the conversation into safer waters, but they'll have to navigate the sister situation sooner or later, so; "Do you go and visit her often?"

"That makes sense," Violet says of the clinical studies, her smile brightening as he puts on his doctor hat. "Do you have to do a lot of research in your job? Clinical studies, that sort of thing? When I was looking into getting my doctorate, that was one of the requirements for tenure at the University. Doing research, being published in journals. But obviously that's not the same as working for a hospital or anything.." And she was rambling again, the squeeze of her hand catching her attention and causing her to take a breath in and slowly exhale it back out. The question about her sister diminishes the smile, but not enough to extinguish it completely. At least not yet. "No," she bites at the corner of her lip as she shakes her head. "I'm not allowed to visit. But we talk every day, so it's almost the same." And in an attempt to right the ship: "Does your daughter talk to you every day?"

"Hm, yes and no. I haven't been practicing for the past five years, give or take?" The glance is to ascertain if she has any knowledge of this, is it a thing Alex mentioned? "So I read journals, and there are conferences looming in the nearish future. But I don't think it's the same as writing a dissertation." There's a questioning lilt to the end of that, an invitation to discuss what Violet might have been interested in pursuing along those lines, though it's awkward to wedge that in among talk of psychic siblings and children. Especially when his brow quirks curiously at the knowledge that she's not allowed to visit, that certainly sheds some light on the severity of Alice's condition, but he says nothing of it, just pushes the crosswalk button with the index finger of the hand holding hers. He could use the other one, but now it's a team effort.

"We talk, but I don't think the way that you mean. Phone calls and text messages." So mundane. "Which is for the best. I don't know that - hmm. It's nice that you and Alice can stay in touch. But I don't want my daughter in my head all the time." Like when he's taking a walk with a woman he's crushing on; it'd be awkward.

The talk of his practicing (or lack thereof) does earn a bit of an eyebrow lift over the top of the thick frames of her glasses, but she doesn't poke for the time being. Mostly because it really was awkward to wedge in this conversation with the other they were having, and she was interested about his relationship with his daughter. At least, far more interested in that than discussing herself or Alice. She laughs a little when he uses their joined hands to mash the crosswalk button, the action putting a bit of a smile to her face that manages to stay there this time. "Oh, it's not like that. Where she's just chattering away all day. That would.." drive her positively crazy? ".. be pretty awkward, I think. And exhausting. And .. dangerous," on account of the monsters, but she wasn't about to bring that up. He can just fill in the blanks and she'll move right along. "Besides, just because she talks to you doesn't mean you have to talk back," she grins.

"But you can't.. do the same thing, right? You can't feel people?" she tips her head, looking away from the scenery around them to admire the scenery beside her, inspecting the profile of his face in the sunlight.

Alex, the small fish, knows little enough of the monsters thus far, so dangerous? Maybe he chalks it up to 'having crazy in your head all day would be dangerous?' Regardless, it earns a Violet head-tilt and an intrigued squint, and then they're crossing the street and leaving the subject behind them, with him waiting at every intersection to reach the top of the hill and the view to the bay. "It was more a matter of. Learning to keep her out?" The question-mark is about his uncertainty for the terminology. "She was only eight or nine, and I didn't know how to help her not," and he breathes out, able to find amusement in the old struggles. "But she's figured it out now, and I've learned how to stop your sorts from prying." There's a wink at her for 'your sorts,' something to add to her admiring look.

"Hmm-mm," with a quick head-shake. "Only fix things," and break them, though he's not keen to talk about that, obviously. "Occasionally. I'm much more reliable as a doctor than a psychic healer."

Oh look, there's the view. He'll stop walking now, and draw on Violet's hand so she does, too, taking a moment to enjoy it properly.

"Mm," Violet hums in thought as the talk turns to keeping out those who pry, amusement glimmering in her blue eyes as he winks back at her. It makes her heart flutter, her cheeks warming once more with that ugly blush. "I wasn't ever very good at that when it comes to Alice. I didn't want to keep her out. She is.." There's a softening to her expression as she shakes her head. "Something special. To everyone. There was a time where I thought if I kept her in, maybe some of that would rub off on me," she admits, but there's a quiet, dry sort of laugh that attaches to the words, and she drops her gaze to look down at where the cardigan covers her wrist. "You would really like her," is all she'll say for now.

She focuses instead on what he can do, giving his fingers a small squeeze. "I can do a bit of that. Fixing. Though I've only ever done it to things, not people. It helps to clean up some of the things I sell in the store," she mentions, about to launch into a whole new topic of conversation when he stops short and her hand drags on his. It makes her blink, but she looks up to catch sight of the bay.

The view is breathtaking; the bay opens up, glistening in the sunshine that's hardly ever felt here in Gray Harbor; they can even make out where the bay feeds into the ocean beyond. Violet quiets and tucks herself into his side.

Alex would really like Alice. "Probably." And there's a lengthy pause afterward, while he watches her shift from blushing to smiling softly to looking at what he assumes is her toes, not her bruised wrist, a pause that ends when he smiles over at her and confides, "I really like you," as if it therefore stands to reason that he would really like her sister. Which folds nicely into her tucking against his side, giving him reason to leave off talk of psychic powers for the time being.

Loosing her hand, he settles his arm around her instead, shoulder across hers and his arm along her back so his hand fits tidily against her waist. For a few moments, he admires the actual view like that, then tips his head forward and admires the Violet-view instead, nudging her forehead with his nose briefly in a 'look up' gesture. So he can kiss her. But only a little kiss, because there's a ferris wheel down there somewhere, and that's the end-game here.

Though probably riding Violet would suffice as an alternative. But the ferris wheel should really happen first.

Violet's lips part to say something in response - she wanted to argue with him, with his quiet confession, to let him know that he would hardly even notice her if Alice were standing here now. But the only thing that manages to come out is, "I really like you, too," in a breezy sort of whisper, as she fits comfortably at his side. For a time, Violet doesn't feel as though she's standing in anyone's shadow; she was front and center to him, and that feels uncomfortable and strange and yet has this odd way of making her heart throb at the same time that her wrist was aching, as though attempting to remind her not to get used to it. But he was nudging her forehead with his nose, and she draws in a breath as she lifts her chin to look up at him, and this view was far superior to the bay.

Especially since he kisses her and makes her toes curl up in her ballet flats and she was fairly certain the bay couldn't kiss her like that. She lifts her hand to his cheek, cradling his face as she lifts on the tips of her toes, firming the kiss as her thumb strokes along the line of his jaw. But only for a little bit, because her face was on fire and awkward laughter bubbles up out of her, so she ducks her head and leans away, stealing his hand back. "Come on. The boardwalk is beautiful at sunset, when all the lights start turning on," she encourages him with a bit of a determined tug, but then she immediately changes gears after and turns back into him, to hop up onto her tippy-toes again and plant another soft kiss to his lips. "You have really nice lips," she murmurs appreciatively.

The bay is probably a sloppy kisser. Like Cliff or Clay or whatever that dude's name was. Alex is not a sloppy kisser, and they're standing on a street somewhere, so he's especially not sloppy, only a liiiiittle exploring of lips to be done before, yes. He nods and leans away, threading his fingers through hers to agree, "Then we had definitely better get there before sunset." Which had been all part of the timeline in his head - pick Violet up at five, walk to boardwalk, plenty of time to get there before the sun sets at six - but stopping to kiss had not been factored in. Stupid Alex.

That they don't actually get anywhere before she's veering back for another kiss is just really putting the timeline behind that much more. But it's his turn to trace the shape of her lips, the thumb of his free hand sweeping along the bow of her bottom lip, up across the place where dimples form now and again, and just before he gets carried away, just when his hand settles at the back of her neck to really pull her into the kind of kiss people shouldn't be having on the sidewalk - he breathes out a laugh, flattered, and decides, "It's time to walk now." So he kisses her quickly on the cheek and puts his feet into motion.

Yes, yes, the bay is almost certainly a real tonguey kisser, whereas Alex is smooth and sweet. The only similarity between Alex and the bay is that she would leave neither experience with dry panties, but at least Alex doesn't get her completely soaked. Wait, maybe that's a point against him! Either way, she weaves her arm around his shoulders and slips her fingers through his hair near the back of his neck on that second kiss, as the touch of his thumb deepens the dimples in her cheeks, and the moment is only broken by the flattered laughter from him. She sinks back onto the flat of her feet, splotchy-faced and more than a bit flustered, laughing as she looks down at her shoes. "Yes, mhm." Definitely time to walk now. So walk they do.

At least it was not far from here to come down to the boardwalk. Already there were people milling about (and not-so-subtly gawking at the pair of them walking close and holding hands. At the front entrance of the boardwalk is a homeless man peddling seashell necklaces that really shouldn't cost $5 a piece but dammit, he was just trying to make a living (or buy himself some heroin later). Interestingly enough? It is in this direction that Violet pulls Alex, slipping a free hand into the pocket of her cardigan to palm out a small coin purse.

"We'll take two," and she's already got the tenner in her hand so there was no stopping her. She was either very na�ve about what was going to happen with this money later, or had a very big heart. Or maybe she just liked seashells? "You should pick them out, Alex."

Alex has no dice at all to do anything if this guy decides to rob Violet; he would be alert to it, and he he could maybe chase him for a block or two (more if he had his bike!), and he could definitely stand there not being at all flustered, but that's about the extent of it. So please don't be a robber, homeless guy, so says the way Alex sizes him up (the guy is taller than Alex, that's the outcome of that 'sizing up', but everyone in the world is taller than Alex, sadface) while Violet is conducting business. Anyway, the point of that was: he gives the homeless merchant a wary once-over, but it passes while he pretends to sort through necklaces but is really more watching her.

The roll is because, while he's pretending to look for exactly the right two necklaces but is really watching Violet feed someone's addiction, his eyes follow her hands. And necessarily her wrists. The sunlight may be slanting prettily, but it's still there enough for him to notice those fading bruises now. The charmed smile fades slowly while his brows draw together, a dark and heavy line, and he just hooks two fingers around whichever two strings of shells are the easiest to extricate. But he'll wait till this little interlude passes before being all wtf at her.

The homeless guy is not a robber, just your run-of-the-mill boardwalk hobo, so Alex can relax. But as Violet approaches, he does rub at his eyes, staring at her as though he was very confused by her being here, or perhaps bewildered by the fact that she was going to buy some of his shitty necklaces. Either way, Alex picks the strings and Violet happily hands over the $10, which the hobo shoves under his dirty shirt. There's no words exchanged, but Alex might note that the hobo immediately starts breaking down his make-shift shop after Violet steps away.

"Now we'll have something to remember tonight," she says in a cheerful manner, unaware that he'd caught sight of her wrist. And equally unaware that the cardigan sleeve's been dragged down as she reaches to sweep her frazzled blonde hair over her shoulder, exposing the yellowing bruises completely now. "Would you put the necklace on for me?" she asks, already turning on her heel to put her back to him.

Properly packed, the homeless person hurries off the boardwalk and in the direction they came from.

Regardless of this NPC being your invention, the homeless dude puts that money in his SWEATSHIRT, not just any regular old shirt, because that's what homeless people wear.

Alex gives the hobo and his SWEATSHIRT a passing glance, since there's no threat there (and thus no chance for him to exhibit how completely useless he would be if there was one), and just works on unclasping one of the two necklaces. The other is dropped into his pocket for now, so he can step to Violet's back and settle the necklace there for her, fidgeting with the clasp. He absolutely takes way longer than is strictly necessary to accomplish this, and makes sure the clasp sits just so on the back of her neck, stroking his finger over it and down toward the collar of her cardigan.

Now's the struggle: ruin this moment, when he leans down and puts his lips to the back of her neck, just below her hairline, by asking about the bruises? Or don't? She smells good, and they're right there at the end of the boardwalk, and he could just ignore it - but his other hand runs down from her shoulder, catches the hand she'd used to sweep aside her ponytail, and turns it so it's impossible for her not to know that he can see the fading bruises. Simply, quietly, "Is everything okay, Violet?"

The hurry of the homeless man off the boardwalk is noted with a casual glance in that direction, only to assure herself that he was doing as she said. Though, what she said wasn't anything Alex could've heard, of course. Either way, she was content and happy in the moment, having done a good deed and was now anxiously waiting for Alex to put the string of seashells around her neck. And perhaps unconsciously - yet eagerly - awaiting the touch that she knows would be coming. He does not let her down of course, her breathing shallow as he stands behind her and sets the seashells around her neck. Then comes the stroke of his fingers that makes her heart surge; and in the wake of his finger sweep is the tiny prickle of gooseflesh.

"Thank you," she murmurs quietly, appreciatively, about to turn around to help him when his lips touch the back of her neck. It stills her, makes her breath catch and her knees shake, and she likely would've melted straight into a puddle on the boardwalk had he not brought the bruises on her wrist. Her eyes flare open, startled, and she goes stiff in his grip. "I.." she starts, a million different things to say rushing through her brain. But what Violet is, is not a liar, and her lashes fan down over her blue eyes as happiness evaporates and she just hangs her head, turning her wrist in his grip to extract herself. "It was just an accident," and she really, honestly believes that. "I just shouldn't have tried to help. I don't think he meant it, though. He was.. drunk, and I got in his way." And Alex, as a for-real doctor now, has probably heard this at least a dozen times.

Ohhhh, is that what her roll was for, so she could compel this poor hobo to shove off and not ruin a moment. Nice.

Alex goes on being happily oblivious to her leaning on homeless people, but not oblivious to Violet's bruises and the excuses that accompany them. His hand is soft on her wrist, and he lets her withdraw without any effort to keep hold of it, just leaves him settling that hand on her shoulder, opposite the other one, which settled there in the midst of that. He turns her slowly, and steps around at the same time, so she's going to have to deliver that line to his face, with him dipping his head to stay in her line-of-sight as much as he can, no matter how low she drops her eyes. "Who?" Because it's more than a dozen, hers is a drop in the bucket, hence his ability to ask the one-word question without judgment or surprise or anything. Gently, carefully, he tips his finger under her chin, hoping she'll look up because he works really hard on the kind-doctor-eyes here, he's listening.

Well actually, if we're going to meta our way through this, she sent him to the shelter downtown so he could get a warm meal and they could find him some help for his heroin problem. But yeah, sure, let's go with the story of Violet of all people compelling him to go shove off and not ruin this obviously romantic moment. /sarcasm.

She shifts uncomfortably, tugging the sleeve of her cardigan down back to cover her wrist the second he lets her go, and it'll be a struggle to turn her but she goes. That one-word question makes her visibly wince, even with her head hanging as low as it was, her pale-gold brows bunching as he tips up her chin and tries to get her to meet those kind doctor eyes of his. It works though - the chin tipping, less so the doctor-eyes, her own clouding with doubt and fear and uncertainty when she brings them up. But not doubt and fear and uncertainty about whatever caused the bruises on her wrist. No, this mixed bag of emotion was all for him. "My.. my father," she sighs. "You have to understand. He's got a.. a problem, and he's always been a bit of a drunk but when they had to send Alice upstate.." she gulps back a breath, yanking so hard on the cardigan sleeve, she covers her whole hand. "I'm sorry that I ruined our date. You weren't.. you weren't supposed to see this," she means her wrist, her blue eyes glistening. But she wasn't weeping. YET.

I'm sticking with 'Violet mind-tricked a homeless guy so he would leave so she could make out.'

NGL, there is a mild wash of relief that unravels at least a few of the knots in Alex's stomach when he hears it's her father and not, like, her ex-husband (or current one, for that matter). But that barely shows, just a momentary unknitting of his brows before they pull back together and he says his quick, quiet, "Don't be," that answers nearly every apology. His eyes search hers through the lenses of her glasses, dark and concerned even when he inhales quietly, nods slowly at what he has to understand. He knows this song. So, gently, tapping a finger along the seashells near her throat, he explains, "I realize that it's a little early for me to make this my problem. But I think," and he turns the strand of shells a little, "that's the direction this is headed. So just please know that if this is an ongoing issue?" Her dad leaving bruises on her? "I'm not going to be able to look the other way."

Which sounds like an ultimatum - let dad beat you or date pretty doctor - but... okay, it really kind of is.

Violet's not privy to his internal thoughts, nor is she focusing on his emotions in the moment where she's embattled with her own, so his secret relief is safe within himself. She catches her bottom lip with her teeth, the answer to her apology not bringing any relief to her, and she keeps her hands to herself even as he reaches to tap the shells on her necklace. She could feel every single tap almost violently jolting through her, stirring there at her heart, which was rapidly plummeting into her stomach as he continues on. "I understand," she says quietly, barely above a whisper, lashes lowering as she can no longer focus on his dark and concerned doctor eyes.

"I go every night to the Pourhouse. I stand across the street, and I encourage him to just go home. Because if I don't, he'll stay there until he passes out and my mom.. it just makes her more sick, when she worries, and she already won't get out of bed. It would kill her, if he didn't come home," the explanation comes quiet, her voice quivering. "But I hardly ever approach him, it never ends well. Usually he doesn't even know I'm there. But I thought maybe I could try again, and I could just help him. That maybe he wouldn't.." call her a devil whore, try to break her arm. You know, normal dad stuff. "Everybody loves Alice, Alex. She used to make people feel so.. so good, she knew just what to say and what everybody was feeling, and sometimes I think maybe it would've been better if I hadn't.. if I hadn't have found her when I did, and fixed her so that she didn't bleed out, and.. they never had a choice, not to send her away." This was a lot. She knows this is a lot. It's why she takes a single step back.

"But I understand," that he was giving her an ultimatum, but she was undoubtedly focusing on the wrong things. Which is why she casts a forlorn glance to the ferris wheel, all aglow in the dusk, and folds her arms over her chest after. "I have a lot of baggage, Alex. I'm not.." she stops herself, because those words weren't right, and tries again. "You deserve something great," and she really, really believes that, too.

Alex listens to all of that quietly, never once dropping his eyes from Violet's, never once letting his expression shade even remotely in the direction of judgmental. He's just listening, curling the fingers of one hand loosely around the shells, at least until her arms cross and it's either too hard to too weird to keep them there. His hands drop, folding in front of him, thumbs a-tap while he orders his thoughts around that whole info-dump. Finally, slowly, "Everyone has baggage. Yours is not so heavy as to be a deal-breaker." Crazy sister, abusive alcoholic dad, crazy psychic powers, he's totally got this.

But he chews on the corner of his lip for a moment, filing teeth across it while he looks at her in the sunset and the ferris wheel glow. Weighing. "Do you want to ride the ferris wheel with me, Violet? Even though," he takes a breath, "I had a child when I was sixteen, and stayed with her mother for the next nineteen years, and it was never the right time to have more kids with me, but she's pregnant with someone else's baby, so I despise her? Even though your family is all fucked up," curse words!, "and everyone looks at us like we're some sort of bizarre sideshow exhibit when we're in public?" Beat. "And I'm only five foot nine." He smiles hopefully, looking up from her eyes to the ferris wheel lights, then back down again. "Because I would still like to ride the ferris wheel with you. Even though." All those things.

It was not the answer Violet was expecting. Hell, she already has one foot tipped backward, ready to walk herself back to the shop in the dying sunlight. But he keeps her in this awkward spot by suggesting that her baggage was not burdensome enough, and then gets her to drag her foot back by showing off his baggage, too.

She feels genuinely sad for him; she doesn't share this through her psychic powers, but instead through the frown that deepens on her features - by the way she reaches out for him, to brush the tips of her fingers against the back of his hand, curling around to take his palm. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, the heaviness of her tone suggesting just how deeply she feels that. Because while her heart should be breaking for her own fucked up family, it was shattering for him instead. "You seem very tall to me," she even has to look up at him to say that, and it wasn't a joke. She wasn't laughing. "And everyone only looks at us like that because of me. They wouldn't look at you like that, if you were here with anybody else. And you should be here, with someone else." There's a heartbeat of a pause, as she presses her fingers into the heart of his palm, squeezing. "I think you would be, if things were different. But I'm glad you're not. At least for tonight. And it's okay if things change tomorrow, but.."

God, this was tragic. "I would really like to go on the ferris wheel with you tonight, Alex."

Does Alex seriously have to tell her not to be sorry? Or can he just shake his head quickly after the apology and trust that she'll get the gist? 'Cause that's what he does, just to send her sorry off over there with the other ones. His fingers curl back around hers, his thumb brushing along the backs of her nails, allowing himself to chuckle quietly at what she doesn't think is a joke - but it's been a hard conversation, so he looks for the escape of a laugh, however small. The tail-end of that chuckle is still there in his breath when he steps to her, drawing caught hands up and leaning his lips to her knuckles. "I don't want to be here with someone else," he says against the back of her hand. "I want to be here with you. Strange, kind, intelligent, you."

So, with her hand still against his lips, he starts back-stepping toward the ferris wheel, come with him, this is happening come hell or high-water.

Violet gets it. Apparently, she gets it so well that she can practically see her apology being flung over there with all the others from that simple shake of his head. It figures the dice would work now.

But it's something that brings the first hint of a smile to the very corners of her mouth, his small smile over how she doesn't think he's very small making it brighter. But what brings out the dimples is the words he whispers into the kiss on the back of her hand, and she might still believe this is all someTHING's idea of a cruel and twisted joke? She melts a little in her shoes, and lifts her other hand to touch his cheek with the tips of her fingers, sweeping a caress down along the line of his jaw.

"Thank you," she whispers, because that is better than I'm sorry, and he deserves some appreciation considering his bitch of an ex-wife CLEARLY never gave him any. Then she urges her feet into motion, walking with him as he back-steps to the ferris wheel, a light laugh escaping her as she goes. "I hope they stop us at the very top. The view up there is gorgeous, too." Even if the ferris wheel itself looks like a death trap.

Alex only stops pressing kisses to Violet's hand because it's impossible to keep doing that and pay to get on the ferris wheel. He lets her have her hand back entirely so he can manage this payment-thing, ignoring the way the guy that runs the machinery looks at them - like a dude that runs a ferris wheel part-time should be judging anyone! "Hmm, we were supposed to be on this at sunset," in his mind, you see. "So we're a little behind schedule now." Because of the kissing and the angst, he checks his watch and then glances out to where the sun was supposed to be balanced on the horizon, but it already did its show. While they were breaking up before they ever even really dated.

"Is it still gorgeous in the dark?" he adds hopefully, waiting to let Violet into the little gondola ahead of him, like a gentleman. Because this is the fastest moving ferris wheel line ever.

There was some passing disappointment when he stops kissing her hand, but she doesn't want him to accidentally fall over backwards and ruin their chances on the ferris wheel. Plus, she wouldn't even be able to apologize, and it would be a very stressful moment. So, she doesn't express that disappointment and lets him pay the judgmental carnie without even trying to offer to go Dutch, brows perking at the whole sunset thing. "We were?" Because this was news to her, she didn't know there were appointments to these things. Though in spite of her confusion, she shows him a soft smile as he lets her go in ahead of him, tucking her skirt under her as she slides into the seat.

Was it still gorgeous in the dark? Well. There's just a hint of a sparkle in those blue eyes as she oh-so-casually shrugs her shoulders. "I guess we'll see." And then, once he's seated and the carnie gets them appropriately strapped in with the metal bar over their laps, and the gondola jerks forward with a creaking sway, she adds the very reassuring: "Did you know this is the second ferris wheel they built here? The first one fell over in 1956, during a fieldtrip for some elementary students."

Alex just nods, ever so gravely, because they were. He doesn't launch into details about the whole agenda, it's enough for her to know there was one, and now they're behind schedule. But they're finally on the damn ferris wheel, and it's doing that creak into life, and he turns his head to look at her directly. "Did you know that you pick the oddest times to share facts like that." While they're gaining altitude - then jerking to a stop to let the next people into the next car, and he rocks forward, then backward, and holds that look on her for a droll moment.

Because it's hard to settle entirely into a romantic moment just yet, with the ferris wheel being a creaky deathtrap still, he risks reopening that horrible conversation by catching both hands in his, and he's not kissing her hands this time. Instead, carefully peeling back the wrists of her sweater, he lowers his lips to the fading bruises on first one wrist, breathing in against her skin, eyes closed quietly. And God still takes his calls, because - beneath the warmth of his lips and his breath - there's a softer warmth, and those bruises will be gone by the time the gondola jerks again to let more people on.

AND THAT'S WHY ALEX STILL GOES TO CHURCH, LOGAN, SO FUCK YOU.

Oh, look at that. This was a moment where Violet would've apologized, but she's learned from the last time that she says she's sorry - so he tells her that she picks the oddest times to share facts, and she bites the corner of her bottom lip while the other side lifts in a hint of a wry smirk. Sadly, the glint of amusement in her crystal blue eyes isn't so prominent considering her glasses are reflecting the glow of the ferris wheel lights and creating sort of a blur. But whatever, not every moment can be amazing and perfect. "I know a lot of facts that don't involve school children dying, too," the offers.

But then he has to go and do that thing, that thing where he takes this moment and decides that yes. Yes it can be amazing and perfect. There's more than a hint of confusion twitching in her brows when he reveals the bruises on her wrists again, but then he bends to brush his lips against her skin and her lips part, breath spilling in a shallow gasp. "Oh," her voice quivers, and a thousand tiny goosebumps appear up either of her arms, and when she lowers her eyes to peek at him there with his lips on her skin, the bruises were fading. It makes her gasp again. "Alex.."

She wonders if he can feel the stammering of her pulse against his lips while he's there at her wrists, maybe he can feel the flush that starts in her cheeks but was certainly sending heat radiating throughout her. The gondola jerks, making death groans, and comes to a swaying stop. They weren't at the very top yet, but even here the view was gorgeous.. mostly because her eyes were on him.

"Look." She reaches out to slide her fingers under his chin, to lift his eyes up - not to hers, but cast outward over the bay. There was no more sun, but with no artificial lights on that side of the wheel, they could see the sparkle of stars scattered across the darkening sky, and a crescent moon that hangs low.

Alex takes people's pulses for a living. If he couldn't at least pick up on the acceleration of Violet's, he'd just be an awful doctor. It's fast, but it's not irregular, so probably she's not about to die, and he can go on kissing her wrists for a time, even after he's done applying psychic Tylenol. Not entirely selfless, because he's smelling her perfume, too, and utters a distracted, "Hmm?" He's supposed to look at something?

He's reluctant to stop what he's doing, stubbornly presses down against her fingers with his chin for a beat or two, but he gives after a second, lifting his eyes first, then his chin. "Not bad," he understates, leaning forward over the metal railing, dark eyes catching the glint of that sharp moon over there and holding it for a second, dropping briefly to find its reflection over the water. And he's still looking at that when he threads his fingers with Violet's, drawing her hand in against his sweater so she'll know she's not the only one whose heart is hammering away, here. "Worth the wait."

"Come on. Look," Violet urges gently, though she doesn't seem to mind the added attention or the stubborn press of his chin down into her fingers. She curls those digits so the very tips tickle the underside of his chin, which brings a brighter smile to her lips, until he finally looks over the side of the rail. There's no worry when he leans forward over it, even though he might upset the gondola's balance and send them plummeting to death; she's pretty sure this ferris wheel was built with some sort of compensation mechanism. So instead she shifts, inching on the bench and under the metal bar until she's leaning into him comfortably. It's a shy sort of shift, but suddenly her weight is against him, and there to stay, as he takes up her hand and lets her feel his heartbeat, too.

"We're not even at the top yet," and they weren't. It would take a few more jerky stops, but as they slowly lift, the view becomes even more magnificent, until they were finally at the top height of the wheel and stalled out, high above the lights of the boardwalk. This was no sunset watching, but it was glorious in its own right - from here, they could even see some of the town on the other side. Violet lays her cheek on his shoulder, and takes a deep breath in, enjoying the moment there with him.

With narrowed eyes hanging on the slice of moon, Alex insists, "Next time, we keep to the schedule." God knows when the next rain-free day would be, but he'll be camping weather.com from now till rapture if that's what it takes. He settles back carefully at the first inkling of a shift from Violet, making the gondola rock only a little - while, below them, teenagers have gotten on and are rambunctiously making their deathtrap sway back and forth, throwing their weight forward and aft and laughing loudly.

It's harder to hear those obnoxious kids from inside this little space, and harder still when he draws both arms around her, inhaling the smell of her hair against his shoulder. And it's enough, he's content - but they're at the top of the ferris wheel. Not in a cafe where a cup will get smashed, nor on the street with time slipping. So it's his turn to tip her chin up again, forgetting about the fact that her glasses are gonna be in the way in a second, because it's a really real kiss he lays on her then, a long one that stays there even when the stupid ferris wheel jerks again and more people get on.

Eventually, it's gonna ease out for a couple revolutions; maybe they'll still be kissing by then.

"I hope there's a next time," Violet replies in a hopeful but hushed sort of tone, oddly very mindful of the rocking from their gondola but pointedly ignoring the laughter filtering upward from the children that were joining far below. He's got his arms around her, and with it returns this alien sensation that she was front and center in her own life rather than an extra in someone else's. He was leaning forward, and she takes in a shallow breath of his Dial-scented cleanliness and unconsciously sways towards him, lips already subtly puckered in wait for that kiss. He does not disappoint, even though it pushes her glasses uncomfortably up the bridge of her nose, and she apologetically leans away just long enough to take them off, folding the temples and tucking the frames right into her cardigan pocket with a hint of an impish grin.

Then, she absolutely lets him lay another kiss on her, lifting an arm to wind it around his shoulders and slip her fingers through the hair there at the back of his neck. And to hell with it, she wasn't going to stop unless this stupid ferris wheel decides to fall over.

Which, hopefully it doesn't. Though I guess that might be a fitting end.

Well, if the ferris wheel is about to tip over, there's a moderate chance that Alex can fix whatever broke before they careen to their deaths. So whatever that alarming noise was? The clanky one that makes the guy working the machinery go, "Fuck!" and flick his cigarette away hastily? He totally fixed that shit with the tiny sliver of his brain that wasn't completely focused on kissing Violet, on blocking out the worrisome noise and the teenage laughter, hearing his pulse in his hears and that satisfied hum in his throat.

Which means he misses the good part of the ride, when the thing goes round and round without rattling every few feet to let people get into their gondolas. Or maybe this is the good part of the ride, the part where he smudges her chin with his thumb, just enough to get her lips apart more, then tucks his hand around the back of her neck. The other arm is a little mashed against the seat, but he manages to slip it down, squeeze his hand in between her back and the seat, and that's how he stays. All the way around and around.

It's not till the first time the ride jerks again, to start letting people off, that he breaks what turned out to be a series of involved kisses, touching her lips with his to say quietly, "I think I like this ride."

The erratic rapid heartbeat hammering in Violet's ears, along with the pleased sounds coming from Alex on the other side of that kiss, means that Violet has no attention span for carnies who can't keep a ferris wheel spinning properly. She misses the 'FUCK!' and the scary clattering, because she was far too busy letting Alex part her lips while her fingers slide through his hair. And she also misses the good part of the ride, while her nails scrape gently at his scalp and she focuses so intently on how her lips fit to his own, the warmth of his breath and her own intertwined, and the pressure of his hand on her back that leaves her curving into him.

She doesn't even break away easily, nudging his top lip with her bottom one and then nipping ever-so-gingerly, before she's parting and taking in shallow breaths. She doesn't want to open her eyes, fearing that this might be an end to this whole thing.. but eventually, she peeks, to stare up at him as he says those quiet words. This is Violet, so there's nothing cheeky to be said about having a ride he might like better. instead, she says: "I think I'd like any ride where I can kiss you the whole way."

He has to know she didn't mean it that way, it's not her M.O., but Alex's eyes still widen a touch at the initial hearing of her comment there, and he bites the corner of his own mouth pretty hard to try not to grin at her. It's mostly successful, but his teeth scrape off after a second, leaving him to breathe in broadly and, on the exhale, answer carefully, "Mhm." If he tries to say anything else right away, laughter is going to spill out of him, not just push its way out through his nose despite his best efforts.

After thoughts of rides that they can kiss the whole way through are like 60% out of his mind's eye, he scoops both hands under her chin, framing her face. "You're so adorable, Violet." And means it, drops still more kisses to her lips while they stop-and-go toward their turn to disembark this rickety deathtrap.

In fact, he's still in the middle of those follow-up kisses, the ones where a hand stays pressed to the shape of her cheek and the other drops down across her collarbones, fingers tracing her neck, when the carnie throws the lever on the safety bar. Dully, unimpressed with the making out and unaware that the only reason there wasn't a bloodbath is 'cause Alex wanted to kiss Violet so damn much, he tells them, "Ride's over. You two gotta get off. Ba dum." He deals with this shit every weekend.

It was most certainly not her M.O., and Violet was oblivious as to why his eyes widen and there's a breath of laughter pushing from his nose. But she was also hyper-focused on the way he bites at the corner of his mouth, even if the whole intent of that act was only so that he doesn't grin or laugh aloud. "Mhm?" she hums back, and before he gets a chance to do any of the chin-holding stuff, she leans in to rake her teeth over the part of his bottom lip that he's just let go, 'mhm'ing again with much emphasis. Forgive her boldness, Alex, she's not going to apologize but this girl was pretty hooked and that's making her do things she wouldn't do under normal circumstances.

Of course, the rest remains the same. He calls her adorable, and her face breaks out in those ugly, fiery blotches, and she sinks into that kiss with eager ardor. By the time the carnie is throwing up the safety bar, she was out of breath and burning up, and probably not so steady on her feet considering her knees felt wobbly. "Get off?" she blinks up at Alex, up at the carnie, confused by the rim-shot and not impressed by the fact that this ride, at least, was over. But get off, she shall, as soon as Alex gets off first.

The noise that Alex makes at that bite is the good sort of growly one, the sort that makes his fingers tighten on her shoulder. The noise he makes at the dude and his bad joke is the bad sort of growly one, the sort that makes him lean away from Violet with a glare at this minimum wage cockblocking stupid ferris wheel operating...

But Alex digs deep, thinks about his gramma, does some long division in his head, and manages to get himself out of the gondola. Not thinking about the term get off in the process. "Of the ride, he means," is how he's going to explain that for precious, precious Violet, offering a hand back to help her exit the ferris wheel. (It's not easy to come up with all the synonyms for 'get off', btw.) Before the carnie can get a word in edgewise, he'll just crowd Violet's steps away from that guy and his jokes, suggesting, "Let's walk to the end of the boardwalk and cool off a bit." Before approaching the hill back up to Violet's; he's going to need blood circulating in more parts than just the one before tackling that beast.

Violet really, really likes that good growl. But there was something that sparks from the bad one, too; it certainly chases a shiver down her spine, and makes her think of things she should probably not be thinking of while sitting on a metal deathtrap. It takes her a second longer than it should've to notice that he was not only out of the gondola but offering her his hand, considering he was already practically naked in her head and she was enjoying the view~ but whatever. Get off. She'll get right on that.

So she does. Get off. The gondola, that is, it's going to take a lot more than a couple of good-bad growls for anything else. She's still a bit knock-kneed but she doesn't immediately collapse into a puddle once she's back onto the boardwalk. "Actually it might be a little warmer closer to the water.." she starts, but it's not exactly a protest, just a fact. That may or may not be wrong, google's pretty inconclusive on this one. Still, walk she does, squeezing his hand into her own as they pass by funnel cake places and carnie games featuring gigantic teddy-bear prizes, but she's too enamored by him to care about overpriced stuffed animals. The cheerfully twinkling, looping music and the lights and smells all provide an interesting backdrop for the question she asks him next: "Do you date a lot?" she bites down on her bottom lip, "I mean, you're so handsome and such a good kisser.." so obviously he's a whore.

"We'll have to take our chances, then." Alex is not going to walk up the goddamn hill in this state, it's just not happening, even if this is some bizarro-world boardwalk where evaporative cooling isn't a thing and it's somehow warmer over the water than colder. He doesn't keep her hand in his for long, only the first part of the walk along the wooden planks. By the time some carnie is like 'win a prize for your girl,' he loops his arm around her shoulders instead, dunking kisses into the top of her head. So he can ignore the people trying to get him to spend his hard-earned cash on cheap stuffed animals.

So her question catches him off-guard, has him answering, a baffled, "No?" While he leans away a little to peer down at her. Hold on, let him think about that question - but still, "No." He's not embarrassed, per se, since embarrassment is for people with fewer composure dice, but he treads a little delicately to explain, "I was with the same woman since I'm sixteen. So." There's that. "Do you?" Don't worry, he won't call her a whore in his meta.

Violet tucks rather perfectly underneath the arm he loops about her shoulder, her thumb oh-so-casually hooking into a belt loop on his pants - not the one in the very back but the one off towards the edge of his hip, just enough to keep him close. There's actually some surprise in the wide-eyes that she lifts to him (and she totally remembered to put her glasses back on, FYI, even if her player forgot to pose that earlier), squinting at him from behind the glass. "Really? Like, not even after you.." she won't say the D word, it's bad for Catholics anyway, and her lips tip into a thoughtful frown before she gives her head a bit of a shake. "Nevermind. I was just curious."

But the fact that he throws the question back to her makes her lean away from him next, her look puzzled. "Are you actually asking me that?" she laughs, fitting back into him with a grin. "Yes, Alex. Honestly I've been thinking of installing a revolving door in the shop to make it easier for all the men that come and go," she quips, and then abruptly goes back to being soberly serious: "I haven't dated anyone since I graduated from college." It's been a long dry spell, Alex.

Oh good, so she's not just like bumbling around the boardwalk and trusting Alex to keep her from crashing into things. That's good to know; I was very concerned about it.

Alex would have been concerned, too. But he's too busy being glad that he has his nose in Violet's hair, so she can't see him grin at her for not wanting to talk about how he broke the sacrament of marriage and is going to burn in hell for eternity now. So he'll just share, to fill in the blank there, "I knew I was getting ready to pick up and leave, so I just didn't date." Or apparently pick people up in bars or whatever.

He laughs right back at her, an honest and open laugh, not one of the through-the-nose jobs. "I don't entirely understand what's going on in this town? But, to the outside observer, it's not so far-fetched that you might have had a few dates over the years." He thinks she's adorable, remember? That she hasn't dated anyone since college makes him laugh a little more softly and say, "Hmm. Well. My ex-wife and I were essentially just roommates with the same last name for about three years, and I've been divorced for a little over a year, so you're in good company?" And somehow they didn't just fuck frantically on the ferris wheel. Interesting.

Good laughter was contagious, and that's what his laughter was in the moment. So she giggles right alongside him, as they approach the very end of the boardwalk where - hey! It was cooler as they got closer to the water, imagine that. There was a wide open spot here, with a railing that overlooks the beach; the sights and sounds of the carnies and fried food peddlers were far to their backs now. "You don't?" she tips her head to look up at him when he says he doesn't understand what's going on in this town, a pale brow lifting just over the frame of her glasses. "Hmm," she murmurs, leaning into the rail. She'll have to fill him in, though the monster discussion was at least third or fourth date material. It certainly had no place here. Besides, the conversation was about other things, and he was talking of how he hasn't had sex in four years and..

"I'm.." she starts, then closes her lips with a twitch of a smile. NOPE! She wasn't gonna do it. ".. That sounds hard," she decides instead, and it probably was hard. It was probably very hard. "But you're a good dad. That you'd set aside your own happiness for her. I bet she loves you so much," she watches him as she talks, admiring the structure of his face, and letting that gaze tip downward too, following the line of his body. She scrapes her teeth over the corner of her bottom lip and contemplates something. "I think I'd like to do this again. Soon," she decides, it's an easy conclusion to come to. "You could, um.. come over, if you'd like. I have some books on the town that you might be interested in." There's a beat of a pause, before she adds: "Do you cook? I don't have a very big kitchen, but.."

Alex, again with the, "Mhm." Very hard. Like, the hardest. And a good breath of cool, salty sea air is necessary about then to smother the laughter again - and to make him stop thinking about words like 'hard.' But the flow of this conversation finally gets the better of him, from hard, to his daughter, to come over, and he leans his head back, the hand not still around Violet scratching at the back of his neck while he looks up for some kind of inspiration or guidance or something. "You're killing me right now," is what he says, and the laugh he was smothering gets out of him, sent up to God to deal with.

Then, quickly, he'll just sweep her up against him again, right in close, and undo all the effort of walking out here to cool down by kissing her up against the railing at the end of the boardwalk. Hard.