2019-05-17 - Why Are You Here?
After a night of drinking, Carver takes a walk through the park to sober up.
IC Date: 2019-05-17
OOC Date: 2019-04-06
Location: Gray Harbor/Addington Park
Related Scenes: 2019-05-16 - Friday Night Means Shots 2019-05-17 - Midnight on Friday, May 17th 2019-05-18 - It Can & Will Rain All The Time
Plot: None
Scene Number: 99
A late night stroll through the park to sober up and catch some fresh air seemed like a brilliant idea when he set out to do it.
Forty-five minutes later, his coat sending rivulets of steady rain down along his back to splash against the back of his calves with each step along the path of Addington Park, Alistair Carver is thinking otherwise. The damp cigarette that hangs from his lip, long ago refusing to catch even the slightest ember from his lighter is a testament to the man's folly.
Hell. The man himself is a testament to his own folly.
"So, whatcha think?" The voice comes from behind the damp excuse for a man, light and breezy, apparently unhampered by either age, weariness, or rain pouring in to an open mouth with each word. Melissa seems completely at home with the weather, which seems somewhat natural considering the two of them share a very similar accent, and most likely shared their fair amount of rainfall. She doesn't seem wet, though. The girl moves up beside him with a quick hop step, and to anyone watching, it would really seem like a guy on the cusp of forty was stuck escorting his teenage daughter home from a night on the town. She's certainly dressed for it, in a loose sleeveless shirt that cuts of exceedingly short on the arms, showing off the slightest edge of collarbone bordered by the white fabric of her shirt and the deep red of a studded jacket that hangs open over it. She's even got the torn jeans and steel working boots to match. The pink and purple highlights in her dark hair only complete the look, really. Fresh out of the 90's and ready to party.
Carver's face flickers with flint-cast light with each spark of the lighter brought up close, the cigarette failing one last attempt to actually do him any favors when he finally gives up on it, shoving the brass box into one of the deep, deep pockets of that shotgun coat. "I've been trying my best to do anything but that, 'Lissa." he grumbles, not breaking stride for a second at the sound of a voice from a being that definitely wasn't there ten seconds ago. It's amazing what years of acclimatization will do for a person's nerves. She's not even looked at. "You're the one that told me I might find some answers here. Or help. You know what I found? I found-"
"I found rain, booze and a paramedic that probably thinks I'm insane, so we might as well have stayed in Wrexham!" Melissa has mastered the man's sarcastic and testy tone. She's even got the arm-crossing and slight lean forward down pat, but this is a situation so dire it actually calls for raising the pitch by an octave to really drive it home. "You've been here a day, you sour bastard. A day. A DAY!" Her face gets brighter and wider with each repetition. "And you've already seen more people with that zing to them than even Wrexham had. C'mon, Allie. This is it! This is the place. You can feel how thin it is here, right?" Once she starts talking, it's hard to get her to stop. The poking motions she starts making towards his chest as they walk probably isn't hugely endearing, either.
"This is the place! You're gonna get it back!" The cheer transitions into sing-song. "You're gonna get it back! You're gonna get it baaaaack! You're gonna get it b-"
"AND WHAT IF IT DON'T?" Carver's voice echoes as he wheels around to face the woman. It's a sharp stab in an empty park that was filled with the dull thrum of rainfall. It takes a moment, the man standing there with a level of rage on his face that snaps away only to be replaced with a slight shock. Melissa might not have been expecting it, but it's quickly apparent that neither was he. A few deep, slow breaths accompany his closing eyes, the fourth of those long sighs being the green light on trying this again. "What if I don't, Lissa? What if this is just another wild goose chase? I..." He falters. "I don't know how many more of those I can do."
If Melissa was surprised by the outburst, she's a master of hiding it. Acclimatization works both ways, it seems. Especially when she dismisses his concerns with a wave of her hand and little hop that sees her perched atop one of the benches that lines the path. "Then you get drunk, sleep with a couple of people you'll never see again, maybe teach someone who reminds you of me how to use their knacks a little better, then move on to be a sour old bastard that nobody likes in another town. Christ, Allie, You've got at least four more in you. Suck it up. Look." She points, giving the old bastard a wry smile once she's done soapboxing. "It's even stopped raining."
Carver just closes his eyes. He closes his eyes, rubs a line along his forehead with his thumb, and lets out one of the most aggravated sighs a human could possibly create. Sure, it's a little weird when that sigh starts breaking into a chuckle, but give the guy a break. It's been a day.
His eyes only slowly open when she talks about the rain stopping. She's right, of course. The rain has definitely stopped. Carver's certain of that the second he sets his eyes on the now empty bench, his entire vision dotted by the sight of raindrops, perfectly spherical, suspended in midair under the light of the park's lamps. The chuckle cuts short as he slowly swivels on the balls of his feet, what rain his coat and arms touch splattering against the fabric as nature would demand.
The sight of a giant canyon that now replaces the path he just walked down, and is in fact still standing on just serves to summon the chuckle again, albeit a little weaker this time.
The wet, useless cigarette is thrown to one side with a fresh, clean, and carefully navigated to stay dry one thrown into the corner of his mouth as a replacement.
"Christ."
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