2019-05-18 - Got Wood?

There was that warning that they could get lost out here. But that doesn't stop her from taking someone out there to get lost with her. It's through the woods they go, but not to grandmother's house. Instead they approach that abandoned sawmill, pausing outside the cut open fence out there.

"So this Bonnie and Clyde, right...they were young and robbed banks?" This has been a sort of on-going subject since they left the diner, all through the ride and the walk here. "And they were killed by ambush while driving to someone's house in Louisiana?" She shakes her head just a fraction before she pulls her pack of cigarettes out, "Okay, one last smoke and then we can go inside."

"And stores, and killed people, including cops, and took some cute photos," Aidan confirms with a nod, "That's about the size of it, yeah. And ended up famous for almost a century so far. Dead, but famous. Some folks'd still go for it." He holds out a hand for a cigarette, giving her puppy-eyes too blatant not to be half-joking. He probably got around to getting his own at some point, really. But he'll still smoke hers. At least he'll probably also share his, later. He looks around, taking the whole place in while they still have distance. "Yeah, we ought to be safe to light up out here."

"The rain will help with that, won't it? Keep the particles out of the air." Baylee pulls out two cigarettes, holding out one towards him while the other tucks between her lips, the pack getting tucked back into the pocket of her jacket. Then she pulls out a lighter, lighting her cigarette then holding it out towards him so that he can also light his, "Alright, I get it.. But what I don't get is why she was calling me Bonnie." This requires a moment of thought, a drag off her cigarette being taken before she catches the filter between her teeth, "I'm fairly sure we've not robbed anything together, and I've never killed anyone. Have you?"

Aidan nods. "Plus, the explosion thing usually needs sort of a closed area, far's I know," he says, accepting the cigarette, and then the lighter as well. "You were suggesting we might be a serial killer pair," he points out, "and I think they're the closest someone's probably gonna think of." Here, anyway. Where she grew up, different story. "We have not robbed anything together," he confirms, cigarette between his lips, and flicks the lighter, watching the flame for a beat before he actually lights up and hands it back to her. The answer should, of course, be 'no'. The answer is, however a faintly uneasy, "I don't think so. Definitely not on purpose." At least he's certain about that part?

"But bank robbers aren't serial killers, even if they killed in the commission of a crime. Serial killers are generally out for one purpose, and one purpose over. That murder. That is the primary objective...not robbing something." Baylee points out with a shake of her head, taking the lighter back to add it to her pocket, considering his uneasy words for a moment before she reaches up to slide her hand to the back of his neck, leaning in to give him a quick kiss. Which is probably going to give him the impression of one of two things. A) Killing people, maybe, is a turn on. B) She's trying to be reassuring?

Very strange reassurances either way. But she turns her attention back towards the sawmill, taking another drag off her cigarette before she wonders, "Do you think you might have accidentally?"

"True. With patterns and stuff. I can't really think of any famous actual serial killer couples, though," Aidan says, looking like he's really poking the ol' memory banks there, and probably hasn't spent a lot of time watching cable True Crime shows. Enough to know she's right about the definition, at least!

Whatever impression she might've intended, it does seem to run to the reassuring; the kiss is returned, brief though it is, and there's a little, almost shy smile, as though he didn't expect that. Which, in fairness, he probably didn't. It fades with the question, though, and he takes a drag on the cigarette before giving a small nod. It's followed up after a breath's pause with a quiet, "...yeah, I might have. Could have, anyway." And reassurance or not, he doesn't sound exactly sanguine about it. Reasonably calm, but it's still clear it bothers him. He glances at the cigarette, and sighs, turning the look to her. "When I was three, my house burned down. I came out of it. My parents-- adoptive parents," he's already mentioned the birth parent question, but let's be clear, "didn't." A beat. "I can start fires with my mind. I don't remember anything from before I was fourish and I don't remember setting anything on fire until I was six, but." The precise connection is left as an exercise for the student. Not a very difficult one. "That's the main one I worry about sometimes." He shifts a little; it's a more awkward movement than usual.

There doesn't appear to be any judgment in her expression as she listens to him, her eyes remaining focused on his face. Waiting. Listening. "You were three." This is a point that she feels obviously must be made. "You can't...expect a three year old to understand what they were doing, if you actually did anything at all." She takes a drag off her cigarette, then drops it to the ground at her feet, crushing it beneath her toes.

Newly empty-handed she reaches for him, her hands grabbing the front of his hoodie to pull him towards her, "Look." Her tone turns quieter, more gentle. "You've got no real way of proving it was you or not, and you know that you can start fires. So what? I'm sorry about your parents, adoptive or not, that still really sucks. But, you can't blame yourself for it, especially without any proof of it. Because..." She pauses, grasping for something. "I don't know, because you just can't."

Aidan keeps hold of his cigarette, though it's out of the way when she nears; he's very aware of just where it is, maybe even more right now than usual. Little tiny fire. Big flammable surroundings. Flammable clothing, too. It's not difficult to grab that part of his, nor to pull him closer by it. He's pretty cooperative with that, all in all. Maybe not as much with what she says as she might prefer, but the part before she snags him gets a tiny, wry smile, and it increases a bit when she settles on 'just can't'. "Well, rationally speaking. If a three year old caused it and wasn't me, I'd... it'd qualify as an accident, yeah. Three year olds don't understand stuff. I do know that. But, I mean... some nights it's not quite that easy. And there's something weird in not knowing. I figure it's probably better than knowing for sure and it being me, but..." But he isn't certain about that, not really. A small pause, and the hand not currently holding burning leaves and paper lifts up to touch her hair, sliding a lock behind her ear. "Thank you, though," he says, studying her face. "I kinda... don't usually tell a lot of people that." Granted, that's probably partly because it involves 'I can start fires with my mind', but 'might have killed my folks, or might not' is very few people's ice breaker.

At the 'don't usually tell a lot of people' comment she tilts her head, nose wrinkling a fraction before she nods, "Yeah, well.." She actually does seem to get where he's going with that. The various reasons for why he might not lead with that, or ever tell anyone that to begin with. "Sure, an accident, and that's just it...You don't know, you can't figure it out. So, I guess." She shrugs her shoulders, "I don't know. I wouldn't even begin to know how to deal with something like that, Aidan. I really can't...even imagine what is happening in your mind, or how you feel about this. It's got to be really tough."

Words. Lots and lots of useless fucking words. But she seems sympathetic to the situation he is in. Which maybe the fact he shared a bit with her makes her feel that she should share something with him in return. "So." Now it is time for her to be uneasy about something, and it doesn't actually seem to have anything to do with his news that his parents burned to death and he might have been the reason. "My father is a Baron."

"I think it'd be worse if I remembered them," Aidan says, thoughtful, "...but it's also kind of shitty I can't even remember them." Like they at least deserve that much, or maybe he does. Maybe both. His turn for giving a quick little kiss, though this one's to the forehead, rather than the lips. It's definitely less complicated than words.

Those last words from her, of course, are not exactly expected. He's just taken a last drag and flicked the cherry off the cigarette, crushing the ash under his boot and putting the remaining part of the cig into his jacket pocket, and it's all very much in the realm of the more or less habitual right up until there. He tilts his head. "What, like a Lord so and so of such and such kind of Baron?" he asks. Not quite sure what to make of that, though it does make him suddenly grin a little. "Does that make you a lady? What does a Baron even do?" It's interesting. Not quite as interesting as hearing she was a PI was, mind, but interesting. And an effective distraction from where his thoughts probably were before.

"No, no lady. That's..." Baylee starts, then frowns in thought, trying to decide if she really has the energy or words to properly break down the complication of British peerage, and each level, and proper form of address. "If we're being official it'd be The Honorable Beatrix Leigh Bewicke-St. John......which, I prefer Baylee over the official." She idly rubs her fingers against the edges of his jacket, "But, my father is a member of Parliament, so that means that he is a politician, and very good at it, actually. But mother is a scientist, and then my older brother is a..." She then trails off without finishing the thought, "Anyways, that's me. Well, that's my family. Not me."

Which probably begs the question of why she's a PI, in the ass end of no where, living in a trailer park. "You still want to go explore the creepy abandoned sawmill, or have you seen as much as you can stand, and we'll never admit that we never made it past this point."

Aidan listens, of course; he doesn't seem disappointed about the lady thing, though her full official name gets slightly raised brows. "Beatrix sounds kinda cute. But Baylee's pretty great." Just enough of a smile to let the double-meaning be intentional. "'The Honourable' sounds like a lot to live up to, though." A small pause before he adds, "Aidan Nicolao Kinney. Is me," as if he's just realised the name-knowledge has become unbalanced. And while the family information might immediately lead to questioning her current situation for most people, in his particular case: "I guess that makes sense. PI's cooler, though." Which may well be reason enough.

"Anyway, yeah, I still definitely want to explore the creepy abandoned sawmill," he says, offering her a hand, "...unless you don't, in which case, I'll gallantly escort you somewhere less creepy. But we've never been to a sawmill." And that, after their discussion with Easton, is definitely more amusing to him than it otherwise has a right to be.

The offered hand is taken, possibly a little roughly, then swung like a child was responsible for the taking of it, "Nope, we have never been to a sawmill before, and never, not once, ever to a creepy sawmill." She doesn't start moving off right away, though, instead she just smiles at him with no small amount of amusement, "Beatrix is a right proper twat, if you ask me."

Then she turns on one heel in the muddy ground to begin heading away from where they'd been standing around discussing murder, arson, lords and other strange topics. She heads right towards that tear in the gate, hanging onto the hand as she carefully starts to squeeze through the hole, "So what has you so grumpy about the gun show guy from the diner?" There is a very interested look back in his direction at that, a sure sign that her question isn't exactly a casual one.

"Mm, dubious," Aidan replies with appropriate skepticism to the remark on Beatrix, or at least as appropriate as the returned amusement supports. He is, surely shockingly, perfectly happy to have hands swung, regardless of level of maturity, and might just possibly end up contributing a bit to that himself as they head on toward that tear in the fence.

"I am not grumpy," he protests mildly, "I'm a ray of fuckin' sunshine. At least according to a shirt someone gave me a few years ago." He's watching her, though, when he says it, and not entirely because she's squeezing through a hole in a probably-rusty fence while still keeping his hand. He's also not actually going to lie, apparently, since he makes a 'so-so' head wiggle and allows, "Maybe a little grumpy. I mean, first off, c'mon, dude. Kinda rude. We might've been on a date or something." A weird date, granted. But some dates are weird. And he somehow doesn't really seem like the 'roses and expensive French restaurants' type. "I hate when people do that." Which is clearly the kind of 'hate' that translates to 'am irritated', not homicide, and also strongly suggests this happens... if not necessarily often, not exactly rarely. "Plus, kinda want you to keep kissing me, and hot guys asking people out for drinks isn't historically always great for that kinda thing."

A hesitation. He did say 'first off', after all, but he's more reluctant on 'second'. "Second thing's gonna sound... well, you know. I mentioned telepathy's a thing, right?" He's /pretty/ sure he did... there was a fair amount of scotch involved after that, after all.

"No, she's a twat. Believe me. Posh dresses, and having to be all very, very proper." Baylee points out as she gets to the other side of the fence, still holding his hand so if he doesn't follow her through it's going to be a whole lot more awkward than her just being left behind if he runs away.

The protests are met with a small bit of amusement, but she is polite and listens to everything that he says before she replies. "First, I'm shit at relationships. I get drunk and forget that I'm not supposed to kiss hot guys. So if that's what he's sniffing around about then he'll be terribly disappointed by the fact I'm not to be tied down." Which does mean that she pauses to give him a look, weighing the possibility that he is barking up that tree. Then she breezily moves on. "So, second, I'll keep kissing you even if guys ask me out. But, third. It was a bit rude timing wise, although it probably didn't look like a date."

Then his second point is addressed, with a very slight nod, "Sure. Telepathy."

"Posh dresses have their place," Aidan says, and does follow her through, reasonably careful of any sharp edges there might be. "I might not be thinking of very Beatrix places, though." He might not be that sure what Beatrix places would be like, really. Downton Abbey? A glance at the building as he eels after her, unfolding to standing properly again, and then to her, "I think I probably prefer Baylee places, though."

He grins, when she talks about how bad she is at relationships, and doesn't seem to look guilty when she regards him in that pause. Second is pleasing. Third is at least validating, though he says, "Well, I don't think it technically was one," was it? "but that's not the point." And yes, okay, maybe he was agreeing with her about getting in on the naked-Geoff-pic mailing list, but that's not the point either! He's happy to put off the telepathy issue a few more seconds, apparently, instead saying, "I'm not totally shit at relationships, mostly, but maybe partly 'cause I tend to end up hanging out with people who don't necessarily think getting drunk and forgetting not to kiss hot people is a relationship problem. Or not getting drunk. Assuming the hot people want to be kissed, anyway." He shrugs, but looks, all in all, reasonably satisfied with that more-or-less agreement.

Can't really put the rest off much longer, though. He takes a breath. "Okay, well. If you're okay at the mind stuff, you learn how to send people thoughts. If you're pretty decent at it, or close enough, or both, you learn how to have whole conversations. And-- have you felt it, yet? When someone does something, and you just... know they did?" He watches her a moment, to see if she does, and then says a bit reluctantly, "He tried to send you a thought. Didn't work. But I felt it. And that made me grumpy too, 'cause, you shouldn't suddenly have some dude sending things into your brain in the middle of a diner when you just found about about all this. So we had a talk, 'cause as far as I'm concerned trying to poke my friend's head counts as an invitation." A small pause. "He said he was trying to ask you about this. The psychic stuff. For what it's worth. Less bothered now, I guess, 'cause he seems pretty new too."

"Baylee places are a lot more fun." Questionable fun, maybe. Considering that she's just brought him to a possibly haunted, definitely creepy as fucking hell, abandoned sawmill. They also don't require several thousand dollar dresses that only get worn once, or a promise to not get so drunk that you make an ass out of the family.

"I don't think it technically was one, either." Baylee agrees about the status of the diner as date. She then glances around, tilting her head a moment before she looks back at him, "I guess that if you really want to, you can consider this a date." She doesn't have much comment on the rest of the relationship noise though, just a general smile that looks like it might be agreement, or an understanding. All on the same page, at least. The more important thing being that telepathy thing, and she nods, very slowly at that, "I see. No. I don't think that I've ever noticed it. Is it like...when the hairs on the back of your neck stand up?"

"I've definitely been on worse dates," Aidan says, so offer apparently accepted. And if her places are questionable fun, it's not being questioned by him. Maybe when something tries to kill them. He still looks fairly enthusiastic about this particular place, even if he's mostly distracted by the conversation for now. "Anyway, yeah, it could be hairs on the back of your neck, or a kind of tingle down your spine, or just-- knowing, it varies some. Most of the time for me it feels like... something running through a kind of energy field just around my skin." He looks at her, considering a second. "I'm gonna do something little, and you can see whether you feel anything different?" he says, a suggestion despite the phrasing, "And if it's okay, we could try some mental talk, after. So you know what it's like, in case someone tries doing it. It's... kinda weird when you don't expect it. Especially at first." Voices in your head, what could be distressing.

"Maybe not here." Baylee shakes her head, "The guy from the boardwalk, he's the one that showed me this place, right....and showed me how to grow a tree. Then said we should go away from here fast. Which was weird, right?" She glances towards the sawmill for a moment, then back at him, "We can do one or the other, right now. We can explore here, maybe have some fun, maybe get grossed out. Or we can go back to your place."

Aidan hesitates. "It's not 'cause it's here," he says, "...at least, I don't think it's 'cause it's here. I don't think little things'd push reality so far it snaps back. Or. Whatever it is." He glances aside in a way that gives a bit of a 'making a note' impression, then shakes his head, and leans in to kiss her, instead. That probably won't attract the worm. "We can do it somewhere else if you feel better about it, though. But exploring first. I mean, we're here already, right? Even if we don't have shitty beer." There's a couple discarded cans that formerly contained said substance lying around just within sight, supporting some of what they were told. He's not looking hard enough to spot any other evidence, himself. Probably on purpose.

No one needs to spot other evidence, really. Not a single person wants to see that evidence unless they are a very screwed up individual. So instead she just laughs, reaching up to slide her hands around the back of his head so that she can give him another kiss, perhaps to make up for the fact that there isn't any shitty beer for them to share. Then she turns, reaching for the hand again to start towards the sawmill, once more going back to swinging it, "Fine, maybe not. But he seemed to be pretty jumpy about it, and I'm pretty sure some secret bad thing happening would really ruin the date. I'm really hoping to make it to my front porch for that epic good night kiss, you know." She grins at him, teasing, "You are put on notice, sir."

It's a pretty decent trade for shitty beer. They might have to work a little harder to make up for the good stuff, but what they're seeing cans for? Oh, yeah, that'll do. Aidan kisses back, and hums half-under his breath as they start off toward the building. Swing, swing. It's dangerous. Skipping could break out. And the ground kind of squelches after the earlier storm. "I guess that might count as too/ exciting," he says, nodding a bit, "The secret bad thing, I mean. Epic kisses are definitely within the appropriate excitement limits. I'll try to sufficiently provide." He gives her hand a squeeze, and picks up his pace a little as they approach the building. "That wall there's falling down. Good way in? Or should we try for some kinda door?"

"Might as well try the wall...or find a door." Which is very unhelpful considering that is what he just asked. When they are close enough for making the choice to become a big deal she comes to a stop, no skipping involved. Instead there requires about three seconds of actual thinking before she nods, "Yeah, the wall might be the best way to go, but we'll need to be very careful to crawl through without....knocking it down further."

That's the fear, right? She gives his hand a final squeeze before she gathers her hair up into a bun, wrapping a hairband around it, then she zips up her jacket, "Alright, come on." Then she's heading for the crumbling wall to start checking for the most secure place. When she finds it she begins to go through the wall, careful to pick her feet up so that she doesn't trip herself or cause any further damage to the wall, "You do this often?"

Well, it's a fear, certainly. Aidan watches the gathering of the hair, and is perfectly willing to let her lead the way if that's what she wants to do, no knee-jerk chivalry insisting on being the one to go first 'cause it might be dangerous. Anyway, on this side he could give her a boost if need be! Might be just slightly disappointed it isn't, really. "Which?" he asks, taking a quick glance around for any observers they might somehow have missed. 'cause being shifty about it's part of the fun. "Poke around in abandoned places, or explore things in general, or watch hot girls climb through walls, or?" And maybe check out their rears as they do, since it's there.

"Explore abandoned places." Baylee replies once she's inside the building, reaching into her pocket to pull out her cellphone, but she's not going to be calling anyone. Instead she gives it two quick motions and the flashlight lights up, and she raises it up to shine around the inside. "I figure that you watch hot girls often...maybe not climb through walls. Or walls to abandoned buildings." She doesn't move too far away from the wall until he has managed to join her inside, not wanting to get too far away from him. When he finally follows her in she's reaching for his hand again, because if this is a date then there must be hand holding that is going to happen while they are exploring dangerously creepy old sawmills.

Aidan waits for her to clear the spot, then follows, careful where and how he settles his hands and feet, though maybe not quite as careful as he really ought to be. "Well, okay, if you take out the wall part," he admits. "And usually the abandoned building part, though there've been a couple parties and the troupe did a show in an old biscuit factory once. Exploring them, though..." He looks around as he gets properly inside, blinking to let his eyes adjust to the change in light. "If I come across them and they look interesting, I usually take a look. It's better not alone." He shifts his hand to intertwine his fingers with hers. "...and if it doesn't feel like there's people living there who don't want to get disturbed," he adds, as an afterthought. "Do you?"

"Sometimes. There was this old wing in this dreary old estate we used to go to for summers, and we weren't supposed to go there, but we ended up going to explore it a few times." Baylee starts to move through the building, picking a direction to go into with her phone held up so that they have some light to guide them through without ending up with them impaled on some rusty piece of metal that is still laying around. "So we went out one night, and my older brother was so mad....he ripped his favorite pajamas while we were trying to crawl through the half broken doorway." She then pauses to look through a door, "But that's really my very best story. Never been to a party in an abandoned building. No! Wait...there was that one party that one time in some empty flat in London. Does that count?"

"Was the whole building empty, or just that apartment? 'cause yes and kinda respectively, I think," Aidan decides, leaning to look over her shoulder through that door. Not too much to see, seemingly. Bits of wood, dust and sawdust, the broken remnants of something that was made of wood before -- a table of some kind, or shelves, perhaps? -- a worrying rickety-looking section of floor. The light of the phone glances off things here and there, lightening and deepening the shadows in strange patterns, one of which catches his attention. "Hey. Check that out." He points with his free hand into the dimness of the room's ceiling; with some focus it's clear that a number of people, probably the original possessors of the beer cans or those like them who came before, have been carving into it over the years. Hearts. Initials. Dates. Names. Some more complicated, less easy to discern markings as well, though it might just be the others, decayed past identification. Hard to be certain, especially from out here. "In ye olden days," at least there's a touch of irony in how he says it, "I guess there used to be a whole lot of raves in abandoned buildings. And I knew some people in LA who were working on bringing that back, there's a whole warehouse scene and they were going for... well, abandoned places. It was pretty cool, though one of them I was at got busted. How'd your brother explain the pyjamas?"

"I hear those sorts of rave's still happen in the Eastern Bloc." Baylee observes as she slides through the door, partially, glancing upwards towards the ceiling without going so far in that she might fall through the floor or have the ceiling cave in on her while she's looking upwards at it. "That's kind of sweet, though. I mean, not the rave thing, the initials and stuff." She pans the light from her phone across the ceiling for a little while, then she starts to move back out of the room. It's when she lowers the phone and the light slides across the floor that it hits something in the corner that makes her scream, and she jumps backwards, hitting the edge of the door before she realizes that what it is....is just broken wood leaning up in the corner. But the way the light hit made it look like someone, or something, was standing there in that corner.

"I don't know a lot about there. Farthest from here I've managed is the Eastern Coast," Aidan says, grinning; the dim light reflected from the phone bounces weirdly off his teeth and eyes. Probably hers, too, but she can't see those! He goes along with her as she enters the place, of course. She has his hand. And he'd prefer to keep it that way.

"Yeah, kinda," he agrees, stretching up to look more closely at some of the nearer carvings, even reaching a hand to see if he can touch them. Yes, at the closest point, it turns out, and he traces some with a finger until a splinter suggests this might not be the best idea he had today. The unexpected pain gets a tiny inward hiss of a breath, and he shakes the hand out, then moves the finger to his mouth to try to catch and tug the little bit of wood out with his teeth. It probably would be easier to use his other hand, but apparently he has priorities right now and that isn't number one.

He does not expect the scream-and-jump, and it gets a startled little yelp out of him, but maybe the fact that he also takes a step in front of her offsets it a little? It takes a second to work out what happened, what she saw, and then a definite tension ebbs out of his body, escaping in a sharp breath of a laugh before he turns his head to look at her again. "Okay?"

"Jesus....fuck." Baylee laughs at the entire situation, and her own skittishness as she crouches down, still hanging onto the hand as she goes, her other arm moving across her knees as she lowers her head to rest her forehead against it. "Alright, that was...." She shakes her head, an amused, short little laugh at that, "So, that just happened."

After she gets her heart to stop pounding she gets to her feet again, shaking her head, "I swear that I'm usually much, much braver than this." She is probably only seven percent more brave than what just happened, honestly. But to make it clear that she's alright she steps in towards him to give his cheek a kiss, amusement resurfacing after the scare, "Were you going to save me from the scary...uh...wood?" She sticks her head back into the room, double-checking what it is that is actually in the corner. "Right, the wood. Come on, lets find a less scary corner of this place and make-out."

Aidan crouches as well, which makes it easier for both of them for her to keep his hand. "It did," he agrees, amusement equally clear. He's settled close enough that he can lightly press the side of his arm against the side of hers, which is probably meant to be reassuring as well as affectionate, and pet her hair a bit with his free hand, which definitely is. He's immediately aware that this was not an ideal choice, because splinter, but he's started and now he's going to continue, dammit. Still, when she starts to straighten up, he does so with less than no reluctance as well.

He attempts with middling success to suppress a smile and nod solemn acceptance to her claim of greater bravery, eyes bright, and but it escapes as a grin at the kiss. "I was absolutely gonna save you from the scary wood. Let me tell you, it'd never know what hit it." 'cause it's wood. "Then I'd let you take me to a doctor to set my hand; I've seen what happens when people start fights with building materials. Your plan's better." He leads the way the rest of the way out of the room, and takes a look around for a suitable corner, ending up in short order in the middle of the room, where most of the wood that once held the conveyor belt to the saw still stands, even if the belt itself has long since disintegrated. The big, rusty circular blade is still at the far end -- but that's metres away. He gives the resulting 'bench' a considering look, then turns to face her, tugging her in closer. Sure, this is definitely not a terrible idea. He doesn't sit immediately, though; his free hand moves to the back of her neck, and he claims a standing kiss first, instead.

Not a terrible idea at all. In fact, things like this are all what goes into the best ideas. At least, on the surface it seems like a great idea, right? What could possibly go wrong standing in a creepy abandoned sawmill with a big rusty blade like, right over there. In the dark, making out?

Teenagers do it, and they survive. Which clearly means that Aidan and Baylee are as smart as teenagers. To prove just how smart of an idea it is when he tugs her in closer to the first kiss she turns the flashlight off on her phone, tucking it into her pocket before she leans in for that kiss. One arm raises up to curl around his neck, her other hand finding the front of his hoodie to start sliding her fingers beneath it, trying to get closer to the warm skin beneath the clothes.

This is how horror movies begin.

Someday, there will be a game show called 'Are You Smarter Than a Teenager?', and Aidan and Baylee will go on it, and they will lose. But they might get makeouts!

They might also get chainsaw or otherwise massacred, but that's now. And now they definitely get makeouts. There aren't so many layers she can't slide her fingers wherever she likes, particularly given that nothing's tucked in, and now that he has a free hand, he clearly thinks this is a stellar idea she has, wrapping that arm around her and sliding his fingers up beneath the jacket. And hoodie. And t-shirt. Coastal Washington is maybe not the ideal climate for gettin' handsy. Still, he does eventually find the small of her back, and layers don't impinge on the kissing part of things at all. After a while, he does sit down on that ex-conveyor, attempting to pull her along to straddle his lap. No obvious incoming axe murderers. Yet. So far so good?

So far so good.

Except they are sitting on what used to be a conveyor. That is mildly more worrying than the possibility that there is an axe murderer waiting in the shadows. But a place like this probably doesn't still have power. Right?

Either way, it's not that hard to pull her down onto his lap, the new position giving her plenty of ideas on what might potentially come next. But she doesn't proceed any further than she has, except both hands are beneath his clothes. It might be a cold weather thing, just going where there is warmth. Which would be a rationalization that would totally be given to any wayward police that found them. But they aren't in a car fogging up windows, so can't possibly get caught. But that kiss is deepend as her hands settle against his sides, a very happy sigh being uttered against his mouth.

Ffft, it doesn't even have walls, surely it doesn't have power. ...well, it doesn't have a full complement of complete walls, anyway. It does have a ceiling, though, which is a blessing, because that storm from earlier's little brother is tagging along, and the sound of rain on the roof is becoming rhythmically audible. It makes the massive space feel cozier, that sound; makes their clothes and contact seems warmer, makes the quiet sounds like that sigh feel more intimate. Aidan also has two hands and some thoughts about just where things could go, but-- there's no hurry, right? They've got a storm. They've got a creepy sawmill. They've got all the time in the world.

He makes a happy little sound of agreement with her sigh, checking whether her jeans happen to have enough extra room in the back to accommodate a hand, the better to combine keeping her nice and close with groping, both of which are currently on his list of priorities. It's in the middle of that, and the accompanying kiss, that there's a flicker of a pause, as though he might have just heard something. Or suddenly wondered whether he left the oven on at home. Either way it's swiftly gone, focus fully back on what he's doing. There's a couple more of those little flickers, but nothing that really interrupts. Not until there's a very quiet scraping noise that seems to come from off in one of the corners. This time when he faintly tenses, he breaks the current kiss as well, glancing in that direction. "Did you hear something?" It'd be so easy to think it was imagined, without the question. There isn't a reprise, and the lack of moving his hands from exactly where they're enjoying hanging out suggests that 'get up and go check it out right now' is not Plan A. Might not even be Plan C.

Whatever he keeps hearing she doesn't seem to hear, but she does hear things like questions, and broken kisses. "What?" She wonders, leaning back from him to start looking around for the mysterious sound, or source of the sound. But, not noticing anything in particular she shakes her head, "Maybe it's just an animal."

Which, honestly, should bother her. But the situation is thus. They are making out in a creepy sawmill in the dark anyways, so why would the addition of a rat or whatever creatures crawl around in places like this alarm her? "Or the wind." Not that the wind usually makes scratching noises, but she doesn't know what the sound was to begin with, so the guess seems reasonable enough that she leans back in to try and pick that kiss back up.

Yes. This is eminently reasonable. "Mm, probably," Aidan agrees, the end slightly muffled as the kiss gets restarted. And certainly not mostly because that's definitely the version of reality he wants to believe. There's still tiny little tensions here and there, not least when there's a somewhat louder scrape, followed by a metallic little clank. He doesn't break the kiss this time, though. Some kind of animal, and wild animals are generally pretty good about giving folks their privacy. Wind even more so. Yup. Not a problem. He might care more if he hadn't used that hand behind her to pull her down a bit more firmly against him in a pleasantly grindy sort of way, but as it is? Nope.

There definitely IS wind, though. It's getting up toward storm level out there, like little brother's having some sibling rivalry going on. Soft rumbles of thunder in the distance, barely louder than the strengthened rain itself, but growing. Growing rapidly, if either of them have the spare attention to think about that with. Aidan probably doesn't, because right now there's a neck that requires some nibbling on, and he sounds quietly enthusiastic about focusing on that.

And then a couple things happen at once. Thunder booms as though it's right directly above them, and apparently it is, as a lightning bolt strikes through a hole in the roof, directly to a metal plate in an otherwise-wooden portion of floor. And behind them, instead of little scrapes and clanks, there's a full-on crash. It's nothing compared to the thunder it overlaps the tail of, but without that comparison...

There's a jerk beneath them, as if the remaining threads of the disintegrated-looking conveyor were yanked toward the end of the machine, where the rusty and rotted blade sounds like it's suddenly jerked back to creaky life.

The thunder by itself would have been enough to startle her, and probably make her stop kissing him. But the rest? Yeah, even she hears and sees that, but more so than either of those things the fact that the conveyor belt starts to move is an alarming situation, "Fuck!" She exclaims, her hands trying to pull out from beneath his shirts, but hand gets tangled up in his shirt, and she's trying to slide off his lap at the same time.

Which means that two things happen, she gets one foot down, and it drags a little as they move, but she's not off entirely. And she's not leaving him on the conveyor belt to get sliced and diced by a rusty blade, either, so she's trying to move and pull him along all while trying to get her own footing beneath her, which is a little more tricky considering they are in motion, and her hand is still trying to free itself from his clothes, "Shit...Aidan.."

It might well have interrupted things on both sides; Aidan's definitely startled by the level of that sudden noise, the static-electric quality that seems to charge the air around them. It's that jerk beneath him that has him yelping again, though this time it's an actual word. Same as hers, actually. "Fuck!" Almost simultaneous. It makes for a strange harmony.

A brief one, too; he tries to stand up while she's trying to slide off, clearly trying to keep hold of her so he doesn't drop her before it registers what she's trying to do, at which point he tries to reclaim his hands as well, but the hand tangled in his means she's closer than he expected at that moment, and his own footing ends up not quite where he expected, and they go right over, with an exceedingly short squeak of "Shit!" on his part as he feels the balance go.

It helps a little that he got his own hands free, even if the shirt one was last-second. Means he doesn't land entirely on top of her. Just... mostly. And there's a tiny whimper as catching himself to prevent the 'entirely' raises the splinter-count in his hands by at least three. As the thunder dies away, a skittering noise becomes more clear, and a raccoon hops up onto the belt, just by the saw, both of which have already stopped moving in the least. It eyes them, gives a distinctly disapproving sort of chitter, and flees off the conveyor and off into a different dark corner.

The floor is a much better place to be, even with him nearly landing on top of her. Him being on top would normally be just fine, but right now any thoughts about getting horizontal with him has clearly fled her mind, because she's pushing at him to try and get him off her, "Move!"

The level of alarm is really too high, considering the fact the conveyor belt has stopped, the noise has moved on, and the only thing left in the darkness with them is a trash panda that is clearly judging them. So she holds herself very still, looking apologetic, "Maybe we should find our way back out of here?" To somewhere that they won't get chopped up if things get strange and the electricity kicks back on.

Aidan needs a heartbeat to adjust to the new arrangement, but getting shoved at is a signal that doesn't require much actual thought, and he pushes himself off to the side, rolling onto his back and scuttling a couple hand-steps backward. And then he sees the raccoon, and its expression, and the fact that it isn't getting pulled into a whirling blade, and laughs. Well. Really, he giggles. It has that slightly hysterical fresh-fear edge to it at first, and then it breaks into a louder, more genuine laugh. He doesn't even try to get up immediately, though she gets a slightly apologetic look herself as he looks up at her, managing to get the laugh down to some fairly helpless snickering, but no farther for a good few seconds.

A deep breath, then, and he shifts, pushing up to his feet. With a bit of a wince, a second taken as he gets vertical to tug the bits of wood out of his palms before he goes to reclaim her hand. "We could just find a corner without any machinery," he proposes, though he doesn't look as though he really expects her to accept. He studies her a moment, drawing her a little closer, though this time not so much for the immediate kissing. "You okay?"

"I'm fine..." Baylee replies with a laugh, shaking her head before she leans in to give him a quick kiss, then she gives his hand a squeeze, "I vote we head back to your place, where there is definitely nothing trying to kill us." She hopes. She reaches into her pocket to pull out her cellphone, once more turning the light on to give the room a look over once more, then she glances down at the floor, "And maybe a shower."

Because she's now covered in old sawdust, dirt, mud...and who actually knows what else might have been on the ground. Including gifts left from their little trash panda friend.

Little trash panda chaperone. Aidan tries to make the kiss a little less quick, and sighs at the vote. Probably mostly for effect, but part of him is likely thinking about how far away his place is right now. I.e., a lot farther than here is. "Well, probably," he says, which may be regarding the wisdom of her vote, or might on the other hand mean he's somewhat less certain than she is about the lack of potential murder in that locale. "And I do have a pretty decent shower." He has the grace to look a little sheepish about their current need for one, even if it isn't entirely his fault; a hand moves to brush some of the stuff off her, and he immediately becomes aware this was a mistake, wiping it off in turn on his pants. They need a good wash too now anyway.

He takes a look around, then leads the way toward the wall through which they entered. It's dim but not dark out there, clouds still heavy but rain and wind beginning to lighten, and those rolls of thunder are softer again as they drift off into the distance.

The shower is potentially the number one reason that it is time to get the fuck out of here. Second being who knows what else might come out of the shadows, or turn on suddenly. Once they are out through the wall she starts to turn the flashlight off, carefully putting it into her pocket before she follows him through the woods.

"Sorry." Baylee observes after a few minutes, like somehow she might really regret the fact that their evening was interrupted, and that she was part of the reason they were leaving. Her desperate need to not be wearing whatever gross things that she's wearing right now on her clothes. She does her very best to not think about it, or how far the promise of a shower and clean change of clothes actually is.

Well, the rain'll clear some of it off. That's a plus, right? The trees keep a lot of the new water off them, but it's been raining long enough and just plain enough that the leaves are doing a decent line in drizzle on their own. Aidan keeps hold of her hand, and while, okay, he might be taking a bit quicker pace out of the woods than they did on the way in, he seems more or less okay with the current situation. Even if he does have to actually pull up the hood of his hoodie after his hair starts feeling annoyingly wet.

Her apology gets a blink, and then a quick grin. "I've definitely been on worse dates." A squeeze to her hand, and he glances back over his shoulder, at the sawmill that only vaguely looms through the trees from here. "Didn't know lightning could do that. I mean, it makes sense, I guess. It is electricity." The grin returns briefly, "And nothing blew up, so I guess we coulda got away with smoking after all." Almost certainly he does really regret the interruption. But he's gonna roll with it like he's made of marbles.