2019-05-28 - Saltwater Heals!

Nicholas shut the truck off next to the railing on Bayside Road, letting it go dark as he lays his head back against the rest. Both hands are drawn to his face to rub at his eyes, then a sardonic laugh bubbles from him, "Holy fuck." Turning to Harper curled up against the door, he reaches and shakes her shoulder a little, "Hey. You okay?"

Harper startles at the touch to her shoulder, then drags her inner attention back to the space in the cab and the EMT who drove them to the beach at her odd request. She simply holds his gaze for quite some time. Volumes. Not a word spoken. "If we go down by the rocky part of the beach, I'll show you how my dad taught me to ..." Kiss it and make it better? That doesn't quite fit. What is it with parent figures? "... make a hurt fade a little." She starts to shrug out of her rain jacket, then the ever-present cardigan, trying to do so without using her hands too directly. It would be funny to watch if they weren't both traumatized. Or maybe that makes it funnier. Once successful, the librarian is down to a short-sleeved, fuschia-colored t-shirt and her jeans and sneakers. She could almost be an entirely different person. "You up for it?" she asks, some of her more typical energy beginning to return. Maybe it's the sound of the surf, or the briny scent of the sea.

He draws his hand back, half expecting a negative lashback for absolutely no reason at all. Nicholas has worked enough crash sites to know that people in shock react out of self-defence, sometimes know knowing friend from foe. Those ice blue eyes pull away from Harper to stare at the bay, "Yeah, sure... why not." With what he has seen in life, nothing ever seems to be off the table or outside believability, especially today. Without saying much more, he pulls the keys from the ignition, opening the door and getting out. Helping her over the guardrail, Nick sort of leads the traumatized Harper down to the rocky beach, toward the water.

The tide is going out. Harper stops near a rock at the edge of where dry sand meets wet. "You have to take your shoes and socks off." Her gaze slides down his shoulder to the sliced arm. "Jacket off, too." She steps on one heel of a sneaker then reverses the process before peeling off socks that actually say 'Librarians do it between the covers.' on the sides. She tucks them in her shoes and will lead Nick down toward where the water is washing in and ebbing out over further rocks. "First we have to get our feet wet, up to the ankles." She's serious? This is some sort of arcane procedure? Or just a game between father and daughter. Probably the latter. She leans down to roll her jeans up to just under her knees and looks back askance over her shoulder to see if Nick is following suit.

"You... /know/ that walking out there with no shoes is stupid, right?" he asks, a little condescending and surprised that she is this naive. "Harper," Nicholas calls after her as she starts to make her way out to the water, "There's -glass- out there, and clam shells!" Muttering an 'ohforfuckssake', he bends and toes off his hiking boots, stuffs his socks into them before carefully picking his way through the rocks after her. "What are you doing? I'm not so sure that this is what you want to do, here," still trying to talk her out of this fool's errand.

Harper is impervious to all attempts to get her to stop. The word 'glass' does falter one step, but then she keeps going. Fortunately she's not nearby to counter his aggravation with their usual sarcasm. The water flows in with an edge of foam and slides over her bare feet until, at its peak, it reaches her ankles. He may not be close enough to hear her gasp when the water first touches her skin. After that she's breathing in and out slowly the way one does to center or meditate. "C'mon," she finally says. "You're being unreasonably slow." Chiding again, a call-back to her tease about his age earlier in the week when she delivered bread and a book. "You have to get out to your ankles. Then you have to stay there until the water erodes the sand under your feet with a couple of waves, so you sink down a little." She meets his gaze when he gives it to her and says with a little smile, "It only works if you take it seriously."

"Unreasonably slow," he mutters darkly as he steps on a rock, almost turning his ankle. He's used to the surf, hitting the water throughout most of the year to go diving, but usually he's wearing diving slippers with a harder sole. "Yeah, yeah," he dismisses with a wave of his hand as he walks out and stands a foot away from her side, "Fine." With a sigh, he gives in and decides that if this gets her through the shit from the pizza parlor, it's a small thing to ask a friend for. Calming himself and taking a breath, he lets the waves wash in and soak his pantlegs, at least a few inches up from the cuff, letting the water calm him as it always does.

As she is wont to do, once Nick is standing beside her and breathing in a fashion she finds satisfying, Harper silently turns her gaze back out to the water. It recedes and sand slides out in bits, making them sink incrementally into the sucking wet sand before another wash of foamy water slides over their feet. His shimmer-sense goes off again. And after such a trauma at the pizza place this might cause panic. Are the brunette-twins back? But it only takes just a moment of it for it to register as an entirely different feeling. First of all the faint scent of cinnamon teases the nostrils. Then there's a softness, a feeling of gentle connection, supremely comforting, very still and open. The faint taste of copper on the tongue registers the fear that is far away, drifting like sediment at the base of that connection. "How does that feel?" Harper's voice is quiet as she asks about the water washing over their feet. But it sounds like she is whispering in his ear instead of a foot away.

The touch to his consciousness is a shock, one that startles his eyes open, a sucked breath that almost has him taking a step back. For a moment, tumult and defensive spikeyness in him. There is a twin reaction that follows, one of fear... a genuine fear that she is reaching out to him somehow, and one that he is just imagining it. It takes a swirling moment to answer the question, to steady his response, "Good." But it's a lie. Holding up one's defenses from the world at large is much like sitting in the cold and trying not to shiver. Eventually, it wears one down, it eats away, it exhausts. But, oddly, it isn't the /contact/ (or more specifically, the source) that he is resisting. It's the friendship. There is a whole lot of pain and anguish there. Loss. Self-hatred. Blame. He is holding Harper at the proverbial arm's length, being nice. He likes her, but disallows himself from getting close. It only makes sense as a self-defensive thing.

Harper and Nicholas are standing out ankle deep in the small, foamy waves that roll over the sand and recede. They're standing about a foot apart, both facing out to sea. There is a set of larger boots with socks tucked into them near a set of sneakers similarly stuffed with socks. Harper is wearing a fuschia t-shirt and jeans - and the player forgets what Nick was wearing. Jeans and something. Anyhow, now and then one of them speaks, but their stances appear almost meditative. Harper's gaze remains out on the breakers crashing further out to sea as she says, "Let it go. Just while your feet are in the sand and water. Let it all go. Don't worry. You can have it all back after Dad's prescription. But right now, try to Trust me." Their words aren't likely audible unless one is standing in the water beside them. Strangely, it doesn't look romantic in the least. I mean, wouldn't they be holding hands or embracing or something if they came here to walk on the edge of the Pacific?

May is only just walking onto the beach, so none of that conversation is really caught, though the fact they are fellow glimmers does. It seems today she feel like wearing a pair of black leggings with white skulls all over them and an over-sized black shirt, with a jolly roger skull covering the entire front of the shirt. Her hair is still that half black and half purple as she holds up a black lace parasol to help protect her poor skin from this sun. She was born and raised here and knows how easily she can end up looking like a cooked lobster. She begins to draw towards her fellow townies, soon she'll be within earshot.

Nicholas is mostly just Taking It In, and that is being done with his eyes closed. With his hands thrust into the pockets of his jeans, he listens to Harper coo and soothe with her strange words... and at one point he actually cracks open an eye and looks at her in concern. Did she just say that? An eyebrow is raised, that head re-centered and he closes his eyes once more. But, no, he can't let that go, "What was that about your Dad's prescription?" It's one of those statements that just gnaw at the consciousness, like you -know- something odd is going on behind the words.

Harper turns a mildly exasperated expression on Nick. "No. Trusting me just a little bit, just for a few breaths was not part of my dad's remedy." But standing in the waters is. She holds out her burnt and blistered hands. "Douse that nasty cut in the saltwater -- I /know/, but do it anyway. And your burned hands. Get them thoroughly dunked." Harper reaches down to pull her rolled jeans-cuffs up over her knees which are blistered and burned to and when the next wave comes in she drops down to her knees for a second or two, with a splash that wets Nick's nearer pantleg. She stands up pretty quickly over that, then turns to Nick. "Okay. You're just gonna have to swallow what you're thinking because my Dad knew his shit." Harper doesn't swear. And now twice in the space of a day she's used the dramatic s-word. Scandal! She looks askance at Nick, then moves around to face him in the water, her back to the sea now. "Are you ready?" It's like she's going to pull a bullet out while he's not numbed, the solemn way she says it.

The vehemence in Harper surprises him, and both eyebrows (and hands) go up. "WHOA!" the man gasps, laughing in a sardonic way. The blisters on his red hands are very visible to anyone, very clear and quite painful-looking. "Easy, killer," Nicholas says with some concern, "Put the knives away, will ya? I was just asking. Fuck." Turning slowly away from the bristley one, he crouches and lets the waves wash over his hands, his mouth tightening as it does. Salt in a wound stings, and with the broken blisters of his hands, that's a shock of pain. "I don't know why we just break open the medipack in the back of the truck," the paramedic says with a sense of loss to this ritualized, painful approach.

May gets closer as she catches Harper looking mildly exasperated, a hint of concern showing as her steps begin to draw her quicker towards the pair. She stops by them just as Harper is asking if Nicholas is ready. Her eyes immediately drawn to the blisters, making her gasp out, "Oh my Gods... what happened to the two of you!" She tries to not shout it, ending up blushing as she thinks she may have spoken too loudly, cautiously looking about before back onto their hands. Soon she softly asks, "Do you want me to try and help? I... not really practice... but I could try.." It is true, she rarely talking about such things but her empathy is making her want to fix things. Her face wincing as she watches that salt and the pain in Nicholas's eyes, making her arms hug on herself.

Harper reaches for a spot on Nick's sliced arm that is between his burnt palms and where the gash begins, her grip firm but not hard. "We can medipack all the way to next Sunday after this if you want." Harper's voice softens, "This is just what my dad used to do for me." And then there's that shimmer again, not unlike the mental one from a dozen minutes past. But this time it seems to sputter as she looks down at his arm, looks back up at him, then slowly lowers her face ... toward his forearm? What the hell? So many possibilities. Licking his blood like some sort of vampire wannabe. Kissing it to make it feel better? /Smelling/ it? Crazy Harper is Crazy. She lifts his forearm, if he doesn't resist, her dark hair sliding foward, then she takes a breath and very lightly exhales her breath from one end of the slice to the other, never coming into direct contact with it. Should he continue to allow her the Crazy, she'll be lifting the palm of that same arm and doing the same thing over each finger and palm when May gets close enough to see them. She doesn't stop her ... breathing-on-shit until she's finished with that entire palm. Her gaze sketches past Nick's 7 extra inches of height, around his shoulder to see May and smiles as if this sort of thing were part of what everyone does when they come to the beach. "Hi, May. Yeah, no. There was a ... thing. It hurts like a burn would, you know?" Even as she speaks she's releasing Nick's forearm and reaching for his other wrist as if she's going to do the same silly thing there.

"SOMEONE," Nicholas says without naming names, as he explains to May, "thinks that modern medicine is a far cry from home-grown remedies." It's just a playful stab at the girl's attempt at a more spiritual approach. His arm is in her hands, veiled under her hair as she /breathes/ on him, which only makes his eyebrows rise again. Crazy Harper is Crazy. "Girl.." he starts to say, pulling his other hand away from her, shaking his head as if her second chance is denied. Instead, he takes HER hand and holds it, palm-up, and covers it with his own, "Harper. It was a fucked up thing, what happened back there. I get it. I still don't know what happened, not really figuring that shit out right now, I'm still in the fucking-crazy phase."

May looks a touch worried, "A thing? And I thought today was going to be a good one." She chews on her bottom lip for a moment as if pushing something back in her mind before is giggling at Nicholas's loud someone, unable to help it. Though his words cause her to come of that giggle cloud is gone and the concern is back as she asks, "What... fucked up thing happened? Also... I really want to look at that. Also... I may need to take a few classes from you in first aid, unsure if they might take me out into more... dangerousish consulting jobs if there is computers or me looking into forgeries needed." A brief pause before she murmurs, "Also... what degree burn is that even?" She is use to Harper being crazy, this is nothing really new for her.

Harper looks entirely put out as Nick pulls the second hand away, scoffs even at her childhood 'remedy'. His explanation to May earns him an attempt at a glare. Not so much. Did she expect magic? Probably only the kind that exists in her tipped reality. But Nick could have put up with a few more seconds of what she was doing. She is not expecting him to grab her burned and blistered hand and so it is easily captured and she looks up at him, her brows furrowing in silent query-chide. In fucking-crazy phase? That's the world she lives in 24/7. "You..." she begins, "...are a --" She catches her breath and looks down in a snap. The blisters are less significant, the bright red is more pink, but one could use logic to argue that that is how it always used if one wanted to. There's a repeat, as if her commentary was jogged back to restart. "You - What was th-- no, he didn't!" This is just a briny version of a parent's kiss it to make it better. Or so she thought. She jumps from first person to third without even a hiccup. She stands there, startlement written like a sonnet over her face.

A glance to May as she arrives, "Oh. Hey, Wednesday," Nicholas says with a warm tone, "That's a lot of 'also's. Do you always speak in bullet points?" He is teasing her just as he teases everyone, that light humor intended as a personal defensive wall instead of a hurtful type of jab. It's a lot to answer, frankly, "First degree," he answers automatically, "and yes, I can totally teach you some stuff for scene work. How you been?" Nicholas. Always trying to be polite even in the most odd of times. To Harper, he just allows a smile, "I'm an ass, I get it. I live with that, too." Letting Harper have her hand back, "Oh look, the sea water quelled the burns a bit..." he says in a light voice, as though he knows better, everyone knows better, but he's trying to play along with the Play-House approach of the librarian's.

Harper regains control of her appendage and with a huff, 'stomps' through the wet sand to get out of the surf, which likely brings her closer to May. Or is Wednesday the name more commonly used? There might be a mumbled, "Toldyaso." A bit more agitated today than she is most other times, Harper strides through the sand toward her shoes. "I'll give ya twenty bucks if you get into his house, May," calls Harper as she drops her denim-clad rear to the sand and begins pulling on her semi-naughty socks. Well, naughty for Harper. Nearly prim and proper for most other folks.

May reaches over and gently strokes on Harper's back if allowed as she responds, "He is a what? And... your hand looks better now." She is attempting to calm Harper a bit, it might work. A blush crosses her pale cheeks as she softly smiles at the nickname and murmurs to Nicholas, "I sometimes do? You know I suck at socializing sometimes. I like my coding, it is controllable." Always her excuse since a lot of weird things happen in Gray Harbor. All. The. Time. She offers a gentle shrug as she responds, "Okay I guess. I ran into Declan at the Pourhouse the other evening. And met the new cop on the force, his name is Michael, he seems very nice. I... decided to be brave and ask him out for coffee." Her attention back on Harper as she repeats softly, "Toldyaso?" Then the realization shows up on her face as she gets it. She blinks a bit about the wager and inquires, "Just... to get into his house?" She looks back towards Bayside as she inquires, "Did you guys maybe wanna wash up at my place? It is just around the corner if you remember. Number 7."

Still standing in the water as it laps and washes chilled water over his ankles and lower calves, Nicholas just sighs. He always does this. Someone tries to do something nice for him, and he assholes it right away. As May speaks, he turns, pulling one foot at a time out of the sand that it was buried in up to the ankle bone. "Dating on the job, huh?" he teases the department forensic geek, "Probably a bad idea, Wednesday. What happens when he breaks up with you?" Watching Harper struggle into her socks, he sighs and walks up onto the sand and plops down beside her. "Sorry," he says.

"Yep." replies Harper. Just to get into his house. "You're a real gem, May. Do you know that?" Harper inquires. Then she adds under her breath. "... maybe she would. Don't be so quick to judge." More audibly. "You should hear that more often. I hope he's bowled over by you." She's got her socks on over her wet feet now. A lengthy pause after the s-word from Nick and Harper briefly leans toward him and bumps him with her shoulder before straightening and picking up a sneaker. When she lifts her gaze under her lashes in May's direction she flashes a smile. A simple, genuine, soft Harper smile.

May blushes deeply as she murmurs to Nicholas, "I suppose you could call it that... He and I don't... work together. I just see him at the precinct when I am there is all... we sometimes make small talk over coffee... but I caught him out and about the other night... caught... I mean... ran into him... and well.. he is very sweet... I dunno..." Her gaze going all bashful as she looks to the sand while softly chewing on her bottom lip. Another shrug given when he asks the question before she responds, "I... I dunno... never even had a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. That stuff... it is messy. But... I kinda wanna try it... my therapist said I should start doing more social things... and well... dating is social and..." She falls silent as she begins to rub on one of her arms slowly up and down, her nervous tick. And more blushing as Harper calls her a gem. She murmurs, "I hope so too... I kinda thought... Declan was but... I misread the situation..." a gentle frown soon following. She shakes her head softly side to side, as if trying to get the thought from it, her gentle smile returning as she says, "So.. to my place? I could make something and I think I have my little cabinet re-stocked..." Her steps beginning to slowly move towards bayside, glancing back to see if they are indeed coming.

Nicholas just leans back onto his hands, letting his feet dry in the sand as he listens to the ladies talk, staring out at the small incoming waves in the Bay water. "Sorry, May," he adds in, and you can tell that he's serious because he actually uses her name, "I don't think that you'd be the issue. I've worked with cops for a few years and, no offense, the guys that get attracted to that job are sometimes assholes. Players, if you know what I mean. It's like everything's a competition with them. That's not to mention that I think that all men are asshats with bragging. That's why I'd never date someone on the Emergency Services teams. Just me, though." Like Nicholas ever dates to begin with.. not for several years. Shaking his head, he starts to brush off his feet, getting the sand off with his socks before just sliding bare feet into his hiking shoes. "Come on, Harps. Let's go." he says in a take-charge, might-as-well sort of tone.

Harper's shoes are back on now and Harper rises, rolling down her jeans until her legs are covered once more. Those blistered knees still looked mighty painful. But there's some sort of fatigue that rests around Harper like a mist. Her still waters almost always run deep - but not today. She listens to the masculine advice about dating in the law enforcement community but has nothing to add there. As gracious and genuinely friendly as Harper is, there has never been gossip about her dating anyone. Now if one of the town biddies had seen that strange, utterly platonic salt-water ritual, her reputation might be shattered, and all for naught. "I think I'll take a raincheck, May. Later this week? I'll bring my new favorite tea. And maybe some ... pumpkin bread."

May looks to Nicholas as he calls her May and smiles softly as she murmurs, "I know... and he is a rookie... I still wanna give him a chance though... And... I kinda agree about... /most/ men being that way." Something flickering in her eyes as if something happened recently for her to have that look, not something she ever did really before at such comments. She perks up at the mention of pumpkin bread and smiles as she says to Harper, "I would like that. I am very fond of pumpkin things. And I generally like teas. Chai is my favorite still, with a bit of vanilla and a few drops of caramel, and a splash of milk..." SHe replays how she speaks and comments to Nicholas, "Okies... maybe I do kinda speak in bullet points?"

"Oh, /she/ gets pumpkin bread?" Nicholas throws up his hands again, "I see how it is!" but both women would probably tell that he is just trying to lighten the mood as he pulls on his other shoe. Standing, brushing himself off, he tucks the wet socks into a pocket and takes a deep breath. "Wednesday," he takes on his most paternal voice, giving her a serious and stern look that is likely neither, "Keep being cool. Keep being cute. But the bullet point thing is going to need some work." A smile and wink as he pushes his hands into his pockets again. Starting toward the guard rail along the road, he says toward Harper, "Come on, Sheets." Oooh, new nickname! "I'll get you to your car."

Harper waves a red palmed hand at May as she heads toward the passenger side of Nick's truck. There's no intimacy there to speak of. No hand holding, no brushing touches, no wistful gazes. Looks like the same friendship they had when she was in high school and he was in middle school. Books. Harper's world revolves around books. Preferably away from glass, as we learned today. There's a little smile from Harper as Nick calls May cute. She reaches the passenger side of Nick's truck and shakes her head slowly. "Don't you start, Hannibal." She climbs in, offers one last wave to May and is driven off to where she left her car before the whole fire nightmare.

May giggles at Nicholas's antics, her hand moving to cover her mouth and cheeks as he makes her flush once more. "I will try. Are you still coming by? Or another time?" She stops in her steps, lingering for a moment to get a gauge on if she should defrost more meat or not. The nicknames cause her to look curious, but she shrugs it off, not seeming to mind if it isn't one she doesn't catch onto just yet.

As he starts the truck, he says through the open window, "Another time, Wednesday, okay? It's been a long day, and I for one really need a drink... and since I only drink at home..." The decisions in life that come from pulling body after body out of drunk driving accidents. Pulling out, he heads back downtown, presumably whereever Harper left her car before the pizza parlor incident.