2019-07-02 - Today is a Good Day

There was no rain today! The sun was out, the temperature warm. And Isolde had uncovered some particularly interesting and useful information about the Murray House. The reward? Asking Alexander very nicely if they could go get ice cream on the Boardwalk. Since Pew Pew Pie was temporarily closed, which was sad. It must have worked because here they were! Just stepping out of Sweet Retreat. Isolde hadn't really been on the Boardwalk proper yet so she was curious to explore some of what it had to offer. Her ice cream cone was two scoops, chocolate and vanilla swirl. Her hair was pulled back in some attempt to look neat and she had on a gray t-shirt with a pair of dark blue jeans. Her flannel was tied about her waist because it was far too humid to be wearing it but she never left home without it. "How are you feeling today?" Bright blue eyes inquisitive as she looked away from the busy Boardwalk and back towards Alexander.

Alexander has not been sleeping well (when does he ever sleep well - but it has been markedly more poor of late), and has spent a lot of time on the phone, either texting or actually calling people. But when Isolde suggests a walk on the Boardwalk, he agrees immediately. He picked up a single scoop of cookie dough ice cream in a genuine waffle cone, and is keeping it from dripping with neat little licks around the edges. He's dressed in a Seahawks t-shirt, jeans, and his usual mudspattered boots. "Better now that we're out here," he says, giving her a sidelong look. "This was a good idea." He veers to stay out of people's bubbles. Or to keep them out of his, but Isolde at least gets a pass on that. "It's a small town, so don't expect much, but it's nice."

Isolde has noted the not sleeping well on some level. Occassionally he wakes her up, or she's already awake anyway. She has been very good about not eavesdropping on his, likely muffled, conversations behind closed doors. She reads, talks to Luigi, or watches TV with the sound on low. Fresh air was important, she knew it was helping her at least a little and she wanted to help Alexander. "The weather is pretty. Good for trying to relax." Licking at her cone as she her gaze drifted from him to the people they passed, easily moving along side him. But not getting too far into his personal space. "I'm glad you came outside." Offering up a smile. "It is nice. Small is okay. Not many places have Boardwalks. Not many places I've been so close to water. We should do the swimming soon. Maybe after the house." A beat of pause. "After I go see the house. Want to try and talk to Easton before. So we can go together."

Alexander doesn't try to hide his conversations, something about 'bones' that makes him grumpy, of late. He listens, and walks, and engages in a futile but delicious battle against ice cream entropy. "It's good weather," he allows, studying her sidelong. Her smile is returned with a faint one of his own. "After the house, we can certainly go swimming. I met an archeologist who suggested diving." A shake of his head. "I don't want to get lost underwater." His gaze sharpens. "You've been researching the house. Find anything interesting? And I'm glad you're going to contact Easton before going back."

"Diving? That sounds complicated." Isolde's eyes widened briefly at the idea of getting lost in the water. "That would be very bad. A very very bad way to get lost..." She rocked on her heels, shaking the though off with a shudder. "No thank you. Just swimming." She falls silent, focusing on her ice cream cone until he asks about the house. "Very interesting! And very sad." A fleeting frown. "The Murray family...lots of kids died. Every generation. Even when they left. The house is a bad thing...but I think maybe the bad thing infected them."

Alexander pauses while Isolde rocks, watching her. "Mm. My thoughts on the matter agree." He frowns, then. "But I don't know if you can get lost underwater. And I didn't know that a place could curse a family like that. Maybe some sort of parasite from the other places? The rules are changing, Isolde, and I--" he stops, shakes his head with an abrupt motion. "Never mind. This is pleasant." He reaches out with his non-ice-creamed hand and snags the trailing bit of the flannel wrapped around her waist. "Come with me." And off he goes! If she doesn't follow, he's totally going to steal her flannel as he tries to lead her to a busker, a middle-aged blind man, wedged between two booths selling funnel cakes and oversized turkey legs. The busker is playing a saxophone - something bright and sweet and danceable.

"I didn't either. Maybe it didn't. I dunno." Isolde mused, but looked curious for him to continue on. Except that he didn't and she looked bewildered when he plucked up some of her flannel. Well, of course she was going to follow along because the flannel was important! And also, "What were you-" going to say. The sentence doesn't get finished because she's listening to the busker. Maybe trying to remember if she'd ever heard a saxophone live before. Surely she had to have...maybe? At least once or twice. There were all kinds of street musicians. Isolde's features were lit up, turning to look at Alexander again, "The music is good! Pretty." Then back to the busker, swaying just a little bit to the music. A somewhat distracted lick to the ice cream cone now and again - only to save her hand from getting covered in the treat.

"He's very good," Alexander agrees in a low voice. "I come down to listen to him when the weather's nice, sometimes." He takes a bite out of his ice cream scoop, brain freeze be damned, and goes silent to swallow it down, licking the remnants off his lips before continuing, "I thought you might like him. What sort of music do you like?" He shifts the cone to his other hand so he can fish out his wallet, and pull a couple of small bills from the dwindling cash supply. These are dropped into the hat near the musician, and the wallet is carefully replaced.

Isolde's eyes had closed, just enjoying the music and listening to Alexander. Her eyes flickered open at the question about music, making a thoughtful noise. Giving her cone another lick through before answering. "All kinds. Things I can sing too. Or tap my feet too. I don't like the screaming ones." She decided. "But I like this." Nodding back to towards the man. "What kind do you like?" Curious and, for the moment, able to shelve talk of getting lost and bad houses and not asking about bones.

"The screaming ones." There's no lack of humor in Alexander's voice, sort of a wry acknowledgement, but it also seems perfectly serious. "I like metal, rock - classic and modern - anything that's loud and," a pause, "has a lot of emotion in it. Catharsis." He pauses to do ice cream management, then adds, "I like other stuff too, a bit of anything, but those are my favorites." And then, with a sudden burst of whimsy, he lifts his voice and sings out, "Brother will kill brother, spilling blood across the land..."

It's...surprisingly not bad, if you like Megadeth. A bit growly and in need of an electric guitar, but on pitch and recognizable in tune, if you're a metal fan. Which most of the people who offer glares at him do NOT and are NOT. Small children are hauled out of range. And it doesn't go with the sax offering. He stops, clears his throat awkwardly.

Isolde has heard 'the screaming ones' now and then when she's come home. They don't particularly bother her, they just...aren't her cup of tea. Likely just because she has trouble understanding what the people are saying. And sometimes just loud things in general don't resonate very well with her. While the people around them may not like his choice of song lyric, Isolde looks absolutely delighted at the short little bit. "You sound good!" She'd clap if one of her hands wasn't occupied with ice cream. "Much better than me." Isolde couldn't sing or dance worth her salt but she had fun and that was what mattered. Though rarely would she subject others to her singing. At least she recognized her talent only went so far! "You should sing more sometime." A matter of fact nod as she sways to the sound of the saxophone again, biting into the ice cream and part of the cone. "I like-" a pause to finishing chewing and swallowing. "I like older things too. Like Journey and Kansas. Aerosmith too."

Alexander laughs, softly, and starts to move on from the busker. "I don't sing much," he says, in a tone that suggests that won't change. "But I bet you sound good, Isolde. You should sing more." A flash of a grin towards her. "Or at all." He's through most of his actual ice cream, and then starts eating the cone in a few big, messy bites to try and devour it before the broken shards leak melt all over his hands. He's only partially successful, and makes a face at the sticky residue on his fingers.

Isolde feigns a pout when Alexander says he isn't going to be singing much. She lingers a beat longer by the busker and then moves to catch up. "Nooo I don't." Giggling. "You don't want me singing a lot." And, as if to prove her point, she does sing a couple lines of a song that everybody knows and loves. "Just a small town girl! Livin in a lonellyy worldd!" And it's it sung cheerfully off key like she totally knows she's terrible and just owns it. She'd probably be better if she practiced, like, at all but singing is not very high on Isolde's list of things to learn. So off key it will stay. She dissolves in giggles, giving him a grin in return before taking another bite of ice cream.

"Maybe I do," Alexander says, with a shrug. "You don't know." But he falls silent as she starts to belt out those first few lines. He stares, peculiarly intent upon her, and she can feel an odd pressure envelop her - it's hard to tell what it is, exactly, but it's definitely coming from Alexander and it seems to try and find purchase on her mind, before sliding off. His eyebrows go up, and he snorts. "That is terrible." It's not mocking or angry, just a simple observation. "But I like the joy. As long as you are joyful, Isolde, sing anytime you please."

Isolde pauses, her smile faltering and she's peering at him again. Intently. And maybe a little accusatory. She doesn't get angry very often, if ever. Aside that short period of time where she was being moody because of the withdrawl. There's a look in those wild eyes that show she is trying very hard to think before she speaks. He totally knows that she knows what he did, or tried to do at least. Well. She's warned him before about doing things without asking. But now that SHE can do things too...well it's only fair that she gets to try.She reaches out, and it's careful maybe a little hesitant because she hasn't actually tried to focus like this since they talked about it during the storm. He can feel a brush against his mind, a feather light touch. Then it's gone and Isolde shifts again to continue walking. "Maybe I will." Sing more often. She offers finally, taking another bite of ice cream. Nothing said about the invasion of privacy. He gets a slide this time.

In contrast to Isolde's reaction, Alexander's smile blooms wide and bright when he feels her brush his mind. The enjoyment he was feeling rises with a sharp intensity, then bursts into pride in her. "You did it! Very good, Isolde." It's only then that he seems to notice the irritation as he rewinds the moment or two. He blinks. "I've done something wrong. I'm sorry. What did I do?" He falls in beside her, slouching and looking uncomfortable. His emotions shift and churn, unease muddling the waters.

Isolde gave a little tug to her hair with her free hand and shook her head. "I just want you to ask. When you do that...unless I'm losing it and you have to and you can't ask." She looked back at him but allowed a smile. Because, let's face it, she really couldn't stay mad at him. AND she had done the thing successfully! "But, it's interesting. An...interesting feeling. And I know you didn't mean to not ask..." Isolde nodded again. "I'm learning though. And that's a good thing. Good practice." She finishes her ice cream cone finally, wiping her hand a bit on her flannel. "I'm sorry Alexander. I'm not mad. Just...not used to it."

"Oh." Alexander's face goes blank for a second, and he looks away. "I'm sorry. I forgot. I get...excited, sometimes. I like to feel things, when people sing or," he shrugs, "other things. I should have asked. I'm sorry." He ducks his head. "You have a right to be mad, Isolde. You do. I wouldn't blame you. If you were."

There's a moment of silence before Isolde reaches out a free hand and, if he allows it, hooks her pinky with his own. "I'm not mad. Feeling things is good and I'm glad you're feeling good things today instead of bad things." Isolde smiles again. Then she would let his pinky go. "A warning is nice but, I understand. I am understanding better at least. There's so many things to feel and so many people...and no one is the same." She lets her gaze drift a moment before focusing back on him. "And you showed me the music man." Brightening up a bit. "Today is a good day."

Alexander does not dodge the touch, or jerk his hand away when she reaches out with her pinky. He bears it with a kind of tense stoicism, like this is his deserved punishment for not asking permission. He does say, voice suddenly a bit tense, "I can't always stop it, if you're touching me. The," his free hand reaches up and taps his temple. "So you know." But he's careful, and there's no repeated attempt to press in on her mind while they're in contact. When she lets his pinky go, the hand falls limply to his side. "I'm glad you think so, Isolde." A pause. "I've had fun."

Isolde studies him him again, curious. "...Is that why you don't like to be touched or to touch people?" Her voice is soft. "Because you can feel things that way too?" Trying to wrap her head around the idea of that maybe being a possibility. "I will remember that. And...it isn't really bad." She rubbed the back of her neck. "I don't have things to hide. It was just unexpected." She nodded. "I'm happy you did...I'm sorry I made it less fun." Murmured sincerely and maybe feeling a little guilty - which was easy to read.

Alexander breathes out. "Not...entirely. But it's a part of it. It's harder to keep people out if we're touching. Or to keep from bleeding over into them." He frowns at her, and says, firmly, "You did NOT make it less fun, Isolde. Not at all. You have a right to decide what you're comfortable with. Don't just be okay when someone does something you're not okay with. Especially if that person's me. I don't want to be that." He reaches out, then, and very deliberately ruffles her wild hair, unless she dodges it - which he gives her plenty of time to do. "I step out of line, tell me. Don't feel bad about that."

Isolde doesn't dodge the hair ruffling, though does little a little surprised by it. Then she grinned again. "Okay. I will tell you. And I will tell other people too." She pushed a hand through her hair after he had withdrawn his own hand. She looked back over her shoulder, maybe somewhere vaguely in the direction of the busker, then back to Alexander. "Are there other people like the man with the saxophone? Here in town. That play music like that out here on the boardwalk? Or other places?"

Alexander nods. "Good." Then surprise flickers as she continues. "Street musicians? Yeah. Mostly on the boardwalk or downtown. Places with traffic. Not as many as are in bigger cities, but people try." He shrugs. "Other performers, too. Saw a street magician here - was hoping to run into him, maybe. He works this area. He's good." He starts walking, slowly, hands in his jean pockets now.

"Neat." Isolde thinks it over. "Maybe I will try to see some other ones." Happy enough to leave the previous conversation behind. Her eyes widened. "A magician?!" Oof, if the saxophone player had been like a 5 on the 'This is cool. I like this.' scale then the idea of a magician was definitely like a 7. "That sounds like fun! Yes. I will have to look for him too. I haven't seen a magic show in a long time." Like, very long time. Forever long ago time.

Alexander watches her reaction out of the corner of his eyes. "I'll find out when he's performing, and we can come down one day, then. Or you can find out when he's performing. If you like. His name is Aidan Kinney. He wears unusual clothes." Says the guy who seems to think Homeless Chic is the height of fashion. "You should meet him. He seems nice."

"It's a plan then. We will do this." Isolde nods emphatically in agreement. "Aidan Kinney with unusual clothes and who might be nice." There was a faint little chiming sound and she looked around before realizing it was her phone and took it out. "Easton is texting." As she starts to reply back to him - going at a pace that says 'I'm still getting used to this phone thing'. "He wants to talk to about the House and the girl." Looking back up at Alexander. "I should talk to him and I can bring home dinner?" She suggested.

Alexander peers shamelessly at her phone as it dings. Look, boundaries aren't his best subject. But when she explains, he nods easily enough. "Of course. Enjoy the walk - Bayside isn't far from here." He points in the right direction. "Don't get lost." For himself, he seems content to amble along the boardwalk a little longer, enjoying the heat soaking into his bones, and the sounds of the ocean.