2019-07-18 - Nobody Died Today

It was a quiet afternoon on the Boardwalk; there's no rain, but the sky above is bland and overcast, a suggestion that an eventual drizzle was still a threat. Violet sits on a round table beneath an umbrella overlooking the bumper cars - they sit motionless and lifeless, silent sentinels; though if one was particularly perceptive, they may notice that a single car is pulled off from the herd, and therein lays a homeless man, sleeping soundly. Violet seems to not notice him, mostly because her attention is off in the direction of the distant bay, her lips pressed into a pensive line, her elbow on the table and her chin on her knuckles. She's expecting Alexander, but she's probably here way earlier than expected.

Alexander looks...well, different, than usual. His clothing is new, for one, although still aggressively casual: a Seattle tourist t-shirt in a size that fits him, in dark blue, over tan cargo shorts, and walking shoes. His hair is usually clean, and today's no different, but it's clearly had a bit of product added to keep it out of his eyes. He still looks like he hasn't slept for a week or two, and his eyes still move in twitchy little jerks, as if expecting someone to attack at any moment, so he probably hasn't been replaced by a pod person. He's got a bag slung over one shoulder and walks towards the arranged meeting place. There's the faintest of smiles as he studies Violet. "I'm early. You look like you're thinking. Want me to come back?" He might actually be teasing her.

There's a bit of a startle when Alexander walks up, but at least Violet doesn't leap right out of her skin. Just a quick jump of her shoulders and a blink of eyes behind thick glasses as she swings her focus from bay to man. Up goes her chin from her hand and she straightens. "Oh," is not a greeting, but that comes next, a subtle smile of her own twitching at her lips. "Hello. No, I'm fine. I like to look at the water sometimes, it is peaceful. Most of the time," she motions to the empty seat. "You look nice today, Alexander," she says pleasantly, and then realizes how that might sound, and continues to ramble on: "Not that you don't look nice any other day, but that is a new shirt, I think anyway, that is all I'm saying."

Alexander freezes at the startle, his hands coming up in an instinctive 'I'm unarmed and harmless' sort of gesture. He stands there, wary and guilty looking, until she relaxes. Then he does, as well, turning to look out at the water and giving a short nod. "It's beautiful. Easy to forget, when you live so close to it." He turns back, and approaches more carefully, skirting around to take the empty seat. "Thank you. I am supposed to dress 'for the water and the weather'. This seemed appropriate." A frown down at himself, like he's reconsidering, before he shakes his head and turns his attention back to her. "I am meeting someone after this." He studies her. "How are you, Miss Whitehouse?"

The two of them can match with their guilty looks, though Violet's own is contained in the subtle wrinkling of her nose. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel bad. I was just .. in my own head," she is at least quick to relax, putting her forearms on the table and leaning in with a cant of her head as he explains the dress. "I hope you are going to do something fun and it isn't another meeting to do more work," she replies, not prying into his personal life. Maybe she's uncertain if they are those kinds of friends yet. But how is she? That takes a moment for her to think through, her brow furrowing as she taps a few fingers on the table.

"I'm.. fine," she finally decides, and then delves into more detail: "I'm more than a little frustrated with what we've been looking into. I'm still sad that Alice still hasn't reached out. But we have pretty flowers in the garden at home, and Alex might take me up to Seattle soon." That last part seems to make her smile. "I like it up there. It is.. so quiet. I don't feel scared. I sleep much better. And I don't feel sad until it's time to go back home." She lifts a shoulder into a quick shrug. "How are you, Alexander?"

"You didn't. Make me feel bad. It's all right to be startled." Alexander offers a brief smile. Then a tentative sort of nod to her next suggestion. "I don't know if I'd call any of the recent endeavors work, as I'm not getting paid for it," a touch of dryness in his voice, "but this is a meeting with a friend on her houseboat. I gather water will be involved." Then he notes the brow furrow, and settles in to listen, watching her with that flat, near-black gaze. "It's better, away from this town," he agrees, softly. "Dr. Glass found out more about the asylum. I don't know if she's told you?"

The question makes him hesitate. He looks out at the water. "I'm trying to be better. Talking with people? But it's mostly about serial killers, monsters, and murder. I am concerned about fr--about people who I enjoy the company of. I don't know how to help them. It's frustrating and hurtful, and it makes me angry when they get hurt." He glances back at her. "But I'm trying to be better."

There's no surprise when he indicates that he has a friend with a houseboat - just a faint, pleasant smile. "That sounds enjoyable," she enthuses, and then shakes her head slightly at the talk of Dr. Glass. "I only know what she told Alex. I prefer if there's... a degree of separation, and he knows how to talk to her. She met one of the doctors from there," the smile slips into a frown, steadily deepening. "She met him in a Dream. At least.. I think it was a Dream? Except Alex said Dr. Glass was in his office but also claiming she was there, too, where this other doctor was. I don't know what it all means," and thus the frustration. "But if you can be There and Here at the same time, maybe that's.. maybe that's how Alice wrote on the wall. If it was really Alice at all," she breathes out, slumping forward, to focus better on Alexander.

"I do understand that, at least. Trying to be better," she drops a hand to fidget with the edge of her navy blue skirt underneath the table. "But you have every right to be angry when someone is hurt. Did a friend of yours get hurt?"

"She's nice, you know," Alexander says, gently. "I'm seeing her. She hasn't scared me away yet." There's a brief, bright grin that wilts as soon as it blooms. And he totally pretends that he isn't doing the exact same thing with Alex, asking Vivian to talk to /him/, because Violet's boyfriend is intimidating. "Yes. A Doctor Montgomery Marshall. It appeared the two offices were...overlayed on each other? Like one of the lost places, but perhaps more persistent?" He shakes his head. "It has led to a theory on the parts of Dr. Glass and Thorne that we're having trouble finding the damned asylum because it's not here, it's there. And that, yes, reaching over is possible. Which is a problem. But perhaps also an opportunity." He takes a breath. "Have you ever tried to track your sister? I'm sure you have, but I thought I should ask. To make sure."

To the last, he nods. "The coroner. Her brother was murdered and she's in ICU." Just talking about it, even with deliberate brevity, brings emotion back to his features: guilt, worry, and a flash of absolute rage. Before it fades back into his usual flat expression.

"I trust you," Violet replies on the subject of Dr. Glass, though that seems to be the qualifier. She trusts Alexander, she trusts Alex, and that's where the trust stops. The frown deepens as he talks through his theory; she pretty much wears all her emotions on her sleeve, it isn't at all difficult to see that she's upset. "I don't understand. How could the asylum be there? How could my parents have sent her there, is it even possible to get there? Purposefully? I feel like They just keep changing the rules. Every time I think I understand, it's different. But if she was There, why didn't she ever tell me?" She takes a deep breath in and exhales it in a quick rush, shaking her head at the question of tracking. "I don't think I can. Track her, I mean. I only know she's alive because lately.." she licks her lips, ashamed to admit this. "Every time I reach out, I can feel her putting up the walls to stop me. To.. to block me. Nothing makes sense anymore."

As to his own pain, she reaches out to put her hand on his arm, a brief touch. "I'm sorry about your friend," she says genuinely. "I would be angry too."

Alexander nods, briefly at the response - he clearly feels he's done his duty, and is not going to be the person who critiques a wariness of the mental health profession, by any means. "Hell if I know," he says, quietly. "But she may not know she's there - the lost places can look real, until they're not real. And if they're keeping her drugged..." he shakes his head with a grimace. "But I don't know. The rules are changing, or we never understood them in the first place. As for the other Miss Whitehouse..." a sigh. "I don't know her. I don't know what they've been doing with her. It is likely best to assume that she may not be in the best shape to make good decisions. But she's alive. That's good."

His tentative smile in her direction, is interrupted by the movement of her hand. Quick as lightning, his face sharpens, hardens. "Don't touch me." It doesn't need to be loud, and it's not - the complete rejection of the contact is in every word, and the suddenly rigid posture and snapping gaze.

There's nothing that Violet can really say that she hasn't already, so she merely nods to his own words. But that sudden hardening of his features leaves her hand semi floating in the distance between the two of them, her eyes widening. She's quick, at least, to jerk her hand back, looking shamefully down at it as though it were some kind of weapon that she almost harmed him with. "I'm so sorry," she responds quickly, managing to keep herself from bursting into tears, although there's a tremor that rnus through her shoulders. "I should've asked, I didn't know, I'm sorry," she'll just keep her hand here, on her lap, where it's safe.

"Christ, no, it's okay." Alexander's face shifts again, guilt and regret there. He lifts his hands to rub at his face. "It's not. Miss Whitehouse," the words are muffled by his fingers, "you have nothing to be sorry about. I just...if it's a surprise, I don't." He drops his hands, stares at the table. "I don't always deal well, if it's a surprise. I'm trying to be better." He sneaks a peek up at her, trying to gauge the emotional weather there. "It's nothing you did. You were trying to be kind. I understand."

"I understand," Violet replies earnestly, even if there's still a whole host of guilt there in her gaze. "I just didn't know. I should try to be better, too, there are times I don't like to be touched either." She manages to muster up the slimmest of smiles, but she keeps her hands right there on her lap, fingers smoothing over the material of her skirt. "At least I know now," she points out. And it's definitely not the best time to ask this next question, but Violet goes for it anyway, maybe to change the subject: "Alexander. If my sister is.. There. And there's a way to get to her, purposefully, not in a Dream. Would you.. would you think about coming with me?"

Alexander actually looks relieved at the change of subject, even to the probably deadly and murderous kind of thing. STILL BETTER THAN DEALING WITH HIS OWN BAGGAGE. "Yes," he says, simply. "Of course." He dredges up something vaguely like a smile to plaster to his face, and gives her a brief nod. I got yo back.

Hey, look! That makes Violet seem a little relieved. "Thank you," she murmurs, and her smile even brightens. Just a notch. "I will have to go, you know. If she's there, and I can.. help her. I have to try. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't try. But it might be dangerous," the smile slips, fades away. "I don't want to get you hurt. So I will.. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe."

Alexander studies her, carefully. "It will certainly be dangerous," he murmurs. Then rolls his shoulders. "And you are an adult and competent woman. You get to decide if you need to go or not." There's a hint of amusement. "You don't have to protect me, Miss Whitehouse. Hurt happens. It would be a nice change to have it happen for a reason, and instead of just to satisfy the hunger of the Shadows." His voice drops, but becomes more intense at the same time, "If we can hurt them along the way, even if just by taking back those they have stolen? I will consider it a very good day, no matter what."

Violet tips her head in a small nod, though it is a touch firmer there at the latter part of his words. "Yes. I would consider it to be a very good day, too, if we were able to do that," she says, twitching fingers against her leg before she looks up to him. "I am glad to have met you, Alexander. And am glad to call you my friend," it's spoken sincerely, her expression softened. "I hope your coroner friend gets better quickly. I can have Alex check on her. Maybe he can.. help. Her heal, I mean."

There's another smile, brief and warm. "Then let's hope for a very good day." The rest gets blinked at, and he clears his throat, looks away. "I'm...yes, I'm glad to have met you, too. And to be friends with you." It's a low mutter, like if he says it too loud, someone's going to overhear and laugh. He shifts in his seat. "As do I. And that would be kind of you. And of him." Then there's a shift in his expression, his head coming up like a hunting dog hearing a horn. "Actually...I have a favor to ask of him by proxy," i.e. to try and get Violet to ask him, because scary doctor is scary. He reaches into his bag, and pulls out a small plastic baggie with a bloody stick on it. "I don't suppose he has access to something that might run some blood tests on this? Apparently a monster attacked a child and a dog, and this might be its blood. If things from over there are coming here, then we might be able to figure out how." And reverse it, goes unsaid.

"A favor?" This gets a blink, eyes returning to their owlishly wide state as he takes out the plastic baggie and explains. She hesitates to reach for it, staring at the stick for longer than necessary. "I.. I will surely ask him," she clears her throat, straightens her back, and holds out her hand for the baggie. "You have done so much for us, it is the least that we could do in return." If he hands her the baggie, she's going to quickly tuck it into the satchel she carries around, adding thoughtfully, "It does bring everything into question, doesn't it? If we can go There, it means there's.. a way. Maybe even something like a door. And doors can be opened," she pauses just briefly. "Or they can be closed."

Alexander hands her the baggie, looking mildly relieved that she's willing to take it. "Thank you. If it proves not to be possible, that's fine. I just think it's best if someone like us runs the tests. I fear the sample may get tainted or destroyed if it's sent to a lab." A deep breath, and a nod, as she continues. "That's my hope. Ultimately. We've been victims for a long time. Maybe we can do something about that." His smile is tilted. "Or we can all die horribly. Also a possibility. A good one."

"If there's anybody who can figure it out, it's Alex," Violet replies with a smile, and a sense of strong adoration for the little doctor who scares the crap out of Alexander. "He's very smart." But hey, there's talk of their impending doom, and that dims the bulb a little. Violet starts to pick herself up off the bench, smoothing her skirt as she goes. "I think I would much rather just.. leave and never see this place again. I'd prefer to live," she admits. "In fact, I have never wanted to live as badly as I want to now. There are so many things to look forward to, even in the midst of all the things that I wish would go away." She offers him a faint smile, "I should walk back up to the house. But thank you, Alexander. For everything so far."

"I would agree. He seems very sharp," Alexander says. "If he would like, he could contact Eleanor Lake with the information, if there's anything to be found. She owns the Espresso Yourself. She might give him free coffee." He stands when she does, carefully, as if it might startle her again. "I feel," a long pause, "similar. Don't die, Miss Whitehouse, and I will endeavor to do the same." He'll watch her when she goes, eyes narrowed and careful, as if by keeping his gaze on her, he might keep her from wandering into any horrors on the way home. Then he'll start trudging his way across the Boardwalk, towards the docks.