2019-07-19 - Along the Boardwalk

Contrary to popular opinion, August does know how to make himself presentable. It's just that he almost never has a reason to. His job doesn't require it (is, in fact, somewhat counter to such efforts), and he's not exactly out there every weekend hitting clubs. He's not going to show up for an evening on the boardwalk in shorts and a t-shirt, though. His mother and sisters would berate him until the end of time if they found out about it (also Itzhak would too and he's not about to let that happen).

This is not to say he's dressed up, but it's a button down shirt in gray and brown crosshatch, black khakis, and a pair of more casual, suede boots. It's too warm for a jacket, though he brought one just in case it gets colder. He arrives at Espresso Yourself, his black Outback in need of a trip to the car wash (this is what he gets for living down a dirt--right now, mud--road), and heads to the shop door to see if Eleanor is ready to go.

Eleanor is also not a complete mess when it comes to cleaning up. She is in a maxi sundress, white with faded red floral print, with lace trim at the bustline, and white sandals. Her hair has been styled, and she has her contacts on, and makeup. A little leather wallet-sized purse is settled around her cross-body style. She might have tried on 37 other outfits before choosing this one, but she looks nice.

When he pulls up, she opens the shop door and steps out, to spare him the indignity of any giggles and whispers from her employees. “Hi!” she greets awkwardly, then looks him up and down. “You look very handsome.” Oh Jesus Ellie, that’s something a grandma would say!

And yet, grandmothers can be charming and right to the point. August arches an eyebrow at said giggling employees for the few seconds the door lets them make eye contact, then his attention is only for Eleanor. He's more charmed by the comment than anything else, and smiles, ducking his head. It's not a shy expression per se, but there's definitely a hint of something like that. "You look great," he says. "Here's hoping it doesn't rain on us." He finally manages to meet her eyes, gestures at his car. It's not nearly as cleaned up as they are on the outside, but the interior's neat and tidy. "I have a vague idea of where to park, but the rest is up to you."

Eleanor blushes and she hops into the car with a lightness of step. There may be some sort of dancing or martial arts in her background because, despite her awkward interactions, her movements have grace and confidence. “So, what sort of things do you definitely NOT want to experience at the boardwalk, so we can narrow it down? There is greasy carnival food, rigged games, really bad shopping, and since it’s Friday, the rides should be open.”

August considers that list as they drive to the parking area. "That all sounds pretty okay to me," he admits. "And rigged games can be fun to mess with." He gives her a sidelong glance, one corner of his mouth quirking in a near smile. "Not sure if that's something you can do. Risky, though; it can backfire in weird ways." Like that time a gun had simply fallen apart after August had used it to shoot an enture run of bullseyes. Fortunately the guy running the booth had assumed it was just an old gun.

It's a pleasant enough drive; though the car's a stick, August is an old hand at it, and the engine's in good shape. Probably because he uses glimmer on that too.

A gorgeous Friday means there's plenty of people at the boardwalk; some are coming back from the beach, some are just heading out to the beach, and some are there for the boardwalk itself.

“I can do a little bit of everything. Jack of all Glimmer Trades, so to speak. Nothing impressive though. I can just sort of nudge things in a variety of ways.” Eleanor smiles at that, and seems pleased that he’s open to anything. “Let’s make the booth runners rue the day, then, and grab something to eat before we hit the rides?”

August's brows furrow at Eleanor's description of her glimmer. "Sounds about how I started out. Little bit of everything, felt like, when I was young. But yours has never gotten any stronger?"

He parks the car as close in as he can get it; benefits of being able to fix your own dents if the body shop's trying to charge too much. "Sounds like a plan," he says, surveying the boardwalk. He has nothing to compare it to, so it's as much a boardwalk as any other. "Thorne was talking about wanting to set up some sort of...carnival type festival around here, I think."

Eleanor shakes her head. “No, but I purposely made sure not to try to strengthen it. The stronger you are, the stronger your abilities, the more you raise the attention off whatever is on the other side, and the easier it is to fall into the Dream,” she says softly. “I guess I’m afraid to use it too much, or push myself past my current limits.” She grimaces, feeling cowardly in the moment. She gets out of the car and begins the walk to the boardwalk proper.

A brow arches at the news of the possible festival. “Yes I think he mentioned needing to speak to me. Likely to have Espresso Yourself cater in some manner.”

August doesn't need an ounce if glimmer to read that reaction. He grimaces, immediately regrets asking. Smooth, Roen, real smooth. "Sorry," he says, as he gets out and locks the car. "We don't have to talk about that if you'd rather not."

He looks out over the boardwalk, turns his thoughts to the topic of Thorne's idea. "Not sure how I feel about it. It's good for the town, obviously, but..." But there's the glimmer, the Dreams (he's not clear on those but can't imagine regular people would do well in them), and his own personal stake in Gray Harbor staying smallish.

“No it’s all right. I just,” Eleanor presses her lips together for a moment as she picks her words, “I know it’s cowardly. I’m a coward. What happened to me back then, and the things I’ve discovered since scare me. They really scare me. And I’m a little on edge. I went looking into something recently for someone, and got a call from a lawyer to cease and desist. So I may be even being watched.”

"Cowardly?" August almost laughs, not from amusement but surprise. "Eleanor after what you went through, that's not the least bit cowardly. Wanting to be safe isn't cowardice. It's reasonable. Besides, here you are, trying to still help people, getting C&D'd--" He sighs, fond and exasperated at once. "You're holding yourself to a crazy standard."

He makes a face at the thought of her being watched. "You take self defense or something, right? So you can smack around any idiots that get up in your business?"

Eleanor nods. “I have for years. Boxing, Karate, Tai Chi, Aikido.” Dance fighting. Not. “It helps to deal with regular idiots, but less so with, you know, others.” The things from the other side of the Veil. “I am guessing you have your own ways to defend yourself of a more eclectic nature?”

August blinks, frankly impressed. He gives Eleanor a once over, like he's trying to determine just how quickly she could kick his ass. "I mean, I was in the Army for three years, so I know some of the basics of hand to hand. Didn't ever really use it, but." He shrugs. "I shoot plenty, since I still hunt. But," he sighs, "a I'd be inclined to use the other stuff, it's true. Just comes naturally." He stops short of explaining what does. At the end of the day it's an ugly thing, that breaking a bone is easier for him than mending it.

They approach the rigged games of chance, and August can't help a mischievous smile. "Okay. Who are we messing with first."

Eleanor smiles, happy for the change of subject. “Well, since you’re a hunter, how about the archery thing, or dart at the balloons?” She grins, because she did do some of that at school, archery that is. She was even on the school team!

In all honesty, August is happy to leave that topic as well. Not that they shouldn't discuss it, but it's a bit of a heavy topic for a date. "Archery," he decides. "Haven't used a bow on a while, so I think you're doing the shooting." Which means he can level the playing field. Assuming he gets it right this time.

He pulls out a five and offers it over, gestures to Eleanor. "All you." If the for running the booth gives Eleanor a look that telegraphs 'ha, free money' well, who can blame him?

Eleanor grins a little bit. “I’m fairly sure none of the arrow shafts are remotely straight or the fletchings properly done but, sure!” She steps up to the counter and accepts the chintzy plastic weapon and crappy wooden arrow. She nocks it to the string properly, and draws properly, letting it fly and hitting just outside of the bullseye. Her second shot is dead center in the bullseye, and the third just outside of it again.

“I’m sure you can do better than that,” she chuckles. She peers over the prizes trying to decide which one to choose.

The gamesmaster chuckles at Eleanor. He knows what it looks like when someone with previous experience tries their hand at it. There's a few every couple of days. The variety of prizes is tolerable, if not amazing--a stuffed badger, a stuffed raven, and a Transformers-like knockoff.

"We'll see," August says as he takes his turn. His first shot is just outside the bullseye, but the other two land in it.

Now the gamesmaster is grimacing at them, at least until a few tourists take August and Eleanor's luck as a sign they should try to, and line up. August gestures at the badger toy, and the man hands one over, then raises an eyebrow at Eleanor.

Eleanor also chooses the badger, at the exact same time, which is kind of dorky and adorable. She blushes at August and tucks the stuffed critter against herself with both arms. “What sounds good to eat? Corn dogs, hot dogs, sausage on a stick? God this place is full of phallic foods.” Did she just say that out loud? AWGAWD.

"Now you match," the gamesmaster says, smiling brilliantly on thanks for the advertising. August accepts his badger with a bland look. As he and Eleanor depart the archery stand, he flicks a little luck in the direction of the kid taking up the plastic bow and arrow.

August tucks his badger under his arm, saying, "A new mascot for the office." He snorts at Eleanor's description of their food options. With a glint in his eyes, he says, "Now I have to get a corn dog, so you can watch me eat it." Somehow he doesn't start laughing the second he's said it, but it's a near thing.

And there she goes blushing again, even though she’s laughing with it. “Oh my,” she murmurs and tips her chin towards a booth that does corndogs and funnel cakes. “Let’s do this, food is on me” she declares. Her badger remains tucked under one arm as she steps up to the window. “One corn dog with honey mustard, a soda, and whatever the gentleman wants.”

August bobs his eyebrows at the blush, clears his throat. Now that he's said that, he's not sure he will eat the corn dog as laciviously as possible. Maybe, maybe not. "Corn dog with mustard and ketchup, a water, and how about a funnel cake to share."

A light breeze has picked up, just enough to bring in the smell of the ocean. August takes a moment to turn to face it and breathe in.

Eleanor looks amused and murmurs, “Dinner AND a show. Wow.” She pays for the meal and once delivered, gestures over to a little bar table and stools where they can see the waves roll in to eat. She settles on one of the chairs and props her badger on the table. She looks out at the water and sighs. “No matter how awful things can get in this town, at least this is always a great view.”

"I aim to please," August murmurs, glancing at Eleanor sidelong. Oh yes, he heard that.

For all his teasing, he doesn't, in fact, get ridiculous with the corn dog. As they settle in, he says, "Yeah. When I was in Corvallis, I missed this. It's lovely out there, but," he sighs, "it's not the coast. No tide pools to go through, no off shore storms to watch roll in..." He shakes his head. His memories of OSU aren't bad, but they lack a certain something: the ocean.

"So. The espresso shop." He takes a thoughtful bite of his corn dog. "How'd you get into that?"

Ellie nibbles at her corn dog and the breeze from the water catches up her hair, making a nimbus around her. “My dad was a firefighter. My little brother is one here now. Mom was a seamstress. And none of those appealed to me. I wanted something where I could live comfortably but still keep tabs on all the news of weird things. So I went to school for business management, got my associate’s, and took out a loan to open Espresso Yourself. Paid that loan off four years in. Who knew good, non-chain coffee would appeal in the land of Starbucksistan?”

She sips her soda and looks at him across the table. “What about you? You were in the army, what made you decide on plants for a living after?”

August sips from his bottled water, considers Eleanor as she talks about her family. "This is the place to run a coffee shop that's not Starbucks," he assures her, gesturing with the bottle. "We are tired of them. The rest of the country, well," he shrugs, "they don't know any better. I guess we can't hold it against them. Mostly." A small, sly smile, and he has a few more bites of his corn dog.

A flippant reply comes to mind. August quashes it in favor of simple honesty. "I couldn't stand the thought of living in a city anymore." His sly smile turns rueful for a second, then he sobers. "Started out with biology. That made the most sense, I mean, considering." A lift of his brows; he means because of his glimmer and it's strongest aspect. "And since Corvallis is out in the trees I did plenty of hiking, got to know the rangers running the Parks pretty well. So by the time I was ready for grad school, seemed like a good fit. Botany's one of the majors they take. There's an actual Forestry major, but..." He looks out over the sun sinking low along the horizon, shakes his head. "Botany just made more sense."

“Do you live outside of the city here?” Eleanor asks curiously. She probably already knows he has a cabin in the woods, because rumor says as much, but she’d rather hear it from him than assume. “And I can see that. I can make flowers stay healthy with attention, but I’m sure you can do far more for them. It’s nice to see it being used for positive things. Helping things live.”

"Yeah, up off Forest Service Road 9945." August gestures to the northeast; though its an offhanded motion, he's actually pointing directly at his cabin. "A bit towards Olympic, since that's where I was stationed before I retired from Forestry and moved here." He mmmmms about being able to do far more for them. "I try to limit it to intervention when it's needed." He finishes off his corn dog, washes it down with some water, has a bite of funnel cake. "I probably use it more than I should, I mean, considering, but it's been so long I hardly realize I'm doing it half the time." He pauses, adds, "With plants, I mean." People, now, that's a different thing entrirely.

He leans a little in his chair, considers Eleanor. "Never thought about moving, though? Getting away from," he nods his head towards downtown, probably meaning 'all of this'.

“Of course I have. My parents managed to move to Florida after they retired but,” Eleanor shrugs, “You’ve felt it. If you glimmer, it draws you, brings you back even if you leave or just pass through. And my brother is here. I need to make sure he’s ok. Well ok in the weird sense. He throws himself into flaming buildings for a living and I can’t protect him from that.” She moves on to the funnel cake as well, the epitome of greasy deliciousness. “Do you have family here?”

August sighs, nods in reluctant agreement about the pull. "It's why I'm here," he admits. "The pull, I mean. No family in town--mom and dad live in Portland. Hannah's in the Bay Area right now, and Zelda's in Issaquah, though she's looking at moving to the Oregon coast somewhere. Mom and dad are getting older, and she'd like to be a bit closer to them."

He grunts about her brother's job. "Well, I guess you can help him heal up a bit better if he does get hurt. That's something." He takes another bit of funnel cake, studies her a spell. "So just how much of all the weird stuff do you look into? Like...everything, or just stuff about," he gestures between the two of them, probably meaning glimmer.

“Everything weird. Anything anyone asks me to look into about it. From what I can figure, all the weird stems from the Veil and such. It’s all connected. A lot of it seems to have to do with the Addison and Baxter families long ago, but I haven’t been able to nail down just what,” Eleanor explains with a little frown. “And the Addison family keeps its records close to the vest. They’re who gave me that C & D.” Pause. "Well their lawyer did."

"So they're into some questionable shit," August says, not needing confirmation. "And aren't they the founders of the town? If so that means they've probably been into it for...a while." He sighs, runs a hand over his face. "Well. If you ever need help with that, let me know." He tells himself it's not so he can keep an eye on her.

And then there's that other topic. "The Veil." He keeps his voice low when he repeats that. "At some point you have to tell me all about that." He holds up a piece of funnel cake. "Not right now, necessarily."

“I couldn’t ask you to do that, August. It could be dangerous, and with the way you shine, you’ve got a big enough target on your admittedly broad back.” Yes, Ellie just said that. And realized it a few seconds after, blushing some more. She is really really bad at this flirting thing.

"But see," August says with a winning smile, "you're not asking me, I'm offering, which is completely different." He grins at the compliment for a few seconds, sobers. "Seriously. Just because it's risky doesn't mean I shouldn't help you. It's not exactly not risky for you, if you think you're being watched." He arches an eyebrow. "No reason you should be taking that on by yourself."

Eleanor gives him a small, shy smile at that and pokes at the funnel cake. “Thank you, then. I’m not used to people wanting to help with my research. Usually they want as far away from the weird stuff as possible.” She looks up at him. “Makes me doubly glad I met you.”

August huffs a laugh, shakes his head. "For me that ship has sailed and is rounding Cape Horn," he says on a sigh. "It found me on a whole other continent. It made me come here. I don't see a reason to avoid it, at this point. Like trying to hold back the tide." It's his turn to glance away when she says that. "Same," he says, preoccupying himself with a drink of water. "He recovers his composure after a second, meets her eyes again. "So aside from keeping tabs on things, what else do you do? Dig into city records, that kind of stuff?"

Eleanor nods her head, pulling her badger into her lap to hold onto for something to do with her hands. “City records, microfiche of old newspapers. I was planning to take a trip to Seattle and Olympia to visit their libraries and check their old papers, to see if any of the incidents we know of here, even made it out to other news outlets nearby. I want to test a theory that the weird things that happen here either don’t even get reported elsewhere, or get reasoned away.”

"That'd make sense," August says, scratching his beard. "When I was in the VA hospital, there were a lot of us there that...did better than we should have." He gives her a knowing look. "Including me. I think there was someone there, an RN or one of the doctors, just kinda, nudging us along, you know? And they made up any old excuse to explain it. No one wondered how I walked out of there, instead of being confined to a wheelchair, they just," he opens his hands, "made up reasons it had to be. Same thing might be happening on a broader scale here. No on wants to talk about a kid's dog being killed by a monster. So instead it's a rabid wolverine, or whatever. Everyone can swallow that." He been looking out in the direction of where that happened, but now his eyes move back to Eleanor. "Everyone accept people like us."

“Everyone except those of us who see things for what they really are,” Eleanor agrees with a grimace. “You were lucky to have had that nudge. As far as I’ve been able to discern, we can’t heal ourselves. Has that been your experience too?” Her eyes light up when she talks about this stuff, and it’s clear that the accumulation of knowledge of the Veil and it’s effects is her passion. One most people would shy away from, naturally.

"Definitely lucky," August agrees. He gets a distant look for a second, shakes off the memories. "Yeah, I can't heal myself." He emphasizes this with a shake of his head. "Not that I've tried, but it's sort of like, not trying to fly, you know? I know I can't. Instinctively. Feels like I wouldn't know where to start trying to." He has a bite of funnel cake. "Can definitely do the opposite to anyone including ourselves, though." A lift of his eyebrows to her as a gesture of caution. "That I found out the easy way, fortunately."

“Admittedly I can’t fix much more than a bruise or paper cut and, even then, it’s more that I can just speed it up. I wouldn’t mind learning to heal more though. Even though I’m afraid of drawing their attention, I might feel more useful.” Eleanor even looks a bit afraid at that. Sure, the boardwalk’s rides and kickboxing don’t scare her, but learning to glimmer more strongly does.

August clears his throat, looks away. "Well, I can teach you with plants, if you want. The principles are the same, just the specifics differ." He takes off a final bite of funnel cake, seems to have to make himself eat it. "Healing people's harder for me," he says once he's washed it down with some water. "So I don't do it very often." He bites his lip, adds, "But, you don't have to. There's no reason you should do it if it scares you. You're just fine where you are. I can't help being where I'm at," he shrugs helplessly, "but you can. There's no reason you shouldn't stay under the radar, if it helps you do what you do. That's enough, I promise you."

“Tell me that when someone is desperately injured right in front of me and I can’t really do anything to fix them,” Eleanor murmurs. She looks surprised though. “Why is it harder for you? Any particular reason? I haven’t heard about that from anyone else.” She gestures towards the rides. “Care to brave the Ferris Wheel?” she asks with a grin.

August sighs, unable to disagree with that. Wasn't it what got him where he was? "Yeah," he says, voice low. "Okay. Well, you tell me when you want to learn, and we'll come up with some basic things to try."

He finishes the last of his water. "It's from being the Army. From when I was discharged." He starts to say more, stops, shakes his head. "Kind of an ugly subject, not sure you want to hear about that sort of thing." It's not a no so much as a warning sign. His expression eases at the suggestion of the Ferris wheel. "Sure."

“If ugly subjects bothered me, I wouldn’t do the work I do,” Eleanor points out. “But if it’s not something you’re ready to talk about, I understand. It took me a decade and a half to talk to anyone about what happened with Addie. I get it.” She picks up her things, puts her trash in a nearby bin, and heads back down the boardwalk towards the rides area at a stroll.

August nods at Eleanor, but doesn't launch into an explanation, just tucks his badger under his arm and tosses his trash. As they make their way to the Ferris wheel, he says, "I've talked about what happened plenty with counselors and therapists. But, that's different. I can't tell them about," he looks askance at her, "that part of it. And that means I only dealt with it partially." He laughs, bitter. "I figured I'd sort out the rest by myself, I mean, who could I talk about that too? And here I am, two decades later, still taking meclazine by the handful any time I have to get near a hospital."

The lights on the rides are brighter now that the sun's almost down, glinting in the dusk. August pays for their tickets, and sooner enough their bolted into the car. Like on the park bench the other day, he doesn't get too close nor attempt to open space between them, keeping the distance as comfortable as an old Ferris wheel cart allows. He half turns to face her. "So, I get it. About not feeling like you can tell anyone about, that part."

“Well now you know someone you can talk to about that side of it, whenever you need to. I’m always just a phone call away.” Or half a ferris wheel cart. She nods to the man who helps them in and closes the rail. Then she ooooh so casually slides over to be closer to him. It is not at all subtle and her eyes are wide with her own boldness with an ‘oh crap what have I done?’ look.

August narrows his eyes at Eleanor, almost smiles. Almost. It's an amused, 'I see you, lady' sort of look. He leans into her a fraction. The wheel slowly turns, taking them and the other new riders to the top. Once they're at the apex, he looks out over the town. "I was in Sarajevo, during the Balkans War." He glances at Eleanor, back out at Gray Harbor below, slowly converting from a break in the tree line leading up to the bay into a sparkling edge along the shore as night threatens. "I know they didn't talk about it much here in the media. It's because they only sent a few hundred of us. But it was bad. The city was under siege for almost four years. Shells falling constantly." He sighs, letting out a long, slow breath. "And, it was like here. The--" he frowns, "Veil, you said? The Veil was thin."

Eleanor listens, her head bent closer to him so he can speak quietly, knowing how one feels when talking about horrific things in the past. “I can’t even imagine. It’s brutal enough in a small town like this. In the middle of an actual warzone?” She pauses for a moment, pondering. “Makes me wonder. I think the things over there feed on bad feelings. I wonder if war rips the Veil, or thins it, so in places like that, even if it wasn’t prevalent before, it becomes that way for a time so long as the war rages?” So many theories. She should have been a scientist. Or a detective.

"Maybe," August says, tone absent. "I mean, I don't know the history there well enough, maybe there was a reason it was always that way. Or maybe it was the siege." He grimaces. He hates to think it was the siege that dragged him there, in some way, though if it had been an undertow trying to drown him, it had failed. So there was that.

Presently, he says, "We mostly guarded hospitals. So I was never in, you know," he shakes his head, "a pitched firefight, or anything. US government didn't want any part of that." He makes a face. "Neither did the UN, really." He lets out a breath. "But the whole time, I could hear it. People's pain, and their injuries. And then, ah," he picks at a bit of imaginary lint on his pants, "the hospital I was assigned to was shelled, and collapsed." He stops a second, shrugs. In for a penny. "Took a few hours for them to get us out. I spent the whole time just trying to keep the people I could feel alive. I was like those cartoons of a guy trying to plug all the holes in a dam." He laughs at that mental image. It's a bit too accurate. "And myself--I can't heal myself but I can, you know," he makes a face, "make myself more lucky. And I could ease the way the weight was sitting on me. It all added up."

He licks his lips. The Ferris wheel takes them down, pauses to get a couple more riders, then back up again. "But by the time they got me out of there, the thought of touching anyone's injury was just..." His voice fades. "It was too much. I didn't try to heal anyone for almost five years. Couldn't handle the thought. Plants, animals were no problem. People, no."

Eleanor sets a hand on one of his very gently. At least she’s healthy and there is no damage to sense physically in her. “I am so sorry. So very sorry you had to go through that. But you had to have been so strong to try that hard for so long to help those people. Plants and animals, they don’t convey feelings the way we do. We don’t relate to their pain the same as we do to humans. So that makes sense. I am glad you survived, and you healed.”

August looks at Eleanor again, expression a little guarded. He squeezes her hand, smirks. "Not sure about strong. Stubborn, maybe, and obstinate." The smirk becomes a smile for a second, then fades. "Yeah, that's what I've noticed. Or, well--maybe for some people it's different, but for me, after Sarajevo, people's injuries just...scream. I can sense them from a pretty good distance. I don't know, I guess it could be because of how I can also feel how they're feeling, so it's in stereo." He makes a helpless sort of face. "Just my luck. I keep trying, though. I figure, I have to get over it. Like you said, someone's going to get hurt real bad and I'm, what, not going to do anything?" He shakes his head. "No way."

The ferris wheel brings them back down, and the man running it lets them out. August doesn't immediately let go of Eleanor's hand.

Eleanor looks at their joined hands and blushes again, but she doesn’t let go either as she gets out of the car and steps back down to terra firma. She is actually holding hands with an attractive man and she has no idea what to do about that other than feel little fluttering things in her chest. “A stubborn man, and a good person, is what that makes you. Can you imagine the things a bad person could do with your abilities? I’ll sleep better at night knowing there are people like you to offset that.”

"Good, well, I guess I try," August allows. He blinks. "I hadn't actually thought about that." There's a look on his face like a whole lot of possibilities have just occurred to him. Like things about Itzhak.

Ugh.

He shakes it off, focuses on Eleanor again. He can worry about that later. "So, listen, there's something else I should probably bring up. I mean," he gets a hesitant look on his face, "assuming you don't want this to be a one-time deal." He raises an eyebrow.

“Oh!” At the one time deal thing she goes absolutely scarlet and looks worried. Did she mess up? Is she such a complete dork or nerd or weird thing researcher he wants out of here like whoa? “I...am having a very good time,” she notes, clutching her badger to her with her free hand like a lifeline. “So, I would not mind if this wasn’t a one-time thing.”

"Okay." August doesn't relax, per se, since he hasn't actually brought up the thing he wanted to bring up, and it's been a deal breaker before. "If that's the case, then I want to get this out there right now--I'm bi, not straight." He raises his eyebrows, waiting for her reaction. He's going to know, right away, if it's not.

Eleanor blinks at him. “And?” is the response. The woman runs a coffee shop. Her day and night managers are a lesbian and a gay man. She can appreciate a good looking woman as much as a good looking man. She’s just too awkward to hit on them normally. August is the definite exception. All that he senses from her is relief that he didn't tell her he hates redheads or is allergic to freckles or something.

Now August relaxes. "Just wanted to make sure. I've had problems in the past with that." He gives her a rueful look. "I've found it's a lot easier to get it out there, early on, than to find out a few weeks later." Of course, here he is, making assumptions like 'a few weeks later'. Well, whatever. It's out there, he said it.

"Another ride?" he asks, eyebrows up, still holding her hand.

Eleanor smiles more warmly at him. “If it helps, I can appreciate a nice rack as much as the next guy,” she announces, probably too loud, and gets looks from people nearby. “Damn, that was my outside voice, wasn’t it?” she asks him, her eyes squinting and nose wrinkling with the oops of it all. “And I’d like that, which ride?”

"Ah," August says, then laughs, mostly at himself, but a little at people peering at Eleanor. "Eh, they can cope." He looks over the other rides. "Bumper cars," he decides. "Not sure I can handle a tilt-a-whirl after that corn dog and funnel cake." He looks down at her, smug. "Let's see how good your driving skills are, Lake."

Eleanor laughs with him and grins. “Oh, I can be utterly vicious at them.” Not really, but she can pretend, and she’s having a good time with another human being; a rarity for her. “Let’s go inflict the horror of mild collisions on people.”

"Vicious, huh? In that case, I'm showing you no mercy."

August might be a fair hand at negotiating unpaved, dirt and gravel roads with his Outback, but bumper cars are another story. He does just fine, though he's no rally racers, it's true. There's an awful lot of laughing and trying to negotiate pileups with ten year olds and their parents.

Eleanor is all set to be FIERCE AND MIGHTY in the bumper cars, and instead she gets her ass handed to her by a couple of little kids who clearly have some sort of GTA video game reflexes when it comes to crashing mini cars into people. But she’s laughing the entire time, and looks terribly happy.

August can't help himself, he says to Eleanor, "Very vicious," on a laugh as they make their way out of the bumper cars arena. "Those kids didn't know what hit them." He sighs, taking a second to enjoy things like laughing and having a good time. It feels like it's been a decade since he's done much of either. "Thanks, by the way, this has been great."

“I dread those kids actually turning 16 and getting drivers licenses,” Eleanor quips back at August, shoulder bumping him lightly as she laughs along with him. Then she blushes a little again. “Thank you. It’s been so long since I’ve been on a date, I feel like I’m a teenager again. And not in the horrible zits and curfew way.”

August bumps Eleanor back--carefully, though maybe he doesn't need to, since she's the one with all manner of martial arts training--and laughs. "Yeah, two things I don't miss about being young." Among many, but then, he grew up in a poorer area. What can you do.

"Alright. More games and rides, or you want to stop by the ah," he glances down the line of vendor booths, "tourist trap area there."

Eleanor follows his gaze and chuckles. “We can browse, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up. This is where bad ideas go to die and get a price tag slapped on them,” she explains, heading towards the vendors with an amused expression, her sundress flowing around her in the sea breeze.

"Yeah?" August considers the vendor booths. "Maybe we need to class up the place. You can open an espresso stand, I'll stock a wildflower bouquet cart. Probably not enough demand for an entire farmer's market, but I bet we could do a modest business otherwise..." He looks askance at her. He might not be joking.

But he also feels a need to defend bad purchases. "And hey, you never know when you'll find a good shirt you can wear to work. I was in Zion for a week and found a fantastic shirt in a store just outside the park. Polygamy Porter: Bring Some Home to the Wives." He holds up a hand, emphasizing each word.

Eleanor ponders the idea. “That’s not half bad. I’ve never considered expanding the shop, but maybe a seasonal booth here wouldn’t be a terrible idea." At the words on the shirt she just stares at him, open mouthed, before she barks out a laugh. “Ok, maybe these vendors are just your taste.” Because of course there are lots of t-shirts with awful, offensive things on them.

"Look," August says, placing a hand on his chest, "I'm not above using horrible shirts for the garden work. I'm definitely not wearing something I like. That's for days off." Of which he doesn't have many, but then, that's also how he likes it. And oh, Eleanor's not kidding. The shirt booths have the usual selection of tie-dyed Gray Harbor, WA shirts, numerous bad art depictions of the Washington coast's charms, and of course, the raunchy, tasteless sorts of things one can expect to find in a town that expects at least some of its patronage to come from college kids. August doesn't buy anything there, though.

He does, however, buy a small bag of sea glass ("For my sister, her birthday next month", he explains), a handful of shells ("Ully said I need to class up the shop display plants," he says of that), and a small, mosaic pot of sea porcelain ("Got something in mind for it," he says cryptically). It's not an expensive set of purchases, by any means.

Eleanor finds a few 8x10 photo frames made of driftwood, and picks them up to add to the décor in the coffee shop, along with some black and white prints of the harbor from many, many years ago. She watches August’s purchases with a curious eye, nodding at the explanations, but cocking a brow at the cryptic one. “Now that we’ve done pretty much all the things outside of vomiting up corn dogs on the tilt-a-whirl,” because the fun house is a no go for her with her mirror issues, “Want to take a stroll on the beach for a bit?”

"I am happy to skip the tilt-a-whirl," August assures Eleanor. He rearranges everything in the flimsy plastic bag the shell vendor gave him, setting the badger on top. "Sure thing," he says, holding out his hand to be taken. "Who knows, maybe we'll find some shells and sea glass of our own." Not likely, in all truth; Gray Harbor's shores are too sheltered by the bay to receive much of either. But one never knows.

Eleanor shifts her badger into her bag as well, and takes the offered hand with another inkling of a blush. She glances around at people near them, almost wanting to shout “HE’S WITH ME!” at the top of her lungs, because she’s still surprised he ever said ok to a date.

On the boardwalk there are stairs down to the beach, rocky with little patches of sand here and there, and the flotsam and jetsam that drifts in from elsewhere. Ellie picks her way carefully along, above the demarcation where the surf rolls up onto the shore. “I used to walk here a lot when I was younger. Something about the sounds of the bay have always been soothing to me. Water is like that, I think. It pulls to something in your soul.”

August can't help it, he likes the blushing, so he makes a private note to keep making it happen. "I come down here around sunset a lot. Or to check out the tidepools, that's always a nice walk." He grimaces for a moment; his new reason for coming down to the beach isn't as good as his old one.

With determination he sets that aside. He's on a date, he's not thinking about monsters that eat kids' pets right now. He arches an eyebrow at Eleanor. "Not so much lately?" he asks.

Ellie shakes her head. “I’ve been so preoccupied with the shop and my research, I think I unintentionally became something of a hermit. It feels good to be out here with you though. Reminds me that work and research alone doesn’t equal actually living. What good is being successful and finding the answers, if you don’t get to see the beauty around you?”

"You should definitely take time for yourself," August agrees. Smiling around a laugh, he adds, "I'm not just saying this so you'll take it with, for example, me, but because it helps you think. If you lock in on the same thing for too long, it wears you down. New ideas don't come from routine, they come from inspiration. Even the inspiration of," he gestures at the rocky expanse stretching in front of them with his bag, "a walk you take regularly."

Eleanor smiles at him and squeezes his hand. “I think I’ll take your advice on that. I can at least walk in the park or something, until things are resolved with that... Oh, was this a bad idea? Do you think that thing that you saw is still around here?” She glances around urgently, scanning the dark recesses under the boardwalk.

August had been trying to not think about manbearpigs that eat kids' pets. Oh well. He shakes his head, grips Eleanor's hand reassuringly. "I doubt it. If I thought it was, we wouldn't be out here. I'm more concerned about anyone who's alone," like, say, Itzhak, "or smaller, like a kid. It didn't seem the kind of thing to take on stuff its own size. The second we fought back it fled." He's still raw about that, can't blame Itzhak for being pissed, in all truth. Injured and angry, who knew what that thing was going to get up to.

The sun's below the waterline, though the summer twilight will linger for a good hour or more. Specter of manbearpig or not, August is determined to enjoy himself. "So. How do you feel about having dinner cooked for you."

Eleanor seems reassured by his words, and she stops in her stroll to watch that moment where the sun sinks beneath the water on the horizon, watching for the green flash that sometimes occurs. “Dinner cooked for me? That sounds lovely,” she murmurs.

August pauses, watching Eleanor instead of the sunset. (He's seen plenty of sunsets.) "Well, I like to think I'm not terrible." He sure knows how to sell himself as a chef. "You don't have a kitchen in the shop, right? I can pre-prep something and we can eat at the park, maybe."

The flash comes, and Eleanor catches her breath in that moment. Something naturally magical that isn’t sinister is a wonder to her. When it passes, she looks to him and smiles. “That sounds amazing. No, not a full kitchen in there, just a toaster and microwave to heat up the pre-bought pastries.”

August spares the green flash a glance, but keeps his attention on Eleanor. His smile's sad for a brief moment before she looks at him, by which point it's back to its usual warm self. "Pre-pack it is. There's plenty I can make that'll keep for a picnic. Anything you can't eat or don't like? I'll warn you, I don't buy much except some herbs and spices. Just about everything I caught, grew, or fished up myself." Which no doubt puts a limit on what's on offer.

Eleanor beams at him. “I love good food in all it’s forms. Hell I love bad food, thus today’s corn dog. About the only thing I’m not keen on eating are radishes. I think mostly because I was called Radish Top by mean kids because of my hair when I was really little.” She chuckles at that.

"Your hair's gorgeous, why make fun of it?" August rolls his eyes, mutters, "Christ, kids can be cruel." Firmly, he says, "No radishes," nods like he's committing it to memory. "I don't plan on making you bad food, I'll leave that to the experts." A wry smile, and he tilts his head back along the beach. "Ready to walk back?"

The hair comment has her blushing yet again. At this rate she might as well just stay scarlet-faced and save her body the reaction time. She nods to him at the question. “I’m ready, it’s getting dark out and it’s probably less safe in the dark.”

August pulls a face. As someone who enjoys stargazing he'd like to say otherwise, but Eleanor's right. "Probably," he admits, and turns them back towards the boardwalk. "When's a good time for a picnic in the park for you? Weather allowing, of course." He's already putting a menu together in his head.

"The best benefit of being my own boss. I can decide when I want time off. So whenever is good for you," Eleanor chimes, her eyes lighting up at the confirmation there will be a next time. "I can bring a picnic blanket and such."

August smiles down at Eleanor, glances away a moment, almost like he's, maybe not shy, but also has to remind himself this is, in fact, actually happening. He thinks about the week's schedule. "How about, Wednesday, or Thursday if it rains. We can go after after you close up. Park should be open for a couple of hours after that, since it's light so late this time of year. And if you want, you can pick what's to drink." He dips his head to her. "I'm fine with whatever."

"That sounds like a plan," Eleanor heads back to the boardwalk and the car with him, their prizes and purchases for the day in hand. A good day.

August gives Eleanor a very delicate kiss on the cheek goodnight, and a coy smile, when he walks her back to her car. Someone isn't in any hurry. Despite the events of the surrounding days--an explosion, murders, the monster on the beach--a very good day. Hopefully Wednesday will be a similar oasis amidst the crazy.