2019-07-28 - Slimy Shimmy Suits

Someone had fun in Addington Park last night. Eli's morning walk through the generally picturesque landscape was interrupted by the evidence of it. Beer bottles, food wrappers, churned up grass and a make-shift fire pit were all tucked just off one of the pathways. It was likely mostly out of sight in the darkness the night before, but not so much in the light of day. He's standing at the edge of the party sight, taking it all in. Currently he's staring up into one of the trees where three pairs of underwear are hanging - one conservative pair of white women's panties, a much more interesting lacy green set and a pair of black boxers. What looks to be a matching green bra is a few branches over. Seems like the crickets had quite the show to watch last night!

Isolde was heavily debating if it would be worth it to move back up to the bunkhouse. But ultimately, no. She worried too much and it was too far away when she didn't have a car. Ooh...Isolde should get a car! She should get a license first. Though, they'd be crazy to let her behind the wheel. Probably. Her hair was tossed back in a ponytail and she was in a pair of dark blue jeans with a gray tak top. Her ragged flannel was tied about her waist because it was far too hot to wear it. She was making her way towards the center of the park, with the carousel. Some days she wanted to ride it, but, well, even she knew it wasn't a good idea.

Her brow furrows as her walking takes her near Eli and the party mess. "Messy. Did you do it?" Just a curious question because he was the only one here! Those blue eyes glancing up at him briefly and then back to the mess.

Jogging in the park has become about as close to meditation as Easton has managed to actually make it. He has a pair of headphones wrapped around the back of his head as he jogs along some of the many paths. He's dressed for summer in a light blue tee-shirt and black running pants that almost obscure the entirety of his fake leg. He sees the mess and the two people stopped to inspect it and laughs as he comes closer and sees what it entails. He then realizes that he knows the two people and slows to a stop.

"Well, that looks like someone had a fun night."

"One ... two. Three. Four. Five." Eli counts out loud while pointing around the messy site. He doesn't seem bothered by the arrival of Isolde, but he doesn't directly acknowledge her right away either. He's pointing at condom wrappers when he counts. He turns to look at Isolde at that point and then Easton when the man approaches the group. "No. It wasn't me. Pretty sure my night was much more sedate than this. Little bit surprised to see it in the park - run into scenes like this during the summer out in the woods from time to time. The cops will usually put a stop to this kind of thing inside the limits if anyone reports it." Clearly no one reported it. He gives a small nod toward Easton since he recognizes the man, but then steps away from both and properly into the carnage. He leans over and starts to pick up beer bottles, while glancing up toward the tree-underwear. "Suppose someone could execute the Grey Harbor version of Cinderella to find the culprits."

Isolde looks over as she hears footsteps and offers Easton a bright smile. "Hello Easton!" Giving him a wave and then looking back towards Eli. "They must have been loud. I also am surprised..." Watching Eli start picking things up, she steps in to help. Because why not? "Who are you?" Is asked to Eli since she already knows Easton. "And how are you Easton?"

"What's up Four?" Easton nods in greeting to Eli, and gives no indication of ever actually learning the man's real name. He winces at the used condoms on the ground because beer bottles and underwear is one thing, slimy shimmy suits is a little more CSI than he wants to be. He brushes that thought off though and greets Isolde, "Hey Izzy. 'm good. You?" He is not breathing all that hard, either just getting started on his run or finally getting back into shape. He counts the bottles and says, "Either they were lightweights or they have some weird carryout decisions.. take the empties leave the panties?"

Alexander is walking from the direction of the Zoo, limping a bit on his bandaged leg, but mostly making good time. Perhaps he was running somewhere off sides, which would be STUPID on a stitched up leg, even one that's been 'helped along', because there's a fine sheen of sweat on his brow, and his t-shirt already has dark patches under the arms. He's walking the way he usually does, head down, shoulders hunched, wary little checkouts of the world around him. Seeing the...debris, and two out of three people he knows well enough to speak with, though, has his head coming up, and his course changing to meet up with them. "Invasion of college students from Hoquiam?"

"Maybe they were into something a little stronger than the beer and it was just a warmup?" Eli suggests, swinging a look over toward Easton while he picks up a couple of those beer bottle empties and stacks them in a neat row. No garbage can all that close and he's not going to run to the nearest one in that moment. He looks back over toward Isolde when she starts to help with the cleaning and raises his empty hand in a quick wave. "I'm Eli." Which is not what Easton called him. Not that he seemed to mind being called Four, but the two men really don't have their story straight. He watches Alexander approach. "Seems like. Wouldn't have been my first choice of location, but college brains make weird choices."

"I am doing good." Isolde is very much ready to decide that Eli's name is Four, but then he actually speaks his name. She looks up at Alexander - eyeing him. Making sure he is okay for as well as okay can go. "Nice to meet you Eli. My name is Izzy." She offers him a brief smile as she stacks up the bottles. "How's your leg Alexander?" Looking around for a moment at the remaining debris and giggled. "College kids can be wild." Is agreed to as she moves to start picking up some of the other trash -but definitely NOT the condoms. Gross.

Teresa walks through the park. She is dressed in warm blacks and has a messenger bag against her left side. Park's not such a nice walk today, though, that's sure. She levels a mild scowl at a staling pizza and levels herself toward the knot of people. "Can't imagine not cleaning up my shit."

Looking at Alexander as he approaches, Easton's head tilts. "What the fuck are you doing walking around?" It's said with a smile though so it's not an entirely hostile greeting. He nods down at his leg and asks "I assume you're ignoring orders to rest that?"

Eli's comment about going for something stronger just brings a shrug of assent. "I don't remember being all that picky about where I drank or got freaky in college.." Or last night. Strip club bathroom's apparently have locking stalls. He coughs at that mental picture and then looks up to greet Teresa with a nod. He recognizes her from many nights drinking at the Pourhouse and he agrees, "Yea. It's like a mini-festival aftermath in a family park."

Alexander pulls a handkerchief from the back pocket of his jeans, and wipes the sweat from his face. He looks tired and grumpy and twitchy and hot - so, all told, probably pretty normal for him. Even if it's not THAT hot out here, yet. He still gives Isolde a brief, reassuring smile when he catches that look directed at him. "Alexander Clayton," he tells Eli. "I've seen you around." It's a small town, after all. Teresa gets a curious stare, a nod, a brief smile. "Luckily, no actual shit. Guess they weren't that freaky."

His head comes back a little, pausing and looking wary at Easton's opener. The smile eases him, just a bit, and he looks down at the bandages. "It's not that bad." So 'yes', he's ignoring orders. "It really isn't," he adds, defensively. "I thought I might catch a breeze out here, is all. It's stuffy in the house."

Two large black crows swoop in and drift onto the branch right beside where the boxers and green panties are twisted above in the tree. The birds both seem quite intrigued by the undergarments, shuffling over to them and starting to peck and nudges. One of them calls out loudly and the other replies. 'Hey Edith, you think these would look good on me?' Really, the birds don't actually talk, but that's gotta be what they're saying.

Eli takes in the growing crowd while he continues to keep himself busy cleaning up. His eyes shift from person to person when they talk, and his body language gives off some clear discomfort. He takes a calming breath and focus on Alexander. "Alexander. Yes. I've seen you. Hard to be anonymous in this town if you live here long enough." Not that Eli doesn't try sometimes. He also pushes a smile smile and nod toward Teresa. Being polite - he can do that.

Isolde still looks skeptical even at the reassuring smile, but doedn't push, and manages a bit of a smile back. She gathers up some of the bottles and trash. "People are messy. They should clean up themselves." She agreed with Teresa. "I am going to throw these away." There was a trash can not toooo far away. She would help clean up a little longer. Everything except those condoms. She's content to listen to the conversation, a glance now and then towards the crows.

Teresa places a hand on her chest. "Teresa Fulton. I work at the Pourhouse. Today, I will also work at park sanitation. I'm thinking of branching out." She stoops to pick up the /cleanest/ bit of flotsam she can find in the mess. A little wrapping. "I wouldn't want to shove a wound into this mess," she asides at Alexander, before more formally flashing a slow smile and nod around the board. Gather names, gather faces.

Parked super inconspicuously beside the park is an aging brown and white camper trailer. Not so inconspicuous is the skeleton that hangs out in the passenger seat, currently wearing sunglasses, a cowboy hat, and a bolo tie. He's fancy. He's been propped so that his elbow is up on the door and his skeleton chin is on his knuckles, head turned to watch the group there in the park.

"Dun, tell Jimmy to stop being such a perv. He's leering again," chirps the brown-haired girl that pops out of the camper trailer's door, hopping down the steps in a pair of galaxy-patterned leggings and a black tanktop. She looks to the group, then up to the tree, squinting. "Oh, I think that might be mine."

"Uh huh." Easton agrees without agreeing with Alexander at how bad his leg is. He shakes his head and says, "Fuckin' rest it. Come down to the deuce later, you can sit on the deck and have squirrely A-twins bring you drinks in the breeze." Yea he should eventually learn to distinquish Astrid and Ash since they work with him, but that hasn't happened yet. At the crows swooping in Easton looks up at them, and then head tilts as he's pretty sure one just talked to another. He looks around, calmly, not at all crazily and sees if anyone else is reacting to that or if he's just personally cracking up. Oh good, it's just him. That's reassuring. Thankfully Theresa distracts him with an introduction and he says, "Easton Marshall. I drink at the Pourhouse and annoy the shit out of your boss for fun."

Alexander gives Eli a sidelong look, then casually limps away, giving the man more space as he reaches out to grab a few of the things on the edges. Things that likely aren't too...gooey. "Picking up an STI from a leg wound would be moderately hilarious to try and explain to a doctor," he tells Teresa with the faintest hint of a smile, "but it's good advice, anyway. Thank you, Miss Fulton." His eyes track towards the camper and the woman emerging out of it. And then the skeleton. The skeleton is blinked at a bit. The woman is looked at. Then the skeleton. "I think a few of the bones are on the wrong way," he says, very solemnly.

Easton's words cause him to shift a little on his feet. Putting slightly less weight on the wounded leg, maybe. "You know I'd have to walk there," he points out, dry and amused. "But yes. A drink would be nice. Do you have air conditioning there?"

"Hold on, this'll help." Duncan rolls up a receipt so it looks like a cigarette, finesses the skeleton's jaw open, and tucks the fake-cigarette into the teeth. He tramps out of the camper a second later, coming around the passenger side to admire his work through the window and nodding satisfaction. One more thing; he opens the door and flips the visor down, casting a band of shade across their skinless companion. "So the sun's not in his eye-holes," he defends himself even though no one asked. "You think so?" After Alexander's comment, which leaves him scratching the back of his head. Slow-spreading smile; wait for it... "He's not making any bones about it," ahahaha, "so it must not be bugging him too much."

"A lot of people annoy the shit out of my boss for fun," Teresa levels light at Easton. Also light, her glance at the skeleton. And the woman. Her smile widens slightly. "My, my, aren't you an odd one. Will you add a name to our pile?" And to Alexander, "Our bodies contain mysteries, hm? Wouldn't want to trigger any mysteries." She pat-pats her messenger bag and asks generally, "Think there's any market for antiquities in a town like this?"

The crows seem mostly just interested in doing crow like things for a couple minutes - shuffling from side to side, making noise and talking to Easton. Then one of them makes for the green panties with a clear idea in its mind, getting the cloth between its beak and tugging it free of the branch that it's on. The underwear floats down toward the ground with an odd grace. Then it moves on toward the boxers and starts to do the same thing.

Eli looks up toward the bird while it acts and then at the falling underwear. He turns in places to watch the approach of Maddie and tilts his head to the side. "Those are yours? You're welcome to them regardless. Or did you mean the crow?" He looks up just in time to see the boxers fall down from the attention of that crow.

Maddie's got her head craned all the way back as she stands underneath the pantie tree, so she misses all the looks her way. "Oh, wait. Nevermind. I don't own any green or white pairs," she decides, and then spins around in a full circle when Duncan emerges from the camper, blink-blinking from him to the now-smoking skeleton. Bones about it. She laughs, snorting air through her nose. "How do you know he didn't ask to have his foot bones connected to his hand bones?" she asks Alexander defensively, and then turns to smile at Teresa. "I'm Maddie. That's Duncan," she points accusingly to the living man who emerged from her camper. "And the skeleton is Jimmy. I think I saw an entire store of antiques downtown?" she shrugs.

Alexander stares at Duncan for a long uncomfortable moment, his stare flat and his expression blank. Then he laughs, actually laughs, with a grin that lingers. "How humerus." He can't help himself, okay? But the smile cuts off in the next moment, replaced by wary suspicion with Maddie's response. "I don't know you. Either of you." It's not (quite) an accusation, but when Maddie identifies them, he grimaces, and says, "Maddie sounds like a nickname. I'm Alexander Clayton." See? That's a REAL NAME. He lets himself be diverted from peering at them just long enough to say, to Teresa, "Memento Mori is an antique shop. Miss Whitehouse runs it." His attention wavers to crows, returns to Teresa. "What antiquities? There's an archeologist in town, too."

Looking back as Alexander talks to the two people getting out of the camper, Easton smiles when he sees the bony co-pilot. His smile fades though as he gets a brief memory of a recurring dream. It wipes the smile off his face and sends a shiver down his body. He shakes his head and looks back at Duncan and Maddie and the camper. The bones 'jokes' only cause him to roll his eyes until Alexander actually laughs, and that at least causes a smirk to cross his lips. Yes, they are terrible jokes, but it's funny that Alexander finds them that funny. He reaches out to pat Alexander's shoulder before stopping himself just in time, his hand awkwardly hovering. "Uhm. Yea. I'm going to finish my run and then head to work. Stop by though."

He nods to the rest of the assembled group before starting up his run again, trying very hard not to favor his good leg.

"Whitehouse! Perhaps she's hiring," says Teresa with a laugh as though this impulse were both impossible and irresistable. "I've a map. Just a map. Want it valued, want to know if it's real. A whole archaeologist for a place like this?"

Most of the garbage has been shifted into a neat pile. Eli walks over to where the various pairs of underwear have been dropped down to the ground by the crows and nudges them toward the garbage pile with his toe. He doesn't seem to be intending to keep them for his own. There. Bottles, garbage and undergarments are all contained. The area still looks a bit run down and no one seems interested in cleaning up the condoms, but workers with proper gloves will be around sometime that day to finish the job. Eli brushes his hands on his jeans and closes in on the circle of people who have gathered. Tentative, but he's there, catching up on the conversation. "Does Jimmy need boxers?" He wonders. He looks toward Teresa at the mention of a map. "What is it a map of?"

Duncan gets stared at by Alexander for a long, uncomfortable moment. At the same time that Alexander laughs, Duncan cracks with a loud, "WHAT?! Why are you staring?!" The whole rest of the conversation, about the names and the antique store and the boxers and the map - whoosh, he missed all of it. "STOP STARING." He throws up his hands and dives into the camper, where there's a good bit of noise while he rummages around.

"Nicknames can be real names if you'd rather be called it than the other thing," Maddie says in a way that is completely clear and understanding, a pleasant smile lingering as she focuses on Alexander. "But it's nice to meet you, Alexander Clayton. That sounds like a name worthy of being up on a marquee somewhere, very regal." To Eli, she wrinkles up her nose, shaking her head. "Jimmy's a tightie-whities sort of guy, but really every time I put clothes on him, they fall right off. No meat on his.. bones," she has jokes, too, it seems.

But of course, Duncan starts screeching just when she makes the most awesome joke EVER. She wrinkles her brow, throwing a glance over her shoulder as he dives back into the camper. Then she just shrugs.

Alexander flinches back when Duncan cracks, taking a step back, wincing as his weight comes down on the wounded leg. There's a flash of irritation on his face in return, but he manages to not yell back. Instead, he mumbles, "Sorry. I didn't mean to upset y--" oh, he's gone, so he continues to Maddie, "I didn't mean to cause him distress." He shakes his head. "No marquees for me, I assure you. I don't even like Shakespeare," he adds, in a mutter.

Teresa takes a good step back as Duncan cracks. A good sideward step, a light enforcement of a gap. She turns to Eli with a small tilt of her head. "It's a map of town. An old map that someone's vandalized, I'm afraid."

The reaction of Duncan to Alexander seems to spook Eli a little bit too, the man had already been a bit on edge in the small crowd - but it helped that they were in a wide open space. Still, it makes him take two full steps back from the group, catching his back foot on the carefully piled beer bottles and losing his balance, dropping ass first into the pile of garbage and underwear that he'd just finished making. His face flares a bright red while he scrambles on the ground and tries to recover his senses. He hears the great joke by Maddie, but can't really appreciate it in that moment. He focuses on Teresa from his place, trying to act like it's totally cool to be sitting in party garbage. "Um. Sure lots of people around could help you, but been here my entire life. I know the city pretty well if - if you need anything pointed out on the map. Or something."

"He'll get over it," Maddie says of Duncan with a shrug of slim shoulders, sliiiiding over closer to Alexander. She keeps on the outskirts of his personal bubble, but it's obvious that something he's said has earned her interest. "You don't like Shakespeare?" It's interest, not criticism, her brows hiking upward. "Have you seen a play lately?" She's got her focus here, but there's a slight cock of her head towards Teresa, too; she's keeping an ear on this conversation. "You didn't find it in a trash can, did you? Because if it says 'FOOD FOR WILD MOOSE' in red marker, it's just a joke."

Alexander eyes Maddie as she slides up closer. "Yes." It's a curt answer to her question, and Eli's falling over gives him an excuse to move a couple of steps in that direction, like he's totally not trying to put more space between him and the woman. "Do you need some help up?" he asks Eli, gruffly. The details of the map draw interest, but no questions - he's still eyeing Maddie a bit suspiciously.

Stomping and clattering ensue. Stuff is very obviously being aggressively moved around inside the camper, "There you are!" And Duncan comes back out of the camper like that was perfectly normal, now with a (probably expensive) camera held by a strap around his neck. "Who doesn't like Shakespeare?" He starts immediately taking pictures of Eli falling all over the pile of garbage. "Communists, that's who. Communists and democrats, which are pretty much the same thing anyway. Communists and democrats and people who take their pets to the animal shelter. Wait, did someone steal our map?" He turns to Teresa, blinking out from behind his camera. "It's really not cool to steal."

"A customer left it on the bar," Teresa says toward Maddie, her eyebrows slightly lifted. "It doesn't mean much to me," Teresa says as she turns back toward Eli. "Big circle around the South Channel? And the mudflats?" She snakes her hand toward her messenger bag, but Duncan's reaction has her flattening her hand tight over the bag's flap and taking another step back. "I didn't steal anything from you. I don't even know you."

"Thanks." Eli mutters, accepting Alexander's help to get to his feet. It doesn't really register that Duncan is taking his picture until he's all the way up and assembled again, directing a confused stare at the man but not actually saying anything to him about the behavior. He seemed a bit unstable and perhaps best to just let him be. "I really do like Shakespeare, and I'm a democrat at that. Not sure what that does for that theory. Every theory does have some outliers that don't fit the curve." He brushes himself off and nods to Teresa again. "Can't say it means much to me based on that either. You're likely wise to take it to the experts if it is really old." He takes one step toward Teresa and slightly between her and Duncan as though he will intervene if the man gets grabby.

"Alexander Clayton doesn't like Shakespeare," Maddie says to Duncan pleasantly. Alexander Clayton takes a step backward and Maddie takes another sliding step forward, though she does briefly divert her attention back to Teresa. "Interesting," she says, "But not our map. Our map just says FOOD FOR WILD MOOSES. And bears." She shrugs, then back to Alexander she peers. "Shakespearean plays can be... Dreamy," she says in a quiet, hushed tone. Almost like she was speaking in code. There's quite a bit of emphasis on the capital D in Dream, somehow.

Alexander actually DOES stick his hand out to help the other man up, instead of just hovering there awkwardly and refusing to touch him, which was completely a possibility. He lets go as soon as possible, though, his eyes remaining on Maddie, eyes narrowed. "Yes. I suppose. Easy to get lost in. If you're not careful." A shake of his head at Teresa, although his shoulders are going back to hunched and defensive, and he's sort of edging around to be able to keep Duncan and Maddie in his line of sight, unobstructed. "How old is the map? I dunno that defaced is worth much. But if it's interesting...maybe it leads somewhere." He doesn't SAY 'treasure', but. TREASURE.

"So?" Click click, Duncan takes some pictures of Teresa, too. "People steal from people they don't know all the time." Now his picture has Eli in it, and he pulls his eye away from the viewfinder, looking at the lens like the problem is with the camera and not the person that just walked into his shot. "And you just go around admitting that?" He's probably talking about being a Democrat, a thought that leaves him scoffing and mumbling about how Washington state is super weird. Still mumbling, he flashes Maddie a big smile and a thumbs-up for her super-subtle comment about Shakespeare Dreams, being the opposite of subtle when he tacks on, "That was the best code-talk yet, Mads. We're getting good at this." (We?)

"It might lead somewhere," Teresa says, excessively casual. "It probably doesn't." So casual! She takes another step back. From the flashing viewfinder. "It's probably just a worthless scrap of paper. It's certainly mooseless." Firmly, to Duncan and Maddie, but mostly Duncan, "It's not your map. I should get to work."

"Some people lean left, some people have a skeleton riding shotgun. We've all got our quirks." Eli says mildly, seemingly content that Duncan is busy shooting with his camera and isn't going to try to steal away Teresa's bag. He glances toward her briefly and manages another small smile. "Was nice to meet you. I'd love to hear what you find out about the map. Maybe I'll run into you again." He watches the strange exchange between the two van-dwellers, but really can't make much sense out of them. Alexander seems a bit more grounded, but preoccupied with the events unfolding, so he drops back into a default of silence.

"Maps usually lead to something lost," Maddie says in an off-handed sort of way to Teresa. "If you didn't lose something, maybe someone else did. Best not keep it a secret, in case someone's looking." She does briefly glance to Duncan, the brightness of her smile dimming as she hisses at him. "Ixnay on the ode-scay," she taps her fingertip to her nose, and then jerks her attention right back to Alexander. "The Night is dark and full of terrors," she utters brilliantly, a dazzling performance really, even if she just quoted Game of Thrones at him. "We should talk, Alexander Clayton."

Another random local turns up at the park, at this time of the morning. Corey, with a large backpack slung over his shoulders which makes various metal-clanking noises now and again as the contents shift around. He pauses on the cobblestoned path when he sees a whole bunch of people enjoying the balmy morning - don't these people have jobs? Seemingly surprised, but not put off it seems, as he resumes his walking a moment later.

Look at Duncan, being all logical: "You dunno that, though. If you just found the map, it could be our map. That's the thing about stuff you just find. Someone might be - " He stops, pointing over at Maddie, who took the words right out of his mouth. "Hold on, lemme take a picture. What we have here is the rare Open Democrat of Western Washington, notice the brazenness with which he moves, seeking ever to undermine the second amendment." Most of this narration goes on under his breath, broken only when he frowns confusedly. "Ixnay on the what now? What's a scode? Are you guys gonna talk about scodes? Can I come?"

"Try Memento Mori, or maybe that other place, the bookstore," Alexander suggests, sidelong, to Teresa. His eyes remain fixed on Maddie. "A local historian might be able to tell you more about it. Unless it's leading to dead bodies, I probably couldn't." He says this with no shame whatsoever, just an absent attempt to help. He watches the exchange between the two. "...pretty sure we can all understand Pig Latin," he points out. He crosses his arms over his chest, but doesn't flee at her performance - just watches her with somewhere between 'gosh she's pretty' and 'there's the carotid artery' on his face. "And we are. Talking." In case she was confused. And really, Alexander in his worn t-shirt and jeans does NOT look like a man who has gainful employment. He does give Corey a twitchy sort of nod as he approaches, though.

"Memento Mori. The bookstore." Teresa takes another very long step back. She glances at Eli. "I will take this completely worthless, not actually lost-I'm-sure piece of paper there and tell you what nothing I find." With that, she turns around and strides with POWER and DIGNITY, with no hint of being UNNERVED back where she came.

"'sup," Corey greets Alexander when the twitchy guy nods his way, lifting a hand to offer something between a wave and a salute. "What's the haps, Mister Clayton?" he then asks, finding a nice spot on a bench or wall or something and unshouldering his pack, setting it down by his feet.

"I see," Maddie draws out the words, narrowing her eyes as she keeps on staring at Alexander. "Do we now? Do we all understand Pig Latin?" her brow arches upward, and she crosses her arms over her chest, mirroring his posture. "We are indeed talking. But we should talk more. Somewhere in private, not here in the park. You did always like the park, didn't you?" it's almost accusatory. Almost. Of course, Corey ruins this clear interrogation by coming up with his 'what's the haps', and she jerks her focus onto him. "Nothing is happening here." Beat. "Yet."

Eli watches as Teresa wanders away for a few seconds before focusing himself on the situation unfolding again. He's dusty, since he fell in the dirt. A pile of empty beer bottles, other garbage and three different sets of underwear are neatly ordered not too far from where everyone is standing. He finally sighs then the photo shoot starts up again and raises his hand as though that will somehow block the pictures. "Could you please stop?" He says, though without a lot of firmness in the words. Annoyance and a dash or two of frustration really, but what would he do if the man didn't stop? He blinks and waves to Corey as well, eyeing Maddie. "Quite a bit is happening, really. For a quiet morning in the park at least."

Alexander's hands clench into fists. Then he looks down at his leg, and over at Eli and Corey, although mostly at Corey, and he relaxes very deliberately. He wipes the sweat that has sprung up on his forehead in irritated little movements. A glance at Duncan. "He might not," he admits dryly, to the understanding of Pig Latin. There's a little shake of his head before he refocuses. "Nothing is going to happen here," he says, quietly. "It's a nice park." A pause. "We can meet. Sometime."

The slow spread of understanding across Duncan's face is like watching a sunrise, a creeping brightness that first unknits his brows, then lightens his eyes, then turns his mouth from a confused frown into an O of understanding. "I bet you could help with the dead bodies!" he proclaims abruptly, pointing a finger at Alexander. J'accuse! At the very least, this stops him from taking pictures of Eli the Democrat. "I just bet you could!" Abruptly, he stomps back into the camper, climbing into the driver's seat and turning the skeleton so it stares with its eye-sockets at Alexander. He also turns the engine over; presumably, this will alert Maddie to the probability that her house/ride is fixing to leave.

"There'll be no scodes today," Maddie says to Duncan, as though that were code in and of itself. About something. Whatever that might be. But yes, she nods her head firmly, stiffly, her smile vanishing in a glare to Alexander. "Of course you would say that, you....!" There's a squeak when the camper's engine fires up behind her, and Maddie's eyes widen. "Next time. NEXT TIME!" she points to Alexander, and then flips on her heel and runs into the camper.

Seemingly oblivious to Maddie's displeasure, shrugging as she says nothing is happening, Corey grins briefly at Eli's contradiction. Then to Alexander; "How's the leg doing, dude? Glad you apparently passed your last harassment." Whatever that means. "Anyone here like vegetables?" he then asks openly, to whomever might want to answer.

"The leg is healing. And yes, thank you." It's answered absently; Alexander is returning glare for glare towards Maddie and Duncan as they retreat, and he stares at the camper with the intensity of a man who memorizing what he can. Then they're gone, and he turns back to the other two. "Sorry. That was weird. Stay away from them. They might be," a pause as he tries to figure out how to word it, then realizes he's not very good at this part and just goes with, "judas goats."

After a second of thought he adds, "I like vegetables. Except beets."

"Had you met them before?" Eli asks, though he already knows the answer to the question. He shakes his head and seems to be somewhat more at ease as the crowd thins. He keeps a comfortable distance away from the two remaining men, but the tension in his shoulders eases and his expression contains twenty percent less panic. "I shouldn't be surprised to meet weird people around here. Especially during the summer. Still, it does surprise me." He brushes his hands on his jeans as if still trying to clean them from the prior camp site cleanup. "I also like vegetables, though some I like more than others. Never much cared for radish."

"Awesome." Corey draws his legs up, crossing them so he's sat fully on the bench, and then from his backpack he pulls a small paring knife and a carrot. "Shame to let this stuff go to waste," he adds, removing the carrot top - which goes back in his bag - and beginning to slowly peel a thin layer of carrot skin free. "Gotta practice presentation skills, so. Carrot flowers it is." In the park. Well, why not? "Judas goats?"

Alexander shakes his head to Eli. "No." He studies them both, quietly, for a moment. Then, with that air of resignation that says that he knows this is going to get him put on the 'headcase' list but is going to say it anyway, "There was an acting troupe that came through here in spring. They were torturing people. People who stand out. Wanted to feed us to the shadows. Wanted us to feed each other to the shadows. So that they wouldn't get lost." He glances back towards where the camper used to be. "Those two seem interested in them. And they stand out, too." He frowns at the paring knife and then the carrots. "Carrot flowers." His suspicion turns to intrigue. "I always kinda wondered how you make those. Oh. Corey Jones." A nod to him. "Eli..." he glances at the man to supply his last name, which Alexander has forgotten.

Yep. That's entirely the kind of thing that will get you put into the 'head case' bin at Walmart. Of course, it doesn't sound quite so crazy when it's said to someone who has lived their entire life in this town. Eli's features freeze and his eyes are steady on Alexander when he explains the situation about the acting group and the tossing people into shadows. All things that shouldn't really be part of a conversation on a sunny summer morning in the park. He swallows and closes his eyes briefly before reanimating. "That sounds like unpleasant business. So you hadn't met them, but they seem to have an eye out for you." He seems uncertain and gives a small shake of his head. "Let me know if you, ah, need anything. Help." Some effort to support another local. Need to stick together or they'll all end up in a darker place.

He turns his attention to the carrot carving. That he can handle. "Eli Blake. Nice to meet you, Corey." It's a pleasantly canned tone that makes one think he's be just as happy not meeting, but he's willing to give it a try.

Pausing in his carrot-peeling, Corey just.. stares at Alexander. "Jesus," he mutters. Not in the 'this guy is nuts' sort of way, but a 'some people (and apparently also some goats) are fucked up' manner. "Glad I wasn't here in the spring, then," he adds, resuming the careful knifework.

"Hi," is tossed Eli's way, casual but polite in a similar manner. "How you make carrot flowers? Depends if you're lazy or not. Lazy ones are just spirals, proper ones take ages."

Alexander flinches a little at the stares, ducking his head and studying his shoes instead of either of them. Good shoes. Sturdy shoes. "Too many fucking bad things in this town seem to have an eye out for me," he mutters, and lifts the hankie to wipe the sweat from his brow again. His head comes up, though, and he gives Eli a tentative nod. "If you're sure, then I might. But only if you're sure." He takes out his phone, clearly willing to receive the man's number IF he's up for offering it.

"Just avoid them if you can," he tells Corey. "Even outside of the actors, those two seem a bit off." And when ALEXANDER CLAYTON is saying that, it means something. "What distinguishes proper from lazy?"

"I'm sure that everyone who is here is in this together. I've spent the better part of two decades thinking that going it alone was the best plan of action - protecting others by keeping them away and finding ways to cope. I'm pretty sure that's not the right way to go about things. Only took twenty years to figure it out." Eli gives a low, humorless laugh and then shares his number with Alexander. "Seriously. What's on your doorstep today will be on mine tomorrow and nibbling on Corey's carrots tomorrow." He wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and focuses on the carrot artwork. "I mostly just chop them. I get the appeal for pretty food, but I don't have the patience to make it."

"Amen to that," Corey comments to Eli's 'in this together' thing, though he's largely clueless as to what they're on, and who 'together' constitutes. "Lazy ones look like this," he then continues, to Alexander; the long shaving of carrot skin is deftly curled up into a wavy spiral and pinched together at the bottom. "The proper ones are actually carved out of solid carrot."

Alexander takes down the number, sends a quick text with just his name, even as he says, "It's not so much fun the other way, either." A glance down at his leg. "Chaotic, when you have to trust people who might betray you. When you have to focus on things beyond your own survival." But he doesn't outright deny that going it alone isn't the best way. He just sounds a little tired as he refocuses on the carrot. "I don't cook, and my bird doesn't care what shape the carrot bits are in." But a faint smile blooms on his lean features as the shaved carrot skin becomes something that looks very flower like. "That's lovely. And certainly less intensive than actual sculpting. I imagine."

"Trusting people is not easy." Eli says, and these words are as firm as anything he had said that morning - as though the truth of that is more clear to him than the physical world around them. Perhaps he realizes that the topic is drifting well into a place that might be better suited for a different environment, so he doesn't comment further on it. He taps his phone a couple times to tuck Alexander's name and number away in his contacts and puts the phone back into his pocket. Eli smiles a bit at the carrot when Corey spirals it, tilting his head. "You made that look easy. I'm sure it isn't, but now I'm tempted to learn to find out just how hard it is."

Cutting out a little wedge of carrot, Corey pushes it through the pinched-together base of the flower to hold it all together, then offers it out on his palm to Alexander. "For your bird," he suggests, then offers the paring knife and carrot to Eli. "Peel it around rather than up-down and it mostly curls itself," he voices, apparently taking the 'tempted to learn' as an invitation to 'teach right now'.

Alexander reaches out to take the flower, with a blink. It's curiously delicate, as he's careful not to let his fingers brush Corey's palm. "Thank you," he says. "He'll appreciate it." There's a sudden, bright grin, there and gone like a flash of summer lightning. "I lie. He will assume it is what he is entitled to as tribute. But I appreciate it on his behalf." He falls silent, watching with curiosity as Eli is offered the knife.

Eli hesitates a moment and then reaches out to take both the knife and carrot from Corey. He'd just watched the other man do it and he actually listens carefully to the rather simple instructions, nodding his head and turning his eyes down to the carrot in his grip. He wields the knife in his left hand and works it carefully against the skin of the carrot. He quickly realizes that this isn't as easy as Corey made it look, brow furrowing as he struggles to get the spiral started properly. The second thing he didn't really realize is how sharp the knife was. In his frustration he pushes far too hard into the carrot and the little knife slides clean through it and then across Eli's palm, a thin line of red blooming against his skin. He yelps and drops both the knife and the carrot down to the ground, clenching his hand together - which just makes more blood well out of it.

"You're most welcome," Corey tells Alexander, then his gaze turns to Eli, to watch the guy carve his first carrot flo-.. "Oh jesus, crap, shit!" he exclaims, reaching for his bag. He doesn't have a first aid kit, but he does at least have some paper towels, a whole roll, which he pulls out and rips off a good half-dozen or so to pass to Eli, to help contain the bleeding. "Fuck! Are you alright, man?"

Alexander winces at the cut and the knife going tumbling to the ground. "Don't squeeze it, you'll just hurt yourself. I...here, can I help, Eli?" He hesitates to offer, but after a moment extends his hands, one for the towels and one, if Eli allows, for the wounded hand. "I know how to put pressure on a wound."

"It's not that bad." Eli says through clenched teeth - even if not, it still hurts. The words do sink in and he relaxes his hand instead of squeezing it, nodding toward Corey's concern. "Yeah, yeah. It's OK. Stupid. This entire week I can't do anything right. I tripped walking up the stairs the other day." Blue eyes settle on Alexander for a couple short breaths and then he relaxes slightly and extends the bleeding hand toward him. "Thanks, Alexander." He says, more quietly. He's right that it's not a bad cut, but it's long and thin and given the location will likely hurt every time he tries to do anything.

"I'm so sorry, I should've warned you it was sharp," Corey babbles, passing the towels to Alexander, before reaching down to scoop up the knife with another towel, wiping the blood off it and then dragging a bottle of water out from his bag to give it a thorough rinsing. He's not directly touching any of Eli's blood, just in case. "I.. uh, yeah. This week's been awful," he then acknowledges.

"It's a knife, Mister Jones. Sharp is what it does," Alexander points out, calmly. He does have to nerve himself up to take the man's hand in his own so that he can see the long, thin cut. "Doesn't seem too bad. Just in an awkward spot." He waits until the water has splashed over the wound and cleaned it before pressing a folded towel firmly against the length of the cut. It hurts, because he's not timid about it. A curious look to each of them. "This week has been awful?" he prompts, while keeping the pressure on. And adding a little something extra, although he doesn't advertise it. Either way, the cut will pretty much be gone when he pulls his hand back, but suggests to Eli, "Keep the pressure on for a bit. You'll forget all about it in a few minutes."

It's not the first time Eli has felt the touch of 'something extra' and his eyes never leave Alexander while the other man tends to his wound. He seems like he might say something, but in the end just nods to the instructions. When he pulls his hand back he folds his other on top and keeps the paper towel pressed there, even though he's aware that the cut has sealed. "Thank you." He says, the words sincere. He adds a bit of a smile for Corey. "Knifes are sharp. This isn't your fault. I wasn't sure I was going to get much of a flower, but I can usually peel a carrot without harming myself. Really just bad luck. Sorry about your carrot." It landed in the dirt. "Yeah, I'm ready to forget the last week or so. Enough little things going wrong that I'm wondering if this is catchup for all the ladders I've walked beneath over the years."

Wrapping the knife in a clean bit of paper towel, Corey tucks it into his bag. The carrot - no, that goes into a trash can. Nobody wants 'carotte sanglante' for dinner. Oblivious to the 'something extra', he takes out a different paring knife from his bag, along with half a cucumber from a tupperware box. Clearly he intended on flowering more than just the one vegetable. "Yeah," he echoes Eli's commentary. "Just.. little things, like he said. Dropped my goddamned crepe pan, while I was moving."

Alexander drops his hands as soon as he can, and edges a bit away from Eli's stare, shoving his hands into his pockets. But only for a moment, before he's reaching for the handkerchief in his back pocket, and mopping away sweat again. "What, both of you? Consistently? For...a week, you say?" A flicker of curiosity, and concern. "Any other distractions or intrusive thoughts during that time period?" He looks back and forth between them.

Then stops, and blinks at Corey. "There's a pan. Just for crepes? Why?"

Something crosses Eli's expression, a darkness, uncertainty. He finally shakes his head. "Nothing else odd in the last week or so." He hedges. "In a lot of ways it has been a quiet few days, just a lot of little annoying things that are starting to add up. I thought it was just me - but misery loves company." He gives a quick (if small) smile toward Corey at that and then resets his eyes onto Alexander, watching the man's expression carefully. "Why do you ask? Have you been finding the same?" Three data points starts to make things interesting. He has no comment about the crepe pan.

"They're completely flat, so you get even heat transfer to the crepe, and they have very low sides so flipping is easier," Corey answers, almost without having to think about it. Culinary nerd that he is. "Until you put a fucking dent in one, anyway." Scowl. "Intrusive thoughts? What?"

"No," Alexander says, quietly, to Eli. "I've been," a long pause, "having different issues. But not accidents. However, there was a case of someone having dangerously poor luck over the course of a week. But they had direct contact with a cursed object. Which also created an obsession with possessing it, and eventually, a desire to commit suicide. So," a shrug, like this is a perfectly ordinary thing to ask about, "I was wondering if either of you were experiencing any intrusive thoughts. About acquiring a specific object or killing yourselves." And then he shifts from talk of suicides and curses to crepes, without batting an eye. "That sucks, Mister Jones. I'm sorry."

"No. Despite some less than pleasant dreams, I haven't had thoughts of killing myself in quite awhile." Eli replies, again not seeming alarmed or surprised by the talk of cursed objet and voices in ones head. Interested for certain, though he still keeps a natural distance despite wanting to lean in to find out more. "And my only cravings have been for oreo milkshakes. If someone cursed the milkshakes I'm going to be the first man down, I fear." He says it lightly, but his eyes are still serious. His lips twist in a sympathetic frown at the death of the crepe pan. "That's a shame. I'm sure you can get another - but good pans aren't cheap. Usually I enjoy the summer around here, but could do with less being afraid I'm going to fall down a flight of stairs."

The culinary student shakes his head, looking down to his hands as he begins to peel thin strips of cucumber skin from the plant. "Uh.. no, no cursed objects that I know of. Don't particularly want to off myself either." He accepts the sympathy for the loss of his expensive crepe pan with a nod. "I mean, you can make them in a normal skillet, but.. I'll be saving up for a new one."

"A cursed milkshake goes beyond evil into diabolical. Let's hope things aren't that bad," Alexander agrees, deadpan. His brow is still furrowed, his expression thoughtful as he listens to them both. "Just...be careful. And if the incidents seem to be escalating in severity, or include any thoughts that seem unusual for your, um...call a friend who can help watch you until it passes. Or me. If you want." He looks deeply reluctant to offer the last option, but does it anyway. "And good luck with the new crepe pan. Or...you might see if someone can fix it? Sometimes things can be fixed? I don't know about crepe pans."

"I have your number." Eli agrees, though with a heaviness that makes it sound like he'd only bother in a dire situation. He glances at the pile of garbage he'd collected and then toward the other two men. "And you have mine. The same applies. We should likely talk sometime." He adds this last carefully and takes a step back. "It was nice to meet you, Corey. And to officially meet you, Alexander. I'm always around. I'm sure we'll bump into each other again one way or another. I hope the rest of the day goes well for you both - and I'll track someone down to let them know about this little garbage pile before the crows get into the underwear again."

"Thank you, and yeah, you too Eli. Be careful with your hand, yeah?" Corey bids, looking up from his carving to smile at the departing person. Then it's back down to the strips of cucumber skin, which he's not quite severing at the end, so they make a kind of fringe. "Not sure if it could be fixed to be perfectly flat, which is sort-of the point of it, really."

Alexander nods to Eli. "Nice to meet you. To speak to you, I mean. Not just be aware of your general existence. Talking would be nice." It's said with equal care, and wariness to commit, but what's there seems to be sincere. His attention turns to Corey. "You might ask around. Handymen, mechanics and such? You never know, and it might be cheaper than buying a new pan." He ducks his head. "I should get going too. It was nice to see you again, Mister Jones. Continue to not die." A slight uptick of one corner of his mouth there, before he turns and starts limping towards Elm.