2019-08-03 - I don't mind crazy.

Itzhak gave Isolde an estimated time that she should come over, and that's when she showed up! Now, she didn't have very many clothes to begin with, they were all very basic and most of them showed signs of her work. The yellow dress was for tomorrow, but she wanted to look nice! So Isolde took the fastest shopping trip ever. To the second hand store where she'd gotten her other clothes. What did you wear when you wanted to impress someone? The poor sales clerk was bombarded with all sorts of questions. In the end though, it all sort of worked out?

Isolde had found a pretty, white spaghetti strap dress with blue flowers on it that matched her eyes and a pair of brown sandals to go with it. She had decided to leave her hair down, though gave the brush a good run through. Then she headed acrossed the yard to 15 Elm. She felt so nervous! Like her heart was going to beat right out of her chest. But she didn't know why. It was all so...new. Maybe that was why. Isolde took a slow inhale and exhale, knocking on the door and waiting patiently. And trying not to wonder if maybe she shouldn't have dressed up. She should have asked. Oh lord. Was it too late to run back to the house?

Something smells divine even just standing at the door. Itzhak calls, "It's open!"

Within it smells even better, roast chicken and herbs and lemon. Itzhak is wearing oven mitts and pulling the roasting pan out of the tiny oven (with two burners on top, it's like someone sliced an oven range into thirds). He sets it on top of the range and flicks off the oven, and then smiles at Isolde, and then does a double take. "Oh. Wow, you look really nice. I didn't dress up." He didn't, he's wearing those soft, snug jeans and a t-shirt that reads 'ARE YOU PRACTICING?' And an apron, one with a pattern of strawberries.

At the call to come in, Isolde carefully opens the door and steps in. There's a contented little sigh at the delicious smells. She carefully closes the door and there's a hint of pink crawling up her cheeks when he says she looked nice. "I wasn't sure. If I should or not." She admitted. Reaching up as if she was going to push her hand through her hair and then realized what she was doing and let her hand fall back. "It's okay. Not dressing up. You look good." She offers up but then quickly shifts the subject to the food he's pulling out of the oven! "It smells very good Itzhak. Thank you for cooking." Flashing him another smile. She comes across as much more put together and 'with it' over text than she does in person. But maybe most people do.

"Yeah? You like my apron?" Itzhak holds the hem of it out, quirking his eyebrows ridiculously. "I borrowed it from Stephanie." He laughs at his own dumb joke and takes the apron off. "You can wear whatever you want, Izzy. Don't make no difference to me. That said, you do look great." And he's taking another look at her, sidelong, while he bundles up the apron. "Eh, ya welcome. My ma would say we're both too skinny."

Isolde giggled a bit, "Yeah, red is your color." There's a little bit of teasing in her tone. Nodding at his words. "I'll remember. " And definitely not tell the story about her impromptu shopping trip. "I'm glad you like it though." An absent little tug at the dress before she laughed again, moving closer to the kitchen area. "Your mom sounds like a nice lady. I hope she'll like the flowers if you get to send some to her." Studying him for a beat. "How has your day been?"

"My ma's great. Really worked her ass off to make sure me and Naomi had a roof over our heads." Itzhak dishes chicken thighs, roasted to a crisp golden brown, on mismatched plates that are obviously from Goodwill. Chunks of potato, too, from the roasting pan, soaked in deliciousness. "I fibbed a little about the salad. It's just from a bag. Oh, my day's been awful as usual. How was yours?

"Sounds like a good mom." Isolde nodded emphatically and then tilted her head. Brow raised. "Why was your day awful?" Curious, watching him play the food. A faint rumblen of her stomach reminding her she hadn't eaten all that much today. Giggling a bit at the noise and then shrugged. "My day has been...quiet. Luigi and I watched the meerkats on TV for a bit and I worked on planting some flowers in the backyard." Pushing a few strands of hair back behind her ear. "I go back to work on the Farm in a few days. I will probably stay up there while I am. It's easier. And cheaper. Than going back and forth with the taxi people."

"Yeah? You want I should come visit? That way I can see the lavender." Itzhak smiles, just a quick flash, at Isolde's tummy rumble. "Ya hungry, huh? C'mere." Taking the plates he sets them on the little table, just big enough for two. He's already set places, but it's nothing fancy. No candles, no chilled champagne. Instead he opens the fridge. "Got your favorite." It's the home-pressed cider, of course.

Then, sighing, he looks at Izzy, eyebrows slanted dolefully. "You know, I don't wanna talk about why my day was awful. Most of them are. Let's talk about something better. Here, siddown."

He pulls out the chair for her.

Isolde thought a moment and then nodded with a little smile. "I would like that. For you to visit. You can pick the flowers too. If you want." She followed him over, sliding into the chair he pulled out for her. "Thank you! I will have to get some for house maybe. Or else I will keep stealing yours." She mused, accepting the bottle.

A soft nod when he didn't want to talk about his day. "I understand. Well then...tell me about Lemondrop!" Isolde offered. "How did you get her? How long ago. That kinda stuff."

Itzhak pushes the chair in for Izzy and slings himself into the other chair. He doesn't tuck in right away, slumping back and rubbing his forehead. But he smiles at mention of Lemondrop. "I got her about four five years ago. She's a rescue. A guy got her as a baby, thought it'd be real cool to have a giant snake, but when she got big he was terrified of her. He was smart enough to give her up though, instead of neglecting her, so yay him." He twirls a finger in a circle. "I had a bunch of snakes in New York, lizards, some inverts--those are insects, like tarantulas. Only brought Lemka and Iris over here. Lemka's my baby, I don't trust anybody with her. All the other animals, they'll be fine, they don't need too much. Is this creepy?" he asks suddenly, raising those eyebrows at Izzy. "Sometimes people think it's creepy that I had a bunch of weird pets."

Isolde took a sip of her cider, listening to Itzhak with rapt attention. She seemed rather fascinated by the animals he listed off. Nodding now and again. "That is how Alexander got Luigi. From someone else. But the person was treating Luigi bad. I am glad that Lemondrop was not being treated bad." She rested her elbow on the table lightly, giving a shake of her head. "I think it's neat. I've never had a pet. I mean. Not really. Not that I remember." She cast a glance over towards Iris and then back to Itzhak. "Sometimes a stray cat or rat where I was sleeping but." Another shrug of her shoulders and she brightened a bit again. "But I would like a frog one day. Maybe when I find a place of my own. Maybe a few frogs. They're tiny, and cute."

"Birds have it tough," Itzhak says with real sympathy. He starts in on the food, finally. "Poor guy, glad he's with you guys now. You know, there's some frogs are really easy to keep as pets." Then, a little out of nowhere, he blurts, "So are you and Alexander a thing?"

"Hm. I will research it!" Isolde took a few bites of food. Sighing happily. "This is very good!" She paused when Itzhak asked about Alexander and shook her head. A hint of pink on her cheeks again. "Oh no. We are just friends. Good friends. We uhm." She paused and then decided to keep going. "In college we messed around. A little. Well his college I wasn't actually a student." Blinking. Shaking her head to cease her rambling. "No. We are not." She reaffirmed, taking another bite of food to shut up.

"'Cuz it's okay with me if you are," Itzhak says, hastily, when Isolde blushes. "It's not a problem--" shut up, Itzhak, she's talking. He shuts up. Put potatoes in mouth, prevent foot from entering. It forces him to listen instead of running his yap anxiously. Swallowing, he nods, then nods a bunch more. "Okay. I get it now. That's good. That you can be there for each other. Seems like neither of you have an easy life."

Isolde nodded, chew. Swallow. Chew. Swallow. Carefully collecting her messy thoughts in order to try and organize them. "I haven't seen him since those before times. Or talked. Until found him here." She took another drink. "I am glad too. That he is here and we can be friends. It hasn't been easy. No." A touch of a frown. "I want good things to happen to him. For him. Too many bad things have been happening."

The chicken is tender with crisp lemony skin, and the potatoes turn creamy when bitten into. Simple food, made magical by roasting in chicken fat. The great secret of Jewish cuisine.

"Yeah." Itzhak swallows. "He seems like he's had it pretty rough. So do you, though. Hell, so have I. Kinda want good things for you both. You had more than your share of bad stuff."

"Thank you Itzhak. I hope good things happen for you too. Happy things. And days that are not always awful.' Expression sincere as she took a couple more bites of food. "Will you teach me how to make this some time?" She asked. "This is the best food I've had."

"This is a pretty good thing." Itzhak gestures at Isolde with his fork. "Havin' you over. Feeding you. You agreed to go on a date with me. That's pretty damn good. Sure I'll teach you. It's real easy." He rethinks that. "But we should start with something else first. Like, maybe scrambled eggs?" Handling a six-pound pan of boiling chicken fat is suddenly something he can envision going very wrong.

so many things could go wrong. Especially in a small kitchen! "It is a good thing. I am having a good time. And I am looking forward to the Boardwalk." Isolde was smiling again. She really did seem to have a naturally cheery disposition most of the time. "Scrambled eggs sounds good. And also very simple. Maybe with cheese. Everything is better with cheese."

Itzhak can't help but smile back. Izzy seems to lighten the load of his crankiness burden for him, sometimes. "With cheese, you bet. Maybe some scallions or something, get real wild. Hey, I'm glad you're here, you know that?"

"Scallions. Scandalous." Isolde giggled, pushing a hand through her hair. "I am glad I'm here too." She studied him for a beat, before speaking up again, "Do you like to dance? I saw you dancing. With....August?" Half asking like she wasn't sure that was his friend's name.

"August, that's him. Yeah, yeah I like to dance." Itzhak has to confess it, like it's maybe a little embarrassing. "Usually do more playing than dancing, you know? But I like it."

Isolde seems to like this answer! "I love dancing. I'm bad at it. I know I am. But, I love it." She confided. "Maybe we can go dancing some day. If you wanted." She sets her fork down - not a big eater in general but most of the plate is finished off. "Maybe with jazz music?"

"It's okay to be bad at it!" Itzhak says, laughing. "Shit, if nobody did anything they were bad at, the world would be boring. I ain't no pro at it either. It's just fun. Hey, I'd love to go be bad at dancing with you. Jazz sounds great."

Isolde almost seems surprised that he agreed to it, but then delighted. "That is true. Plus, you have to do the things you're bad at. To get better at them." She nodded. "We will dance then! I...do not think there is a place like that here." A fleeting furrow of her brow as she thought. "Perhaps in Seattle. Or another nearby town. I will research! Jazz music is my favorite. It is very energetic. And. Fun!"

"Definitely in Seattle. Anything good is in Seattle, more's the pity for us, huh?" Itzhak, having made short work of his own dinner, gets up and takes Izzy's plate. "Hey, you gotta promise me you'll take some of this home and feed Alexander with it. I ate all that fried chicken you guys brought me, it's only fair."

"Is it? I haven't been there in a very long time." Isolde shifted so she could watch him take the plates over. "Yes! He will love it. I am glad you ate the chicken and the cookies. He will be happy to hear that too." Wiggling a little in her seat. "You are a good thing Itzhak. I am glad you are here." A hand was resting on the back of the chair and her chin rested on that as she watched him.

Itzhak's puttering around the very small kitchen, humming to himself as he cleans up and rinses off the dishes. He looks over his shoulder at Isolde, smiling his wry half-smile. "Not everybody thinks I'm a good thing. Not even me, most of the time. Thanks, Izzy."

"You are welcome." Her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer before standing up and walking towards Iris' cage. "Hello Iris. I didn't say hi earlier." She cooed to the skink, almost murmuring a few words in French to her. "How long have you had Iris then? "

"Seven years. She's an old lady." Itzhak finishes what he was doing and comes over to see Iris, too. "You wanna hold her?"

Iris is laying in a little wallow of dirt she's made for herself. She twists her head to see the people outside her tank, and flickers her blue tongue.

Isolde's eyes widen for a moment, "Can I?" She asked. "I would love to. Luigi is very finicky. He only just started sitting on my shoulder. He won't let me hold him." Yet. Not that birds really get held per say. She takes a step back so Itzhak could open the cage. "I've never held a skink before. Never seen one either. Until Iris."

"Oh yeah. They're great about being held. They'll just hang out." Itzhak unlatches the glass door and swings it open--it opens horizontally like a china cabinet. "C'mere you." Reaching in, he just grabs Iris like she's a beanbag. She permits this to happen without so much as a twitch. As he brings her out, she starts looking around alertly, her blue tongue flickering in and out. She's almost snake-shaped, except very thick and with stubby little legs. "Hold her under her belly like this. Gotta support all her organs. And this is weird, but you can't hold them so their spines bend forward, like you'd hold a cat. Their spines don't bend that way, only side to side." Itzhak hands her over.

There's an excited little squeak that Isolde tries and fails to stifle as Itzhak brings over Iris. She was amazed at how chill Iris was for being so big! Isolde listened carefully to how Itzhak instructed her to hold the skink and gingerly accepted her. "Only side to side?" Cradling the reptile carefully, letting her free fingers run over her skin. "This is so cool." The words are a hushed, awed whisper as she looks back up to Itzhak. Then to Iris again, " Et tu es si belle, Iris." The French murmured in an affectionate manner towards the reptile.

Iris is cool to the touch, her skin very supple and gently pebbly. She has handsome scale patterning in orange and yellow, and her eyes are amber. Her tongue comes out, flick-flick-flick, ruffled and bright, brilliant blue. It's obvious why she's named after a ruffly blue flower. She cocks her head to the side, looking up at Isolde with one eye.

"She's curious about you, she doesn't know you. You smell different. That's how they smell, you know, with their tongues." Itzhak rubs Iris on the head, gently. "Good girl, Iris, lookit you doin' such a good job being a potato."

Isolde was mesmerized by the creature. It was like a little adorable alien! "Such pretty colors." She grinned, a soft chuckle. "A very good potato. She's so cute." Focusing back up on Itzhak. "I wonder what I smell like to her. Well, flowers maybe, but I wonder what else." Curious. Most of the time, since working on the Farm, Izzy was followed by varying levels of a lavender and dirt like scent. Depending on how long she had worked and how long it had been since she worked. "What does she eat?"

"I have her out a lot. She's used to being held, and people are warm and smell interesting, so she likes it. She eats dog food. The really expensive kind. That and a few insects, some leafy greens, some cooked sweet potato, raw egg, ground meat, stuff like that. These guys are scavengers in the wild. They eat anything they can, so the dog food really works, it's got a ton of the right nutrients. You know it's weirdly impossible to put together the kind of diet they need from the regular supermarket? The meat there don't have bone and organs and everything in it, and they'll get sick if they don't get that."

Itzhak sure is giving Izzy a lecture on the feeding of skinks! Realizing it, he shuts up abruptly. "Uh. Yeah, so, I can talk about reptiles forever. I'll stop."

For her part, Isolde seems rather interested in the information she's learning! All sorts of new things have been popping up since she's been in Gray Harbor and she is enjoying it. "I wouldn't have guessed dog food. All the other stuff makes sense though, I guess. Insects especially." She cradles Iris for a few moments longer before carefully starting to hand her back to Itzhak. "Thank you for letting me hold her."Once her hands are free, she walks over to the kitchen so she can give her hands a quick wash. Then work on putting that long hair of hers into a ponytail with the hair tie that was on her wrist. "You don't have to, you know. Feel like you can't talk about something? Talking about things you love is a good thing. And you love reptiles right?" Walking back over to him. "So talk about them. If you want."

Itzhak eases Iris back into her enclosure. She slinks (skinks?) out of his hands, slowly makes her way over rocks and branches, and vanishes into her hide. "She says, feh, she's had enough of the hairless monkeys," he says, fondly. He comes over to wash his hands, too, and the glance he flicks at Isolde from under his black eyelashes is shy. "I mean. I really do love 'em. Just. I've got told a lot that I need to shut up about violin and reptiles and cars, yannow? When you're autistic you have these 'special interests,'" he makes sarcastic air quotes, "and you're trained out of talking about them."

Isolde's brow furrows as Itzhak tells her these things. "Well that sounds silly." Leaning against the kitchen counter lightly. "Why shouldn't you talk about things you love? Good things? If more people talked about good things then this wouldn't be such a bad place. Too many people only talk about the bad things." She grabs Itzhak's hand then. Not very hard of course, and she's looking at him rather earnestly. "Talk about your good things. As much as you want. Fuck what other people say." The rare use of such an abrasive word maybe seeming a little contrasting. Clearly this was an important matter!

Then she suddenly let go of his hand, looking a little sheepish. "Sorry..." She lowered her gaze a touch. "I just. Uhm. Anyway. You know what I mean." That intensity that had been in her eyes dissipated now.

Itzhak gets wide-eyed, eyebrows elevating to maximum height in genuine surprise. But as Izzy keeps going, he starts grinning. Just a little at first. By the time she says 'fuck', he's grinning fit to split at her.

He catches her hand when she lets go, and pulls her knuckles to his lips to kiss them. He's unshaven, it's bristly. "This is why I like you."

Isolde makes a soft sound of surprise when Itzhak takes hold of her hand and kisses it. That pink crawling up her cheeks again. "What is why you like me?" Genuinely curious. Her fingers shift a little in his grasp, reflexively wanting to feel the bristle of hair on his cheeks.

"Because those things are important to you. Bein' ourselves is important to you." Itzhak tips his head to let her pet his whiskery cheek, his hazel eyes on hers for just a moment.

Isolde's fingers linger on his cheek while their eyes stay locked for that brief moment. Then she slowly withdraws her hand and offers a little smile. "It's the most important. Because. When nothing else seems real. We're real." Her voice is soft as she speaks. "But if nothing is real and we're lying to ourselves. We aren't real either. And then. We're gone. Just like that." Shifting a bit, lowering her gaze towards the tile floor. Maybe feeling a little awkward or shy as she talked.

Itzhak's long, calloused fingers let Isolde slide free. He's still grinning at her, in the way that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle up. Makes him look ten years younger. "Yeah. Exactly. You don't gotta be embarrassed, Izzy. You're right." But he doesn't try to touch her again, letting her have her desired space.

After another moment, those clear blue eyes raise to study Itzhak again. Relaxing some when he's still grinning, and agreeing with her. "I am glad you don't think I'm crazy." Isolde admitted. "A lot of people do. I try to say things so they make sense. But they don't always come out making sense. It was worse before. When I was alone and was on things. But now it's getting better."

"Even if you were crazy? I said it to Alexander, and I meant it. I don't mind crazy. Not that kind of crazy. Other kinds, I mind. I don't really think you're crazy, though, and I don't think he is either." Itzhak hitches his lean shoulders, shrugging. "That said? Glad it's getting better." He studies Izzy back, unhurriedly, just kind of staring at her, until he realizes he's doing it, and then he awkwardly looks away. "Uh...okay, I guess I should let you go home and not keep you here chewing your ear off."

They just sort of stare at each other for a good minute or two! The silence isn't really uncomfortable - at least not for Izzy. But when he suggests letting her go home, she blinks a bit and nods. "I don't mind the chewing...." A little laugh. "But I should go home. Because I will see you tomorrow anyway." Giving him a bright smile. Once a plate is put together for Alexander, she slips her sandals back on. Seeming to debate a moment before leaning in and giving his scruffy cheek a light kiss. "Thank you for dinner Itzhak. It was good and I had fun. Have a good night." Looking towards Iris, "Good night Iris!" And then she would head out back over to 13 Elm!

Itzhak solemnly bows his head to receive the kiss to his cheek. After Izzy's gone, he stands there leaning on the closed door for a long time.

"You're gonna get her in trouble, Itzil," he mutters. Then he goes to finish washing the dishes.