2019-08-03 - Origami Iris

Isolde was sitting on the living room floor, humming happily to herself while she worked on some origami. Her hair was down, falling around her akin to a blanket and there was a plate of food on the kitchen counter, covered up with some tin foil. Whatever it is smelled very good! Clad in her pajamas pants and a tank top. It seemed like she was practicing trying to make something judging by the few crumpled pieces already piled up. The TV was on, of course, but instead of meerkats today it was some sort of History channel thing about Al Capone.

The door opens, and Alexander enters. He's looking better than he had been, and seemed to have been sleeping a little, even. There's a flash of a smile for Isolde, but he doesn't talk immediately. Instead he heads into the bathroom for just a bit, then returns, taking a seat on the couch. Luigi is teased a bit, then his attention returns to Isolde. He leans forward, elbows resting on knees. "Origami? What are you trying to make?"

Sleeping is good! Isolde peeks up when Alexander comes in, offering a smile in return and giving him a quick look over to make sure he was moving okay. Well as okay as one can when your leg is healing and you feel like you're on fire. "Hi Alexander." Is offered up when he comes back up with a smile. "There is food on the counter if you want it. Itzhak made lemon chicken and potatoes. It's very good." Lifting up the orange paper to him that was all folded up and twisted. "I wanted to try and make Iris. But I think it might take more practice. Not as easy as a snake." Pushing a hand through her hair. "How are youn doing?"

"He cooks?" Alexander's eyebrows go up. He stands and wanders into the kitchen to investigate. He hardly seems to be favoring his leg at all, at this point, and there's soon the sounds of a plate being filled with delicious chicken. "This looks great. Am I the only man in this town who doesn't cook?" A rueful little chuckle as he returns, with food and utensils. He settles in at the couch, the plate on the coffee table. "I imagine not. More geometry." A smile. "But you'll get it. I'm doing well. How about you? You seem to be having fun." It's gently teasing, and he glances in the direction of 15 Elm Street, making it clear what he's referring to.

"You cooked the casserole!" Isolde chimed in helpfully with a laugh. "He said his mom taught him and he will teach me some. Eggs first. Because they're simple." She set the paper off to the side and pulled another one out of the sheet book. Turning so she could face him better while they talked. A shy little look briefly crossing her features when he teased her. "I am. It is different...but he is nice. We're going to the boardwalk tomorrow. That will be fun I think."

She grinned then, as if remembering something funny. "He asked if me and you were a thing. I assured him we were just friends. But he likes you too. It's cute."

"I did. And we are not yet dead, so I'll assume that worked out well." Alexander pauses to eat some of the chicken. "But not as well as this," he admits, without shame. He eats with less mechanical apathy than usual, appearing to actually taste and enjoy the food. "I look forward to trying your experiments. Let me know what you'll need, and I'll make sure it's in there." A wave of the fork to the fridge.

The rest gets an amused look. "Have fun, Isolde. You deserve it, and Itzhak seems like a...good person. I think." A smile. "I've been asked that, too. By Easton and a couple of others. I suppose it's a natural thing to ask."

"We will see. So long as the bad things decide to stay out of the kitchen." She glanced towards said kitchen and then back to him. "I planted some of my flowers too! In the backyard. I hope they keep." Making a few folds in the paper. "I suppose." She agreed, studying him for a moment before, "Who was your date going to be with? Before the bad things interrupted?"

"If they don't, then we'll just kill them," Alexander says. Like it's going to be that easy. But he's clearly trying to reassure her. "If you want to learn to cook, don't let the bad things stop you." He looks towards the backyard. "Wonderful. I'll have to go out and see them. Actually, I need to cut the grass. I'll do that in the next couple of days - no excuse for us to look like we don't know how to live." He settles back in the couch, and studies her for a long moment. "Her name is Isabella Reede. She is, of all things, an archaeologist. Native of the town, although not someone I'd had any reason to run across until this whole Baxter thing." A harsh breath out. "Not sure it was even supposed to be an actual date. Probably for the best it blew up. But I think we're going to try again. I don't know how to date someone. But," a shrug, "I'm damn near forty years old. I suppose I should figure it out?"

Isolde just nodded about the cooking. She wouldn't let the bad things get her down. Listening with interest about this Isabella Reede. "She sounds nice. An archaeologist...like Indiana Jones?" A touch of a grin on her lips. Though it faded a touch when he talked about it blowing up . "You deserve good, happy things too Alexander. I hope you try again and it works well." A soft laugh. "I don't know how either. We will learn together."

"Nice?" Alexander thinks about it. "I don't know if I'd say nice. But I like her." He leans forward again to enjoy some more of the chicken, then smiles. "Thanks. I'm...trying to believe that. That it isn't all going to fall apart. It helps, having friends," a nod to her, "to remind me that things don't have to be bad. And I hope I can help remind you of that, too." A smile. "Yeah. I guess we will."

Isolde smiles when she hears that. Glad that he has decided friends isn't a bad thing. Setting her papers to the side, she stands up and picks up the crumpled ones to throw. Away. " are things closer to being resolved at all? With the bones and the Baxter's and everything?" Coming back with the ice cream pint and two spoons. Just in case Alexander wanted some. She settled on the couch to listen as she took a spoonful of the sweet treat.

Alexander makes a grumpy sound under his breath. "It's hard to say. I think we're going to try to get an interview with Thomas Addington," he says, and grimaces. "I am not looking forward to that. It's fine for people like Thorne to move in those circles, people who are...good at being social. But the last thing I need is to piss off the local grande dame or her people. Especially since I seem to be of Baxter blood myself." He pokes at chicken. "I thought it was just the ghost, but it seems like maybe there's a person involved, too. I don't really know the shape of any of this, or how to stop it."

Isolde listened with a quiet interest. Eyes widening here and there. "Good luck....with the Addingtons. That sounds nerve-wracking." She agreed. And intimidating. Another spoonful of ice cream eaten. "You're a Baxter too? Is that why you're did the drinking the other night?" A beat of pause. "Is the ghost using the person? Or does the person know about the ghost and just is helping?"

"Yeah, I'm a Baxter by way of William-fucking-Gohl. And that's one way to put it," Alexander agrees, flumping gracelessly back into the seat. "It freaks me out, you know." A quiet confession. "Getting involved with these people. Thorne, Dr. Glass, Addingtons. Even Isabella. Dr. Glass asked me to answer some questions for her and a pastry guy, and he was this composed, put-together fellow with too many 'y's in his names who was just...looking at me. It wasn't mean. I don't think it was. But I feel out of place. Painfully conscious of the ways in which I fail to fit in, fail to be," a huff of breath, "successful, or normal." He runs his hands through his disheveled hair. "I want to run away from them all, sometimes."

Then he laughs, soft. "Which wasn't what you were asking. Um. I don't know? We don't really know much about the ghost or spirit or whatever, and all I've got about this theoretical other person is a tire track. He shakes his head, the frustration visibly rising. Then it subsides, and he looks at her, seriously. "What do you want, Isolde? You're starting to get your feet under you. You have a job. You're making friends. You even took on a haunted house and saved a life. Good signs. But what're you going for, next? What you want?"

Even as he went on a tangent, Isolde listened. It was important to vent now and again. And even if she didn't have much useful to offer word wise, Isolde was happy to be a listening ear. "That would be stressful." she agreed in a murmur. "Things will resolve. Of that I am sure."

She paused a moment when he asked what she wanted. Falling quiet, thinking it over. "Well...I guess finding a place of my own?" Setting the ice cream down. "I like it here with you and Luigi but I know I can't stay forever." Another pause and then she laughed. "First I guess I will get my drivers license. So I have proper ID. And can get other work when the harvesting season is over..."

"One way or another, things always resolve," Alexander agrees.

He watches her, thoughtfully. Finishes off the last of his plate while she speaks, but his attention is firmly fixed on her. "You can stay as long as you like. I think it would be good for you to have your own place, though. There's something grounding about having a place that's yours. You deserve that." He rubs at his face. "License is a good idea. You'll need a car to practice. Uh...do you drive at all?" He's not talking about legally, just...skills.

"I can! Sort of." Isolde mused about the driving. "I have driven before." She doesn't elaborate on how or why or whatever. "But not in a while. Some practice would not hurt." She agreed. "Maybe Itzhak has one I can borrow. He works on cars. Or something." She relaxed back.

"Having my own space is good too I think. Also a bed." A little grin towards Alexander. "But I would still come by to see you and Luigi!" Drawing her knees to her chest. "I was telling Itzhak, I would like frogs. So maybe a place with room for frogs."

"Sort of." Alexander tries not to react at all, but just adds, calmly, "Some practice would probably be good, then. And yeah, that's a good idea, at least to ask. If not, I can ask around, see if anyone will give up their wheels for the cause." There's a teasing little smile, there.

"And beds are very good. Especially if you and Itzhak find you enjoy each other's company. My couch isn't the most comfortable place for sex that I can think of, if his own place was ever unavailable." A quick grin. "But that sounds lovely. A place for frogs, and for you. And of course, you're welcome here. I'd visit you, too, if I were permitted." An inclination of his head, bangs flopping over into his eyes so he can give her a winsome sort of look, as if pleading for the privilege.

Isolde made a mental note to ask about it. Her cheeks flared pink when Alexander talked about her enjoying Itzhak's company. Not that she was a stranger to sex or uncomfortable with the topic necessarily. But it was just so new and it had been a while since-well anyway. Isolde shook her head a bit as if shaking off the thought and grinned.

"Of course you can come visit." Isolde giggled and he gets a quick little nudge with her toes. "I hope you do. And hopefully I will have lots of frogs for you to see!" She grinned again. "Things are getting better. Slowly. For both of us I think."

Alexander hardly even twitches at the nudge with her toes, although he does chuckle. "Good. I want to see the frogs." Her grin doesn't quite draw an answering grin from him, but his smile is slight and warm, a banked ember of pleased emotions. "I think so. We just have to stay on course, right?" With that, he stands and goes to wash off his plate and utensils, putting them neatly in the drying rack once they're clean. Once that's done, he returns to the living room, reaching into Luigi's cage to give the bird's neck feathers a little tickle. "I think I'm going to work on some things in the office, then try to hit the bed a little early. See if I can sleep now that the burning is pretty much gone. Good luck with the Iris origami - I think Itzhak would enjoy one, if you make a couple."

Isolde nodded, watching him move around. "Thank you. Good luck with your work too. And with sleeping." She rose now to put away the ice cream. Then she would settle down on the floor again so she could resume her practice.