2019-08-06 - On The Boardwalk

Itzhak knocks on number 13 right at 2 PM. Not one minute later or sooner. If you accused him of having loitered on the doorstep a good forty-five seconds or so, to let the minute hand hit 12, he'd deny it. Also he'd be lying.

Anyway, he's wearing snug black jeans, black Converse, and a t-shirt that reads 'I'm not ALWAYS grumpy. Sometimes I play the violin.' Mirrored sunglasses are perched in his curly black hair.

Isolde was excited. Dinner had been fun the night before, and now they were going to the Boardwalk! She was very much ready to play some of the games, maybe one of the little rides. Mostly, she was hoping the saxophone man was out and about. Because she really wanted Itzhak to get to listen to him play. She spent an inordinate amount of time researching hairstyles on her phone before managing to wrangle her hair into a bun. A little messy, but still. She was trying not to feel nervous again, knowing that she really didn't need to look super fancy. But she was also excited to wear her yellow dress again.

At precisely 2PM, the door is knocked on and Isolde answers it. "Hi Itzhak!" Flashing that bright smile up to the man and chuckling when she reads his shirt. She's wearing her white sandals and a pale yellow dress with a halter top neckline. The real kicker though, is the brightly colored parrots dotting it. Most people would probably shy away from such a design - but Isolde adored it. Also, there is a pocket in it! Which fascinates her, and isn't quite visible at the moment unless you were reallyyy looking. "I like your shirt."

"Hi, Izzy." Itzhak's smile grows brilliant, as he sees her and sees that dress. "Hah, thanks. My sister gives me one of these goofy damn shirts on my birthday every year. I love your dress. Wow! It's got Luigis all over it." Technically they're macaws. He hikes his eyebrows at her. "So you ready to go?"

"She has good taste in shirts." Isolde chuckled again, looking down at her shirt. "It does! Kinda. They're bigger than him." Nodding. "Very ready. " Stepping out, "Au Revoir, Luigi!" There's a twitter in response. Then the door is closed and locked. "One day he will answer me back." She turned back to focus on him. "Do we get to take the purple car?"

"We get to take the purple car." Itzhak makes a comical little flourish to show Isolde to the walk ahead of him. His car is parked at the curb, dangerously purple and glittery and sleek. He walks her down to it. "Her name's Heartbreaker. It's a stupid name. I named her to impress some guy I had the hots for, so a stupid reason, too. But now I can't name her anything else, it just fits." He opens the door for her.

Isolde gasps when she sees the car, features lighting up. "She's so pretty!" When they get closer she seems to have a very strong urge to touch Heartbreaker. Instead, she just lets her fingers hover over it. "I think Heartbreaker is a good name. If anything happened to it, I would certainly be heart broken." The way her lips twitch at the corners, she's making a joke! Then she thanks him as she slides into the passenger seat, looking around the interior. Smoothing out the skirt of her dress absently and trying not to fidget too much with all that energy bubbling.

The Vette is low-slung; sitting in it puts one's tuchis not that far elevated above one's feet. Itzhak shuts the door, comes around to the driver's side and drops into the bucket seat. "She's pretty. That's her whole job, bein' pretty. And being fast." He glances over at Isolde, smiling a little wickedly in one corner of his mouth. "You wanna go fast?"

Shifting a touch in her seat, Isolde grinned to Itzhak. "Yeah. Let's go fast." Then she would settle in and buckle up! Eyes wide as she would watch out the window, curious to see just how fast he would get the Corvette to go.

Itzhak's eyes dip ever so briefly to Isolde's legs, while she settles her skirt. Then he starts up the car, emanating a pleased anticipation. Rumble goes the engine, shivering everything. "A'ight. We'll go fast."

At first, though, as he wends through the suburb, he doesn't go fast. He does the speed limit exactly, even though it requires him to do a lot of shifting. The engine doesn't complain, he handles it with such skill, but there's a definite sensation of tension, like it's holding back.

When they pull onto the long road to the coast, Itzhak flashes a grin and opens up that throttle. VROOM! The Stingray roars low and surges forward, pressing Isolde back in the seat. Trees start whipping by in blurs.

And Isolde has legs for days, those they are normally covered up with her jeans. She is definitely not used to wearing dresses as is evident by the way she toys with the hem of the skirt as they make their way through the suburbs. There's a growing anticipation as they get closer and closer to the longer roads. Then they get there, and Itzhak is giving it all she's got.

Isolde laughs as she is pressed up against the seat, eyes on the trees and scenery zipping by. Then she looks back over to Itzhak with a bright grin. "This is awesome!" So exciting. So adventurous. She does at least attempt to lean forward now and again as they get closer to the Boardwalk and she can start to see the vague outlines of the various carts and pop up stands that make it up.

Itzhak laughs too, delighted with Isolde's delight. "Pretty great, huh?" The Vette charges along, Itzhak urging it to ninety, a hundred, a hundred and ten...before he lets off the gas and coasts her back down to seventy. Meanwhile the distance to the Boardwalk has been eaten up under Heartbreaker's tires. Itzhak brings the car to a stop at the light, grinning savagely. "Ahhh I miss doing that."

Isolde relaxes back in the seat as they start slowing back down and she's giggling again. "My heart is racing." She lays her hand over her chest to feel the thrumming. Still grinning like a fool. "Can we do it again?? When we're on the way back?" She asked, focusing on him with those wide eyes. "I've never been so fast before. I liked it!"

"Better'n any of the rides they got in there, that's for sure." Itzhak pulls in to park. "Oh, you bet we can do it again." His voice lowers to a intense murmur. Then, telling on himself, he clears his throat. "C'mon."

He gets out and opens Isolde's door for her, like a freakin' gentleman. The weather is gorgeous, cool with the brisk ocean breeze, warm where the sun hits. Towering cumulonimbus clouds are on the horizon, brilliant white with gray bellies. Carnival music floats from the boardwalk, mixed with loudspeakers and screams from people on the roller coaster.

Isolde grins as she watches him. "I can't wait." Wiggling just a little in her seat. Then he's helping her out of the car. Isolde rocked on her heels for a moment all twisted up with excitement. The weather was so pretty and there was still some adrenaline coursing through her. Taking his hand after the door is closed. "Let's go get a giant stuffed animal." She giggled, humming a bit along with the music that could be heard as they drew closer.

Itzhak's eyebrows go up when Isolde takes his hand. Cautiously he wraps long calloused fingers around hers. His heartrate is up some, too. "Uhm. Yeah? You hungry, you want to eat first?"

At the ticket booth he pays for them both, not even asking Isolde if she wants to go dutch.

Isolde is eyeing everything, like a kid in a candy store. She blinks a bit at the mention of food. Food was important! She nods. "Food is good. I can eat." There were all sorts of things to choose from. Funnel cakes, turkey legs, hot dogs, burgers, bloomin' onion. Whatever kind of fair-like food you wanted, you could probably find it.

Once they're inside, she sticks close to him. It's a beautiful day, which means that plenty of people are out and about doing exactly what they are. Which means she doesn't want to potentially get lost. "What do you want to eat?" She asked, eyeing a cotton candy stand briefly - but knowing that real food was probably better to choose from right now.

Out of everything, it's a booth labelled BRATWURST in cheesy blackletter font that catches Itzhak's eye. "Hope they have saurkraut."

To the proprietor, a skinny blonde older fellow, Itzhak asks, "Hey you actually German?" The guy beams at him and rolls out a long sentence in German. Itzhak lights up and answers in what's actually Yiddish, but they can understand each other just fine. Shortly thereafter he's got a styrofoam plate loaded with sausage, saurkraut, beets, and stewed apples. It's a ton of food, and he plans on eating it ALL.

Isolde watches with curiosity at the exchange between the two men. But she opts to order from the Cajun truck that is next to it - some kind of jambalaya fare. Though Isolde eyes the plate that Itzhak gets and then asks politely the German man for an order of the stewed apples. Once all the food (and probably a drink) are obtained and a seat found, Isolde grins a bit. "How did you talk to the man? You weren't speaking German, were you?" It didn't sound like he had been. Picking up her fork so she could take a bite of the stewed apples.

"Yiddish, but Yiddish is a kind of German, with a Hebrew accent and Hebrew words." Itzhak eats the stewed apples with the saurkraut and hunks of sausage. "It's like a whaddayacallit. A dialect." He quiets down to make progress through the pile of German food. He's not a small guy and he works for a living, he gotta eat!

Isolde thinks on that for a moment, curious. "German, but not." Interesting. A thoughtful noise as she digs in to her food as well. She doesn't seem to mind the quiet as they eat and she takes in the noises. There's a glimmer of excitement dancing in her eyes as she watches some of the people playing different games or coming off the roller coaster. "I made you something." She says, seemingly out of the blue, refocusing on him. "I will give it to you when we get back home. I couldn't bring it with me."

Itzhak swallows and gives Isolde a heck of a surprised look. "You made me something? What is it? Are you gonna tell me?"

"It isn't anything, like, major." Isolde assured him quickly. "It's just a, uhm, I dunno what to call it without ruining the surprise. So, I guess I won't tell you for now. But I think you will like it."

"Uh, okay!" Itzhak says, grinning at her. "I guess I gotta wait." Finishing up, he buses the plates and even wipes the table with absentminded efficiency. "Whaddaya wanna do first?"

Isolde returns the grin and looks around. "Let's see if we can find the saxophone man! And...if we can't, maybe we can do one of the games." She suggested, rising to her feet with her empty containers so she can throw them away in a nearby trash can.

"Sure. You're in charge, boss." Itzhak studies Isolde again, consideringly--she doesn't mind, which is amazing--and then holds his hand out to her with a quirk of his eyebrows. Silently, he's asking her if she wants to hold hands again.

Isolde honestly does about as much staring as he does, give or take. That studying and scrutinizing. So it's only fair. There's only a second or two of hesitation before her hand is sliding into his again and she gives it a light squeeze. Then she's leading him off towards where the saxophone man normally is. As they draw closer she can hear the faint sounds of the saxophone and her grin brightens. "He's here!" Her pace quickening just a touch. She may or may not have even tossed a little skip in there because it was exciting!

The player of the saxophone is an older, blind man. Playing his heart out between a turkey leg cart and a funnel cake one. It's energetic, soulful. Isolde brought them to a stop, rocking on her heels excitedly, giving Itzhak's hand another squeeze as she listened to the music.

Itzhak hangs behind Izzy a step, just so he can watch her excitement. She's so happy to show him the saxophone man.

There's so much he doesn't know about her. In a moment like this, that fact seems faraway and uninteresting. What's interesting is her, now, in her pretty parrot dress, happy, on a beautiful day.

As a bonus, the saxophone man is a great player. Itzhak pulls up alongside Izzy, and he doesn't have to pretend not to study the guy because he's blind and he can't see Itzhak staring at him like a creeper. "Oh, man, he is good," he says, a boot starting to tap out the rhythm.

Isolde is swaying with the music. She's barely an average sort of dancer. On the very low end of average. But swaying was good. She still has a hold on Itzhak's hand, grinning like a kid on Christmas and humming along with the tune. It was easy to forget about the good things sometimes. But here and now, the good things were in full force.

She turns then, towards Itzhak, taking up his other hand and quirking a brow. As if asking if he wants to dance. Though he almost might not have too much of a choice in the matter. At least for a minute or two.

Isolde barely even realizes that she's doing it. She's just so happy and she hasn't felt like this in a long, long time. And she wants to share it with everyone! But she can't share it with everyone, so she shares it with Itzhak. Her mind reaching out towards his. It's the sort of joy a kid might feel getting a new toy or their first pet. Something pure and innocent that one doesn't get to experience very often after they grow out of those childhood stages.

Itzhak's focusing more and more intently on the old guy's playing, the way he works that sax. Izzy beside him, bouncing and humming, is appropriate because the dude is awesome. Izzy turns towards him and he's slow to react, but he does, so he can face her. "You wanna--okay!"

He laughs low. Her demanding is adorable. He slips his arm around her waist, still holding her hand, and sways her. The feel of her in her dress under his hand is lovely, and distracting. "How's that?" he says, smiling...and then she's touching his mind.

Itzhak takes in a sharp, surprised breath. His mind, Isolde can easily sense, is complicated and ever-busy, whirring like clockwork, rumbling like the engine of his car. It ticks along to its own rhythm. And he's sad. He's deeply, achingly sad. Izzy gets to understand all of that in a split second before he closes the sorrow away, leaving only the machinations of his complex brain.

He can bask in her joy, though, and he does, eyes half-closing, feeling what she's feeling, accepting it as the gift it is while they sway together.

He dips his head, murmuring, "Took me by surprise."

Isolde's smile is bright as he pulls her in and she relaxes into him as they dance. Her eyes close as she can feel that sadness, that sorrow. She feels it so intensely that she almost starts crying herself. There's a little shudder that runs through her. But then it's gone and she's just sharing with him her feelings. Trying not to really focus on his brain too much, not wanting to pry. Though she's intrigued. By the complexitiy of it.

Her head comes to rest on his shoulder, eyes still closed. Quiet even after he speaks. That thrum of excitement still running through her, though it isn't as blatant. As the playing begins to wind down, she slowly withdrawls from his mind. "I'm sorry, normally I ask." Her voice is soft. "But I wanted to share." And she's glad that she did. That, if even for a few moments, she was able to maybe help alleviate some of his sadness.

Even though the music has stopped, Isolde lingers in his arms, breathing in his scent before remembering herself and taking a slight step back. Focusing on him fully. "Thank you for dancing with me."

Itzhak murmurs, "S'okay. Ask next time, huh?" His hand is light and warm on her waist. As she rests her head on his shoulder, his arms tighten gently around her. As if he might break her. He tips his head against hers...lets her go as she steps back. The expression on his quirky-handsome face as she focuses on him is as complex as that brain he's got ticking away behind it. He looks at her a long, long moment.

"Ya welcome," he says, eventually. "C'mon, lemme win you something."

Before they leave, he tips the saxophone player.