2019-08-11 - Veggies, Frogs, and Ghost Marshmellows

The walk back is pretty easy, not very far at all! As they near the house, "I'm not sure if Alexander is home but we can wait a bit and see if he shows up." Isolde offers, digging her house key out of her pocket. "Also Luigi doesn't like new people much. So, don't be sad if he gives you attitude." For clearly having at least a decade on Corey, Isolde doesn't really seem to have the mentality she probably should at her age. Opening up the door and letting him in.

Luigi is sitting on a perch in his large cage, attention immediately on the new person. Isodle whistled a greeting to him. "Be nice Luigi. This is Corey." Luigi squwaked in response, hopping up on another, higher perch.

"Oh, yeah. He mentioned a bird," Corey confirms as they step in, and he eyes the bird for a moment before promptly ignoring him. "I don't have to hang around, if you're worried about a stranger being in your home," he notes, offering out the tupperware container towards Isolde.

"He's a good bird. It's just been a stressful time lately." She closed the door, accepting the container. "It's okay! You can stay if you want for a little bit. Do you want anything to drink? We have water, soda." She walks into the kitchen and opens the fridge. Her brow furrows and she blinks. Then the crepe container gets set down on the countertop and Isolde is carefully pulling a large canvas sack out of the fridge. "These must be those vegetables. Do you like vegetables?" Setting the bag down and starting to open it to peer inside.

"Soda would be great, thanks," Corey responds, finding himself somewhere to sit while Isolde sorts out drinks and possible.. vegetables? "I.. uh, yea, but not often just raw on their own. Preferably with a dip, or cooked into something." But of course he would say that.

Isolde shook her head. "Do you want any of these?" Neither her, nor Alexander cooked. And even though Alexander said he was going to try and make some things - there was noooo way they were using all these vegetables. "Maybe you can make stuff with some of them?" There is a variety of eggplants, artichokes, and cucumbers within the bag. Then she grabs a can of soda from the fridge to bring it to him. The seating options are the couch. A giant stuffed frog is occupying half of it and when Isolde hands off the soda can, she also moves the frog to gently lay it on a free space, closer to Luigi's cage.

"Yeah, absolutely," Corey affirms, brightening at the offer. "Hell, depending on what else you've got in the fridge and cupboards, I could make something for you guys now as a thank you." Because yes, he's always looking for opportunities to cook, to feed people. "Apparently also the bird likes vegetables. At least, Alexander took a carrot flower to give to him."

"Mhm! He does. He will end up eating most of these, I am sure." Isolde started taking out a few of each so she could put them in a separate bag for Corey. Shaking her head though. "Oh no. You would think we were starving. There isn't anything here to cook with." She chuckled. Once the bag was full, she zipped the canvas back up and stuffed it in the fridge, taking a can of soda out for herself. "We are both starting to learn though. Slowly." As she took a set on the now freed up part of the couch. "What does a carrot flower look like?"

"Like a curl of thinly-peeled carrot, pinched together at the bottom," Corey explains. "If you had a carrot and a sharp knife I'd show you, but I don't typically carry around either of those things myself," he adds, his smile rueful. "Where'd they come from? Somebody's garden?"

"I will look up a picture later." Isolde decided, curling up on the couch and taking a sip of soda. "A man named August. He's Alexander's friend I think. I've seen him a couple times but we haven't really talking." She explains. "Do you know him?" Since he knew Alexander!

The student chef shakes his head. "Nope. Don't know anyone by that name. I know a May, and an April, but no August," Corey replies, smile turning faintly crooked. "Bit of a random thing to give, unless he's a gardener, but hey. Food is good."

This comment makes Isolde giggle. "He is. I think. I don't know for sure." She offers. "I will have to ask Alexander. What made you move to Gray Harbor? What school are you at?" Vaguely remembering he called himself a student.

"Hmn? Oh, I was born here. I've spent almost all my life here," Corey replies cheerfully. "I'm studying culinary science at Wash-U's Hoquiam campus. It's hard study, but fun. About to start my second year."

There is a shadow that passes over the window of the living room. Once, and it could be a bird. Twice? Accompanied by a low tap, it's definitely humanoid-shaped, some space invader backlit by the sunset... And blonde? Some blonde woman peeking into a window and--- oh. Oh, no it's Yves? Or an impostor? Cupping his hands around his face and looking in, knock-knock-knocking gently like some terrible line in a horror novel.

Isolde is listening to Corey, though her brow furrows a touch when she hears the faint footfalls. Turning her head slightly, the tapping, she just stares. Most people might freak out when they see someone in the window. But Isolde is, instead, carefully counting the frogs on her charms while she stares at Yves staring back. And then she realizes who it is! And that she knows him. "Oh! It's my boss!" She stands up a little too quickly, gasps and stills. Then made her way to the door, opening it up and looking out and over. "...Why are you being scary?" She asked with a raised eyebrow, motioning him to come inside. "Corey - this is Yves. Yves this is a neighbor, Corey."

Frowning, turning towards the window, Corey eyes the unfamiliar person, perplexed about why he's knocking on the window rather than the door. "Uh." Then when Isolde announces that she knows him, and goes to let him in, he lifts a casual hand in greeting. "Hi."

At the window, Yves can be seen peering into the house with curiosity that borders on indifferent -- but as Isolde moves, and he catches her wincing? There's some mimed-gestures for her to sit down before he struggles-and-fails to open the window, then disappears from sight. Only after Isolde opens the door does Yves appear again. He does not look like he should be anybody's boss.

Yves looks like he rolled around a vintage store, put on the gaudiest pearl-buttoned cowboy shirt and a pair of threadbare jeans, and wandered over here in a hurry. In his hand, a crumpled paper bag. "Issy-bee, I-- ... scary?" He looks baffled, turning to give Corey an upnod. "Neighbour Corey, enchanté. You a doctor?" A beat. Yves is apparently being serious.

"Staring into people's windows is a scary thing. You're lucky Alexander isn't here to have seen that." Isolde says seriously, but she smiles a bit. "I am glad to see you." Motioning him inside and closing the door once he was. There is not much in the way of seating except for the couch, so Isolde motions for him sit down on it."Do you want water or soda?" A curious look given to the paper bag, but she doesn't ask about it yet. Instead heading into the kitchen to retrieve a drink - whether Yves accepted or not. She'll let Corey answer the doctor thing.

Sipping from his soda, sat on the sofa, Corey eyes Yves with some curiosity. "No. I'm a chef," he replies simply, proud of his chosen passion but claiming no gift of medicine. "Why, do you need a doctor?" he then asks, blithely ignoring Izzy's wincing. The woman's pain is her own; he can't help, so he'll give her privacy instead.

"What? No it isn't," Yves insists, moving to assist Isolde in shutting the door and only giving up half way. His hair is unsuccessfully brushed out of his eyes as he explains; "You can -see- me at a window; a man at the door is invisible, he could be anyone... Oh, yeah, I'll have a pop-- hey, aren't you supposed to be sitting down?" No move to stop Isolde, but Yves does wander closer to Corey, gesturing as he speaks. "She's supposed to be sitting down..."

Yves perches on the arm of the sofa, crossing his legs with one ankle over the knee as he leans forwards and nods slowly, watching Corey and his non-reaction to Isolde. "...Chef. Your hands are good for a chef; no burns. What're you cooking up today?" Apparently the doctor questions have been tabled.

"I am supposed to be doing a lot of things." Isolde answers with a little shrug. She returns with a can of soda and hands it to Yves. Instead of sitting back on the couch, she lowers herself to the floor, next to the giant stuffed frog, relaxing against it. Luigi makes an indignant sort of twittering noise. He doesn't like all these STRANGER IN HIS HOUSE. Poor Luigi. He'll get used to it eventually. Maybe.

"He made crepes! They were very good." Isolde offers. "What is in the bag?" Motioning to the paper bag Yves was holding.

"I'm sure she's old enough to make her own decisions about walking around," Corey replies drily to Yves, and he smiles at the comment about his hands. "There were crepes," he confirms to Isolde's announcement. "Later, I was thinking about doing a mousakka with these aubergines Isolde has given me," he adds, motioning to the bag of vegetables kicking around somewhere.

"Why don't you do what you're supposed to?" Softly asked, with little bite to Yves' words - it's like it genuinely wants to know... Paper bag crinkles, but Yves' attention has drifted over to Luigi - observing the irked conure for a few moments, before Yves whistles some little ditty. 'It's a small world'? - only a few bars, then Yves is left looking... Strangely sorrowful, for a man whistling to a parrot.

Yves looks to Corey again, eyebrows raised before he slowly nods again. "I have been told that food is a better medicine than laughter - it's kind of you." Leaning forward, the paper bag is handed over to Isolde. "Something, for your troubles." A beat. Then another. Oh, so no explanation? Yves seems distracted by Luigi again. "...Does Alexander fly, too?"

"Because I am an adult." Is the answer Isolde gives to Yves. Despite people treating me like a child. Is left unspoken. "What is a mousakka?" So many weird food words today! It's crazy. "It sounds good. I think." Accepting the bag. She watching Yves curiously, maybe a touch concerned. "Are you-" Then he's asking if Alexander flies. "Huh. I don't think he does." Not finding anything at all strange with this question. Then she's opening the bag, peering in it. "Cute!" Taking out a little package of marshmellows. "They're ghosts!" Showing Corey, then putting them back in the bag. "Thank you boss-man." Relaxing a little more into the stuffed frog.

Luigi is eyeing them all with those beady black eyes. Giving them the silent treatment though it appears. "Are you okay Yves?" Isolde finishes her question off from earlier.

"...why would Alexander be flying?" is the obvious question from Corey. A slightly suspicious look towards Yves. "Food makes life worth living. It's my personal theory for why so many people die in hospital; the food is awful," he then adds, mostly in jest. There's a smile as marshmallows are discovered in the bag Yves handed to Isolde - a gesture, his point exactly - before he explains, "It's a layered dish. Mix together lamb, onions, garlic, tomatoes with some spices, layer it with, aubergines, potatoes and a white sauce on top. It's delicious. Greek in origin."

There is a definite rise to the corners of Yves' mouth as Isolde answers him -- but that vague smile still carries with it some sense of sombreness. He watches Luigi watch him with them beady-birdy eyes, slowly nodding in agreement to the discussion of Mysterious Alexander who May Possibly Fly -- turning to give Corey a slightly baffled look, like he's the one asking odd questions, before his eyebrows go up. "You could be right."

Yves does not seem to be joking -- although as the ghosts are pulled out of the bag, he turns and gives Isolde a thumbs up. "Give 'em hell, kid..." Then his hands go up, stopping. "Woah there, Nelly - that's my line. You've had a rough week, and I'm checking in on you, not the other way around."

"Oohhh thats' fancy." Isolde chuckled. "Can we try it sometime?" She sets the bag down near her feet, then shifted so she could curl up with the stuffed animal, watching the two men. "Maybe I will ask him. Alexander. If he can fly." She offered, seeming curious now. Those clear blue eyes sliding up to rest on Yves again with a little chuckle. "I am okay. Really. It hurt a lot. Still hurts a little. But I will be fine." She assures him. "But you seem...sad. Is something making you sad?"

"No, seriously," Corey prompts Yves and Isolde, sounding a blend of confused and suspicious, like there's some conspiracy going on. "Yeah maybe," he confirms to Isolde a moment later, easily distracted by the subject of food.

Yves makes a low mmm sound. About Corey's mousakka, perhaps? He adds nothing further, instead looking thoughtful as Isolde mentions Alexander again. Yes. Flying. Is that what he's thinking about. His foot taps in the air, then he gives Isolde a concerned look, nodding twice. "Yeah, I reckon you will be..." At her question to him, though, there is a tension to his lips - smile or grimace, quickly hidden as he breathes in and rubs a hand over his mouth. Considering...

...turning to Corey, bobbing his head as if weighing something up. "If he could, why wouldn't he? Wouldn't you? If you could? If the sky is the limit, why not push it, see what happens when you break on through to the other side..." Yves fades out again, glimpsing back to Isolde; suddenly concerned. "You know, if you wanna talk about it, I will lend you my ear." His hand raises, pushing his hair back to expose his ear for effect.

"Cool!" To Corey, about possibly getting to try the mousakka. Peering at Yves when doesn't properly answer her question. But she lets him talk to Corey. "Flying would be very neat." Toying with a couple strands of her hair. Giving a little shrug. "You need your ear though." It's hard to tell if she's joking or not. But there's a twitch of a smile on her lips. "It's...hard to explain. I was just sitting at the bar. Looking for a car. And then there was a strange man. Then lots more, and shooting." She tugs at her hair a bit and then shakes her head a little. "I just want to be able to laugh without it hurting. Then I will be satisfied."

"I said lend, not keep forever." Yves almost smiles, before his foot-bouncing stops and his expression grows serious again - glimpsing from Isolde to Corey as she tells her abridged version of events, checking in and listening without interruption... How brow furrows when Isolde finishes, a hand raising to press against his side - then at his stomach, and ribs, and chest, and shoulder... What is he doing? Studying Isolde's expression, like it'd tell him something.

"What kind of car?" Yves asks; like that's the most important question to ask about Isolde's story.

Isolde studies Yves intently for a moment longer, his hand, following it's movements. Then she lifts her own hand, touching near her temple where there's a small scar from a bullet grazing her. And then she carefully taps two spots on her chest. "It was...old timey." Isolde decided as her hand rested back on the frog. "They all were. There were...four or five maybe. Old Timey police." Her nose wrinkled. "We got Lost. They almost got us, but then it was over. And we were found again."

"Yeah.. I'ma head out now." Corey rises, after finishing his soda. "This is all a bit weird for me." Because clearly they're talking about drug trips or bad dreams or something, nevermind that Isolde has actual physical wounds. "Hope Alexander enjoys the crepes," he notes, heading for the door.

Yves' eyes grow wide as Isolde touches her temple, and his movements mirror hers: touching his chest once there, and there. "Old timey police..." Echoed back --- then Yves blinks, and turns to Corey as he gets up, looking a touch embarrassed or at least ruffled. "Hey man, didn't mean to harsh your mellow. You alright?" Softly said, as he pushes his hair behind his ear and gives Isolde an apologetic glimpse before checking back with Corey.

Unfortunately for Corey, this is what happens when you get two potentially crazy people in the same room together! Stuff gets weirdddd. "Thank you for the crepes Corey!" Isolde motioned to teh bag of vegetables. "Don't forget your stuff. Enjoy the mousakka!" She pauses a moment and then looks a little sheepish. "Sorry." She adds in, following Yves lead. "Sometimes things are strange around here. Strange things happen. And stuff."

"Don't get me wrong, I've done a few recreational drugs in my time," Corey notes - then again he's a student so that's probably not surprising, "But I'm not one for talking about my trips afterwards." That's said apologetically as he doubles back for the bag of vegetables. "You're very welcome, Izzy. Come back around if you need a good meal, yeah?"

Yves' mouth opens, his hand raising with fingers curled as if to indicate that he, the man who knocked at the window earlier, has something serious to say to Corey... But in the end, Yves just frowns, and lowers his head and his hand. "...You take care, man. Come 'round the farm when Issy's fixed up, we've got the finest culinary grade lavender in the state. You'll love it." He smiles shyly and nods, then gives Isolde a brief, somber nod. Things are strange here.

Isolde studies Corey a beat longer. She might have some things to add too, like she wishes it was just a bad trip. However, she doesn't. "I will. Tell Sparrow I said hello again." Giving him a little wave. "Yes! You shoulde come see it. There are lots and lots of lavenders." She agreed, then would let him leave. Luigi seems pleased that there is one less stranger in the house. Now if the other one would just get out. Isolde sighs softly, frowning a touch and looking up to Yves again. "How are things at the farm?" Since she's been gone for a few days or so!

Yves' hands have come together, steepled over his mouth as he hunches forward - elbows on his knees, watching Corey as he heads out... As the door closes and Luigi does his little birdy-dance over yonder, Yves turns and gives Isolde another apologetic look. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise your friend was sensitive but, not, sensitive." A beat, then he glances towards the door again, then back to Isolde. "...Dakota is running things, so, you know."

Dakota, who is both large and in charge, is probably keeping the show moving. Lord knows Yves isn't.

He taps his lips, frowning softly. "Ghosts. You were shot three times by old timey cop ghosts."

Isolde sits up a little bit. "It's okay. I just met him today. I didn't know either." She offers softly. Nodding about Dakota, "She is scary sometimes." Followed up with a giggle. "But she is good." And knows what she's doing! Which is important. Wiggling a little as she re adjusts her seating carefully. "Yes. At the bar. Uhm. Two by the Sea." Two if by Sea. "An old timey man came in. Billy. And he...was nice. But people didn't like him." Isolde is trying to explain as best she can. Then she falls silent, focusing intently on Yves. Like she's trying to do something.

Then, slowly, he would start to see different images. A westerny looking man. Old timey police cars. Two if by Sea. Bullets flying from the police towards her, towards others. The western man going down, her and some others getting cuffed. Then, on the beach - all the cars gone. Everything gone except for them and their injuries.

Then the images are done and Isolde relaxes against the frog, eyes closed. It was a lot of work! She had a little bit of a headache. But it was easier than trying to explain it all.

"New friend? Aw shucks, I didn't mean to freak him out; still feel sore about making a bad impression for you..." Yves frowns, shoulders slumped - rubbing the side of his jaw briefly, looking all downtrodden. "Life's hard enough, without people thinking you're some kind of a burn out." He fades out, turning instead to listen - or figure out what Two By The Sea is... oh yeah, that bar. He nods again, remaining silent as Isolde gets all intense.

No worry there; he seems perfectly alright with entering some unspecified staring contest. What is he, part cat? Yves blinks slowly, calmly...

Huh. Perhaps the whole experience -is- a little psychedelic.

Or are Yves and Isolde just, well, crazy?

"Oh." Softly said; then he frowns. "They didn't even stop; shoot first, ask questions... Never."

No shock in his voice. Yves remains where he is perched on the arm of the sofa, watching Isolde as she rests on the stuffed frog... And there is a sensation; a glimmering, warming, flickering sensation -- like sunlight on a field, warming the soil so seeds turn to sprouts, sprouts turn to stalks... Only flowers don't quite bloom, and Isolde's wounds do not quite /heal/. There's just potential there, encouraged. Subtly.

"Well, they talked but...it was just a lot of yelling." Isolde murmured. "It's okay...lots of people think I'm crazy." And she was maybe a little crazy. but wasn't everyone?" Her eyes remain closed, like she might be about to fall asleep. Then she feels the Glimmery sensation. The warmth, can almost smell the flowers. Her eyes flicker open and she studies Yves for a moment. A brief, but bright smile. "Thank you Yves...You're a good thing." But then her eyes are closing again. That sharing took a lot out of her! She's pretty close to just falling asleep. She's not kicking him out though. But she's not going to be very good company while asleep! So he's welcome to stay or go, whatever he pleases. Though by that look Luigi is giving him - probably shouldn't stay too long!