2019-09-28 - Rollin on the Boardwalk

It's a late evening on the boardwalk, late in the season, after many of the tourists, what few there were to begin with, have gone home. But that doesn't mean that there aren't people out and about. One of those people is Daisy, dressed in a pair of long board shorts and sneakers, a baggy white t-shirt and a black baseball cap, rolling noisily along the boardwalk on her skateboard. The rainbow colors of her hair are concealed for the moment, tucked up beneath the cap.

Garrett doesn't seem put off by the fact that they've effectively hit the off season for the boardwalk, strolling along in khaki cargo shorts and a white t-shirt with 'Charly Bliss' emblazoned across the chest in bubblegum pink letters. With nothing else of any particular interest happening, he pauses and offers a little wave and smile to the unfamiliar skater, pausing his idle ambling.

Daisy rolls to a stop, one foot on the board, one on the boardwalk as she studies Garrett for a moment and then gives him a little up-nod in greeting. "Hey," she says. "Not quite as crowded now. Better for not running over people." She flashes a little smile then and asks, "Lingering tourist, or townie?" She glances at the t-shirt and sings, "Nobody knows you, the weight of our trust, how I crushed and consumed you and loved you too much," before picking up the board and leaning against the rail that separates the boardwalk from the beach and water beyond.

"Yeah, I'd imagine," Garrett agrees, hints of London accent in his voice, nodding as he glances from the board, to the relatively empty boardwalk, to Daisy. He looks vaguely impressed with the singing. "Most people just give this shirt a blank stare." His smile widens slightly before he answers the question. "Local, but still newish, I guess," he responds, joining her in the leaning against the railing. "Local, I assume? Board would probably be a pain to travel with if you were a lingering tourist, yeah?" he ventures. There's a pause. "Garrett, by the way," he adds by way of introduction.

When he opens his mouth to speak and she hears the accent, Daisy's brows both raise and she says, "Damn, man, you can just keep talking for a while. Doesn't matter what you say, just keep talking." She waves a hand in a keep-it-coming sort of gesture. Her singing isn't terrible either. She grins and says, "To be fair.. I only heard of them like, last week. But does that ever happen to you? You get introduced to something you've never seen or heard before and then it starts popping up here and there and everywhere and you wonder if it was always there and you never noticed, or if it's actually just spreading through your life like a weird cool-stuff plague?" She grins and nods at the board, "Not much for long distance travel, but it gets me around town." And after a moment's pause, "Daisy."

Garrett chuckles at the suggestion he just keep talking, but does, for the moment, oblige. "Yeah. With this shirt, actually. I heard of them at the beginning of the year, then next thing I kniw my mate is telling me they're doing a show in town, then another friend is all 'my mum got me this shirt but I'm never gonna wear it, want it?', and naturally I'm telling him 'yes, I absolutely bloody do', right? And then I run across someone in my new home town that apparently digs them. A bit late, but I'll count it." He takes a deep breath, then smiles again. "Nice to meet you, Daisy. Up to anything tonight, or just riding around wherever you can find a lack of people to run down?"

Daisy laughs when he indulges her and tells the tale of the shirt and the band and his familiarity with them. She nods her head a bit at all of it, finding it a familiar tale, at least in part. When he finally stops to breathe, she laughs again. "Bonus points for totally indulging me, there." Then she nods, looking up and down the boardwalk, "Mostly just drifting. Almost everyone I know has the plague right now, so I'm just trying to stay away from them and all their damn germs before I end up in bed with flu, too."

Daisy's laugh gets a little grin from Garrett. "Plague, hm? Maybe time for me to pick up some extra hours and spend time out of town," Garrett muses, wrinkling his nose at the thought of everyone in town being sick. Then he glances around at the relatively empty boardwalk and shrugs. "This works for now, though, I suppose," he reasons. He nods towards the various stands and shops. "Thinking about grabbing a bite to eat. Hungry?"

"Why, what do you do?" Daisy asks when he mentions picking up extra hours out of town. She then follows his glance up and down the boardwalk and says, "Yeah. Coast seems to be clear for the time being. I haven't heard anyone hacking up a lung or sneezing profusely since being out here." She considers the stands and shops and then consults her stomach, putting one hand over it and nodding, "Yeah, actually. I could eat. What've you got in mind?"

"Park ranger up at Olympic," Garrett answers, pointing a thumb vaguely northward. "Should keep me safe from any flu running through town," he adds with a grin. He gives the various boardwalk offerings a longer look, considering options. "Hmm... how you feel about fish?" he asks, nodding towards the shop in question, pushing himself off the railing, but not really moving towards anywhere in particular quite yet.

"Oh, well that makes sense," Daisy says when he mentions what he does, "Out in nature, far away from sniffling and sneezing. Definitely not a bad plan." She follows his look toward Fried Fish and says, "Love fish. Kind of have to around here. Can't really be too picky given the limited choices and all." She pulls away from the railing and tucks the board under her arm, walking with him instead of riding ahead. "So are you a shellfish or a regular fish kinda guy, Garrett?"

"Yeah, it certainly isn't a bad gig." Garrett gives a little nod and smile as he walks alongside Daisy towards the shop. "Both, but if I had to choose just one, I'm partial to fish fish," he answers as the pair ambles slowly across the boardwalk towards the fish shop. "How about you? Preference either way?" he asks.

Daisy and Garrett are wandering along the boardwalk toward Fried Fish. She's got her board under one arm as they walk and talk. "Same," she says to Garrett as they stroll along. "Both. Though, if I had to choose just one I'd go for shellfish. As much as I dig salmon, I couldn't do without clams, crab, scallops, and lobster... so, gotta go with the shellfish, crustaceans are my jam."

"Well, nobody is perfect," Garrett says, tone teasing as they walk. And then a buzzing comes from his pocket, and Garrett is fishing his phone out. "Yeah. Yeah. Again? Yeah, give me an hour." The last bit is resigned disappointment, then the phone is back in his pocket with a sigh. "Another time? Apparently the extra hours at work start now. Nice meeting you, Daisy. Don't catch the plague, yeah?" With that and a little wave, Garrett heads off at a light jog.

And just like that, Daisy finds herself alone on the boardwalk again. She glances over at Fried Fish, debating whether she feels like going and getting food anyway, or heading back out. Leaning up against a lamp post, she pulls out her phone and taps out a quick message or two, but when there's no response, she drops the board on the ground and steps back onto it, lazilly rolling back down the boardwalk the way that she'd come.

Tyler is jogging along the boardwalk. He's wearing a pair of spandex shorts with a tight, white Body Armour sleeveless shirt. It's cool out, but he's sweaty from the run, his hair glistening in the evening sunlight. His cheeks are flush as he runs, and he nearly runs right into Daisy. "Whoah! Ahh!" He tumbles and rolls to the side, up against the rail of the boardwalk, yanking his earphones from his ears. "Sorry!"

Daisy is usually the one almost running people over, so she's a little startled when she's almost taken out by a jogger. It's only after the initial startling and hopping off the board, popping it up into one hand, does she notice who it is. "Hey there, buddy. Where's the fire?" She grins a little at her own joke and offers a hand to the downed man, "You're out running late."

Tyler takes the hand, lets her help him up. "Yeah, sorry... I just..." He sighs, shaking his head a little. "I couldn't sleep." With a little shrug, he shares, "I think I'm catchin' a cold or somethin'. Figured maybe I could run it off." He sniffs, and takes a moment to catch his breath. "I um, sorry about almost killing you."

"Oh man, not you, too," Daisy says, once more making the sign of the cross with her fingers and backing up a step or two when he says that he is coming down with something. Then she grins and shrugs her shoulders, "Pretty sure you wouldn't have killed me. You're a big guy, but I don't flatten that easily." She certainly doesn't seem worried. "I thought you were supposed to starve a fever and feed a cold or something like that. Shouldn't you be drinking fluids, eating soup, and taking Vitamin C or something?" Look, she's not a doctor.

Tyler rolls his eyes, "It's just a cold, I'm not dying. Sheesh." He laughs a little, "I'm not that big," he notes, probably meaning he isn't very tall. "Whenever I get sick, I always run. It's like... I dunnow. I'm weird. I know." And he shrugs, "Soup? Soup's like... devil food. Gross."

"Sure, you're not dying, but you're sick. If you were dying, then you should be in the hospital and not out running around, anyway," Daisy points out. While Tyler may not be terribly tall, Daisy's only 5'2", so he still towers a good seven inches over her diminutive height. She laughs though and says, "You're weird because you run? Pretty sure there's a lot more weird people doing weirder things in this town than jogging." Then her brows wrinkle and she says, "Wait.. you don't like soup? Who doesn't like soup? Okay, maybe you /are/ weird."

Tyler inhales, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I'm not. Dying." He swallows, dropping his hand to his side. "I don't like soup. What? I don't like it. Okay? It's like, eating water. I don't want to eat water. I drink water. If I'm eating, I want to eat. Chew it. It should be meaty and good and yummy or whatever." He laughs, "And why do you think I'd be dying? Is there like something going around? I'm not dying."

"What kind of soup are you eating that it's like eating water?" Daisy asks, clearly baffled by his vehement dislike of soup, enough so that she forgets about all other conversation or topics for the moment. Including the weird fascination with dying. She says, "You've never had a stew? It's hearty broth with meaty bits and potatoes and you actually have to chew it. Or chili? You can't tell me you haven't had firehouse chili. Or.. or.. baked potato soup! There's chunks of potato in it. I mean, if you're just sucking down broth.. I'd get that, but.." She flails a little, and then says, "As for dying.. you're the one who said you weren't dying. I said if you were you should be in the hospital. I don't thnk you're dying either. I think you're coming down with something and you should probably like.. take care of that."

Tyler scowls playfully, "Okay, chilli is NOT a soup. It's not." He leans against the wooden railing, elbows on the ledge. "I've had soup. I've had tomato soup, chicken noodle... Campbell's is cheap. I've had it. I just... I don't want to drink my food. That's not odd. Stop saying I'm odd," he smiles, but still a little defensive.

"You're totally odd," Daisy teases with a grin, "But you're cute, so you get a pass." She then drops her board and gets back on it, idly rolling a little bit before turning and coming back, all at a conversational distance. "So okay, no soup for Tyler. What about cereal? Do you eat cereal? Or is anything in a bowl with liquid a no-go?"

Tyler huffs, "Odd AND cute. It's like the worst accusations I've ever had thrown against me." He folds his large arms over his chest. "Cereal is fine. I like Captain Crunch, the peanut butter one. Milk's fine. And I like chili, too. But it's NOT a soup."

Daisy can't help but grin at his huffing and indignation. She does a little spin in place and then sweeps a wide arc, doing a small jump up onto a flat stone bench, using the side of it to slide a long a bit before hitting the ground. "Okay, well less odd since you eat cereal and chili." She does not, in fact, call it a soup. "What? You don't like being cute? Why not?"

Tyler shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "Nah, it's just... You know... That's nice of you to say, or whatever, just..." He shrugs yet again. "I don't know. Forget it." He swallows, sniffs, and then wonders aloud, "You think Geroux was still contagious? Man, if I caught his flu, I'm gonna be mad..."

"No, what?" Daisy asks, coming to a stop and folding her arms across her chest. "Just what?" She stares at him, both brows lifted expectantly, as though not willing to take no for an answer. Reaching up, she pulls off her baseball cap and lets the rainbow colored strands of her hair fall out of it, shaking it out a bit and running her fingers through it. "Probably. Every one of you up at the counter probably have it now. Why do you think I'm standing way over here?" She flashes him a grin.

Tyler shakes his head, scratching the back of his head, "No, forget it. I don't need you to make stupid fireman calendar jokes, okay?" He sighs, and watches her as she relaxes, particularly eyeing her hair as it falls. When she decides he's caught the sargeant's flu, he grumbles, "Great. Like I can afford to miss work. ARrrgh."

"I can think you're cute without imagining you shirtless on some sort of calendar, dude. I'm totally not objectifying you, here, just think you're a nice looking guy. But if it helps, I can call you a weird spiky-haired troll?" Daisy makes the offer with a little waggle of her eyebrows, more than likely trying to make him laugh. But the grim reality is that he is likely sick, whether he likes it or not. "Yeah, sorry, man. But that stuff seems pretty contagious. You're probably going to be down for a while if you don't manage to fight it off."

"I could be a pretty good troll," Tyler agrees. His shoulder's slump just a little at the last. "Awesome." He exhales, and shakes his head, staring off at the sky. "You know, maybe I could just out run it." He grins a little, though clearly his spirit is a bit broken at the idea of being sick for a while.

"Alright, from now on then, you are Tyler the Troll," Daisy announces, agreeing to those terms, it seems. She shakes her head and says, "Well you can certainly try, man. I wish you the best of luck. But if you're super miserable, I promise not to bring you any soup whatsoever, no matter how tempting."

Tyler laughs, and points her way, "Okay, but remember, you promised." He sniffs, and then nods, "Well, I guess if I'm going to collapse and die, I should prolly get runnin' and head home." He smiles at her, "You sure you don't want this? I could breathe your way a little...?"

Daisy backs up immediately at the suggestion, putting both hands up as though warding off his willingness to share his germs, "No way, Troll Boy. You go home and keep your snot to yourself. I'm going to go grab some food and see if I can make it home without catching this thing. Get better, though. You still owe me surfing lessons." She gives him a wink then and pushes off, rolling away from him and down the boardwalk, back toward Bayside Road.