2019-10-20 - How Pleasant

Sleep comes to people on Oak Street -- maybe they're dozing in the back of a movie night, maybe they're curled up in their bed, maybe they're face-down on books studying. However they fall asleep, they seemingly awaken soon enough, the world around them washed out, pale. For most, it's not until they look at themselves that they can see, they look grey. The whole world around them is in shades of gray. It's not just that, either. All of the houses are neat, tidy, and they wear button-up shirts, cardigans, and slacks for the men, and poodle skirts and sweaters for the women. That alone may be off-putting and strange enough, but moments later, the sound of a siren wails outside -- a fire truck is coming closer!

For those who have experienced Dreams multiple times, it may quickly become clear that this is indeed one of those not-quite-real but all-too-dangerous Dreams. For those who have not yet experienced such... it could be distinctly disconcerting.

It's so crowded where Lyric lives with so many roommates so she'd gone to spend the night with a friend on Oak Street. Lucy was her bestie from high school and the two had fallen asleep watching a movie together just hanging out. Lyric was on the sofa while Lucy was either home or she'd got called to work, since she was on call. When she does wake, its unclear what woke her up exactly, but she sits up and pushes her white blonde tousled hair from her face, yawning and stretching. What time was it anyway? Her cell phone was gone, she couldn't tell. Minutes later she hears the sound of the siren and she gets up to look out and steps out on the porch. She draws her arms around herself expecting to be cold. It's then she noticed what she is wearing. She draws the sweater closer around her, but her bare legs were still cold. Looking down she notices the skirt and scoffs. WHat had Lucy put her in and why?

These are not the sounds to which Sparrow had fallen asleep. There'd been a musical number and some explosions and Ice-T snarking out some kangaroo-man wisdom. The siren is decidedly out of place, a jarring alarm which draws her from her Grant-ward slouch. She notices the drool she's left on his shoulder before she catches that he's suddenly wearing a cardigan rather than the tee shirt he'd come over in, fingers brushing at the wet spot before drawing away and looking him over. And then looking herself over. "Uh." Very articulate. So helpful. "Bax..?" She floofs her skirt a bit. "What was in those slushees..?"

Gabriel has been dead sick at home. The sniffles. The vomiting. This flu is not playing around. So it was blessed when he finally conked out from his meds and soup and other things that finally put him to sleep.

And then he wakes up? Except that he is then awake, the detective in his slacks and cardigan. It's not necessarily surprising. He is, after all, used to dressing up for work. But a sweater? He makes his way out to his porch and to that impeccable yard he keeps to see what is going on with the siren. Maybe they need police backup!

Elias had gone home from the shop and fallen asleep, in his own bed, and he definitely wasn't wearing slacks and a button down with his hair all neatly combed and styled back when he'd fallen asleep. Nor had he been monochrome. This was not a look that he was particularly enjoying. But the sound of the fire engine outside draws him, and he heads for the door, stepping out of the Weber house which looks not too far different than it does in life, though certainly more cheerful in a way.

Grant wakes up as his cardigan is being pet at. Bleary at first but confused looking around he murmurs, "Woah my dad was right, sorta. That will make you go color blind." He blinks and pushes his fingers through his- eew. Pomade. Warnings, Veil! A warning would be nice. His eyes find Sparrow and then scan the room, "Cute look, Jonsey. This... wasn't you repainting when I dozed off I take it?" The question about the slushies gets a slow grin and the murmurs, "Only good things I swear." Looking around he frowns, "Sirens." Less a question and more of a statement. "Those sound like missile testing get under a book in the hallway or help help Timmy fell down a well to you?"

Outside, everything is still in shades of gray, but somehow they're bright and cheerful shades of gray. It's also daylight, morning most likely, and the sun has just crested the horizon, peeking out warmly from behind picturesque, scattered clouds. The lawns of Oak Street are usually quite nice, but there usually aren't quite so many white picket fences, or so many men pushing around old-school lawn mowers, especially not neatly dressed up in what looks one step down from their Sunday best. Most of the men have stopped mowing, however, and women and young folks have stuck their heads out of doors and windows to watch a fire truck come whipping down Oak, siren wailing. It stops smartly in front of one of the broad-spreading oak trees that gives the street its name, and firefighters pile out, gathering a ladder and rushing for the tree. A tree which is... not burning at all.

While standing out on the porch, Lyric looks around, noticing others dressed much as she is coming out on the porch too. She steps down off the porch and shakes her head. Did people dream in black and white? Lucy's car was gone from the driveway, so she must have got called in to work. She goes to the center of the lawn and watches for the firetruck. When it comes, she makes her own assumptions about cats in trees, but she meanders over towards someone out on their porch. Gabriel. "Hi. Did I go colorblind or something?" Because it's just weird! But she doesn't seem to mind it, she does try and see the red in the firetruck, but it remains stubbornly gray. "Gray Harbor indeed!"

Kass had been hit hard with the flu some days ago... while its certainly on the mend she's still feeling under the weather. So dozing off for a vivid dream isn't terribly out of the norm. But 'waking' to find herself in shades of gray, color leeched from the world while she's been asleep. Her first reaction is instictive. She lets out a scream worthy of Jamie Lee herself, bolting upright to stare down at her gray and white saddleshoes, white socks, gray legs, a full skirt in shades of gray with the white peep of underskirts peeking from the hem, the gray tone of her hands as well. She pats her hands all over herself, feeling the blouse, the cardigan, the.. is that makeup?!, even the sudden shift to a 50's hairstyle complete with short bangs and ponytail that curls slightly at the end. "Okay.. okay....... okay. Its a dream, right? Gotta be. Get hold of yourself Kass.. what is that noise??" She pushes up from the bed and moves to the window, feeling very surreal, watching in bemused silence as the firefighters pull up in front of the non-burning tree.

Grant's hair. Sparrow stares at Grant's hair when he runs his fingers through it, fretting. Her hand hovers in the air, hesitant to venture toward her own head even as she tells him, "This is not the good stuff. The good stuff has way more colors." Tugging at the end of her not-at-all-red-enough hair she laments, "Way, way more colors." At least her bangs are on point. And oh! How cute does she look in those saddle shoes? She clicks her heels when she stands up. Three times. Nevermind that these aren't ruby slippers. It's worth a try. "Sounds like action-is-outside," she mutters to the guy who might've spiked the slushees. Holding her hand back his way in offer, she starts for the door once he's latched on or declined.

Really, they could be the all-American couple just starting out, in their early-20s, so very cute and clean-cut. It probably even--erroneously--says 'Baxter' on their mailbox. And look! The dented bush beside the porch is all perfectly squared off and neatly trimmed, no evidence of any mattress squashing it over the summer. So very perfect. It's all so perfect. Except her horrified expression as she looks out from the porch of 7 Oak Avenue down the street at the ... oh gods. Are they going to rescue a cat? "You have got to be shittin' me."

Gabriel turns when he sees Lyric on her porch and then coming on over to him. His hands are jammed into his pockets, as if to say, what do you know about that? He then smiles at the slim deejay in the poodle skirt. "I feel like I've seen you before," he says to his "neighbor," but can't quite place where it is. "But yeah. I don't get it, myself. It's all shades of gray. Like life, I suppose?" He is trying to figure out the metaphor. "If that is a cat stuck in a tree ..."

To be fair, Lyric's attention had been way in the past the first time she had seen Gabriel so she doesn't know about how well she knows him. But here and now, he's the closest thing to sane she does know so she sticks close. Besides she does vaguely remember him! That's enough for her. "If we do live through this, I feel like I'm destined to know you." She flashes him a smile that looks slightly demure. "I kind of thought it may be a cat in the tree, but do they even do that anymore? Rescue little Timmy's cat?"Good as her word, she doesn't move away from him, she sticks super close. Maybe uncomfortably. Find someone safe and stay. Rules of surviving.

Clearly, the firetruck is red, but it's not red. Like, everyone's mind tells them it's red, but their eyes tell them it's a nice medium shade of gray. The firefighters set up the ladder, brace it, and one carefully climbs to the top -- yup, it's a cat. He's actually getting a cat out of the tree. The next-door neighbor -- something tells Sparrow that his name is Mr. Vanderveldt, and he owns the hardware store downtown -- frowns over at Sparrow, pursing his lips at the cursing, but he doesn't say anything to chastise her. Oh no, it's much more passive aggressive to just scowl. The firefighter descends down the ladder, and carefully hands the fluffy, floofy cat over to the old woman standing behind the picket fence -- Mrs. Smythe, who used to teach 3rd Grade for oh-so-many-years. There's a faint round of applause from those watching, even Mr. Vanderveldt, although there are now several people staring horrified, bemused, or bewildered at the scene, including a middle-aged man with almost-aggressively-plain features across the street from Gabriel who is watching with his mouth open. Slowly, he closes it, then mouths to himself, 'What the fuuuuuu -- ' before he can finish it, a gorgeous Plymouth Fury -- complete with fins -- comes cruising down the street, a couple of clean-cut young men driving along with a pair of dolled-up young women in the back. They look ready for a sock hop.

Grant watches Sparrow in de-saturation and reaches out to take the hand promising, "We'll figure it out and make the best of it. Or we'll figure out how to put it back. Like... maybe better than it was before. even." He gives her hand a squeeze, both eyebrows going up. "Let's go see what's up."

Grant jogs behind in-do we want to ask why he's wearing Oxfords? Is he in this reality the promising young lawyer his father wanted him to be? Time will tell. Turning to the others stepping outside a hand comes up to wave. "Well hey there, neighbor." No harm in playing along and G-Bax can pretty much talk to anyone. Long fingers flick towards the tree and the happy little fire department telling Lyric, "Well it appears that they don't do it any less?"

"Well, whatever our destinies, I guess it's good to have a buddy in these sort of situations. I'm Gabe," says Gabe to Lyric, introducing himself when she comes into his personal space. He doesn't seem to mind that she's picked him as her Partner for this little shindig. At the arrival of the Plymouth, he lets out a low whistle. "That's one nice hotrod there. I can say that much." A nod. "And Gray Habor's bravest, doing their jobs."

As the other all seem to be congregating on the street, Kass turns to make her way out as well, moving through the house like she's never been in it before. Finally making her way out onto the porch, looking down towards the fire truck, the cat, the old woman. Then along and around towards Grant and Sparrow, farther down to Gabriel and Lyric, then back to her own house. She turns, half opening the front door again and calling into the house, "Mom? Dad?" Perhaps fruitlessly, but it seems others have made it through, no reason her parents might not be here too! Still, she's drawn by the arrival of the Fury, brows lifting up as she lets out a low whistle, "Now that is a sweet ride..."

"Sorry, Mr. Vanderveldt," Sparrow calls over reflexively, a pang of instinctual guilt answering that passive-aggressive scowling. Disappointed dads are the worst, even when they're not your own. She follows Grant's attention on toward Lyric and, by proximity, Gabriel, then further, to Kass and the plain-faced man, taking stock of the on-lookers and who seems perplexed about what. Could stand here all day being grayscale or stomp out into the world in one's saddle shoes, and she's definitely of a mind to do the latter. Though, only after she asides to the might-be-lawyer-in-the-making beside her, "Got an LSD escape plan upstairs if we need it." Cuz, obviously, that's the solution. A chemical gateway to an oversaturated world. But for now, onward toward people perplexed at kitties in trees. She even tries the playing along thing. Convincingly. Check out that cheerful, "Hello! Such a lovely day, for as gray as it is, isn't it?"

"I'm Lyric Bates." The offer of her name while she watches everything going on. Overhearing the other guy about the cats, she laughs and bobs her head. "I guess cats just got smarter and don't climb up as often." She scuffs her shoe on the ground then does a quick twirl around in her poodle skirt, watching it flare out. She recognizes Sparrow from High school, not that they hung out, but familiarity. "This is so weird."

Mr. Vanderveldt seems mollified by Sparrow's apology, nodding sharply and then offering Grant a smile, "Well hello, Grant. Good to see the Fire Department doing their job, isn't it?" He looks vaguely confused by Sparrow's comment about how gray it is, looking up and shading his eyes, "Oh, I think those little clouds will burn off soon enough, Philomena. Take it from me, it'll be right as rain by noon."

Sweet ride indeed. Gabe's neighbor leans over the picket fence, alongside a gorgeously-trimmed rose bush, and imparts the wisdom that, "Frank and Doreen bought it for Teddy after he made varsity. Apparently there was some discussion about whether it should weight for his report card or not. Are you going to make it to the game tonight? Our boys are looking to continue their undefeated season!"

The Fury slows down as Lyric gives her little twirl, the driver -- reportedly Teddy -- peering out at her until the young woman behind him gives a disgusted little sound and he hurriedly turns eyes-front again.

When Lyric does a twirl, Gabe takes her hand to lead her through it, sort of impulsively. "You look good in it," he tells her with a smile, filing away that name. Then there is the fellow across the street looking at them dumbfounded and then -- wait! There is someone speaking to him!

"Oh, well, always need to be out there for the Friday Night Lights!" he says, although that is something he has never said in his life before. "It's a swell team, but sportsmanship is what really matters, don't you think?"

Elias stands on the porch of his house and just watches everything going on from where he stands, arms folded and his attention shifting from one person to another. There's a little bit of amusement for the scene that is playing out in front of him. He is no stranger to Dreams, and he's always fascinated by how varied they can be, how completely different. He holds out one hand in front of him, turning it over one way and then the other to observe the greyness of his skin. Then he steps down off the porch to join the others. "Hello neighbors," he greets them with a smile that is as amused as it is friendly.

"I sure hope so, Mr. Vanderveldt," Sparrow calls back. "I could use some blue skies and sunshine!" As she draws closer, she floofs her skirt in answer to Lyric's twirl, the might-be-orange fabric bouncing a bit as it drops back into place. There's gotta be some sorta petticoat under there. Later, were they not stuck in monochrome perfection, she might comment on school days, on how the DJ had been in the same graduating class as her bandmate, but now just doesn't seem the right time. Like Gabriel's language. She sing-songs that, "Swell," in a soft and sweet echo, stifling a giggle which, at least, leaves her smiling brightly as Elias approaches. "Do you think the world tastes as dull as it looks?" she wonders to him, like Alice pondering the peculiar nature of the world on the other side of the looking glass. Nevermind the utterly inappropriate flicker of her gaze toward the stranger's lips. It's brief. Incidental, surely.

Lyric laughs with the help twirling, totally into it. Her arm slips through his and she waves to the neighbors, totally getting into it like Gabe does. "Swell." Echoing his word with a lopsided smile. "It's a date, Friday night lights." Being in character was fun, playing along because why not? She's completely ignorant of the whole Teddy and girlfriend debacle, thank goodness. "You know, this is kind of fun. Does this mean I get to cook while you go work and mow?"

Grant waves to Elias and Kass as she runs back inside. "I recognize her... I think." It's so hard to tell in these things sometimes when there's no color. The question gets some consideration and a slow grin comes to his face, "Ya know, Jonsey, I believe I do. The question is what Soviet High crazy scheme invented this? Are we in complianceville?" But the smile turns 110 watt again waving, "Mr. Vanderveldt. I saw your garden the other morning on the way into the office. It's looking lovely!" Whispering to his cohort he looks amused, "I love it. This stuff works."

"I suppose there's only one way to find out," Elias says in answer to Sparrow's query about the way the world might taste. He looks about for something edible, but sees nothing immediately on hand. "My kingdom for an ice cream truck," he muses aloud. He seems more than inclined to join her on her Wonderland journey of exploring the world. He then grins at the skirts and says, "I'm almost envious that I didn't get a swirly skirt to flounce around in." Though he does look dapper in his 50s duds.

"So you'll be my girl, and I'll come home to a fresh dinner of roast and potatoes when I get back from ... I don't even know where I work here," remarks Gabriel to Lyric, placing his hand over hers when she slips her arm into his. "If you're good, I'll get you an Electrolux vacuum for our anniversary so you can go even quicker to clean up the home like a good stay-at-home wife." He winks at her.

"I like you," Sparrow declares of Elias, judgment rendered on these statements alone, desire for ice cream and flouncing. With a nod in his direction, she tells him, "I'll trade you," and sounds sincere in it. The way she holds to her skirt, she might be ready to swap right here and cause a more-than-minor scandal. No wonder why, really, given that she looks back to Grant and tells him, "Place like that kinda requires some riotin'." Brows pitch upward, though, expression going all serious, and she tells him, "You say go, I go." Which means that, for now, she'll play ... well, kinda nice. Assuming she doesn't just drop skirt right here and now. Compliance is hard, guys.

Most of the people on the block have headed back to their chores indoors or out, lawnmowers puttering along at a level that somehow still allows for casual conversation just a few feet away. The smell of cut grass is more of a memory than anything else.

The plain-featured man, however, studies the people ducking back into their houses, starts back into his, then pauses, looking over to the clumps still gathered out front.

Having received their accolades, the firemen rack their ladder again and pile back onto the truck, roaring off to the next emergency -- or maybe their bridge game.

Gabe's neighbor blinks at the jumbled sports talk, but then plasters a smile back on, "Oh I agree. I'm so glad that all those young men are such good sports. But I'd expect only the best here in Pleasantville." The interplay between Gabe and Lyric causes more confusion, and then a shocked look, even scandalized. He hurriedly retreats.

The mention of the Soviets by Grant, and of rioting by Sparrow causes Mr. Vanderveldt to grump to himself, "Kids these days. No sense of propriety." Oh well, there's a lawn to mow.

Did someone mention an ice cream truck? Because here comes the little ditty tootling away in advance of an old-time ice cream truck -- an actual Good Humor truck.

"Excellent," Elias says. "I've decided that I like you, too. And as tempted as I am to trade, I think we'd scandalize these poor good people just trying to go about their lawn care in peace." His devilish smile, however, says that he is exactly the opposite of concerned about that. He glances over at Lyric and Gabriel as their little picture of domestic bliss plays out and shakes his head, chuckling. "Wow, a new vacuum cleaner. That's better than..." But he is cut off by the sound of the icecream truck. "Score!" He grins at Sparrow and says, "Alright.. rocket pop or creamscicle? What'll it be, toots?" With that, he's heading off toward it, "Icecream for everyone's on me." That seems to include Grant, Gabriel, Lyric, and whoever else happens to be nearby.

Oh hey Lyric could promise to cook because she'd never have thought she'd be wearing a poodle skirt. "Yes! But I like the Rainbow Vacuum. I wonder if the salesman has been by for those or the encyclopedias yet." There a moment where she holds out her hand. "I really need a ring or the neighbors will talk." She watches Sparrow and Grant with a smile at the two. It's then she hears the name.. Pleasantville. "Did he say.. Pleasantville? Oh gee." She tugs him along towards the sound of the ice cream truck. "We need ice cream to celebrate."

"Sure!" says Gabe as he moves out to the street with Lyric to get ice cream with his new wife or girlfriend or whatever it is they have declared themselves for purposes of this Dream, arm in arm, and then sliding to lace his fingers with hers. But then he furrows his brow and looks after the plain neighbor who went back into his house.

"He seems like he's not from here. But -- not like us?" It's one of those 'something is odd' sort of things. Something odder than this is even standing by itself.

"Are you sure?" Sparrow's eyes go wide with almost convincingly feigned innocence when Elias suggests that the scandal-limit's been hit. She sighs with undue dramatics, shoulders lifting and falling as she resigns herself to moderately good behavior. When Lyric mentions needing that ring from Gabriel, she checks her own left hand. Had that modest diamond been there the whole time? Surely. Grant Baxter is clearly doing right by his young wife. She lifts that hand to show the polished-up skater as she mouths the word, "Pleasantville," with an unheard weight to it. Her faint distress resolves into something cheerier as soon as those first chimes ring out distantly, drawing closer. Oh, how bright her... grey eyes go. She damned near skips after Elias as she declares, "Creamsicle," without any hesitation. Until after. The second-guessing is written across her features, but all the mathematics are mental, the little nod at the end assuring she ends up on should-be-orange in the end. Definitely best for taste-testing.

Grant drops his hands in his pocket and just shakes his head with some bemusement also calculating how to shake this boat and tip it over. But- Oh! God it takes little to turn him 12 and there's that young Mr. Baxter, future with his father's firm threatened by his still youthful exuberance when he turns and runs, leather soles biting pavement, running calling to Elias and Sparrow, "Race you there!" And yup! Right across Mr. Vanderveldt's lawn and hurdling first his mower then his hedgerow! "Dibs on the rocket pop!"

"We'll have to remember in the past not to live in that house. Not with that neighbor. Maybe not like us." Lyric holds his hand as they approach the truck, just living it up in this dream because it was fun. She gets to the truck and points out a fudgesicle. "I want one of those." Because the husband's gotta pay and all. She hears something from him and smiles, leaning in and resting her head on his shoulder a moment. He's so sweet.

Gabriel murmurs back and forth with Lyric as they approach the ice cream truck, hand in hand with one another. Grant then zips ahead, and Gabe seems happy to leave the first spot in line to him. After all, he has his 'wife' to murmur back and forth to as they go to get dessert. When they approach, he digs around in his back pocket to pull out his wallet to pay for some frozen treats.

The plain-looking man is still hovering in his door (not literally hovering, just hanging out), looking nervously at the cluster near the ice cream truck. Hesitantly, he starts forward, shaking his head as if trying to convince himself of something -- or talk himself out of something. He lingers as he approaches the group, licking his lips.

Poor Mr. Vanderveldt. He looks up wide-eyed as Grant goes racing across his yard, shaking a fist, "Young Baxter!" The white-uniformed Good Humor man stops the truck in front of the cluster, moving around to the back section to smile down at them, "A little older than my usual crowd, aren't you?" He laughs with... good humor... and shrugs off his question, replacing it with, "What can I get for you?" He starts to gather the orders, "One rocket pop, one fudgesicle, absolutely..." As Grant touches the front of the truck to come to a stop, there's a little blossom of color, the red, white, and blue picture of the Rocket Pop blazing against the side of the truck.

All long legs and adorable pencil skirt, Astrid comes around a corner with her arm linked with a rather strapping young man with perfectly combed hair and a sweater jacket. She has a cute little blouse on and clickity heels, all in black and white. Her hair is done up in a classic updo, and she's in a flirtatious conversation with the unsuspecting 1950s male. He's running his hand bashfully through his hair, and his cheeks are starting to pink -- actually pink. Astrid misses that because she's spotted familiar faces, and she raises her hand cheerfully toward everyone, waving. "Oh! Look! Ice cream!" She tugs nameless hapless boy along with her toward the truck.

Sparrow exclaims, "Bax!" in chorus with Mr. Vanderveldt's frustration. A little knit between her brows suggests some inclination to apologize for her dream-husband's behavior, but a giggle erupts instead. She doesn't break into a sprint, but her skirt does flounce prettily as she hurries along in Grant's wake in pursuit of her creamsicle. "Astrid!" gets a cheerful wave as she explains, "Mister..." Oh. No, she doesn't know Elias' name at all, does she? It's just not there when she looks for it, not filed into any weird NPC place like the guy who owns the hardware store. Well, no matter. "Charming here is treating us." With a curious look toward the plain-faced stranger approaching, she asks, "Will you be joining us too?"

Elias doesn't race to the ice cream truck but saunters casually as you please, seeming infinitely pleased with himself that there is an ice cream truck just when he wanted it. He steps up to the window and says, "Two creamscicles, and whatever else they're getting." Astrid is motioned to as well, being included. He nods to the plain guy who seems to be approaching as well "Him too, if he's having some." He pulls out his wallet to offer over whatever the total comes to. Then he grins over at Sparrow and says, "Weber. Elias Weber. Pleased to meet you."

Her ice cream is ordered and Lyric turns to watch the others while exchanging silly little whispers with her Pleasantville husband. Because pretending together was much more fun than alone. "Did you want roast for dinner tonight? With carrots and potatoes?" For now though, it was ice cream and she was more than content to focus on that. "I don't think I ever want to leave here. This is fun."

Gabriel gets himself some sort of chocolate shell over vanilla ice cream bar thing, and grins as he continues whispering with Lyric as they watch the others swirl around them. Astrid and her confused beau get a nod, but then he looks about ready to bite into his ice cream before he smiles down at Lyric. He wraps an arm around the waist of his 50s wife and then leans down and kisses her quick on the lips, smiling. "Roast sounds just fine, honey."

"Philomena," Sparrow starts with a glance toward Grant and a little wobble of her head that ends with a shrug as she tries on, "Baxter," as if she were guessing at her own name. She spares a curious look toward Lyric and Gabriel who've hit their Pleasantville pairing so very effortlessly and just smiles, warm and genuine. Even if her marriage is not that. Looking back to Elias, she reasserts her earlier assessment, answering his niceties with a sincere, "Charmed." And with the creamsicle served up, she adds, "And grateful," to that list, so very ready to taste-test this strangeness, in need of a pop of proper orange for the world to feel right.

The Good Humor man hands out frozen treats readily enough, only then taking money from Elias and Gabe. The ice cream treats taste... perfectly normal, except just a little muted. Everyone knows what they taste like, and there's a sense that that memory is supplying some of the flavor. The plain-looking man approaching the group glances aside to Astrid and her blushing, stammering beau, then starts to say something to the Good Humor man, only to stop and point at the vibrantly-colored -- actually colored -- Rocket Pop on the side of the van. "Holy shit!" He gets a scowl from the Good Humor man, and is promptly ignored. Luckily, the plain-looking man is too busy staring at the one splash of color in the otherwise gray world.

Grant grins and nods to Elias and waves the others catching up over, "Hey check this out !" He leans over giving his wife a smooch to the side of her head but takes his now vibrant red and blue rocket pop and hands it to her instead. "Ain't that a thing of beauty?" Looking to Elias with a grin he muses, "It's amazing what a little fun'll do..." Looking over he squints, "Now I want to cut ol' Vandervelt's hedges like a big caterpillar"

Lyric opens her fudgesicle and just before she takes a bite she gets the quick kiss from Gabriel. A beaming smile is given to him and then she takes the bite. Hearing SParrow, she giggles. "What's my last name?" The words spoken in a little bit louder of a whisper. She looks at the good humor man and the man walking up and shrugs before starting in on the ice cream. She then notices the color on the truck and smiles at Gabe before reaching out to touch that small burst that is just so pretty in the otherwise gray world. "Look Honey, it's beautiful colors."

Elias watches the plain man as he comes over, and chuckles at his exclamation. He offers the Good Humor man some more money and says, "One more rocket pop, please?" He's polite as can be, with that charming smile. He gives a little bow to Sparrow and another flash of a smile, apparently enjoying himself immensely in the midst of this oddly entertaining Dream. He takes a bite of his own cremsicle, and tilts his head, "Not .. quite right, but close," he muses. Then he looks to the Good Humor man, "In fact, how much for the whole lot?" he asks, indicating everything in the truck.

Gabriel looks at Lyric like she is quite odd indeed. "Why, Quintanilla. Same as mine." Forget that she introduced herself by a different last name earlier. They're 'married' now. Go with it. Dream logic. He bites down into his ice cream, then grins at the side of the truck. "Beautiful, darling. Same as you." He squeezes her around her waist. "But I ought to clean up before dinner, hmm?" He kisses her again. "Don't stay out too long!"

"This is Huck, or Fin, or something," Astrid says helpfully as she gestures to the handsome fellow on her arm. He is too busy looking a bit abashed around all these vibrant personalities. Her smile broadens out wide at the offer to join, and she nods. "I am." She squints around here. "This place is a bit odd, right? We were walking down mainstream and we passed the post office... twice... without turning around." Then she's bouncing up to order her own Rocket Pop.

"Did you?" THat catches Lyrics ear and she laughs. "The town is that small and it loops?" She knows how to get into the veil, she knows about dreams, but she was just enjoying this one. No one was trying to kill her and it was of a better time. Another impulsive kiss to her husband. "I will be in soon to start dinner, I will just stay and talk to these people." She looks curious to them, then the good humor man. "Do you sell a lot of ice cream here in.. Pleasantville?" Just curious.

Sparrow looks to be puzzling out that not-quite-rightness of the memory-of-creamsicle flavor when suddenly there's a big ol' kiss planted on the side of her head. She tilts in toward that affection, giggling when she finds herself with two popsicles and a whole head full of inappropriate comments and gestures. Gesturing with her newly acquired rocket pop toward Grant, she introduces him to Elias and Astrid as, "Grant Baxter, renegade gardener." It's all rather affectionate, really, the way she watches him. "How do you feel about painting fences?" Will all her paints still be in the basement? Hrm. "Did it say--" Well, that. She tips her creamsicle toward Lyric, curious about Astrid's post office wanderings. Back to Elias, she wonders, "And what are you going to do with all those, uhmm..." She just pops the popsicle in her mouth and leaves it at that.

The Good Humor man starts to lean over to look at Grant's bright pop, and then stops at Elias's question, settling back, "The whole...? What?" He laughs awkwardly, looking very confused, "But then how could I sell little Johnny and Timmy and Emma creamsicles when they get out of school?" His confusion deepens, "I mean, of course you pass by the post office every time you walk around downtown. Wait, what's wrong with that Rocket Pop?" And now he's staring at the popsicle like it's an invader from outer space, barely noticing Astrid's question, "Um... in the summer, yes. When the weather's this perfect, certainly." The bashful young Findlay is blinking at it too, looking completely surprised as well, "That's swell, Mr. Cooper. Can I have one of those?" He stops and looks over to Astrid, "Um, two?"

"Half then," Elias says, not answering what he intends to do for the time being, simply curious at how much he can acquire from the ice cream man.

Grant looks back and asks, "Yeah Mr. Good Humor, can we buy your truck for hte day? Take teh money. It is a business but let the man give ice cream to the town! Viva la Tuti-Fruti!" "Phi, angel, if our paint is broken then we'll paint with teh rocket pops and whatever we find. We work in chalk and whatever moves up." Resting his chin on her shoulder he adds, "After you share that though." Priorities!

Astrid finds herself amused by the confused ice cream truck man. She's not sure why she's amused, but something amuses her. It's absurd is all she can decide. So, she keeps her arm lightly linked with Maybe-Huck-Maybe-Fin. He asks for two, and she smiles brilliantly to him. "Two is good." She gives his arm a little squeeze, and then she's glancing over toward Sparrow and the others. "Painting fences? Tell me, are we painting them white?"

"I want to ride and be an ice cream man too." Lyric laughs though, notice she doesn't say drive. She's never owned a car. Ever. "This is the best dream. I should go see how much stamps cost now. I bet they are cheap, but it's before email I think. I get to figure out how to cook a roast for my husband." She's just having the time of her life.

Sparrow swaps vibrant rocket pop for tepid creamsicle so that she can tip the former toward Grant as she nods to him. Bite taken, she tells Astrid, "Sunshine yellow," in a manner more serious than she meant. The words deserve more cheer than that, but she sounds like she means it and like it means something. She flicks a glance toward Lyric's declaration of 'best dream' before looking back to her house. Then offering up both popsicles to her husband as she tips in to reciprocate the earlier kiss, lips slightly sticky against his cheek. "It's meant to fight this shit. Specifically. And fuck anyone who doesn't like me saying shit." Beat. "Sorry."

Confusion settles in even more securely around Mr. Cooper the Good Humor man at the offers, "Half the ice cream?" And then he looks from Elias to Grant, "You want to buy my truck for the day? You mean you want to buy all the ice cream, but have me just give it away? I mean, I can't let you ride along with me -- then I wouldn't be the Good Humor man." This seems to shake him, and he shakes his head, some fear starting to flicker in with the confusion, "No, there has to be something wrong with this batch." He points to Grant and Sparrow's near-blazing popsicle, "I'd like to get that back. I don't think anyone should eat it." He winces at Sparrow's cursing, and Astrid's beau Findlay flinches, looking wide-eyed at Sparrow. He pauses with a few coins held out to Mr. Cooper to pay for the Rocket Pops for himself and Astrid, "I think Mr. Cooper's right, Aster," apparently, Astrid has a nickname here and now, "I don't think we should eat those." Mr. Cooper backs away from the window, shaking his head, "I need to go. Please give me the popsicle back."

Grant looks so damn pleased and says with all sturiousness, "Well I believe it was Ministry sampling 'The War at Home' saying "We're going to rip this motherfucker off, we're going to tear this motherfucker down."" There's that look of inspired joy given to his friend-gone-dream-wife and back to Astrid, "Sunshine Yellow. Maybe every slat a little greener than the one before it and a little bluer after that. Why should fences have to be white? Paint what makes you happy." Curious he looks to Mr. Cooper holding the Popsicle and blinks. "You'll have to fight me for em, Mr. Cooper. I mean... you'll win but they taste like happiness. No deal."

"Guys, we're being really rude. We should just let them go on with their day. That'd be like some alien coming to Gray Harbor and freaking all of us out. They just want to be normal, we should let them. She smiles at the Good Humor man but she can't make the others really fall in line. "We're scaring him," she says to them again.

Elias sighs as Grant doesn't seem to be helping what he'd intended, and he shakes his head as the Good Humor man begins to be alarmed. What had started as a harmless lark has turned sour, and so he says, "Apologies, Mr. Cooper. You have a nice day." He then turns and wanders off, leaving the ice cream truck so that he doesn't bother the poor guy any further.

"I love you, Grant Baxter," comes after the dream-polished punk cites Ministry. Sparrow sounds just as serious in that declaration as she had about the color of paint she means to retrieve from her basement. Her studious attention skirts from Bax to Elias, tracking the stranger's departure, his abandonment of whatever game he'd been playing. From there, her focus flits to Lyric. For a second, it looks like she might say something, like she has some thoughts on that rationale, but instead, she just heads off, too, moving back toward 7 Oak with purpose. Skirt flouncing adorably all the way.

Astrid is now armed with ice cream. She squints slightly at Mr. Cooper, and then to the others. She blinks at Sparrow as she holds her popsicle with no intention to hand it back. "Did you just say 'shirt' and 'fork'?" Because that's how she's pretty sure she heard those words, but then there's a wryness to her grin again. She then goes the full obstinance, and she licks the popsicle, and only then blinks owlishly at Mr. Cooper. "Um, you wanted this back?" She really wishes Ash was here so they could just share one. Grant asks a good question and she turns toward him with a wry look. "Aren't all fences painted white? Over and over again..."

Lyric looks between Lucy's house and her husbands house and walks over to Lucy's, just in case she wakes up over there or something. She waves to the others before going inside.

Grant's quote causes Mr. Cooper's eyes to shoot open, and Findlay to puff up like the varsity jock that he is, "Hey! You can't say that to Mr. Cooper!" The plain-looking man has disappeared by now, retreating before the confrontation and shaking his head, saying to himself, "No no no no no..." Mr. Cooper slams the window on the side of the truck after a, "The mayor'll have something to say about this, Young Mister Baxter." Which is about as rough as he's going to get. Instead, he pushes forward into the front of the truck and moves to drive off, leaving one vibrantly-colored Rocket Pop in the hands of his erstwhile customers, and one painting of a vibrantly-colored Rocket Pop on the side of the truck. And as the Good Humor truck drives off, the gray world around them fades into featureless gray, then shrinks down to a single point of light like an old TV set that's been turned off, leaving the Dreamers each in a featureless void for a moment before they wake up. Those who ate ice cream in the dream will still have the flavor on their lips, especially Grant and Sparrow from that super-bright Rocket Pop.