2019-11-04 - Tending the Garden

Juniper's Venetian Garden is lovely to behold, and like all gardens, it requires some upkeep. Her design has kept the level of that needed to a minimum, but August can't help himself; he helped put it together, now he feels obligated to keep it in tiptop shape. He headed out mid-afternoon, after lunch, to do some tidying, fix anything damaged by party goers (and other nonsense...), and so forth.

He's currently up on step stool, carefully fixing some of the overhead vines that have had their arrangement shoved out of place by enthusiastic revelers or the weather or Gray Harbor's brand of weird. On the ground next to him is a bucket of garden tools (trowl, fork, etc.) and in his gloves hands, a pair of pruning shears. He's dressed in a heavy red and black flannel over a black waffle knit Henley, denim jeans, and his workboots. The occasional masquerade partier wanders by to watch him, then goes back to what they were doing.

Tonight, undoubtedly, people will show up in town in all their fine party clothes and finery. For now, however, early evening means Gina is what you can reasonably expect - dressed in black, torn skinny jeans tucked into boots, a deep green cropped tee and, over it, a navy blue plaid flannel shirt that looks like someone splashed it with black paint, front and back. Because Gray Harbor loves it some flannel. Her purple hair lies in a braid over one shoulder, eyes with a sort of peacock smoky thing going, lips painted dark blue, and she... strolls, really, a to-go cup of something with a straw in one hand and her phone in the other, taking pictures of some of the foliage, occasionally pausing to look over her work and change a few filters. She seems to go for some odd angles, too. But she stops when she notices someone in front working on a step stool, looking up to see what he's doing. No words, no smile hello. Just a pause and a staring upward.

August keeps working for a spell, until he notices Gina watching longer than the usual casual watcher. He glances down at her, and his look holds. He's seeing, no doubt, the same thing she's seeing him: the Gift, the Song, the Art. Glimmer.

He studies her a time, goes back to trimming and rearranging. After a second, he says, "Enjoying the garden?" His sideways glances down to her belie disinterest. He's curious about her; he's curious about anyone with Glimmer, though.

It's true. Gina blazes, like August does - a crescendo, not a hum, a lighthouse, not a lantern. But she's also not particularly impressive, or impressed, just looking up at what was happening before she flicks her gaze towards August. Some people instinctively smile when faced with a stranger: it's polite and socially acceptable, after all. Gina doesn't. She just looks around, "It'd be cooler to see it at night, but it's crowded then. Maybe I'll show up before dawn. Couldn't resist my curiosity, though." She looks back up see what's being worked on, "You're the plant guy right? The plant store. Doctor November or something." Gina comments, before she starts to stroll again, phone up. It's painted up at a particular series of vines, trying to find just the right photograph. Is the camera aimed at August? Pro...oobably not.

If August is put off by the lack of smile, it's not apparent. He doesn't offer one himself, either. "Mmm, yeah, dawn's best for that." He makes a face, glances out towards the coastline. "Might be a little misty, though. The fog's been kind of a pain. Even if it makes the maze a little more amusing."

He continues arranging the vines, snorts a laugh at the name. Sobers, clears his throat. "August. Doctor's not necessary, though, PhDs not in a medical profession, feels weird to be 'doctor', you know. But, yeah. I am a plant guy. Branch and Bole. We helped Juniper get all the stock for this."

"The fog's one of my favorite parts of this town." Gina says. Her tone is difficult to place, and maybe a bit provocative for some-- it's hard to tell if she's being flippant, teasing, sarcastic or serious. It's like an ambivalent text message in human form. "Haven't really been interested in taking part in Byron's side-project. Little too much effort for me." Gina says with a small shrug, finally snapping a picture. "From what I've been hearing, I made the right choice. I'm retired." Perhaps to some people, it's an odd statement, but, well. Perhaps not, if August can connect the dots as to what she's retiring /from/. "Don't think I know Juniper. Have been considering stopping by your place, though. Need something nontoxic and green for Iggy and Vee."

August pauses to look down and arch an eyebrow at Gina, thoroughly amused. "You're definitely one of its few champions," he says, tone wry, resumes pruning. "But in that case, dawn'll be the perfect time. Make this all look surreal and made up. Like you're walking in the air."

He shrugs about the Masquerade, or rather, Gina's decision to not get involved being a good one. "It's sure had its moments," he murmurs, shaking his head. After a thoughtful pause, he adds, "But not all bad." More careful snips and shifts of the vines, then he steps down off the stool. "Retired," he repeats, giving her the same sort of considering look he had moments ago for the Masquerades various happenings. "Are any of us really retired?" He doesn't wait for an answer. "June's a landscaper. Just moved here recently. Good people, good at what she does." He gestures around them. "Iggy and Vee are, cats? Birds? Dogs?" A frown, then, "Kids?" Because, well, it is 2019.

Gina checks her phone, then tucks her phone away, hooking her thumbs into her pockets as she looks up at August. Her expression remains... not very full of expression. "Not my problem if other people are too fucking stupid to appreciate something." Is all Gina has to say about what she champions, before August discusses the moments. A tinge of interest finally shows on her face... along with a healthy dose of skepticism, "Did it?" She asks, before she gives a small snort at the philosophical question. But she allows it to slide. "Ignorance and Vice. Cats. One black, one white. Sort of a gag gift from someone I knew, while back." Gina clarifies, before being unable - or unwilling - to repress a shudder. "No kids. I'd probably drown them."

"Mmmm, well, it does take all kinds." August sets the pruners into the bucket of tools, tugs off his gloves and drops those in as well. "Oh yeah, some attempted human sacrifice, someone being used as a battery for a ritual, the boat tour was a little more than anticipated..." He shrugs, nonchalant, folds his arms.

He grunts at the names of the cats, smiles. "Nice names." His smile is as dry as his tone. The comment about drowning kids gets her a curious look and a tilted head, but there's not much in the way of real concern for the statement.

"No lilies," he says. "No irises either. You could cut to the chase, get them some catnip and wheat grass to chew on so they leave the actual house plants alone. Or you can get some nice, ornate bird cages and put your plants in those, I knew a guy who did that once because his cats chewed on every goddamned thing."

Gina... actually looks fairly surprised by that commentary. And shakes her head, slowly, "Oh yeah. Definitely glad I didn't participate this year." Except... well, there's that little edge of curiosity as she thinks over what August said... "What happened on the boat tour this time?" Because it's the boat tour. But she does frown when August mentions the lilies, "Wheatgrass? Like, the crappy health shake stuff?" Gina asks, sounding rather skeptical about that.

She does shut up and look more thoughtful at the talk about the cages. "I've got a bunch of cages in the attic I could do something with. Might not be a bad idea."

"The tour was...more real." August winces, because that doesn't cover it. "It felt like we were in Venice. Gondolas on the water, jugglers, fire eaters, our costumes were more real..." He can't quite bring himself to talk about the part where, well, he wound up looking like a weird forest spirit, because that's a bridge too far even for him. He's still processing it. "Not bad," he adds, surprised to be able to make this assurance. "Just weird. In a good way, though." He smiles a little at the memory.

Then he clears his throat. "Right. It's good for their digestive tract, and if they're indoors only they'll love to chew on it. Oat, rye, and barley are fine too." He nods about the cages. "You can do //really/ interesting stuff with plants and cages, and keep the cats off the plants. But you only need to do that if they're plant killers, and not all cats really are."

"Hmm." Gina is eyeing August. A little suspiciously. But also a little thoughtfully. She holds out a hand, palm first, "Hand." She asks. Expectantly. And whether or not he provides, she continues on to say, "I already use some of the cages for displays around the house. They're versatile. Haven't really considered them for plants, though. Iggy and Vee get into everything." Gina seems all right with leaving the Venice trip alone. Far away from her. She is retired, after all. "I'll think about this idea."

August makes a low, sympathetic noise. "Yeah, cats are like that." He doesn't say it in the manner of a non-cat person; it's more fond than not.

He eyes the offered hand, then Gina. His eyes get a distracted, unfocused look to them for a couple of seconds, and Gina can feel it, that sense she's being looked at in the same way she can see August's Glimmer, and he can see hers. A little tingle in her spine, in her fingers, in her toes.

He blinks, considers her anew, but pauses a moment, to see if that hand remains on offer. Not everyone likes it when he does that. It is nosy, after all.

"You always grope girls you've just met, January?" Gina asks, casually. She smiles-- it's a slight smile, that manages to be entirely humorless. She's still standing and relaxed enough, her hand hasn't moved, but there is that smile. Gina isn't threatening, or scary, and she doesn't really SEEM upset... except that lack of something that was there before. "I consider it rude. No real need to abuse your position like that, is there?" Gina teases...implies...? She wiggles the fingers of the hand still waiting. Beckoning. "I told you. I'm /retired/. I don't enjoy that shit."

August sighs, ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck. "Well I had that coming," he murmurs. He meets her eyes again, apologetic and awkward. "Sorry. Not everyone can tell, or cares. But I should've asked." He does take her hand, then; his is well calloused from a good deal of physical labor, his grip friendly and firm. "I know a guy like you. So if you ever feel like coming out of retirement, let me know. You have a bit in common with him. Might be able to help one another."

He hesitates, adds, "I know it's not a proper atonement by any means, but if you still feel like coming by the shop, I'll put you down for some free plants. Don't worry, no need to interact with me. I can leave a note for the employees."

Gina gives a small, amused snort. Not funny ha-ha amused, however. But she shakes his hand, and then takes his hand and flips it over, to look at his palm. "If your friend was like me, he won't want to meet me." She says, blunt and sure. "Or if he's a local, I already know the asshole." She doesn't look up, her attention now on his palm, dry and calloused, and impatiently brushing away sap, to get a clear look. She says nothing as she looks... except she chuckles, shaking her head, and gently pushes his hand back towards him. "You'll atone, all right." She says, and she smiles again, easily. Pointy, even. "I'll see what I've got in my attic for some plants. Don't really care if you're there or not." One shoulder rises and falls, "If I minded everybody with no fucking manners, I'd die of an early heart attack. It's behind us."

August watches her examine his hand, curious. Maybe he should be wary, but if he was wary of every person strong with the Gift who was a little off, well, he'd be looking over his shoulder nonstop and never sleep in this town. He's learned to accept that this is just the kind of person found in Gray Harbor's orbit. "He's not local," August says. "And, you'd be surprised." His mouth twitches in a near smile at the comment about atoning. "It's alright to be pissed about someone not having manners. To demand better from people. Anger's not always unhealthy."

He doesn't sit on that comment, though, just nods about her not caring if he's there or not. "What name should I put down for the plants, if I'm not?"

"It's pointless being pissed at people." Gina's voice is resigned, bored, like this conversation is one she's had too many times. "People suck balls. They'll keep being shitheaded ball-suckers until they're dead, and this city will eat all of us at some point. Waste of time to be angry about that." A thin smile, then. "You do you, I'll do me." A pause, as she checks her phone, then, and then tucks it away again. "Gina Castro. Night." Is she starting to walk away? Yup.

"Fair," August says with a nod. "August Roen. Take care." He pauses to watch her go, but his attention moves to the fog, which has already begun to creep in for the night. Some of the revelers are looking forward to it; others, less so.

August's expression is distant, like he's trying to listen to something only he can hear. He sighs, shakes his head, and studies Gina one last time. Then he gathers up his things and heads back to his car.