2019-11-29 - May Every Sock You Wear Be Slightly Rotated, Just Enough to Be Uncomfortable

Kra-ka-thoom!

The thunder rolls over the city of Gray Harbor like a crashing wave, making it seem for a moment as if the trees bending in the winds were being pushed by the sound itself. High above, lightning dances in incandescent flash from cloud to cloud, considering where on the ground to strike next. It isn't so much raining as pouring.

Needless to say, this hasn't been a good walk home for Liam, who unfortunately did not read the Weather Channel report before leaving the mobile park for the day. It may not have helped. Even he's noticed weather is odd around this place. He's given up on keeping the hood of his sweatshirt (Seattle University it broadcasts from the front of the grey-blue garment) up since the wind keeps pushing it back, and is trying to hustle down the street to the gates of the park through the sheets of rain.

Though her motorized vehicle is street legal and excellent gas mileage, it's shit in a storm. It's been shit all week, really, but today, in particular, the little Vespa that could is acting up. It kinda sounds like it might be missing a gear when she putters past Liam and his drenched hoodie, then something grinds and Noelle Duchannes is forced to pull over. She grumbles something lost in the storm, already soaked through a dollar store clear poncho she was wearing. The poncho, it does nothing!

A loud crack of thunder follows a lightning strike so close the scattering of blown off bark would probably be audible if not for the driving rain. "Shit!" The blonde pulls over fully, hops off her pale blue, scratched up Vespa (still with a pumpkin bungeed to the back with about 25 bungees), and kicks a tire. She sighs and stand there for a minute, considering her options, and then she begins to push the monstrosity — she's slow enough that Liam might actually catch up to her without even trying. She's headed to the trailer park as well. Noelle isn't exactly a low key figure around there. ('No' by the yelling of her sister Natalie.)

As Liam walks, the rain-shrouded form in front of him begins to resolve into a woman pushing a Vespa, something he vaguely remembers passing him not far back. Apparently the scooter didn't get very far. Shoulders push forward as he strives against the storm to get in closer to where she's working it down the road, and as he gets close enough he opens his mouth to call out.

Of course, thunder peals just at that moment.

"--th that thing? This storm's awful!"

No turns her head and looks behind her, rain pattering off her helmet. She squints through the clear visor at Liam. She doesn't say anything at first, probably running through everything he said, trying to figure out what she missed or what he meant. "Nice day for a walk," is what she says, never stopping as she continues to push the stalled Vespa along the side of the road. "What did you say?

It begins to rain harder, and Noelle's shoulders hunch a little. Augh.

Catching up, Liam brings up a hand to shield his face from the worst of the rain, leaning forward as if he could use his own body as more of a shield. It only sort-of works. "I was asking if you needed some help with this thing," he calls over the rain's roaring patter, "Doesn't look like you're gonna get a lot of speed by yourself!"

"Thought it was a jet clog." No replies, turning to look at Liam again. "But it has to be a spark plug or something, because this crap keeps happening even after the jet's clear. So just trying to drag it home until it's not raining like somebody wants the Trailer Park to float away." She mutters something else under her breath and then says, "Wouldn't mind some help, you wanna push on the other side. This thing is much less fun when it's not motorized."

"You live there, yeah? You look familiar, but I don't remember delivering to you."

"Staying there, for now," Liam admits as he steps off the curb and into the street itself, rain spilling over his work boots as he walks over the slick pavement. He moves to get a good brace on the other side, and then with a nod to her, "One, two... three."

And push!

"Yeah, staying there for now. New to the 'Harbor."

With both of them pushing the Vespa rolls along at a good clip, and Noelle mutters a, "Thanks." She continues to drip rainwater, her army jacket slowly soaking as rainwater leaks through holes in her poncho over it. The last few inches of her blonde lob are already soaked to dark blonde. Just around one last bend, the trailer park is in sight.

"Welcome to town." She pauses for a beat then glances over, tipped forward, her hands braced on the seat and the handle on her side. "Has anything tried to eat you yet?"

The top of Liam's head is a slicked-down mop of dark brown hair at this point, tendrils of it plastered to his forehead as he focuses for the most part on applying leverage to move the non-motorized scooter in the direction of where 'home' seems to be. As it turns the bend, the sight of the sign through the storm gives him a slight burst of energy. Almost there!

"No," he admits, "That happen often? Wouldn't surprise me, since I seem to have set down in Ground Zero Weird."

"Well," Noelle begins, clucking her tongue. "No and yes." She shrugs, as much as she can while pushing this ridiculous scooter. "Like there's a reason I have this excellent lob. My hair used to be about a foot longer." She snorts and sound that's either derisive or annoyed. Hard to tell, really. "I'm not saying the Headless Horseman is real," No says. "But he fuckin' throws flaming pumpkins and that is not okay."

This is the part in the conversation most people assume Noelle Duchannes is the craziest of the Duchannes kids, with the exception of her twin Ellis who is most certainly the actual craziest. "You should come out next time we do a mixer. Or, you know, knock on the door to 21 if you want some cocoa sometime. We open our doors and share dinner with our neighbors. Nat's an okay cook sometimes." Glowing praise from Miss Noelle here. "Also I deliver late night Thai, so if you ever get a hankerin' for lemongrass or noods around 1:30 in the morning, I head home around two."

A week or two before, Liam might well have been one of those people making assumptions regarding the Duchannes kids (not that he, in fact, knows who they are) and Noelle's position within their madness hierarchy. Since then, he's seen enough weird shit to not immediately make those assumptions.

"Careful," he replies with a chuckle, shifting briefly as a foot starts to slip on a wet newspaper that was left in the street before recovering and continuing to roll the Vespa towards the park, "I just might show up at some random hour and knock for cocoa. I'll need your number for my late night Thai cravings, too."

Closer and closer, the gate to the trailer park looms. Okay, it doesn't loom. It kind of crookedly beckons, though? At least in a rain storm when you're soaking and just want it to stop. It's a cool day, but the rain is going a lot to make it a cold day.

"I have a baseball bat, so if you show up and I don't like it, you'll know." Noelle seems to have few qualms about inviting a relative stranger over to visit. "If a curly mop opens the door, just keep your head down and demand cocoa, don't make too much eye contact." She leans into the pushing of the Vespa. "When we park it, we'll trade digits."

"Fair enough," Liam answers without missing a beat. A baseball bat is a fair door-answering tool for unwanted visiors, after all! "Trailer twenty-one, demand cocoa, avoid eye contact, beware baseball bats. I think I can file that in my mental rolodex."

He lifts his head a bit, squinting towards the gate, "Almost there! We're in the home stretch!"

"What made you choose Gray Harbor? Not that the trailer park isn't practically the best place in the whole town to live, but, you know, not many people appreciate its appeal." No grunts when her boot slips, her vintage Docs somewhat slogged by the rain. They may be water resistant, but this is too much water and her feet are definitely soggy by now. She winces when the thunder cracks again overhead, and picks up the pace a little.

Not too long later, they're at the gate, just pushing through into the gravel, where things get a little more dicey. "We can just park it over here," she says, "Behind the shed." She's not gonna try to shove this thing along all the way to 21, not even with help. A couple more yards and she kicks the stand into place. "Whew, thanks man." She straightens, hands on the small of her back. Oof. "Noelle Duchannes." She sticks out a hand.

"It's a long story, maybe better told over cocoa sometime," is Liam's response, words mingled with a sound in the back of his throat as he pushes the Vespa through the gravel; shifting his weight and position to balance it better as they guide it behind the shed. Thank god she didn't want to take it all the way to her trailer-- that's the relieved expression on his face as he steps aside, rubbing a shoulder briefly.

"Liam Carmody," he replies with a smile, reaching out to clasp the offered hand firmly, "Good to meet you. I'd ask about cocoa now but I think I'm wet, exhausted, and just want to get out of these clothes and into a warm bed, so--" Smile turns into a rogue's grin, "I'll have to stop by some night."