2019-12-14 - Unearthing Treasures

(TXT to Alexander) Bennie : Whatcha doooooing?

(TXT to Bennie) Alexander : Reading the newspaper and seething.

(TXT to Alexander) Bennie : Seething sounds delightful, however would you care to go on an adventure with me?

(TXT to Bennie) Alexander : I would. It will keep me from writing an angry letter to the editor of the Gazette about reporters who don't bother to do any INVESTIGATION but just spout off nonsense.

(TXT to Bennie) Alexander : Where shall I meet you?

(TXT to Alexander) Bennie : Ooh. Definitely seethe worth. You can grump all about it with me. First, make sure you wear comfortable clothes, bring some work gloves, and wear shoes you don't particularly care about if not some rain boots. And a back pack or a bag of some sort.

(TXT to Alexander) Bennie : Second, meet me at the junk yard on the outskirts of town.

(TXT to Bennie) Alexander : All right. I'll be there shortly. Well. Walking speed shortly. 🙂

Bennie doesn't have too much of a head start on Alexander, as her chose mode of transportation is her bicycle with its cheery white basket and plastic flowers hung on the handle bars. She had gotten rather spoiled with dating Easton and his jeep, that's for certain. Perhaps having come from further away, it looks like she's just recently settled her bike outside the clapboard corrugated metal fencing that rings the large piece of property that serves as Gray Harbor's junk yard. As she waits for Alexander, she busies herself with pulling her straightened hair back into a tight pony tail and wrap duct tape around the top of her rain boots to seal the gap between them and her jeans. The girl means BUSINESS. Whatever business that is.

Alexander is dressed as suggested - which isn't that far from his usual mode of dress, to be honest. Heavy leather work gloves are sticking out of one pocket of his jacket, and he's got some heavy rubber boot coverings over his usual boots. A backpack is slung over one shoulder - it looks like a sturdy hiking bag, although its best days are definitely behind it. He makes his steady way up the street towards the junk yard, and seeing Bennie, he offers a smile and a wave, but doesn't call out. Instead, he waits until he's much closer before he says, "Hey. Are we going salvaging?"

Bennie gives Alexander the full beam of her smile as he approaches. "Got it in one. I need some furniture for the new place, and maybe, just maybe, I'll find something for my friends for Christmas or to resell online." Thankfully it hasn't rained in a bit, but this will in no uncertain terms be dirty work. It's also been a few days since she's seen Clayton, and she's no longer wearing those ridiculous sunglasses in full hangover mode and she hasn't bothered covering up the small bruise on her cheek that is now light molten colors of purple and yellow as it fades. Bennie puts her forefinger and thumb into her mouth and gives a shrill whistle that hits a few notes and in response there is an electronic buzzing noise of an intercom clicking on but no voice comes through the speaker. Instead Bennie tilts her head up at some unseen camera so she can be identified. "Hey, Shay-shay. It's Bennie, I brought a guest! Now open up so I can give that big beautiful face a kiss!"

She turns to Alexander as they wait, "Seamus is one of the caretakers. He doesn't talk much, and he's skittish."

"Furniture?" Alexander looks just a little worried. He eyes the bike she's brought. "You should have let me know. I would have borrowed a truck or something," he murmurs. But he seems perfectly happy to go salvaging - it's not like he hasn't gotten his fair share of things from the junk yard at times, even if he lacks others' abilities with repairs. He leans in close to inspect the bruise, and her eyes, before she turns away. A smile flickers to life. "I'm better with skittish people than confident people. We stay out of each other's ways." A sidelong look. "How are you doing?"

"Oh, don't worry about that. I'll just pile everything up and Seamus'll tote it into town for me." There is a bit of a shrug to the question as to her state, "I guess I'm doing okay? I mean. Ups and downs and so many times I've reached for the phone to call or text him before remembering ...duh! So. Throwing myself into work, hanging out with friends," She gestures to Alexander, "And if I start thinking on things too hard, I distract myself." She motions to the gate just as there is a jingle of chain and a lock being undone.

"SHAY!" Bennie cheers as the gate swings open and she launches herself at a big black man, throwing her arms around his neck and giving him a big smooch on the cheek. For his part, he says nothing, just looks at her bashfully and pulls around a chipped teacup from where he was hiding it behind his back.

"Oh my gosh, it's perfect!" Bennie reaches out to take the offering into the cradle of both hands. "Seamus, Alexander. Alexander, this is Seamus. Alexander here is one of my very best friends in the whole wide world of ever and is here to see what treasures we can find."

Alexander considers that, and nods. "I think that's normal. The ups and downs, and the distractions." And then the door is opening and Bennie is launching herself at some guy. The look on Alexander's face is a mixture of amusement and 'thank god I have touch issues so that doesn't happen to me'. He raises a hand to hide his smile, and bobs his head at Seamus. "Hello. It's a lovely teacup. It's nice to meet you."

He pulls out his work gloves and slides them on - mostly because it's a bit chilly, so might as well go ahead and get them covered. He follows Bennie inside at a much more sedate pace, and one that's respectful of personal space.

Bennie swings around her purse that's been emptied for this event, pulling out a washcloth and wrapping the teacup in it before she deposits the package in her bag. "So we're just going to take a look around, so long as the rain stays away." Seamus just nods humbly and motions for them to head on to the junk piles, giving them free reign it seems so long as they stay out of trouble.

The first heaps are all appliances and scrap metal, and Bennie is bypassing those to head towards where the non-recyclables are. At least all the organic matter is far off on another corner of the property so the stench is rather minor. "So what did this reporter report on that has you all seethtastic?" Clearly Bennie doesn't keep up with the news.

"Thank you, Seamus," Alexander tells the silent man, with a brief but warm smile. Then he follows along behind Bennie. "Is there anything in particular that you're looking for? I don't know if you had anything in storage from your trailer, or if there's something that the new place doesn't have that you specifically need."

He considers a few of the appliances, looking them over with a thoughtful frown, before following again. The mention of the newspaper riles him up, though. "The Foster case. Accusing the police of all manner of baseless things, offering no evidence, just innuendo and spite. It's one thing to call out legitimate issues with corruption or incompetence. But to call yourself a reporter and instead write up a bit of nonsense just to stir trouble? It bothers me." He takes a deep breath. "Foster's men did kill the Krugers. The police DO have evidence. They just haven't splashed it all over everything. I found the murder weapon, with Mr. Sumpter's help."

"So maybe a letter to the editor is due. But maybe just...let Isabella read it first before you send it. To make sure you're not accidentally threatening a bomb scare or something." Bennie flicks her pony tail over her shoulder as she looks aside to Alexander, flashing a brilliant smile before she shrugs to the rest. "Most of the furniture was trashed when...well. Just a kitchen table and some boxes really are what's left in storage. So I could use a nice chair. Maybe a lamp. I'm more about...coming out here and being inspired." Her arms are thrown out to the side and she does a little twirl. "Not every day a girl gets a clean slate, right? I could decorate in hot pink and no one gets an opinion. Though really, don't let me go with hot pink. It does nothing for my complexion."

Alexander snorts. "Are you implying I don't know how to write an angry letter to the editor without ending up on a terror watchlist, Bennie? I'm kinda offended." He only looks a tiny bit offended, though, and mostly amused. And then he looks sharp when she says most of the furniture was trashed, although he doesn't ask about it. Not immediately. Instead, he makes a thoughtful noise. "Okay. So, a nice chair, and a lamp. And inspiration. No hot pink." Clearly building a list of parameters for the search. When they reach the tall stacks of non-recyclables, he starts prowling with enthusiasm. "What inspires you?"

He peeks through some of the stuff on the periphery, but a lot of what's easier to get to is, sadly, actual junk. Splintered and broken, moldy, or just having some horrible difficult to place smell wafting off of it.

Bennie splits off from Alexander only to start on a different pile, taking a different tactic by starting to climb the thing so she can get a bird's eye view. "Well. Let's see. I like...happy things? Unusual things. Things with history you know? Worn and loved and broken in, cozy cramped spaces that make you want to drink tea on rainy days with an old knit blanket in your lap you've darned the holes of a dozen times. Not something flashy and shiny and straight out of a big box store. So like. The EXACT opposite of Easton." She gives a bit of a laugh as she picks out her foot placement, starting to climb through precious piles of junk. "Clean lines and immaculate spaces."

"Things with history and love, comfortable rather than over styled. Personal." Alexander recites this thoughtfully. He gives her a quick, cautious look as she starts to climb the pile, but since she seems to be doing well, he doesn't go over there and hover. Instead, he takes off one of his rough leather gloves, and closes his eyes, hand extended towards his pile. He extends his mind along the junk, lightly brushing over everything - not doing a full read of anything, and some things, it's clear, have exactly the wrong history. There are little flinches of pain, and his nose wrinkles in distaste at something he grazes.

But, after a moment, he starts to smile. "Maybe. Maybe." He slips the glove back on and then jumps into the pile, climbing his way up so that he can start digging through the old bedframes and sending broken cabinets tumbling down the slope. Eventually, he grabs onto something, and starts to unearth it, carefully removing the detritus around it so that it doesn't damage it more.

Eventually, he's able to free a...part of a table. It's an odd tabletop, smallish and handmade, in the shape of some sort of round-petaled flower. The top is badly scarred and burnt, and whatever central column it had that used to hold it up is shattered and probably deeper in the pile. But he rolls it down the slope anyway, and looks very proud. "This one has good memories."

Bennie is tromping around, picking up this or that but nothing really seems to catch her fancy. "You know the boy didn't even have a throw pillow before I moved in?" She's not truly grousing, just pointing out facts of how she and Easton differed. She flicks a glance over, brows knitting as Alexander dares to take off one of his gloves and then (in her mind) just Scrooge McDuck dives into the pile of junk and comes up with a gold coin. Clearly she sees it as what it once was or what perhaps it could be again. "Ooooh, you glorious man. Gimme gimme gimme!" She practically starts slip-sliding down the side of her pile to get to him.

"Careful," Alexander says, although not without a smile. "Let's not end this night with a trip to the hospital getting every shot in the book because I can't guarantee I can heal you of tetanus." He rolls it to half way to her - there's some old traces of paint, here and there, suggesting that it might have been painted white or yellow. "It's a little small for a kitchen table," he muses, "but if you gave it new legs, and made them short, might serve as a coffee table or something like that."

When Bennie finally has her hands on the table remnant she starts turning it over in her hands, getting a good look at every single aspect of it from the tiny flakes of paint that remain, to the scarred top, to the column that used to complete it. "Oh, I think I can do one better than that." She doesn't actually need an occasion table, but then who needs an occasion table? Even if putting it where she is staying will be like putting lipstick on a hog. At least she'll have something to smile at. With a serene smile on her face, Bennie closes her eyes and imagines the table in all its original glory. Not when it was shiny and new, but at least when it was whole and complete and in the height of it's life. Slowly, like she's manifesting the very heart of the piece of furniture, the column starts to sprout again and the legs that weren't there a moment ago unfurl like leaves warming to the sun.

Alexander steps back a little when she takes it. He doesn't have to be a detective to figure out what she's planning to do once she says what she says - and for once, he doesn't put up any sort of fuss about it. Maybe it's the serene smile. Maybe it's the fact that he'd be a giant hypocrite, considering how he found the table in the first place. Either way, he's quiet as she puts it back together, and there's even something fascinated as the table just...recreates itself from the battered, shattered pieces that remained. "That truly is remarkable," he murmurs, thoughtfully. "I don't get to see it very often. I can do some repairs, but just a few. Minor things. Nothing like that." The table itself, with its bits restored, looks bright and cheerful - even the paint's come back, revealing that it was originally painted with a yellow smiley face in the center, and white petals emerging around it.

Bennie sets it down and steps back to admire it (It doesn't even wobble!), hands clasped together and tucked underneath her chin. "I know. Remarkable." Of course Bennie is beaming about the table, not bragging about her own skill. She assumes Alexander is doing the same. "It's just the happiest little table ever. I mean, I like to think I'm a little more Romani hippie than Spencer's Gift Store hippie? But how can you not love that table because it has such joy. Amazing find, Alexander!"

"It has a lot of joy," Alexander agrees. He watches her, rather than the table, her beaming smile triggering a more restrained one of his own. He looks back at the table, and reaches out to lay his gloved hand on it. "Um." A long, awkward sort of pause. "Would you like to see the memories in it? They're good ones, I promise." A pause. "More good than bad. And the good are the stronger. I can show you one of the strongest. If you want." He clears his throat. "You don't have to. I won't be upset. I know it's creepy."

He says it's creepy but Bennie is practically jumping at the chance. "Oh my god, yes." She's shared visions before with Easton, army tents in the desert sand with shit blowing up all around him, so she vaguely knows how it works and how disconcerting it can be, but something about the chance to get a peek at the memories of this table dispels all hesitation. Not to mention it will make it all the more precious to her.

There's a tension in Alexander that eases at Bennie's enthusiastic response. His smile is slight, almost shy, but delighted. He bobs his head. "Okay. You might want to close your eyes; trying to juggle the two visions at once can be a bit difficult, even if you're practiced. I'll take it slow." He flexes his hand on the table top; he doesn't need to touch the object, but it's long since become a habit, and it helps him focus. He closes his own eyes so that he can concentrate. If Physicalists like Easton or Isabella have their instinctive sense of place and space, what Alexander has always had as a Mentalist is an extraordinary sense of visualization. He doesn't have an eidetic memory (for which he is profoundly grateful), but what he constructs as visions in his mind are unusually clear, sharp, and complete.

So, when he builds this around Bennie, it's so sharp and immersive that if she didn't know it was coming, she might think she'd fallen into a Dream. A sunlit room very far away from this junk yard, filled with green, growing things, their scents floral and alive, tickling the nose with hints of sweetness. Soil is scattered across the table, and three pairs of hands are working busily (if not with any particular skill) on flowers that have been harvested from the plants around them, trying to fit them all into a vase. Together, they're building an arrangement, and there's giggles and hushed, playful arguments about which flower goes where, and how it looks better if you do it this way, jeez until the poor vase is just stuffed full of a colorful riot of blooms.

There's a click at the door of the room, the soft creak of the door opening, and an older woman steps into the room, her eyes wide and her hair gray. "SURPRISE, Granny!" shout three voices in unison. The vase, overloaded, falls over, spilling flowers like a waterfall over the side of the table. The older woman stares for a long moment, then bursts into delighted laughter, gathering the three children up into a hug. The whole scene is suffused with a sense of love, imperfection, and joy.

Bennie does as he suggests, her eyes sliding closed and her face slightly canting towards the sky. Her hand, too, goes to rest on the table if only to steady herself through the transition of being totally immersed into this other world. This other memory. It's not like a movie playing across her mind's eye, she's living it as if her hands helped root through the moist soil or held the scissors to cut the flowering stems. At some point her other hand drifts to her lips a fan of gloved fingers touching her bottom lip as if to suppress her own giggles lest he give the children away during their mission. When the grandmother makes her entrance and the flowers dump over, Oakes makes a small squeak of upset but then her voice rises with the full laughter of the other woman in the vision.

The problem is, when Alexander fades that imagery away, and they return to the here and now, it's not laughter in her eyes anymore. Its tears. Big fat ones bubbling up from the corners of her eyes and spilling out over her lashes.

Oh.

Alexander just stares as she starts to cry. What did he do? Did he accidentally share a horrible memory with her? He doesn't think so, but there's crying, and his distress is visible. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Bennie. I know it's...creepy and it takes people by surprise. I should have warned you a little better. I'm sorry." He approaches, his hands coming up as if to give her a hug, although they mostly just sort of move vaguely in the air around her like he's afraid to touch her. Which, well, he sort of is, although her visible distress and his equally visible guilt might overcome that in a moment or two.

"It's okay, it's okay." Bennie blubbers, trying to smile through the falling tears. She bends her wrist, using the curve of it to mop underneath her eyes as if that'll keep further tears at bay, but they're unleashed now and she's having problems stemming off the flow. "It's just so...beautiful." There is a sound that is half a cry and half a laugh, "Just so...perfect." And so far removed from any of her own family interactions. Sorry, Alexander. Raising those hands is like an invitation to Bennie and the blonde is taking a step forward to wilt against his chest.

"Oh, Bennie," Alexander murmurs. He can't help the way his body stiffens when she wilts against his chest, but he fights the instinctive reaction and lets his arms come gently around her, one hand patting her back. "It's alright. Cry if you need to." It's not like his ugly sweater is going to be ruined by tears. He leans to rest his chin delicately on the top of her head and just let her cry it out while he recites don't panic, don't panic, don't you fucking panic to himself.

"I love it." Which would be a lot more convincing if it wasn't said with a wail. Somewhere in the back of her mind she must think this is incredibly awkward for Alexander, but Bennie is operating with pure selfish emotion right now. She needs the comfort burying her face in that ugly warm sweater provides, and she twines her arms around him to hold him tight. Cry she does. So far, she's only let herself have little momentary bouts of tears and release of grief, and only alone. Alexander has never made her feel ashamed for being who she truly is, and it feels good to let it all out, even if it's not about the table. Not truly. He found it for her and shared it with her, and now her brain is confusing all those emotions between the break up with Easton and the kindness of her friend. So confusing, in fact, she's lifting her head from the pillow of his chest and attempting to catch his lips with her own.

Alexander goes absolutely, completely still - deer in the headlights still - when Bennie lifts her head and kisses him. He even stops breathing, his face going utterly blank as all power is diverted to the brain systems best prepared to deal with this. So it's a long moment before he steps back and away just enough to break the contact, then leans in to press his lips gently to her forehead. "No, Bennie." He doesn't sound angry, but it is firm, despite the gentleness of his voice.

There is a fair chance that Bennie was filled with regret the moment her lips touched his. She's swallowing thickly as he tells her 'no', already spewing out an apology, "Oh god, I'm so sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me, seriously. So so sorry. I would never. I mean, I didn't meant to. I'd never do that to you, or Isabella. Please don't hate me." She's backing away, making rueful swipes at her eyes to un-blur her vision - and perhaps her mental state as well. "Shit. Shit. SHIT! What is wrong with me."

Alexander reaches out and puts his hand on her hair, like maybe she has an 'off' button somewhere up there. "Bennie? It's okay. I'm not upset. Um. Surprised? Yes. A bit surprised. But I don't hate you, and you didn't do anything to me or Isabella. It's okay." His voice is pitched to soothe. "Nothing is wrong with you. You're just hurting and unhappy, and I went and got all mind-sharey with you. That can get weird. I mean, no one's ever kissed me before, after it, except Isabella, but now I know it's a possible reaction. It's okay. It's really okay." The words are rapid fire, and he's watching her anxiously.

Bennie is not one to blush. In fact she goes through life pretty unapologetically for her over-the-top affectionate and free nature, but she feels the capillary response in her cheeks as they flush hot, and she tents her hands over her nose and mouth. "It's not okay, that was so bad. Not that kissing you was bad!" Okay, that just makes her flush more. "Oh man..." She whines. "You know what I mean." She gestures or rather flails and then just goes still and silent with her shoulders sinking defeatedly.

"I mean. I can do better than that one. Don't go judging based on it," Alexander says, not without humor. But it's not really an invitation, but he does reach out and draw her back into his arms to give her a more deliberate, fierce sort of hug. "I know what you mean, Bennie. And it's okay. You didn't do anything wrong." He pauses. "I guess I'd probably do something wrong if I was kissing back or something, or at least Isabella wouldn't like it, so I won't, but we're still friends. Okay?"

Bennie easily folds back into Alexander's arms but she keeps her own tucked between them, gripping at the knit of his sweater. She gives a sniff as all these emotions are just making her so goopy. "Okay." She responds in a tiny squeak of a voice, not sounding wholly convinced but at least she's calming down. "Being your friend is way more important than had you kissed me back. And I don't want to ...I know if said if you can't beat 'em, join 'em, but that's not really what I had in mind." She cants her head back to look back to Alexander's face and this time when she says, "Sorry." At least it is accompanied by the ghost of a smile. "And I really do love the table. And the memory you showed me makes it all the more precious. So thank you."

"Yeah, no. It's not really a good choice to be making," Alexander agrees, quietly. "But hey. We don't always make good choices when we're confused and hurting." A delicate clearing of his throat, there, before he ruffles her hair. "I'm glad you consider the whole friendship thing to be a good thing, though. I'd be unhappy if we weren't friends," he admits. "Even if you're bouncy and touchy and I'm pretty sure lying to me about things." He shakes his head at the apology. "Don't worry about it. And I'm glad you like it."

Bennie gives a little hiccup of laughter, "Yeah well." Is all she says to that, which might be particularly telling when he just said he's pretty sure she's lying to him about something again. "I can probably get this back on my bike, no need to involve Seamus. But I think I'm done salvaging for the afternoon. I'm positively exhausted now." What with the crying and the stressing and Mental sharing.

"Mmhmm." Alexander's sound can easily be translated as you know I read minds, right? but he doesn't press her any further on it. He just looks at the table dubiously. "Are you...sure, Bennie? It looks like it might be rather unbalancing. Why don't you let Seamus take it, just this once? I know it's not a lot, but I'd rather not see you take a tumble." He steps back and puts his hands in his pockets. "Or I can carry it somewhere, if you want."

"Maybe if you could just carry it to the front for me, then we'll let Seamus take over." Even though they've come to the conclusion that everything is fine between them, their friendship is intact, Bennie can't help but feel a little awkward right now. "Look, if I promise to tell you everything, one day. Can you just...can you just let this slide right now? I don't want to lie to you anymore, but I can't tell what's going on either."

Alexander grabs the table and twists and grunts a bit until he finds a sort of comfortable way to carry it that isn't going to get the legs caught on every damned piece of junk from here to the exit. When he's managed that, he looks at her over the cheerful yellow and white paint. "Bennie...I'm never gonna force you to tell me anything, unless for some reason I thought that I absolutely had to. You can tell me whatever you want, when you want. And you can also tell me when you don't want to talk about something. I'd prefer that over lying. But yeah. It's a promise." He turns, at that, and starts making his way back towards Seamus.