2020-04-06 - Once Upon a Trip to Portland

It's a lovely, crisp, April morning when August and Eleanor set out for their Oregon trip in August's car; his last long drive in it, if all goes well at the Subaru dealership. But first, tattoos.

Wonderland Tattoo has done all of August's work, so that's who he's gotten them appointments with. His is going to be a smaller piece, to cover one of his scars; Eleanor's will take longer, but that just means August can talk to her and distract her while it's being done.

"So, we can absolutely come back for another round if you can't do the whole sitting," he assures her as they walk towards the shop. It's along a strip of older shop fronts, flanked by a florist and a coffee shop. "Don't sweat that at all."

"Right," Eleanor responds with a nervous nod. This is a new experience for her, but she is more excited than afraid. Taking back control of something that has haunted her for so long is important to her, and doing it with August there to support her is ideal. "They did such nice work on yours, I know it'll come out great." She's in a pale green tee with some embellished sparklies around the neckline, jeans, and sneakers, dressed for comfort because she knows she'll be in the chair for a while. She's braided her hair in one thick plait she can keep over her shoulder, for the ease of the artist.

She plants a kiss on August's cheek as they near the shop. "Thank you for helping me with this," she murmurs.

August is likewise dressed comfortably, in a plain, black tee under a red and white flannel, jeans, and his urban hikers. His won't take so long, but he needs touchup on the older ones as well. "These ladies are amazing, you'll love their work." He leans into the kiss, returns it with one to her forehead. "You're welcome," he says, voice equally low, and holds open the door.

The shop's front windows have an ornate painting of the name with lovely botanical and animal window art that conveniently conceals the interior from prying eyes. Within it's all warm tones of wood, example art, and a mid-height wall with a low door separating the booths in the back from the waiting area up front. There's a receptionist just behind the wall working on a tablet, and beyond her, a couple of people in chairs, chatting in low voices with their artists.

She waves a hello to August, clearly recognizing him. She's probably mid-twenties, tall and lanky, with dusky skin, close-shorn, silvery, coily hair, and a smattering of freckles. "Right on time," she says, tapping at the tablet screen. She holds out a perfectly manicured hand to Eleanor. "I'm Willa, receptionist and bookkeeper."

Eleanor takes Willa's hand for a shake. "Nice to meet you, Willa. August speaks highly of this place, enough to get me here for my first tattoo." She smiles warmly, though her green eyes still have that spark of nervousness in them. She pulls her crossbody purse to the front to pull out a folded paper with two imaged of phoenix tattoos. "I like the position and style of this one, with more of the brighter color and curling tail feather ends of this one," she explains. "And like it to have that watercolor feel."

"Eleanor, excellent to meet you." Willa leans forward to have a look at the images, looking between the two of them. "Got it," she says, making some notes on her tablet. "Let me just scan these in..." She photos them onto the tablet, swipes away at the interface. "Gus, you already worked out with Nat what you're having her do, right?"

August nods, says, "Yeah, I'll probably be done pretty quick, and hang out to keep Ellie here occupied."

Willa nods, taps at her screen. "Alright, come on back, you two. Eleanor, I think Trish has the right style for this, so how about you come back and meet her and see if she can put together something you like." She opens the door to let them in, and August takes the chance to give Willa a brief hug.

"Now this is your first, right?" Willa asks Eleanor, eyebrows up.

Eleanor hands over the photos and she chews her lip a bit, nodding at the suggestion to work with Trish. She might seem a touch relieved. Knowing Eleanor, she's more freaked out about taking her top off for a stranger than about the needles.

At the question, she nods her head more emphatically. "Yes. I haven't had one before. I want it to, ah, reclaim an old scar, so to speak, like August has had done with his."

Willa nods, leading them back past the booths currently in use (one has the slat-front door shut for privacy) to a pair at the rear of the building. "Got it. Trish has experience tattooing over scar tissue, and she's got a style that ought to work for you too, so this should do fine."

In these back two booths, which face one another, are a pair of women chatting as they prep their stations. They're closer to Eleanor's age; one is chubby and short, with bright, platinum blonde hair, a soft, heart-shaped face, pale skin, and dark eyes; the other is very average in overall build and height, with mousey brown hair pulled back into a braid, light brown skin, and gray-blue eyes. They're both highly tattooed themselves, especially the shorter woman; the style of her tattoos suggests she's done most of August's. They glance up when they see Willa approaching with August and Eleanor and get up to greet them.

"Hey you," August says, giving the blonde a hug. "How's things."

"Oh, you know how it is down here." She has gentle Virginian drawl that's been attenuated by years on the west coast. Not waiting for an introduction, she holds out a hand to Eleanor. "I'm Kate. I've done most of August's art."

The brunette offers her hand as well. "And I'm Tricia. But call me Trish." It's easy to see, from a glance at the booth Trish was seated near, why Willa's recommended her; a number of the tattoos are the 'watercolor' design Eleanor's referring to.

Eleanor shakes Kate's hand with a bright smile. "You do beautiful work, even if it took me a little while to look at it for very long," she admits. Trish's hand gets shaken as well, and she look to the tattoos in that distinctive style. "Oh wow, those looks amazing. I think you're the perfect choice for this for me. It's been a crazy half a year or so, and this is an important piece of closure for me."

She looks to August with her best 'I can do this!' expression.

Kate blinks at Eleanor's compliment, then laughs, a bright cackle. "Why thank you! The spider?" she guesses, because boy had she ever assumed that one wasn't going to go over well.

"The skull," August clarifies, smoothly and easily despite the possibly implied gaff. He reaches out to take one of Eleanor's hands and squeezes it. 'You can, and already are,' his expression says.

Kate makes a low 'ah' sound. "You're not the first person to not be into the skulls," she says, working on an assumption.

"Thank you," Trish says, looking almost shy. She gestures at her chair and moves to turn on her tablet. "Willa sent me the photos, so I can work up a design and you can tell me what to change, then we'll go from there, sound good?"

Kate, meanwhile nods at her chair. "Sit down and get that shirt of, big guy, let's see where we're putting this." 'This' is a modest botanical piece: a pair of figs, one halved, against Ficus leaves and a few of the tree's flowers. All told it's not more than the size of a hand, meant to cover the upper puncture scar just below his shoulder, along his collarbone.

"Something like that," Eleanor responds to Kate. How do you explain a fear of an impossible supernatural thing that nearly killed her, and left the scar she is getting covered up today? Answer: you don't. She nods to Trish and shuffles over to sit in the chair, looking over her shoulder to watch August because, well, of course she likes watching him take his shirt off. DING! She gets a text message alert and pulls her phone out as she settles in. Then she barks out a laugh. "Oh my God, August, I am never forgiving my night manager for being sick last night." Someone just got pics of the 'bear' contest.

Kate and Trish both nod agreeably in the manner of people who understands when the actual explanation is maybe not for public consumption. They've heard more than a few partial stories like that over their years of tattooing.

August slips out of his shirts, folds them up on a stool. Kate promptly inspects the status of his belly tattoo, moves around to check the ones on his back. "Hm, could use some touch-up right here," she says, tapping a spot along the antlers.

"Yeah, if we've got time, thought you could have a look, or we can book an appointment and I can come back down." Kate nods, gestures at the chair. He gives Eleanor a sly grin when he catches her watching...which turns into a flat-mouthed stare when her phone dings. Kate is eyeing him. He says, "In my defense, a lot of people saw your work, and I won."

Eleanor is giggling madly in Trish's booth and boggling at her phone. "How on God's Green Earth did you get de la Vega to take his shirt off? Did you set it on fire or something? Was he bobbing for apples in a bucket of tequila?"

Kate nods, smugly satisfied. "I'll be ready for my DMs to explode." It's a little sarcastic, but then again, if the pictures go viral locally, maybe that's what will happen.

August sighs, resigned to telling this story. "There was beer. And tequila. And Itzhak might have tried to insist I call him 'sugar bear'."

"I'm guessing he's not much of one," Trish says, grinning over her shoulder.

August takes out his phone and pulls up a photo. Kate takes one look and snorts. Trish pauses in her drawing, chokes back a laugh. August says, "Sorry man," to his phone, pockets it, lies back so Kate can get him prepped. "Anyways," August continues, "I told him I was the bear at that table," Kate snickers, and August rolls his eyes, "and he challenged me on it, so I told him if he wanted to prove it he was welcome to go shirtless with me before a panel of judges."

"Is that all it really takes to get guys to take off their shirts?" Trish asks, sounding skeptical.

Kate sighs. "Oh girl, you have no idea."

Trish turns her tablet to Eleanor. "Okay. How's this? Don't be afraid to ask for changes. This should look exactly how you want it to."

“August can be incredibly persuasive when he wants to be,” Ellie quips with a grin. “I still can’t believe I missed it. Next time I better be there. Also, how drunk was Itzhak this time, because...that sounds hilarious. Sugar bear indeed.”

She looks at Trish’s rendering and delight lights up her face. “It’s like yo7 hacked into my brain. That is exactly what I want!” She declares.

"Oh I am aware," Kate says as she cleans the spot on August's chest with some alcohol and gets out a razor. August gives her a warning look. Kate laughs, low and voiceless, and gets to shaving. "I was just getting started when I did the ravens, so I've known you...what. Close to twenty years, now." August makes a low sound of confirmation. "I don't do that style much anymore," she adds, for Eleanor's benefit.

Trish, meanwhile, grins, happy she got it on the first go. "Okay, so first thing I'll do is put this onto some special paper. We'll be able to use that to decide exactly where you want it. Then I transfer it on you asa guide, and then I can start. I'll go in phases so if you get to a point where you have to stop it'll still look okay if you need time for a breather." As Trish is saying all of this she's swiping on her tablet, and a small printer at the back of the shop hums to life. She turns in her chair to face Eleanor. "That all sound good?"

And even now Kate is transferring the stencil to August, having finished cleaning him all up. It leaves a blue-purple suggestion of the artwork he's previously shown Eleanor; enough for Kate to work by, but by no means the finished product.

"That sounds good," Eleanor agrees with Trish, as she watches the process being done on August. She smiles at him with true affection and a little bit of wonder at seeing the origin of his new tattoo. She's only heard about the existing ones. This time, she gets to be part of the story of when he got the Fig tattoo.

"So what stories can you tell me about this fiance of mine? I know he had some pretty wild years he's only eluded to," she quips at the women.

"Alrighty, let me go grab the stencil." Trish gets up and fetches the page from the printer; she's managed to it to fit on a single sheet at an angle.

August tilts his head back and smiles at Eleanor. Maybe sensing some of what she's thinking, he explains, "Aleh te'enah. Fig leaf." Then, because he's himself, he adds, "Figs are galls."

Trish stops in the process of trimming the excess paper from around Eleanor's stencil and stares. "They're what?"

Kate in uphased. She murmurs, "Here he goes..." as she covers the newly-transferred stencil with oil.

"Not the ones you get in stores," August assures Trish, who relaxes. "But wild ones are."

Thankfully, Eleanor saves them from an explanation of how figs are galls with her question of stories about August. It's a vastly more welcome topic for Kate, anyways. August covers his face with a hand. "Oh no, don't."

"I don't know many," Trish admits.

"I do," Kate sing-songs. "There was the yacht party on Lake Union--"

August sighs.

"--and that time you were in your boxers on the club stage--"

"That was a favor for a friend who was getting married," he interjects.

"--speaking of which, let's not forget Jill's bachelorette outing."

"No, let's." August isn't blushing, since he doesn't blush. But God how he would be. He casually asks Trish, "Hey do you have a bag I can put over my head?"

Eleanor soaks up the tidbits of tales with a bright grin and eagerly leans in to listen. "Oh yes, let's start with the Lake Union thing. It'll keep me nice and distracted from the fact I'm about to get needles stuck in me!" Oh August, you poor thing. At least you know she loves you no matter what.

"Exactly," Trish says. She gestures at Eleanor's shirt. "Okay, let's figure out where you want to place this, then I can get you cleaned up and the stencil put down." She nods at the accordian door at the booth's entrance. "Want me to close it? It's okay if you do. People can't really see back here but I know how it is."

"Well," Kate says, glancing up from getting her machine ready, "Gus here was a wild child in college. I met him when I put those ravens on his leg."

"That was undergrad," August asides. "Corvallis."

"Mmm and somehow you didn't dial it back one bit in Seattle." August grunts, and Kate grins. She's got her machine prepped and is settling in to start the line work. A few applications, then she pauses. August wrinkles his nose. "Yeah, I'm good." She nods and keeps going.

"Now...was that Nora's yacht? Richard's?"

"Rich."

"Of course."

August shoots Kate a look. She smiles and continues, "Rich had a lot of sugar babies. And he liked to throw big parties on his yacht in the summer. He was from Austin, so he didn't like the cold and wet all the time, liked to soak up the summer sun."

"No," Eleanor murmurs to Trish. "It's ok, I'd rather be able to see August. It'll help." She works her shirt and bra off and sits so the artist can get to her back. She pulls her braid over one shoulder. "Upper left, back of shoulder to cover the scars." They almost look like gunshot wounds, the gore marks of the antlers. But there are no exit wounds on the front.

Eleanor snorts. "Sugar babies? August was someone's sugar baby? Oh my. To have seen that," she sighs wistfully.

Before Kate can out him, August admits, "Iiiiii was a few people's sugar baby." Kate just laughs.

"I've still got pictures, not here but at home."

"Really?"

"Yeah, got a bunch of them scanned. Want me to send 'em?" Kate's expression tightens with hesitation, though her attention remains on tattooing. "You know, since..."

August is quiet a second. "Yeah, actually. That'd be nice."

"Will do." Now she smiles. "I've even got one from the bachelorette party."

"Oh Lord..."

Trish smiles at Eleanor, soft and even a little sad in mutual understanding. She nods, leans in to examine the scars with gloved hands. "Are they sensitive at all?" she asks. "To soaps, or to being touched? I can do like Katie did, on Gus' elk skull. Go around it and up to it, but not covered, if it's too painful.

August watches this negotiation, tense. It's not that he thinks Eleanor is in any danger from Trish or Kate--quite the opposite--but he's on high alert for anything which might upset her.

"No, they aren't very sensitive at all. Kind of dead spaces really," Eleanor admits. Things done to you in the Veil don't always heal up like they would here. No pain in those spots at all. It's creepy. "It's more like a pierced ear than anything. Just...a hole, no pain, no negative sensation, no notification of a rainstorm coming on like my barometer across the hall there." She smiles fondly at August.

She looks utterly amused at his expression. "Oh please, I know you were a man ho in your youth, August. I kind of find it endearing, because it made you who you are today."

August relaxes when Eleanor says that, smiles at her. "Yeah, I can tell by my back what kind of week it's going to be."

Trish mmmmmms. "Got it. In that case..." She holds the stencil up and glances between it and Eleanor's back a handful of times. "Okay, here's a mirror," she leans over and offers Eleanor a plain, black, hand-held mirror, "let's turn you so your back's to the body mirror, and then you can see your back in it with that. I'm going to put it in an initial spot, then you go ahead and guide me."

Kate continues, "Oh he certainly was. Just on the yacht he got a little wild on the champagne."

Sounding wistful, August says, "It was good champagne."

"It was," Kate agrees. "Anyways, he spent half the party in a banana hammock and nothing else."

Trish has to pause in placing Eleanor's stencil to laugh. "Really?"

"Yes, really." August sniffs. "It was a nice day, on a yacht, with good champagne."

"Was it yellow? Because I don't think it should ever be called that unless it's actually yellow. I mean if it was purple it would be an eggplant sling or something, right?" Eleanor quips. As she gets turned, she works on directing the placement for Trish, until it's just right. "So he totally looked like he was still wearing a sweater, didn't he, banana hammock be damned!"

"Egg plant?" Kate rolls her eyes. "Girl I know you're marrying him but that's going to give him an ego the size of California."

August huffs. "It was green," he says, and gets a glint in his eyes. He glances back at Eleanor. "So, you know. Cucumber." Trish laughs.

"Closer to the truth," Kate says, absently, and August snorts.

Trish marks off where to align the sheet, then gets out her rubbing alcohol, shaving cream, and a new disposable razor. "So, this might seem weird--but I have to shave your back. Even peach fuzz can be a problem. So." And then she's at it, first rubbing down Eleanor's back with a sterile gauze pad, and then shaving.

"Shaving Gus' belly was impossible, he had to do it himself," Kate notes.

"You were tickling me."

"More like you're way too sensitive there."

Eleanor snorts at the comments until August mentions the cucumber, then she just goes beet red. Scarlet to her toes. She chokes on her own laughter and has to thump herself in the chest for a moment to get some air. "I'll pay you back for that later, Roen," she threatens.

She wrinkles her nose a little at having to be shaved but nods. "I knew about that going in. I did a lot of research," she tells Trish. Because of course she did.

August grins at Eleanor's reaction. "I'm sure you will," he says, voice low. Well, they do have a shopping trip to undertake; she might very well pay him back tomorrow or later today.

"That's good," Trish says as she shaves and cleans. She sounds, if anything, relieved. "I wish more of my clients did, honestly. You'd be surprised how many come in here without having thought about it beyond what design they want. Which is good, but, it's a big thing to do, even if it's a small tattoo." She's quick and efficient, and in short order Eleanor's back smooth and chilly.

Trish is similarly quick to transfer the stencil, and offers the mirror again so Eleanor can confirm the layout against her scars. "So, unlike Gus there, yours only has a little linework for me to do. The rest is just coloring and shading. But, we'll have to have you adjust how you sit and stand while I work, since it's over your upper and middle back. We have to make sure your skin is smooth and taut. Shouldn't be too hard, your back's in good shape." She gets the chair set up for Eleanor to sit in, reversed so Trish can start at the top, then works on prepping her machine.

Eleanor sits as she's directed, holding her shirt to the front of her body for modesty's sake. "It's so weird to hear everyone calling you Gus," she calls to August with an amused glint in her eyes. "It's like there's two of you, one from Portland and one from Gray Harbor." She's happy her back is in good shape, she'll have to thank the folks at Kelly's Gym for that when they get back.

August mmms in agreement. "I didn't want to be called August after I got back from overseas. Went by Gus mostly, until Seattle."

"Isn't that how it always is?" Kate wonders, sounding thoughtful. "There's Seattle-me, Portland-me, Oakland-me...everyone in Oakland still calls me Kat."

And then there's the name August only lets Eleanor use, which is maybe why he flicks her a brief, fond smile.

"My parents still call me Patty," Trish says on a sigh. "Okay, Eleanor, I'm gonna start with a single line and you tell me how it feels. And any time you need me to stop, just say so."

Kate, meanwhile, is a good third of the way through her linework; it's reasonably intricate, but a smaller piece.

"I mostly just get Ellie, or Eleanor. Though in middle school I got Elle a lot thanks to Legally Blonde coming out," she notes with a chuckle. "Ironic, since I didn't have blonde hair I guess, but sorta appropriate because I had good grades." She holds still, trying not to tense up too badly, in anticipation of the tattoo needling getting started. The brief smile from August at his other name gets one in return, and gives her a few butterflies in her stomach. It's that feeling of I knew you, before Gus was a thing.

"Elle, huh?" August tries it out, shrugs. "I think I like Ellie better." Another smile, then he glances away, almost shy, or maybe embarrassed. He'd been a cranky bastard in that Dream they shared.

Kate mutters, "God you two are adorable." August chuckles. "I expect wedding pictures, by the way, don't you dare withhold."

"I won't, I won't..."

Meanwhile, Trish has fired up her machine. The sound is a loud persistent buzz, not unlike an electric toothbrush. "The good news is, except for the spine itself, the back is usually a moderate to low pain area." She leans in, gently touches Eleanor's back with one gloved hand. "Here we go, first line."

It's a bit like a cat scratch, or similar; a sharp, dragging pain, with a hum thanks to the machine, but it's not a deep pain either. August is tense again, watching Eleanor like a hawk.

Eleanor blushes some more at the mention of their adorableness and wedding pictures. "I like Ellie better too," she admits. "Elle sounds like I'd be working for Hyacinth and wearing super fashionista attire." She chuckles, then chews her lip a little as Trish warns her about beginning. It's a small adjustment, but it's really not that bad. Thanks to being yanked into Dreams so much, her pain tolerance is pretty high these days. "That's fine, doesn't hurt too badly," she assures the artist, and August, with a smile.

"Great." Trish keeps at it. "There's really not much linework to do, then we're just shading and coloring. I'll warn you when I'm coming to to the spine, that'll be more sensitive."

Kate makes a low noise. "See? She's doing fine. Now relax."

August relaxes, more from Eleanor's reassurances than from Kate's order. "Yeah yeah."

Trish switches to her shading machine fairly quickly, which is much less painful than the one she was using for linework. She pauses now and then to show Eleanor the progress, and ask for any adjustments.

It's a good three hours and change of this, though August's tattoo only takes half that, and then Kate does some touch-up on his back, which lets him sit facing Eleanor. He grimaces now and then when Kate goes over the spinal scar, but otherwise weathers it just fine.

And once they're both done, they get bandaged up, packets explaining aftercare, and off they go, to be sore and newly artful at a casual dinner with August's parents. "How you doing?" he asks on the way to the restaurant, a little El Salvadorean hole in the wall. "Pain level okay?"

"Stings some, but seriously, do you know how many times I've been burned with hot coffee or steamed milk? This is nothing compared to that," Eleanor says reassuringly. Baristas get those heat injuries a lot. "Just don't go patting me on the back for a while and it's all good." She's already read the packet they were given a half dozen times to make sure she hasn't missed anything about the aftercare. "Do you still have the cucumber slingshot?" she asks, with an impish grin. Humor to cover her usual nerves about interacting with his family. Irrational, but it's just Ellie.

August reaches out to take her hand and kiss it while they're stopped at at light. "Mmm, yeah I guess you've got your fair share of those, don't you."

He arches an eyebrow at the question. "I might." August never throws away clothes, so that's a yes. "Why, are you hoping for a private encore?"

The restaurant is on the bottom of a steep hill, in a line of little townhome-style shops. Berta's Kitchen the sign declares in blue and black; the restaurant front is painted dark red, with white and black trim. August is able to finagle a parking spot the next block over.

"I am definitely hoping for a private encore. I contracted someone to put in a hot tub in my back yard. It goes in next week," Eleanor announces happily. Something to help him with his aches and pains. Something to help her just relax once in a while. "And I hired a company to come out and do maintenance and cleaning regularly."

She checks her hair in the mirror, still in that single braid, and puts on a little lipstick. "Do I look all right? I don't look a mess do I?" she asks, worried.

August blinks in surprise, smiles. "Oh hon. That'll be pretty great, honestly." He leans in for a quick kiss. "You look fine. Dad worked the docks for over forty years, mom was a nurse for that long. Trust me, they're never going to think you look anything short of amazing." He brushes a lock of hair back from her face. "I am the luckiest man alive. Don't think they and I don't know it."

There is that blush again. "That doesn't mean I still shouldn't try to impress them. They are awesome humans. I am marrying their only son. I need to be my best!" She grins and gets out of the car, carrying her crossbody bag in one hand instead of wearing it because...well...fresh tattoo.

"Trust me, this is fine. More than fine." August plants another kiss on her temple, then they're off to the restaurant, where his parents are there in the window at a table, waving. Ilana is bundled up against the cold spring damp in a lovely, color block shawl of black, red, and gray; Ben is dressed more like his son in a blue, white, and black flannel jacket over a black shirt.

When they come inside an older Latina woman, probably in her sixities, waves a hello to August, who waves back. "That's Berta, this place is hers," he asides. It's a cozy interior, with older, fifties chrome tables, worn but sturdy and comfortable chairs, and a short bar in one corner. Lovely woodblock art in vibrant colors adorns the walls, depicting what appear to be a number of events and folktales.

"Eleanor, so good to see you," Ilana says, offering her arms for a hug while Ben grabs August.

Eleanor moves into Ilana's hug gingerly, with a gentle warning,."Just mind the left side of my back. I finally broke down and had a tattoo done over my scars," she explains. "Reclaiming them for something beautiful felt right." She gives August's mother a warm, genuine smile. "It's so good to see you both again. Thankgsiving was so nice."

"Oh! You did?" Ilana is accordingly quite careful with the hug. "Well I know it'll be all bandaged up but once it's not if you feel comfortable showing me I'd love to see it."

August gives a similar warning to his dad, who just laughs. "You're going to be all covered under your clothes before too long," Ben says. He's as careful with Eleanor as Ilana was. "Well thank you, Eleanor, it was wonderful to have you both there."

They get settled in at the table, and the waiter comes by for drink orders (horchata for August and Ben, since they're driving; Ilana gets herself a sangria). Ilana offers August a small, brown paper handle bag. "I believe you requested I fetch this," she says. August accepts it, glances inside, nods. They exchange a sort of clandestine look that has Ben eyeing them both.

"That doesn't seem shady at all you two," he mutters around a sip of his drink.

Eleanor hugs Ben warmly with a smile for the man. "August is a work of art. He choose his ink well," she says with a chuckle. She settles into a chair and also orders a horchata because her research told her it's advisable not to drink alcohol for 72 hours after getting a tattoo. She sits forward on the edge of her seat, because sitting back against the chair would suck.

She watches the exchange between mother and son with a raised brow, and exchanges her own look with Ben. She clearly has no idea what's going on either. "Not shady at all," she echoes the older man. "What do you suggest I order to eat?" she asks August's dad, because clearly there is something going on they've been left out of the loop on, and they need to band together.

"It's just a little something he asked me to bring," Ilana says, prim and absolutely revealing nothing. August sets the bag under his chair with the look of someone determined not to forget it. Ilana is giving her son a warm if hooded look, and August is looking...not nervous, per se. But fidgety.

Like Ilana hasn't spoken in their defense, Ben says, "So, I'm not sure if you've had El Salvadorian, but a coworker from my years at the port, Berta is his aunt. They specialize in pupusas, those are stuffed flatbreads." He opens his menu, which is a simple, card stock affair, held together at the center with twine, each double-sided with one face in English and one in Spanish. There are pictures seated in little scrapbooking photo frames of many items, including the one Ben has indicated. "Gus here can eat a good three or four of them on a good day. I usually just need one, myself."

"Those days are long behind me, dad," August says, sounding put out. Ilana laughs and pats his hand.

"You're not that much less active than you were twenty years ago, sweetheart."

August makes a face. "Just for that, I'm getting three."

"There's my boy," Ben says, laughing. "There's also fried yucca, which is quite tasty, and they also do a sort of submarine sandwich. They eat a fair amount of turkey, interestingly. Berta also has carne asada and a few other items, but the pupusas are her specialty, and that's where I'd recommend you start." He taps the top of the second page, which has a listing of the fillings available, combinations with rice and beans, and so on.

Eleanor makes an ooh sound at the explanation of the pupusas. She peruses the menu and decides to order a chicken and cheese one, and a pork one, along with fried yucca, and beans on the side. "It all sounds delicious. I wish we had some more variety in Gray Harbor but, well, it's a really small town. Kind of surprised at how much we do have." Like a French Patisserie. "Last time we were up here I had to buy an extra suitcase for the trip home. We went to Powell's," she explains with a grin.

The waitress takes their orders and heads back behind the counter. "Small town life," Ben laments. "But," he gives August a sidelong glance, "I know there's plenty of benefits to it over a larger city, so."

August licks his lips and nods. "Plenty," he confirms, and sips from his horchata. Ilana reaches out and takes one of his hands, and August half-smiles at her. "Plan on heading there again?" she asks Eleanor, smiling. "I know you're down here for a new car as well. A busy shopping trip, all in all."

Is there a lilt in her tone which says she's aware that's not all they're down here for? There might be. She spares Eleanor the briefest look, the kind women exchange at tables with men. Oh yes--August has definitely talked to her about That.

"Oh, I'm not sure if we're heading to Powell's. The major reason for the trip is to get a new vehicle for August. We might need to do the same for me by summer. My ancient Element is well past its prime. I'll be hard pressed to find another vehicle that utilitarian. You could literally hose down the interior, it was all waterproofed, so if you went to a beach and got sand in it, or mud, or spilled a giant container of coffee you were transporting for catering, cleanup was easy."

The look exchanged with Ilana is met with a bashful grin. Yes, hunting for wedding locales is on the agenda.

"We'll see." August gives Eleanor a hopeful look. "Depending on how it goes at the dealership, we might have time." Okay, he may be dreaming. But still! It's hard to come with a few miles of Powell's and not stop by for an hour...or four...

Been scratches his beard, which is less gray than his own son's. "Mmmm yes those were fun little cars, weren't they? Tobias had one some time ago, though now they have an SUV of some sort. Better for the girls as they get bigger, and all that."

Dinner arrives promptly; as August had promised on the drive down it's all excellent and filling. He's gotten a trio of pupusas, one in particular with loroco. ("I wonder if I could get this to grow in Gray Harbor," he murmurs between bites.) They discuss a few odds and ends, like Eliza's thoughts on college (she wants to take a year off and then go, rather than rush into it; that or do two part time years, taking it slow), Rachel considering something like Juliard (if she can get in...), alternative cars for Eleanor.

Eleanor eats heartily. She has never been shy about eating, especially when the food is that good. She tells them about how her business is going, and about the hot tub getting installed next week. She relaxes the more the chatting goes on. She clearly adores both of August's parents. As for alternative cars, she's likely looking at some Jeeps, better for the unpredictable weather in Gray Harbor, and for getting out to August's cabin.

Ilana and Ben are constantly interested in Eleanor's business, and the history of Gray Harbor. They're not put off by the macabre, eerie and even gorey nature of it; they find some of the tales fascinating, in fact. Well, they did raise their children in a trailer park in a not-fantastic part of town, so perhaps that's related. Eleanor's life in Gray Harbor isn't odd or creepy to them, merely storied.

"Are you at the bed and breakfast again?" Ilana asks as they gather for hugs outside the restaurant. (Careful hugs, mindful of new tattoos.)

August says, "One of them." Not the one he and Eleanor were in, because as he was going to book, he realized he couldn't wake up in the room again. Not after last time. So the neighboring place was where they'd be; an equally quaint little appointment.

"Well. Send photos of the car once you've got it," Ben says.

"And anything else that catches your eye," Ilana asks, completely innocent.

Eleanor exchanges another look with Ben. It is clear August and his mother are up to something. "I'm going to pretend for once in my life not to be terribly suspicious about all the conspiratorial exchanges going on at this table," she notes to the other two with a chuckle. She hugs both his parents warmly,.

Ilana laughs as she embraces Eleanor. "Ah don't mind us. It's just like when Gus was young and coming back with yet another wild story in his journal. They became our inside jokes."

"Yes, yes, all in good fun, I'm sure," Ben grumbles. "It was very good to see you two." He gives Eleanor a light kiss on the cheek. "Don't get lost in Powell's."

"No promises," August says. In one hand is the bag, in the other is Eleanor's.

He refuses to let her see what's in it on the way back to the car, or on the drive to the B&B. "It's a surprise," is all he'll say.

"Not giving all the information to a conspiracy theorist? You are living dangerously, AJ," Eleanor quips, but she doesn't press beyond that. Her latest bit of calming is to rub the little Veil rock she keeps on her much of the time, in a coat pocket. She handles a few texts from her shop managers en route, just them checking in with the 'all is ok' statuses. "God I love having competent employees." Then they get to the B&B.

"Hon, I live in Gray Harbor on purpose. Of course I love living dangerously." There's a glint in August's eyes when he says that, and he cuts her a sly glance when they're paused at a light. He'd been checking his texts at dinner, and swiping responses, most of them relating to his new career in getting people to take their shirts off. "I honestly consider selling a controlling interest in the business to Cy sometimes, and just writing," he says. "He doesn't need me there. But I'd get bored if I didn't get to harass our employees."

The sister B&B to the one they stayed in last time isn't identical; the owners seem to have gone out of their way to make it a different experience. The house is old, a Dutch Colonial not unlike Hannah's house, but significantly larger and plainly intended as a house for a large family. They're in one of the two master suites, so there's an attached bathroom with a full soaking tub, a lovely, soft King bed, and a fainting couch with matching armchair facing a lovely gas fireplace.

August stows their luggage in a convenient corner, then flops onto the bed on his bag, the small bag at his chest. "Whew. Busy day." Busy day driving, then getting tattooed, then having dinner. "So. How badly do you want to know what's in this."

Eleanor sets her toiletries bag in the bathroom and she checks their view, and the fireplace out before she flops on the bed beside August. "Oh not at all. I totally don't care. Not one bit. Nope, uhn uhn. No interest whatsoever," she drawls sarcastically before turning her head to look at him. "What do you THINK? I'm dying of 'not knowing' over here."

August grins, clearly weighing the pros and cons of making Eleanor wait a little longer. Pros: she gets mad, which only makes her more beautiful, and maybe attacks him. That'd be pretty amazing. Cons: she gets mad enough to take it from him using her movement Art--she could, she's stronger than him with that--then locks him out of the room and opens it herself.

He sighs, still grinning like an idiot, sits up and pats the bed next to him. "C'mere," he says.

Ellie sits up and scoots over to the spot August pats, one brow arched and her green eyes glittering with curiosity. "You're grinning like an idiot," she points out helpfully. "It's kind of adorable."

August settles in close to Eleanor when she agrees to sit next to him. No attacking just yet. "Gotta be honest, I feel a little like one," he admits. She can feel and see his hand tremble just a bit as pulls out a small, black, velvet box from the bag. The velvet's lost some of its luster and been rubbed down in a few places, suggesting the box is fairly old, though it's perfectly clean. He pops it open, revealing a ring inside: white gold, antiqed to emphasize the band of twined branches and leaves, with a rough, unpolished, green gemstone of some sort seated at the center.

Eleanor's eyes go wide at the sight of the box, and wider still at seeing its contents. "Oh my God, August, that is gorgeous. Is that an actual uncut emerald?' she asks, letting her gaze move over every detail of the ring. The leaves and branches seem to scream the essence of the man beside her.

"Close," August says, smiling. "It's a sapphire. But green ones aren't really common." He takes the ring out, turns it this way and that. Despite the rough surface the gem still catches the light of the gold quite handily. "This was my maternal grandmother's. Rocza Paradiso. Her fiance, Michael di Moise, had it made for her. She had green eyes, so he picked a sapphire instead of a diamond. She liked to garden, my mom said, was always trying to grow things." He takes one of Eleanor's hands and places the ring in it, closes her fingers around it.

Eleanor's green eyes become as glittery as the uncut sapphire as they well with tears. As her hand is closed around it, she whispers, "Oh August," and sets her free hand against his bearded cheek. "This means so much to me. I have no words." There are the happy tears. A family heirloom, something passed down through the generations, making her truly family now, more than any singing, glimmer-induced proposal could.

August reaches up to brush away Eleanor's tears. "That's how it's supposed to be done, in a Jewish marriage. I give you a ring that's mine, to prove I'm serious about making a home and a family with you. And I wasn't raised with religion, but I like that part." His own eyes a overly bright, but he's not crying just yet.

He ducks his head, studies his hands covering hers for a time, runs a thumb over the back of her hand. "I feel like you should get to pick your own engagement ring. We'll find a ringmaker whose style you like and you can get something you want. Not something I guessed at in a store, or that you settled for." He looks her in the eyes now. "But that might take a little while, and I wanted to give you something to wear right now, something from my family."

He eases off the bed, sinks to his knees, sits back on his heels. "I want to be your husband. If you have kids I want to be their father." He shakes his head. "Or, if you don't want kids, that's okay too. Either way, I want to be with you, by your side, through whatever happens. Good and bad. And given what we are," Artists, he means, people with Glimmer, "I figure there's going to be plenty of rough times. But I think we can make a lot of good ones too." He smiles. "Interested?"

Eleanor's expression is one of pure joy, teary, giddy, joy. She is clearly so very touched by this gesture from him, and she nods her head emphatically while she works on regaining her voice. "Yes, yes August Roen, I want to be your wife, the mother of our children, your partner in this world and the one on the Other Side. I love you." She slides the ring onto her finger.

Not that he'd expected a no, but August still lets out a breath of relief at Eleanor's yes. She's barely got the ring on before he's getting up and taking her face in his hands and kissing her, fierce and demanding. He works his way down her neck to the hollow of her throat. "I know we have to be careful with your back, but I figure we can sort that," he says against her skin. He nips her gently. "Take me to bed, Ellie."

Eleanor returns the kisses and she laughs happily at the notation of minding her back. She draws August to her with a happy sound. Car shopping be damned, they aren't leaving this room for a while.