Log: Company, II
Loe resurfaces, not out so far that she can't touch, but enough that her shoulder are submurged by the crests of the calm waves. She smooths water and hair back from her face, dabbing a knuckle in her eye as she blinks back to see where Halsten has ended up. And yes, she also checks to see where Ch'son is as he continues his job down the beach. The Weyrleader himself might be gone, but he has left a spy behind. One she's just going to try to ignore. Maybe. If that's polite. Unsure, she flicks a quick look toward the dragon and a smile before she swims a little further away from him.
It wouldn't have to be Taineth for Hal to be fairly well interested in giving the dragon a wide berth. He heads into the water slower than she, not diving but pressing against those waves breaking inwards until he's deep enough to duck down under a wave and come up in a way that in many ways mimicks her own--hands pushing the water off his face. "You do, on occasion, have some good ideas," he offers up to Loe.
"Constantly," Loe answers, already smiling, watching as he does his own water-wiping, though her eyes drift up to his hair. She's never seen it wet before. "I don't think Ch'son quite approves. I don't think you're inclined to make it any easier on him." She half-swims, half-walks closer, licking a bit of the salt water from her lips. "When's the last time you swam?" she wonders. "Did you forget how good it is?" There's a smirk there, ready, already teasing him.
"Should I make it easier on him?" Asked, eyes opened a bit wider, like it's a serious question, so very earnest, although the look is sustainable for only a moment. He does one scissor-kicking sidestroke to come over next to her at last. His hair is short enough not to go far, wet, although there might just be a hint of a wave in it now that isn't there ordinarily. "It's been a bit," then, the answer to one of those questions. "But I haven't forgotten." The other.
The honesty of his question seems to surprise her. Or at least, there's a blink, a blank beat before that knowing smile starts to return, before the toying light dances in her eyes again. "Is there any reason to make it harder?" Loe lets her arms make wide passes through the water, as much just to feel it around her as to balance herself through the meek waves. Her hair does look quite different wet, darker, close to her head, hanging limply around her shoulders. "How's business?"
"I can think of a few." Jealousy is a reason, isn't it? Rampant, burning, raging jealousy. That has been carefully tamped back to the point where, hopefully, it's not really showing. Much. Which is probably rather more than it's ever been visible before, at least. Which may be part of why Hal still keeps a little bit of distance between them in the water, no contact even with those wide-held arms. "Business is extremely good. Hopping. I'd be feeling pretty flush, but I've put most of it back into orders for supplies."
"Like what?" Because either jealously doesn't actually come to her mind or she doesn't see the point of it. Thankfully, she doesn't make any move to close the distance between them either. Not for the moment. Instead she just enjoys playing with the water, swirling invisible currents back and forth. "Anyway, its your own neck. There's only so much I do to keep him from killing you if you push his buttons." But she smiles sweetly as she says it and she lifts her fingers to the surface to flick a light spray of water at him. "What did you order?"
A faint smile, just visible in the wan light. "He didn't hit me this time, did he? He just went on his merry way. You're the one telling me to strip while he's standing here." And if she's going to splash him a bit, Hal can go right ahead and sweep his own hand against the water to splash her right back. "Couple dozen metal boxes, the right size for cigarettes. Couple dozen pipes. Shaving brushes, mugs--thinking of getting some better soap but haven't found it at a decent price, yet."
"I didn't say there was anything wrong with -me- giving him a hard time. I can always make it better later." Loe lifts a brow at him, her little smirk quiet, but still self satisfied. What was that about giving people a hard time? At least he gets his splash in, enough for her to flinch and put her hands up to block the spray while she laughs. And she does back up a little more, trying to get out of range. But she's pleased with his reports of ordered supplies. "That's my boy," she praises. "What about tonics for afterwards? My father always used one that smelled kind of like... wood." She blinks now, as if she's just realized that's what the smell was and finds that whole thing strange.
"You're going to make it better later if he seriously damages me for taking my clothes off in your presence? Do you promise?" Hal manages to sound extremely dubious--and he also manages to splash after her again, although not very effectively. All of it is so swiftly forgotten for that hint of praise. He doesn't just smile. He beams. "Well, yes... well. I have to find someone who's selling something like that, that's any good. It will take some time to find some of these things. But I'm working on it. I really am."
"If I give him a hard time, then I know I can make it up to him," Loe corrects. "That's what I meant. He's not going to damage you for taking your pants off. But if you're worried, I can make sure." She flashes him another sweet smile, just in time for him to splash at her again. That it doesn't reach makes her laugh. When he beams at her praise, her grin lights up, tickled by the combination of business talk and his apparent attentiveness. "I believe you are. That girl who used to sell perfume, she might have some contacts. Perfume, soaps, tonics... it all seems like similar business to me."
Minor protest: "I'm not worried. I'm just checking." Halsten this time paddles a bit closer to splash again, and this time there's no missing, although it's still light, no serious torrent of water headed in her direction. "The girl--Evaly. Yes, I suppose she might. I don't know if she's ever had soap, but at least maybe she'd know someone who does. D'you think that's what I'm missing? Maybe... women would like me better if I smelled more... whatever." Like he has some serious trouble with how much women like him now.
The next splash has Loe wiping her face again. There's a bit less laughing and a bit more moving away. "You like that, don't you. Splashing me." Her eyes, narrow, though that might be the water dripping from her lashes. She splashing him back, weakly, against little more than a flick of water at him from her fingertips. "Do you need women to like you better? I wasn't aware there was a shortage. Maybe it's the liquor. I hear it can affect performance." She gasps at him for her own implication, and laughs too. Oh snap.
"What, and getting you wet?" Not supposed to be trying, but you know, sometimes those innuendos just happen. "I suppose I do." Halsten will be well-behaved after that, though, really, kicking feet up for a moment to try to float on his back over a series of small waves. "Performance isn't an issue. I just have to keep my game up, you know? Otherwise some of them might start finding someone else more attractive, and then where would I be?"
Loe rolls her eyes, whether or not she recognizes the innuendo or just takes it as making the point that she is already in the water, so what's a little more water going to matter. She knuckles an eye again, blinking away whatever splash droplets have gotten in. "So you think women only sleep with the guy the find -most- attractive?" But she doesn't seem to really expect an answer. She just shakes head. "I doubt you need any help."
Finally, a good sustained float, arms out, the waves low enough not to go knocking Hal back forward again, buoyant for a moment in the salt water. "In any given moment, certainly," he offers up, though his ears are underwater so chances are good he can barely even hear his own voice. In a different place and time, this might have been the point for a comment about how, indeed, not all women want him, and what a problem this is--a place and time before he agreed not to say stuff like that anymore. "I suppose I don't." Arms moving to pull him upright again, treading water for a moment before his feet find purchase again in the sand below, deeper than he started out.
"Do you only go for the most attractive woman in the room? Whoever is the prettiest or the sexiest?" Now it's Loe's turn to cast a dubious look at her companion, completely ignore the toes that pop up about a length's distance in front of her. Just one set of toes, randomly breaching the surface and sinking down again. "Is that the only criteria?"
Toes like that are a temptation, in this watery world away from shore, to be idly batted at as though Hal might try to catch them if they would only stay sufficiently still. "Shouldn't sex appeal be the primary criteria, in someone to take to bed? Maybe not the only, but certainly the most significant." This, now, more thoughtful, not a hint of flirting in it. Really considering that fact. "Within bounds of attainability."
"So, if a girl really seemed to like you," Loe supposes, smiling for his attempt at her toes and letting them pop up again and wiggle at the trader. "And if the girl was not particularly sexy, but not unpleasant looking, and she wanted you and wanted to go to bed with you. Would you pass her over for some prettier girl? Someone with bigger boobs or longer legs or whatever it is that you like?"
One more deliberately-bad attempt at her toes, but Hal's tone is still more philosophical than playful. "Sex appeal--attraction--is not purely a function of breast size, or legs, or whatever. If she had nothing but the wanting, not the way she moved or smelled or talked or anything..." Pause. More of a smile. "That might still be enough, for once," he finally admits. "It's nice to be wanted. So that's an appeal of its own, I guess. But easier to hurt them, too."
"All right," Loe says, nodding to his decision. She switches which toes pop out of the water, they're a little nearer to him this time, but she's back to paying them no mind. "So, let's say there's a pretty girl. Physically appealing, sweet, interesting, funny. She definitely wants you. Would you drop her for a prettier girl? A girl who has plenty of suitors? A girl who isn't a sure thing? Or would you look at that prettier girl, enjoy the view, enjoy the idea, and still go to bed with the first girl?" With a flick of her eyes toward the sky, the darkness and stars and moonlight, Loe tries to remember where she was going. "The point is... just because a guy is gorgeous, doesn't mean he's the only guy girls would want. That's not all women want, not even in a casual affair. Sometimes maybe, but as a rule..." She gives a shrug. "That's how it seems to me."
"I didn't say I wanted to be more gorgeous. I said I wanted to be more attractive." But this distinction is, in the end, a minor one, and Hal waves it away, runs wet hands back over his hair to push it back. "If your comfort is that there are a myriad of women in the world who'll settle for me the same way I'll settle for them, I'm not sure you're very good at being comforting." But, there, he finally reaches for her foot, fingertips brushing the tips of her toes, good-humored.
"Well, maybe the trouble is that you consider it settling. Why is it not just good decision making? Just because someone is prettier, sexier, more appealing, doesn't necessarily mean that the sex will be better or that you'll have a better time. That you'll be happier or more satisfied after spending time with them." When Hal's fingertips finish their brush of her toes, that foot sinks into the dark water again and Loe reaches out her hand to see if she can find his in the water. There doesn't seem to be any attempt to grab for him, rather just to brush her fingers against his, to toy and tease them. "But then, you also need to avoid being happy or satisfied, don't you."
Hal's fingers clasp, there, almost catching hers, but there's another miss, and then he's taking a few slow steps through the water, in just a bit shallower, to where it's closer to waist-deep. "I am happy, in my fashion. But when you can't have what you really want so you take something else instead--well, of course that's settling. I do believe I'm going to start resembling a dried fruit any moment here." Holding up his hand, which doesn't *really* very closely resemble a prune by any stretch. "Shall we go in?"
"Weakling," Loe chides playfully when he start to head in to shore, going on about pruning. But she does follow, turning toward the beach and continuing to half walk, half swim until it's just silly to bother with the swimming part and that standing up straight has her largely out of the water. And then a question comes, a thoughtful question. "What did you used to want?"
Halsten's progress out of the water may be a bit slower, but she's got a towel; he doesn't. No point in rushing over much for that last bit from hip-deep to wading in the wave-foam, when he's mostly going to have to drip-dry for a bit anyway. "What, when? When I was five, I wanted a drum more than anything in the whole world." It's a delaying tactic; he knows full well that's not what she's talking about. "Then I wanted to grow up, get away." Maybe it's the dark that lets him say that, the cool of breeze, the sheen of wet skin under the moon--though he seems to be not looking at her overmuch. "Find a place where I could forget everything. Little corner of oblivion. Do all right, most nights."
Drum. Loe shoots him a look for going back that far, to childhood wishes. But at least he continues and eventually seems to be saying something a bit more relevant. She doesn't hurry to the beach, but then she's not naked either, the little cami and underwear might not be much, but they're something. And she nonchalantly makes sure the latter isn't clinging too unfortunately. "You want to forget everything." She reaches the sand, trudges up the beach, as the place they get out is not exactly the place they got in. She looks to see if he's walking with her. "And if you had everything you wanted? What would you want then?"
Something, but for someone who is supposed to be cultivating an air of disinterest in her, her lack of real clothing is certainly a complicating factor. As are the questions. Hal walks a little behind her, keeping up, feet progressively more sandy as they go, but at least the rest of him is a bit more dry. "What would I--oh, Loe." One deep breath. "I think that's not a good subject for conversation," more briskly, although something in it wavers.
"Hal," Loe says, bowing her head as they walk toward the rock where her towel is waiting. Her hands come up to twist at her hair, wringing water down her back while she shakes her head. "I shouldn't have asked. I'm sorry. I should have known you'd take it... like that." Reaching her the rock, she pulls up the towel and gives it a shake before starting to rub it over her to dry. There's now wrapping and snuggling in it. The night air is too comfortable for that.
"Yeah, well." Still brisk. Moving on! Away from anything that should ever elicit that sort of tone of apology. At the rock, Hal sits down. Even if he is still damp, at least he can get partially dressed again. A barrier--armor over that moment of vulnerability. If slightly damp armor. "I should have another answer. I'm aware of that. I just... don't. But like I said, I do all right. I'm not complaining." Regaining composure as he gets his pants on, and shirt. The shoes will wait, it's one thign to get dressed while damp, it's another to try to put socks onto sandy feet.
It might not be often that Loe doesn't come up with something to say, a question to ask, one to pry at tender spots or deftly change the subject. But now she doesn't seem to have anything to say. She towels her hair dry, until it's a wild mass hanging about her face, and then she sits beside him on the rock, towel in her lap, shoulder close enough to touch him.
Silences can be so many uncomfortable things, but for Hal, this one doesn't seem so much so. He leans towards her, just enough to make that contact with her shoulder. A tilt of the head, as though at first he might rest it against her shoulder there, but it doesn't go quite so far as that. For one thing, his shoulder just sits a little too far above hers, and all that shifting seems like too much movement. "I like your hair like that," offered almost shyly, as he sits next to her.
He doesn't go so far as to rest his head, but Loe does. Without a glance toward him, with hestitation, she just leans her head against his shoulder, no care for the wet tangled hair that might soak his shirt. "A crazy, wild mess?" she returns, not shy but quiet, almost like the silence accepts only gentle interruptions.
The shirt was hardly bone dry to start with, and it's not like Halsten's likely to complain at this point. With her like that, it's so easy to turn his head so that his face is pretty much in her hair, mouth at her temple. "It's good to be a crazy, wild mess sometimes," he observes. Just loud enough over the surf. "I think." One hand is held, palm up and fingers slightly curled, between them; it's an offer, not an insistence.
Loe doesn't need any insistence. Her touch, all cool from the seawater, a little damp yet, slips easily down the inside of his arm to rest in his hand. It's not hurried, nor slow and cautious, but rather a casual motion. She lets the quiet stretch on a bit, just her hand in his, his face in her hair. Until, without moving, she says, "I should be getting back."
"You--" The pronoun itself cut off with a harsh breath inwards, Hal may have even gone so far as to actually bite his tongue, there. To cut short the automatic offer. Easy enough to imagine what it would have been: You could come home with me. Or at least: You could stay a little longer. But he said he was trying not to try. And he is. "It is," pronouncing the words very carefully now, "getting kind of late." His fingers squeeze around hers. Whatever he's trying, it does not go so far as being willing to be the one to disengage.
Maybe she just ignore him, ignore his slip, ignores the way she can probably feel him catch himself beside her. She just stays with her head on his shoulder, her hand now caught in his fingers, not trying to slip it free. Her fingers close against his return, just gentle, no cling or claim. "It's a bit of a walk back," she points out. And then, like she can just hear him suggesting she cut the walk short by way of his tent, she warns him. "Don't."
That last warning is what finally gets Halsten to straighten, his fingers to lose their clasp on hers. "I'm not, Loe. I'm not." Hal takes a few deep breaths, deliberate--in through the nose, out through the mouth. "I think... I might stay a little longer. You can find your own way back, can't you? You don't really need me." His free hand brushes some of the sand off one of his feet, but there's no move to put his shoes back on. "It was nice to see you. Thank you. For letting me come with you."
It's hard to tell if she's just straightening when he does, lifting her head from his shoulder, taking her hand back, or if she stiffens. Without a word she stands up, tossing the towel down where she sat, taking up her skirt and slipping it on over her head, tending the drawstring with her back to the trader, her head down. She pauses after, just looking at the sand and thinking. And then she turns back to him, a hand reaching to take him by the jaw, fingers on one cheek, thumb on the other, so she can stare down at him without any change that she won't have his full attention.
Obliging soul that Halsten not-so-secretly is, no, there is no chance of her not having his full attention. There wasn't much chance of it even without that gesture. At first, it's as though he thinks he's supposed to come up with something to say, there, lips working to find their way around some word--before they give up entirely, and all he can do is look back at her with wide eyes.
There's little explanation in her expression, no hard anger to motivate this position, no pleading in her eyes. There is just steadiness, a calm sheild. "Do you want me, Halsten?" Loe asks him quietly, as if she doesn't know the answer. "Do you want me?" She doesn't let him go, but at least the web of her thumb is at his chin, so he should be able to speak even as she holds him there.
"Yes," a whisper, air barely passing lips. There went all that resolve. Right out the window--well, okay, no windows. Right, then, on the breeze out to the sea, drowned among the waves. "Yes," again, and Hal finds enough voice to at least make it audible. "I do. Want you. However I have to settle... I will always want you." At which point he finally closes his eyes, face almost a grimace, puts a hand up but doesn't actually touch his fingers to her arm. Anticipating in a way that holds more dread than hope.
His answer, expected as it might have been, still makes Loe draw in a long slow breath. It would probably be completely unnoticeable if she didn't have all of his attention, if she hadn't demanded it. "Settling," she repeats. "Why do you feel so sorry for yourself? Am I supposed to take pity on you? Is that what you want?" Her lashes start to narrow and her little hand slowly slips from his jaw, fingers drawing towards his chin.
More flustered, now, but still Hal can't exactly look away--even though it would take so little effort to pull away from her. "If you don't want me, I don't want your pity, no. I don't expect you to do anything. You asked. I told you. You didn't have to ask." His hand finally drops back down again, and his tongue runs over his lips as though his mouth is suddenly dry where it wasn't a second ago. "I'm not sorry. This... is the best my life has ever been. Whatever it is. Can I still be allowed this much? The wanting?"
It's all the same noise, the same things she expects him to say. At least at first. Her eyes, hunting, are quick see that pass of his tongue, and just as quick to lift to meet his gaze again. Her fingertips still linger on his jaw, just beside his chin, not quite letting him off the hook. But Hal keeps talking. And something he says dulls the edge of her gaze, softens her exhale. Her touch finally drops from his face and she stares at him, a blink of surprise plainly there before her mouth starts to curve into its usual smirk. "Only if you enjoy it," she decides. And there might be a bit of a question in there, like she wonder if he really does or not.
"So long as you're happy with who you're with." And if Hal's eyes do go out, seeking that place where a dragon was, earlier--it's only a glance. Her smirking does seem to make it more difficult for him to look at her, in the absence of having to meet her gaze. Instead, he looks down, keeps brushing fine black sand from where it clings to one ankle. Which does not stop him smiling, something small and private. Then he straightens, sits back, actually lays back on the stone, folding his hands across his stomach, looking up at that sky full of stars. "Thank you."
Loe blinks at him again, like she can't quite fathom what he's talking about. It twists her smile to a more baffled expression, until it wanes away altogether and she follow his glance to the sea and back at the trader. He might start smiling now, lounging about like he's suddenly free of all troubles, but Loe is looking decidedly less pleased. "Nevermind." She takes up her towl, tossing it over her shoulder, and bends to retrieve her shoes from the sand. "Good night, Hal."
Difficult, to remain untroubled when she so clearly suddenly is, and Hal pushes back up on an elbow to frown at her. "Loe--are you all right? What--I didn't mean--" Something, not even totally clear on what it was he wasn't supposed to mean, but at least now he's sitting back up again, losing that short-lived peace. "I mean--" Still no way to actually finish that sentence. He shakes his head instead. "Good night," finally.
"Just..." Loe's ready to answer him, to respond to the mysterious things he didn't mean or the things he did mean. She draws in a breath like there's a whole tirade ready to come, but instead there's just a long, slow exhale. She's thinking, hard, hurried thinking, as she watches his confused face and ultimately his forfeit. Finally, she asks. "What did you mean? 'This is the best my life has ever been'."
Leaning forward, now, Hal's hands clasp between his knees, and he looks up at her once, and then down at them. "You ask these questions," he says after a moment, in lieu of starting out with something in the way of a real answer, "and I don't think you actually want to know the answer. You never like the answer. The answer always makes you upset." Which doesn't stop him from going on: "I mean, when I'm with you. Now you're going to be cross with me for saying it, aren't you?" The question is accusing, but the tone is soft.
"Then maybe you should act like you enjoy it instead of being so sad all the time." It would be nice if she stayed and pet him, followed this up with a few kind words. It would be nice if she didn't throw that line at him and walk away. But that's what Loe does. She says it, looks over him one more time and turns away, leaving him on the rock with his sandy feet while she heads back down the beach toward the plateau path.