[Santo - The Beach]

[walk_ins]

[ master post]You have to walk down a ramp to get to the sand. The ramp stretches over sand dunes, with sea oats dotting them, blowing in the near-constant breeze. On the same level as the ramp: a boardwalk, dotted with places to get sketchy-looking fried food, to try your luck at a number of games of chance, to watch performers, to ride roller

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[bothbutneither]

"Cooling you off." He rests on his side, stretched out on his own towel: this setting feels so strange to him. When he was little, he went on vacations with his mother because she had money and because she loved him and because they could go to places like this. Back in his apartment on Callisto, the wall was graced with photographs and every photograph was a memory. There he was as a small boy; there he was with his mother; there they were by the seashore on Mars; there he was at the piano when he was four or five. And then in marked contrast, the pictures from Titan: bleak and sandy and faded and torn and repaired.

If he had pictures of Faye, he'd keep them on his wall now. He's always been a sucker for a wall full of photographs.

But a serious agenda? If it wouldn't interrupt her tanning, he'd rest his hand on her back, but he's sure she doesn't want a Gren's-hand-shaped tan line. "If we see any music stores, I want to stop in. I'm low on reeds, and more of those are always good. Otherwise, whatever you want to do: I'm open to anything."

It's a generous statement and he knows it, but for Faye... he means it.

[anythingbutblue]

Music stores. Is that really all he wants to make a point of doing while they're out?

Her smile is amusement mingled with just a tiny bit of disbelief.

"You're a tough customer, Mister Saxophone." There's something lofty about her tone even when she doesn't so much as lift her head from the pillow of her arms. "I don't know if there'll be any satisfying you out here."

[bothbutneither]

Now he aims a dazzling grin her way; whether or not she's really looking through those dark sunglasses almost doesn't matter. "Well, I could take your money, try to kill you."

They've had this conversation before. "Or serve you hot vodka drinks, shower, and handcuff you to the nearest bed. The world is full of possibilities."

If he'd known her then the way he knows her now, he probably would have gotten to the handcuffs sooner... just as a precaution.

What he really wants -- and what he knows they'll get around to because she won't settle for less -- is to show Faye as good a time as he's capable of showing anyone. For a long time, he hasn't had much ability to do that. Even before he got to the bar, there were those years on Callisto and when you've got a bounty on your head, you tend to keep a low profile. And there wasn't a whole lot in Blue Crow to see or do: it's definitely a working class town at best.

Because he can and because they're here and because he wants to make a public display of staking his claim to this drop-dead gorgeous woman sunning herself, he leans over and kisses her on the shoulder.

Twice.

"Any of that sound more interesting to you?"

[anythingbutblue]

He grins at her, and just this once she finds it impossible not to flash a high-wattage grin back at him.

"I can't say I'm a fan of having my money taken or being killed, but hot vodka drinks and showers seem to do me in every time."

She's very conscious of the kisses he gives her shoulder, and she's just as conscious of the fact that they'd erase any shred of doubt remaining in the mind of anyone watching as to whether or not the two of them are actually involved.

And that's an odd feeling.

Not a bad one, but still odd.

"And I have such a history with being cuffed I'm starting to think my wrists are magnetic."

[bothbutneither]

"Maybe they're just the right size."

He's pretty sure he never apologized for that, or for leaving her on his bed, alone in his apartment, and going off to die. Looking back, he thinks what happened was kind of inevitable.

Existing is so weird.

When he lived on Mars, he wasn't really covert about any of the relationships he was in. He didn't have to be: no one cared. No one was watching. No one measured him by pointing out things like oh, so you're with a man this time: tired of women? or hi, handsome, maybe you ought to join us and make it a threesome or you again, and with someone new: oh, look, it's a girl. Nobody paid attention and nobody kept score. And he wasn't even a perfect stranger like he is here. One thing he and Faye didn't have time to talk about was whether or not either of them had expectations on how to behave away from the bar with other people around, but he doesn't think that's really necessary. They're both adults -- consenting adults -- and he's very fond of Faye, some days almost to the point of distraction.

This trip is an opportunity, though. Not to go out and meet other people because honestly, with Faye by his side that would be rude, disloyal, unkind, and really stupid, not to mention he's not interested in that. But it's an opportunity to have a few days that feel normal.

"What I'd really like to do while we're here is... I don't know, something we wouldn't be able to do otherwise. I know I'm going to probably have to spend a little time looking at that ship, if they don't have enough help with repairs. But other than that, I'd like to... wine and dine you. See what this world has to offer. Take in as much as we can while we have the opportunity, because who knows when we'll have one again."

They might never. Or she might and he won't: so far death has been very, very kind to him but he doubts that will last forever.

[anythingbutblue]

Her grin turns into a smirk, and skeptical, she raises an eyebrow. "So that's why you cuffed me. I just have the perfect wrists for it."

She's genuinely interested in his explanation of what he'd really like to do while they're out here.

"This is all something we wouldn't be able to do otherwise." But she knows what he means, and that's precisely why she wanted to come to the beach. Beaches are almost a novel concept.

It's also why she wants to hit a casino later. It's been so long since she's been able to do that.

"But you should know I'm very interested in being wined and dined."

[bothbutneither]

"You should know I'm very interested in wining and dining you."

One thing he really likes about Faye -- and she may not know this -- is how easy it is for him to spend time with her. Sure, it's easy on a physical level now, but it's also really easy when they don't have their hands all over each other. He likes her mind and the way she thinks and sometimes having a conversation with her is a little like a never-ending puzzle where he tries and consistently fails to guess what she's going to come up with next.

They're both incorrigible flirts... but they flirt better together. They're both pretty... but they're prettier together. They're both in love with luxury... but luxury suits them better together. And still, she keeps him on his toes in ways he never expects and for that, he appreciates her more than she could possibly know. He's thought a lot about the way he feels about Faye and while he's not head-over-heels, madly and impossibly in love, he could be. All it would take is a little push in the right direction.

But he doesn't like to push Faye. He already feels incredibly privileged to spend the kind of time with her that he does. For the time being, he's content to keep things on their slow-burn pace. So far, no one's getting scorched, but there is an occasional blast of heat and that's something that satisfies him in deep and complicated ways.

Women aren't my style, sorry. But the others are all very interested.

It's something he really believed at the time, or he wouldn't have said it. The fact that they spend so much private time together now both baffles and delights him.

I think you should stay.

It's one of those things that wanted out, and he didn't say it just because he was lonely.

A fine gold chain sits around her waist, and it's practically driving him to distraction: he'd like nothing more than to slide his fingers beneath it and lay yet another claim to her. But he won't: he'll save that for later, for after he's wined and dined her.

He can hardly wait.

"How's that sun feel?" As far as he's concerned, it feels great. The warmth is almost as good as one of Faye's caresses.

[anythingbutblue]

"Then we should get along very well on this little vacation, shouldn't we?"

She lowers her sunglasses long enough to give him the full force of her sly smile.

"It feels like a million woolongs." Slowly, she flips over so she's flat on her back, legs bent at the knees. "Not that I've had my hands on that in a while."

Picking up the suntan lotion again, she opens it and starts by applying it to her neck and chest and stomach.

"I haven't sunbathed since the last time I was on Ganymede." It's been a long time. "And I was just on the deck of the Bebop then."

[bothbutneither]

"No sand there." He's helpless to stop the way his eyes follow the line of her hand as she spreads lotion over her body. He'd like to be doing that for her, but it's just as good to allow himself this voyeuristic little moment.

And then he glances down at his own clothing: he's not wearing a swimsuit and it's been a long time since the bulk of his body has seen the sunlight, but he's comfortable: the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up and the warm breeze licks him, playing with the ends of his hair. He sits cross-legged next to Faye, tall and protective because she really is like a princess and he's pleased as anything to be her consort.

Reaching over, he brushes a little sand off her thigh, although he understands perfectly well why the sand would want to be there. If he's lucky, maybe he'll get a little bit of a tan too. Then, after wining and dining her later, they can compare tan lines... and more.

There's such a tinge of unreality to this whole trip. Maybe all vacations have that element to them: he hasn't been on one in so long that he has nothing to compare it to. But he knows there's really no one he'd rather be here with than Faye.

He hopes she feels the same way about him. The bar is a small and somewhat finite world and part of him believes with all his heart that location doesn't matter: he and Faye had this... thing going as far back as Callisto, even if it was completely unexplored there. He likes to think that the newness of Santo won't be too much of a distraction away from that. She's seen a lot of different aspects of his personality, but not his jealous side. There hasn't been any call for that and anyway, he's always tried really hard to keep that part well under wraps, and he'll do that here too.

"Do you want something to drink?" The heat -- a novelty at first -- is now... hot.

[anythingbutblue]

"Not a single grain." Her shrug is a sad little lament.

Putting the cap back on her lotion, she sets it back down and stretches out as luxuriously as possible... until he asks if she wants something to drink. Then she props up on her elbows to look at him.

"I could go for a drink. You're thirsty?"

She turns away to glance down the beach, and it looks like there's a stand of some sort not too far away.

Or maybe he has something else in mind. And if he does, she's willing to hear his case.

[bothbutneither]

While it wasn't anywhere near as hot there, one lesson he learned on Titan was to stay well hydrated in a desert setting. He saw too many of his comrades falter in the sands of Titan and even though he's... dead, Faye certainly isn't and he doesn't want to let the least bit of harm come to her. Not on his watch for sure, but not at any time.

She's precious.

He nods to the stand a little further down on the ramp. "I can go grab us something for while we're here... if you trust me to choose something for you. I promise I'll still wine and dine you later." The sun's having an effect on her skin already; he can see it getting just a little bit pink and because he can, he runs his finger down the length of her leg on the outside. It's something he used to be so good at; he'd touch and be touched without a second thought and with a great deal of attentiveness. The last few years of his life saw him starved for that kind of contact, and it's only since he and Faye ended up together -- more or less -- that he's had a chance to regain his balance that way. Remember how it feels, remember what it's like, remember how to let his hands fondle more than the keys of a saxophone.

A momentary flash of his months on the supply ship leaving Pluto crowds his memories, but he shakes it off: this is certainly no time to dwell on the past. None of the old pain and rage and humiliation can touch him now.

"Shall I?" Whether or not she trusts him to wander off and pick out a treat doesn't really matter; he's going to do it anyway. It doesn't take long until he's back with a pair of obscenely large blended drinks liberally peppered with chunks of fruit, small umbrellas, and beads of condensation. Thick liquid in reds and oranges and yellows swirls around inside the transparent plastic glasses. Sitting by her side again, he hands her one of the concoctions, a small and sly smile on his face: there's more in this drink than she might think.

"A special drink for a special woman." Again, the gold chain around her waist catches his eye and he almost can't stand it: she's a living seduction and that realization makes him so smug.

[anythingbutblue]

In the meantime, she's rocked slowly onto her side so she can prop her head on her hand and watch him through her sunglasses until the ramp takes him temporarily out of her sight.

He's attractive. She's already seen him turn a head or two, and she's hardly surprised. He can turn her head, after all, and she's a tough audience.

You'd never guess he's dead. And you'd never guess why he's wearing that button-down shirt out here, either. It actually makes her smug to think that she's the only person who gets under it.

So maybe she's selfish. So what?

When he comes back and hands her one of the drinks -- part rainbow, part fruit, and so much alcohol she can smell it without even holding it too near her nose -- she let her lips curve into a smirk and peers over her glasses at him.

"If I didn't know any better, Mister Saxophone, I'd say you were trying to make me easier prey."

[bothbutneither]

The grin he shoots her is a little on the devious side. "I might just be trying to get you into bed with me." With a broad gesture, he indicates the sand on all sides. "If you don't mind a little sand, that is."

He can do drinks with a lot of alcohol; the stuff has so little effect on him now. In a way, he's like the permanent designated driver for them: dead but strong, he could carry Faye wherever he needs to so he can see her safely to beauty rest. Of course, she probably wouldn't let him do that, but it's all right: he's entitled to his fantasies just like anyone else.

Being on a different world is a treat, especially considering he was resigned to never leaving the bar. But the honest truth of the matter is that he would have left because he promised that to Faye, and he would have followed her anywhere. Even if it meant he would no longer be, he'd do it if it meant she could be out here having a normal life. She's such an amazing woman; there isn't much of the good variety that she doesn't deserve. Not everyone sees her like he does, and he really doubts that's just death coloring yet another aspect of existence with its rosy hues.

If everyone felt like he does now, nobody would fear death at all. It's made him so much more alive.

One not-so-tentative sip of his -- what did they call it, a mixed-fruit delight? -- later, he gives her a catlike grin before stretching out again. There have been times when he's wished he could give her the world on a silver platter. He can't, but moments like this make it seem like he's getting close.

"So... how do you like it?" The drink would be the obvious subject of the question, but he's left it intentionally vague: she's fun to seduce any way he can, and as far as he's concerned, there's no one more stunning on the entire beach than Faye.

And she's here with him.

[anythingbutblue]

"If I minded sand, I probably wouldn't be here."

She holds her straw between her fingers and takes a drink, and it makes her eyes widen just a little bit. It's just as strong as it smells -- but still not nearly as strong as Atlantean, as she well knows -- and she answers that sly grin of his with one of her own.

"You're being coy."

Sitting up, she fits her icy plastic glass between her folded legs.

"But if you're curious about the drink," she goes on, smoothing hair back away from her face, "I'd have to say the wining and dining is off to a decent start."

[bothbutneither]

"Good. Because I got these too." The sand in front of his towel makes an excellent coaster for his drink; he makes a little bit of a show of sliding his hand slowly over his stomach and waist, dipping into his hip pocket for a little bag of exquisitely wrapped nut-and-chocolate treats. They'll probably go quickly in this heat, although they're supposed to be melt-free.

If they're not, that'd be a shame. He'd just have to help get extra chocolate off Faye.

In an odd way, this reminds him of the way life used to be in the days before he was silly enough to join the Army -- talk about life-changing mistakes -- when there was nothing to do but flirt and enjoy things. Flirtation's one set of skills, seduction is a second, and following through is a third. They're all things he's been accused of being pretty good at over the years.

He hands Faye the candy and reaches for his drink, and as he does, he notices his arm is actually a little bit tan. This is far from the first time he's wanted to shout out what the hell, death? What is this nonsense? Everything still works and I don't believe in you any more.

For Faye, though, he smiles. "I guess we're going to have to expand our world view being here." Raising his glass to hers, he toasts. "To the prettiest girl on the planet, from the prettiest boy." That not only makes him laugh aloud: it also fills him with a surge of protectiveness and possession. No one else gets to muscle in on what they have. Not here, not back and the bar, and not anywhere in between. "You still want to go to the casino later?"

[anythingbutblue]

Her eyes follow the movement of his hand, and she doesn't attempt to hide how intrigued she is by the bag he pulls out of his pocket.

"I don't know about you," she tells him, reaching for it as if she'd gladly help herself now, "but I don't mind having to expand my world view at all."

The toast makes her flash him a smug smile, and before it has a chance to fade, she raises an eyebrow.

"Now what do you think?"

It almost makes her laugh. If she had money for every time he's said something that made her defiantly think that he doesn't know her as well as he seems to think he does, she'd be a wealthy woman.

But he does know her better than to need to ask if she still wants to make a casino trip later.

"Maybe you'll just have to wine and dine me there."