[debut]

[floozyfacade]

I know it sounds cliché and all, and I swear I don't mean it in some weird Sapphic way - I mean, I love Rhi even now and we've been close, but not, you know, that close - but I'm pretty sure that, when I look up and see her staring back at me, my heart stops. Like, actually stops, and the blood in my veins just goes cold. Not literally, I mean,

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[floozyfacade]

Olive nods, though trying to breathe first means holding her breath, lips pressed together and - after a moment's hesitation until she finds she doesn't have much choice - eyes shut tight. She's unsteady, inhaling shakily, as she runs through a litany of reasons she's alright and stumbling over them repeatedly. Anson isn't here, wherever this is, that's all she really has. It takes her a solid minute at least to pull herself together enough that she can speak, first dusting her hands against her dress and then reaching up to wipe her eyes, that hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach from too much crying

[pointzerothree]

"Not a lot of variety around here," Eduardo points out with an almost apologetic laugh, gesturing off the path with a tilt of his head and then leading her towards the hut itself. It's still weird to him, living in an honest to God hut, but he decides against saying so; there's no way it could be anything but a whole lot weirder to her. "But I liked being close to the beach. Careful, it's a little more uneven here." He doesn't think much about returning the way her hand tightens around his, figuring it's just in search of reassurance, or something of the sort. Maybe he can't make this better, but he can at least be there.

[floozyfacade]

If she's entirely honest with herself - and Olive often is, to a fault - holding his hand doesn't do much of anything for her ankle at all. There's no logical reason to keep holding on, except to have some kind of tether to someone showing her a bit of kindness. She's needed it more than she realized. Adjusting her hold on her shoulder strap, she watches the ground, picking her way off the path and toward his house (not quite the right word, but it'll do). Something in her stomach twists as they get closer. She trusts him, she does, maybe more than she should, and she's not precisely uncomfortable with this, but she's not entirely sure about it either. The slight pressure of his hold helps some with that.

God, this is not how she expected her night to end.

"I didn't know pocket universes have housing developments, that's... that's very considerate of them."

[pointzerothree]

"There's a whole team of people who build them," Eduardo explains, a hint of something like skepticism in his voice that he can't help. Of all the things about this place, that has to be, to him, the strangest, not to mention the most unappealing, the fact that everyone just volunteers to do things for free. Not only does the lack of economy mean he's pretty much fucked, having spent the last three and a half years working towards a career in something related to that, but it just doesn't make sense, either, seems utterly counterintuitive. He tries not to dwell on it, though, turning his attention more fully to Olive again as they near the door. "So, yeah, it is considerate of them."

[floozyfacade]

Olive shakes her head, not sure how that fits together with the rest of it. She doesn't have the whole picture yet, but she can't begin to make sense of the pieces she does have. As they approach the door, she bites her lip, glancing sideways at him, letting him lead the way here. (She really shouldn't let Anson get to her, let any of them, but she can only imagine the things people would say if they could see her right now. They've never been much for the whole picture, finding out all the facts before they judge.) "We're not anywhere near California," she says, "are we?" It doesn't make any sense at all, but she can't pretend it isn't true either.

[pointzerothree]

Just outside the door, Eduardo pauses, exhaling heavily as he turns to look at her straight on. The question should be a simple one, should have a simple answer, but despite the fact that all it really takes is one word, that word has a hell of a lot more gravity than is fair. With as strange as all of this is, it isn't the sort of thing he thinks would be hard to guess; even so, having to confirm it makes him feel inexplicably guilty, like he should be able to do something more about it. (There's a part of him, too, that's grateful for the fact that she's from somewhere he knows, not some entirely different world or whatever, but that gets buried under everything else.) "No," he answers after a moment's pause, as gently as he can, not yet letting go of her hand. "No, Olive, we're not."

[floozyfacade]

Olive draws in a deep breath so suddenly she almost chokes on it, nodding before she's processed that she's responding to something. "Okay," she says, looking away and blinking fast. Hold on. She just has to stay calm a little longer. Until what, she doesn't really know, but if she can do it by increments - just a little longer, just a little more - maybe she can keep it together for good. For as long as it really matters, anyway. The thing is, if she has to assume she can get from one universe to another in a single step, then she has to assume that she won't be going back soon either. He wouldn't be here if there were a way out. Her voice is rising again and she can't seem to stop nodding, but she manages to speak again anyway. "Okay, awesome. I needed a vacation."

[pointzerothree]

It's a whole lot more than just a vacation, but Eduardo gets the sense that he doesn't need to spell that out for her, the tone of her voice saying enough. It hurts, still, knowing that there's nothing he can do about it, but he just swallows and nods in turn, gaze remaining fixed on her for a few seconds before he opens the door, stepping inside and reaching for the light. Standing around wouldn't make this any easier, and there's a reason he brought her here in the first place, where it's quiet and she can rest her ankle without sitting on sand.

"Come on," he says, not much louder than a murmur, "let's get you off that foot." The inside of the hut isn't much to speak of, holding a dresser, a desk and chair, and a bed, but at least, he thinks, he's kept everything neat. If he ignores the part where it's in the middle of the fucking jungle, it almost feels a little like his dorm at Harvard. Slightly more self-conscious, he shifts his weight. "You can, uh, sit wherever, I know it's not much."

[floozyfacade]

Olive shakes her head - it's okay, she doesn't care about the décor. After a moment's hesitation, she makes her way over to the chair, not ready just to go sit on his bed after the night she's had, although she's sorry as she pulls her hand gently from his. Easing down into the chair, she sets her bag on the floor, leaning down to pull off her shoes (she might ordinarily just kick them off, but this isn't her house and she doesn't want to go flailing her ankle around when it hurts). "It's fine," she says as she does so. "Really. I'm sorry to impose, I'm sure you have far better things to do than... take in strays." Rubbing her ankle, she looks away from him, still sick from the idea she can't go home tonight. She doesn't want to start crying again; there's been more than enough of that for one night.

[pointzerothree]

"Hey, you're not imposing," Eduardo promises, gaze fixing on her as he crosses towards his bed, only to wind up standing against a wall instead. It isn't even that he gives a lot of thought to his inviting her back here could seem, inherently awkward though the situation is; it just seems more comfortable, somehow, the obvious decision. Even so, he can't help wishing that she weren't a stranger. There might be more he could do that way. As it is, he's left cautious, too intent on trying to help her to risk overstepping and inadvertently making it worse. "And you don't have to apologize. Trust me. I just wish there were something more I could do."

[floozyfacade]

"Well, you could... start by explaining?" Olive suggests. It isn't intended to be flippant; if anything, she hesitates, not entirely certain she wants to hear whatever he has to say. It has to be serious. She wouldn't have had to go somewhere with him if it weren't serious. She'd already know and be on her way out of here. "I just still don't really understand what's going on and, and why I can't just go home." If she were, she'd probably be just fine by now: shaken up, but alright, managing at the very least. Instead she's lost, feeling like she's only barely maintaining her grip on her calm.

[pointzerothree]

"Right." Eduardo exhales heavily, no more sure of where to start than he was when they were standing on the beach, a hand at his head. There's nothing to explain, really, just facts that should be impossible, and frustrating as that's been since he first showed up here, it's nothing compared to now, wishing there were a more concrete reason he could give her for why she's been pulled from home and left unable to get back. "It's... It's hard to say, really. No one's been able to figure out a reason for why it happens, or how, just that it... does. Out of nowhere, with no notice, you just... show up - occasionally from really bad days - on this island. And it's the same with leaving. People have tried to find a way, but..." He trails off. "The long and short of it is, we're all stuck here."

[floozyfacade]

Olive wishes she couldn't take him at his word. She wishes she could stand up, slip on her shoes, call him crazy and leave, that that would be that and she'd get a cab and go home. She wishes she could, but he's standing there looking so uncertain that she believes him anyway. Even if he came across as mad, there's evidence outside his door, a jungle that's impossible in her native climate and a stretch of the world that seems almost desserted, a world that shouldn't be here that she reached in the space of a couple steps. She didn't pass out, she wasn't drugged, she didn't wake up not knowing where she was; she was just one place and then another. Not believing him, however insane his story seems, doesn't seem like an option.

"Just stuck," she echoes, trying to clarify, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. "Well, what about boats? Cell phones? A bat signal? Anything? You can't - you can't just be stuck."

[pointzerothree]

At least she doesn't start crying this time. It comes as an unspeakable relief, one that's nearly evident in his expression, even though Eduardo knows he's still only got bad news to give her. Any little thing, at this point, helps, when he's still just trying to figure out how best to handle this. If she isn't freaking out, that means he hasn't fucked this up too badly, which is, in itself, something positive, albeit minor. It isn't even like he's someone who's made a point of being overly optimistic, but he never expected that telling a stranger about being stuck on the island could be so difficult.

"There are no cell phone signals," he answers with a shake of his head, rueful. "And boats, they just loop back around, like something you'd see in some bad movie. As far as anyone can tell -" And it's been all but confirmed, with what people saw from that space station, though that's a detail too weird to mention. "It's just this, and nothing else."

[floozyfacade]

"I don't... I don't get it," Olive says. "I'm not trying to be dense or obtuse or something, I just... Okay, let me get this straight, alright?" She gets to her feet, barely mindful of her ankle, too restless with this overwhelming information to sit still and listen quietly. Gesticulating as she goes, she starts to pace, hobbling just a little (she'll be fine, the ankle isn't important, walking without the heels on is probably good for it). "I walked out of the parking lot and into another universe where I can't contact my parents. But they won't notice I'm gone because it's... what, a parallel timeline? We're aware that sounds nuts, right? Like, involuntarily committed, tossed in the looney bin, throw out the key nuts?"

[pointzerothree]

"Yes, I am very aware of how insane it sounds," Eduardo confirms with a nod, eyebrows raising for emphasis. Insane is even, in his opinion, something of an understatement, but she doesn't seem to need to have that pointed out to her. Despite her claiming that she doesn't get it, her description is actually pretty accurate. For a few seconds, he watches her, staying where he is, until finally, he can't; he takes a small step away from the wall he's been leaning against, hands held in front of himself almost defensively, though there's nothing in the gesture or his expression but concern. "Is your ankle going to be alright, walking around like that?"