Kate knew she owed Jeff an apology. Or, like, a Cake of Appreciation or something, but Marshall was the baker in the family, not Kate. She'd never be able recreate those Muffins of Triumph, not even when someone deserved it.
Instead, she shuffled back and forth on the path near Jeff's place, trying to decide if she actually wanted to find him or continue to hide. Jail pretty much sucked and she'd done her best to avoid both Jeff and Danny in the following days, but she'd have to talk to him eventually. Now was as good a time as any.
"Nice hammock," she said, a faint, uncomfortable smile on her face.
He'd heard the telltale signs of someone approaching, but he didn't open his eyes until she spoke. Truth be told, he was surprised to see Kate standing there, all things considered.
"You'd be amazed how much work someone would put in for one nice shirt," he said in response, shifting so he wasn't reclining quite as much. He wasn't all that great with this kind of thing himself, which was why he hadn't exactly been seeking her out afterwards. After a moment, he cleared his throat and asked, "How's it going?"
"You know, criminal record," she answered, one shoulder lifting in a shrug, although Danny had pretty much told her that there wasn't really much in the way of records on the island. Which was lucky for her, since she was officially an adult. "And a relaxing stay in a jail cell. Which would've been way worse if you hadn't stopped me from lighting the bookshelf on fire."
Kate paused, then smiled a little and said, "Not to mention the fancy disappearing act you pulled with the matches. No evidence."
"No sense in telling them about something that didn't happen," he replied, a small smirk lifting.
He was pretty sure he still had the matches, too, somewhere in his hut. That said, he had no idea if she was looking for an apology for the first part of what she mentioned, because that definitely wasn't going to happen. He'd have had to basically put all the responsibility of her well-being on himself, which would've probably ended very, very badly.
"So he did write you up?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. She was on something, sure, but that was all that cop knew about. From everything he'd seen, using drugs wasn't against the law here. "I could talk to him if you want, get that erased for you."
Ellen does a lot of walking, in the afternoons - most of it on the beach, although she does enjoy walking along the wooden slats that form the makeshift boardwalk throughout the island, heading off in one random direction just to see where it takes her. Today, though, she's gone back to the beach, holding her sandals in one hand as she walks barefoot in the sand, making her way down closer to the water to let it rush over her feet and swirl around her ankles.
By the time she's ready to start heading back, it's barely afternoon, and she makes her way towards the thick of the trees, hoping to find the path if she can get close enough to spot it. What she spots instead is the epitome of island relaxation - a guy stretched out in what looks like a homemade hammock, idly swaying back and forth between two palm trees. Curiosity piques her interest and she moves closer, just enough to be heard when she speaks.
He'd mostly been ignoring the sounds of people coming and going. It was only after the unfamiliar voice spoke up that he opened his eyes, and was greeted by the sight of a fairly attractive woman.
Apparently the day was looking to get even better.
"It is comfortable," he replied, a grin forming as he spoke. "I'm surprised I didn't have one made for me sooner, honestly."
"Don't tell me there's a special hammock-maker that no one's told me about yet," Ellen replies, loosely crossing her arms over her front. She'd mostly been worried about interrupting him if he was resting, but he doesn't appear to be too tired.
"Or maybe there's just an unwritten rule about islands and hammocks. The two kind of seem to go hand-in-hand."
"I think it might've been a one-time thing," he replied, sitting up as best he could, considering what he was sitting on. Actually, he had no idea if the kid made more than one. Best to not send people after him. "I just figured that if I'm going to be stuck here for who knows how long, I should at least start trying to enjoy it."
He actually had been, for a little while. It was amazing what a couple of bad months could do.
"I'm Jeff, by the way. Don't think I've ever seen you around here."
It's pretty much a routine by now, coming out to the beach when she isn't working in one of the clinics, the walk itself filling enough free time on its own that it seems like doing a lot more than it really is. Now, rather than stretching out on the sand with the book she thought to put in the bag slung over her shoulder, Lexie is walking down the shore, in a direction that she thinks might actually be taking her farther away from her hut, though she doesn't care. There's nowhere better to be, and some days she likes that better than others.
Seeing Jeff isn't a surprise. She knows he lives out this way, after all, has seen him here before. The hammock, though, that's almost definitely new. Folding her arms over her chest, she grins as she walks over in his direction, only to unfold them again and use one hand to give the hammock a light shove. "Where'd you come up with this thing?"
It was the shove that made him open his eyes, and he just smirked in Lexie's general direction, stretching out a little more.
"I was dozing here, you know," he said, mock-annoyed. Actually, he'd been wide awake, but he could've been. "I have my sources. You wouldn't believe the kind of things people are willing to do around here."
"No, you weren't," Lexie replies, waving the same hand through the air dismissively, not about to believe that for a second. He could have been, yeah, but somehow it seems unlikely. "So, what, you actually got someone to make it for you? That's kind of impressive."
"I might have been," he replied, insistant just to be insistant. Hands going to rest behind his head, he added, "I'm pretty impressive. And so is the shirt I gave the guy as a trade. I never even liked the shirt, too."
"Sweet. So who'd you trick into making that for you?" Britta asked, hands swinging at her sides as she strolled toward Jeff in his hammock. There was no way he'd actually made it himself. She knew him too well to imagine that could ever be the case, even if he started huffing and puffing and pretending he had. Manual labor just wasn't his strong suit. It wasn't any of his suits, in fact. Convincing others into bad ideas, though, that he was good at.
"What, I couldn't make this myself?" he countered, though, okay, no, he probably couldn't. Or he could, but it would be way more effort than he'd be willing to put into it, especially when there were other people around who could do it for him. Stretching his arms over his head, he didn't even bother opening his eyes to look over. He knew who it was.
After a brief pause, he continued, "You'd be surprised what people will do for just one really nice shirt. And it was my least favorite of the ones I got, too."
"Wow, there's someone here every bit as shallow as you?" Britta teased. Walking over, she laid her hands on the edge of the hammock, giving it a little push. She had to give him credit, it was pretty awesome and why should he make it if he could trade for it? It probably came out way better this way, too. She didn't want to admit she wanted one now, too, though. "Well-done finding him. I hope you and your hammock will be very happy together."
"If not wanting to look like a pastel colored nightmare is shallow, I gladly take that title," he replied, rolling his eyes. There was nothing wrong with wanting to look decent. "And I'm already enjoying it, thank you. If you ask nicely, I might even let you give it a try, too. There's enough room for two people."
The risk of sunburn, sand getting in his shoes, those chilly trade winds... the reasons that Felix didn't frequent the beautiful beaches of Tabula Rasa nearly as much as some of the other residents were numerous. Still, it could hardly be said that he put them to waste, and he dutifully went out every now and again, camera in tow, to engage in one of the few real hobbies left to him. However, nature and landscapes had never really been his thing, so when he spotted Britta's little friend Jeff looking rather cozy, it took him no time at all to switch gears.
"Wow, where'd you get that?" he asked brightly after he'd gotten a decent picture of the man at rest.
The sound of a camera snapping a picture was what first got his attention, and he glanced over as Felix approached him.
"I have a source," he replied, vaguely, if only because he had no idea if the kid wanted people to know he could make it. More importantly: "Did you just take a picture of me?"
In the end, the precise source of the hammock didn't matter so much, seeing as Felix had a very particular spine, anyway. He'd only barely gotten used to sleeping on the terrible Compound mattresses without being laid up for days on end, the last thing he was going to do was twist himself all out of shape on a bit of netting.
"Why do you ask questions that you already know the answer to?" Felix countered savvily, knowing that Jeff wasn't a dumb man.
"Because I want to follow it up with asking you why you did it," he replied, raising an eyebrow. Not that he didn't think he made an excellent model for anyone, but it seemed kind of random.
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Instead, she shuffled back and forth on the path near Jeff's place, trying to decide if she actually wanted to find him or continue to hide. Jail pretty much sucked and she'd done her best to avoid both Jeff and Danny in the following days, but she'd have to talk to him eventually. Now was as good a time as any.
"Nice hammock," she said, a faint, uncomfortable smile on her face.
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"You'd be amazed how much work someone would put in for one nice shirt," he said in response, shifting so he wasn't reclining quite as much. He wasn't all that great with this kind of thing himself, which was why he hadn't exactly been seeking her out afterwards. After a moment, he cleared his throat and asked, "How's it going?"
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Kate paused, then smiled a little and said, "Not to mention the fancy disappearing act you pulled with the matches. No evidence."
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He was pretty sure he still had the matches, too, somewhere in his hut. That said, he had no idea if she was looking for an apology for the first part of what she mentioned, because that definitely wasn't going to happen. He'd have had to basically put all the responsibility of her well-being on himself, which would've probably ended very, very badly.
"So he did write you up?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. She was on something, sure, but that was all that cop knew about. From everything he'd seen, using drugs wasn't against the law here. "I could talk to him if you want, get that erased for you."
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By the time she's ready to start heading back, it's barely afternoon, and she makes her way towards the thick of the trees, hoping to find the path if she can get close enough to spot it. What she spots instead is the epitome of island relaxation - a guy stretched out in what looks like a homemade hammock, idly swaying back and forth between two palm trees. Curiosity piques her interest and she moves closer, just enough to be heard when she speaks.
"Looks comfortable."
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Apparently the day was looking to get even better.
"It is comfortable," he replied, a grin forming as he spoke. "I'm surprised I didn't have one made for me sooner, honestly."
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"Or maybe there's just an unwritten rule about islands and hammocks. The two kind of seem to go hand-in-hand."
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He actually had been, for a little while. It was amazing what a couple of bad months could do.
"I'm Jeff, by the way. Don't think I've ever seen you around here."
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Seeing Jeff isn't a surprise. She knows he lives out this way, after all, has seen him here before. The hammock, though, that's almost definitely new. Folding her arms over her chest, she grins as she walks over in his direction, only to unfold them again and use one hand to give the hammock a light shove. "Where'd you come up with this thing?"
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"I was dozing here, you know," he said, mock-annoyed. Actually, he'd been wide awake, but he could've been. "I have my sources. You wouldn't believe the kind of things people are willing to do around here."
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Sometimes she liked that about him.
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After a brief pause, he continued, "You'd be surprised what people will do for just one really nice shirt. And it was my least favorite of the ones I got, too."
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"Wow, where'd you get that?" he asked brightly after he'd gotten a decent picture of the man at rest.
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"I have a source," he replied, vaguely, if only because he had no idea if the kid wanted people to know he could make it. More importantly: "Did you just take a picture of me?"
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"Why do you ask questions that you already know the answer to?" Felix countered savvily, knowing that Jeff wasn't a dumb man.
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