of dominance and war

Who: December and Eric
Where: Boardwalk
When: Early evening

Eric was quite often a satisfied man, thanks to a few basic tenets in his life. They weren't overly complex things, mainly dedication to his profession and a commited sort of pragmatism; so when he could spend a day busy with his work? Ending the day usually saw him in a good mood, and today was no exception. He'd parked down at the end of the boardwalk at the start of sunset, grabbing a thermos that held more than one shot of whiskey in it. More than five, if he was being honest.

Filling the rest with coffee ran him a quarter, and a paper-wrapped burger to go with it? Two bits. It wasn't a bad price tag for a soothing evening, and Eric was definitely getting his money's worth as he sat looking out on the waterfront, food wrapper crumpled next to him and a little notepad in hand. Scratching out the collection totals for his rounds tomorrow, Eric tucked his pencil behind one ear before quickly occupying his hands with a smoke and another pour of spiked coffee into his cup.

December's shift was finally over, and she headed where she usually did, towards the waterfront to sort of ponder leaving the city again. She found herself thinking about it now and then, the real problem wasn't any true attachment or love for the place--it was the lack of anywhere to go. She had a decent business here, between the boardwalk and her clients. She figured if she got a couple more clients she'd actually be sitting kind of pretty. Maybe. It depended, really. And some of her clients were getting a tiny bit scary. Like Lucas, who seemed to be forgetting that he wasn't going to be getting laid out of the deal. Like, ever.

Lighting up a cigarette after she finished rolling it, she headed towards the water, sort of feeling bone tired and maybe a tiny bit under the weather. Which was probably her own fault for hanging out in the rain the other day. Still, she deemed it worth it. She got to the railing, and climbed up onto it, at first standing on it, looking down into the water.

She wasn't noticed right away, not on the initial approach that brought December to the railing. There was some weariness about her, sure, but nothing from this distance that leapt out at Eric. Then she went and climbed up onto the railing. "Some folks might say man's greatest folly is climbin' like that, miss," Eric called her way after a moment of watching. Was she suicidal? It definitely happened enough in the city, but he wasn't about to let it happen in front of him. "I say if you're gonna do it, you might as well get a good view out of it."

December looked over at the voice, mostly to see if said person was addressing her. Which, making eye contact, it was clear it was. Right. "Man's greatest folly is being a big group of gleeful idiots." she told him. "Climbing has little to do with that. And if I'm gonna do what? Jump?" she asked, turning towards him and walking the rail like a balance beam for a few steps. "Why, so I can hit the water, not drown then die of some weird infection later?"

Okay, when she looked at him? Eric saw the piercings, and the surprise was clear and honest, but not disdainful in the least. He gave a warm laugh at December's questions, sitting forward and blowing steam from his coffee. "No, if you're going to stand on the railing?" he clarified, "Don't look down, look out. Hell of a view out there." Standing and starting towards her so he could lower his voice, Eric still kept a fair distance so he wouldn't panic the girl, grinning around his cigarette. "And you think most people are gleeful? Idiots, no contest." Eric asked with a skeptical, challenging grin.

She saw the surprise there, though the usual contempt that hit after didn't arrive. Yet, anyway. She never figured it was too far off. "I've seen better views on postcards." she said. December kept her eyes on him, stopping to balance where she was, taking a drag of her cigarette as she considered him. "Gleeful idiots." she corrected mildly. "Not just gleeful on their own. Sure there are some sunny bastards in town, but I'm talking about people being ignorant and not actually giving a damn about it. Or not having the smarts to even know they're ignorant. There's that too."

"Postcards aren't free, and I don't have anyone to mail them to when I'm done with them," Eric countered gamely, moving down to one side of December so he could lean on the rail. "This gave me something to look at while I ate, no cleanup required." He didn't offer anything else for a moment, finishing his coffee and pouring another, setting the cup out in an unspoken offer. "So is it a case where you want to do something about them? Or is this just 'shit day at work' venting?" he asked frankly, "Eric, by the way. The name you want to stick after 'shut the hell up' is Eric."

She eyed the drink for a moment, before she lowered herself down to straddling the railing, hooking her feet on the lower beam to keep herself balanced. She reached out and took a drink, or more an experimental sip which turned into a drink. Then she set it back down. "I don't want to do anything about them. Not my shit to clean up, it's theirs. I'm just aware of it." she told him with a shrug, taking neither of his options. She didn't comment on her day at work, though. His introduction, however, made her smirk a little. "Hi, Eric." she said. "Do you often give out drinks to strange girls you meet in semi-shady places?"

He took a moment to seemingly consider that, lips pursing around the last drag off his cigarette. "Define 'often'," Eric requested, blowing a long trail of smoke out before he chuckled slightly and shook his head. "Truth told, not really. But I've got more coffee than I know I'm gonna drink, and it's due to get cold tonight eventually. It always does." Flicking his cigarette out in a short-lived arc that fell away, Eric turned to lean both elbows down for the moment as he glanced December's way. "Do you normally take drinks from strange men who butt in on your evening and start asking about your societal views?" he countered after a moment, taking the smirk as a tiny encouragement that he wasn't entirely disrupting anything.

She quirked another smirk at him at his question. "Not usually." she told him. "But then most strange men look at me and shit their pants a little." she added, taking another drink before setting the cup down where he'd put it. "They usually start in on 'you're going to hell, witch!' before we get to the views on society thing." Which was true enough. It wasn't the only reaction she got, but she got it enough. Other people assumed she'd blow them for a penny.

"Moral crusaders, I never met one I ended up liking," Eric confessed, smirking at December fleetingly. She probably heard a lot worse than threats about hell, and she had a certain look that suggested to him that she might be a pro. "And it's not a bad thing, me having clean pants, is it?" he asked as he took the cup back and drank, then refilled from the thermos. "I've been told I lack the sense to know when I should be spooked." And he had a temper, when he got pushed. Neither of those things won Eric a heap of friends outside of his scrapyard.

"They usually lack brains. They just insert bullshit they were told to believe, doesn't make them likeable. Or great conversationalists." December said. She took a last drag of her cigarette and flicked it into the water like he'd done his. "As for you and clean pants, no. It's not a bad thing. Though I'd be an idiot if I didn't ask why. Or wonder why, at least." she put in there. Because usually people who didn't wanted something. Everyone wanted something.

Standing straight long enough to get another smoke out, Eric idly tapped it against the rail for the moment, toying with it a little. "I tend to take the long way around explaining things, but I think the simplest way to say it?" he ventured, "I've seen some unpleasant shit in my day, whereas the steel in your face? Is just something unfamiliar. And from what I can see from here, it's not neglected. So it's a decision you made. Who the fuck am I to take offense for your personal decisions?" Now if they affected someone else, he'd just have to butt in, but as it was? The piercings he could see just marked her as someone who didn't give a shit about outside opinions, and Eric always liked finding that.

She considered that for a long moment, eyeing him like she was looking for the trick. And really, she was. But she couldn't immediately find one, so she figured she'd have to wait it out. "everyone else seems to." she said. "Take offense for others personal decisions, mine in particular." she clarified. Then she shrugged. "So are you saying you never take offense to anything?""

"Not even close," Eric assured her, laughing richly as he leaned back onto the rail and lit up again. "I get mad or offended every damn day, but not over something like that. The way I see it is like this; when your decisions aim to make your life better by shitting on someone else's? I'm gonna have a problem. I don't care if it's a pickpocket or a rowdy drunk or some ass telling you you're going to hell," he spelled out evenly, "When someone else's day gets worse because of them, we have a problem. It's why I like nights like these, there's not too many people for me to pick trouble with."

Again, she considered what he was saying. At least it was an intelligent conversation. Most of the people at the Boardwalk weren't all that bright. "There's an argument that people seeing me and getting upset over it ruins their day." she said. "Or the thought that there's some witch wandering around that no one's done anything about. Or that I'm corrupting children just by existing in a place they can see me." she put out there. "So, where would things fall in that circumstance?"

The challenge was the best part of this for Eric, the fact that she kept wanting to know where he drew the lines. Really, he just knew where they were meant to be, so having to go through these scenarios for her benefit was actually tricky. "Okay, one?" he said first, tallying fingers on his free hand, "Anyone who genuinely thinks you're a witch should be up in Bedlam. Two, it's the parents' job to watch their children, not yours to hide from them. And three, all these people? They don't have the right to negate either your choice to look like this or their own choice to deal with it like fucking adults." Maybe it was the whiskey in his coffee, or the clear mental image of too many people in the city gaping at December, but Eric's temper definitely burned brightly in his voice for a moment there.

Even with the little temper flare there, she had to laugh a little bit at his answer. She shook her head and smiled, genuine for a second there. "Got it all figured out, huh old man?" she asked. "I'm pretty sure there'd be a damn good argument for me being up at Bedlam myself, if you wanted to go there." she said. "All of this is probably moot anyhow, though. I'm generally just a bitch to people, my appearance is only one facet of the whole package." She leveled her gaze on him for a moment and leaned a little closer. "What's got the temper rising?"

"Can't say I like majority rules," Eric admitted freely. "It hits a nerve to know people have a bullshit perspective, or just a fraction of one, but they've also got this certainty that it's infallible. I say if you have a belief, show some strength of character to back it up. And most folks don't," he said, swallowing down more coffee. "They just follow the guidelines and call it good. I get sick of seeing it, so I stay out of their way most of the time." The boardwalk was generally quieter the later it got, and Eric could actually get out of the scrapyard for a while now and then. "So, have I hit the honest answers quota yet so I can actually ask your name? I figure at the very least that letting the crack at my age slide's gotta help."

"So you like to buck the system." She assessed. "Okay." she said, sounding like she accepted that. At his question, she shrugged. "My name's December." she answered. "Though technically, you could have asked me whenever. So far I don't have you on a tab or anything. Good answers, though." she added. "Most people get pissy when they get questions fired at them." Which had something to do with the fact that she tended to do that.

Eric had to laugh again, a low rumble of amusement over that. Because that seemed to be exactly what December did, she fired questions at people. There was a pointed scrutiny to her that'd make a lot of folks squirm when combined with the oddity of her look. "Maybe they should think out their beliefs a little more thoroughly then, they'll be able to roll with it easier," he suggested, nodding to her after a moment. "December. Think you've got a pretty ironclad case for me to remember that," Eric added, winking easily, as if he'd known her for longer than twenty minutes. "So you work down here? Or just out walking?"

She flashed a little devilish look for a second. "Most people remember me. Most people just don't get my name to go with the scarred dreams." she told him. Then she looked around. "Technically I work here. I just got done. I work at the haunted house." she said, sort of rewarding him for being amusing with more information than he'd technically asked for.

"Doing what? Running gearwork scares or jumping out to say 'boo'?" he asked, curious over December's admission. He didn't mingle down here too much, but Eric could tell there was some sense of community in the boardwalk's vendors and performers, like they probably got their paychecks from a similar place or shared interests worth protecting. "And you hang around here after work too? Oughta shake that routine up and head somewhere new, fuck the dirty looks you might get," Eric added encouragingly.

"A little of this, a little of that. Sometimes I just take tickets." she said, shrugging. "And I'd probably venture farther if I didn't live there too." she added. It was the truth, really. She still wasn't one hundred percent acclimated to being in the city again, even if she'd been there for a while. It still meant she sometimes didn't quite know what to do with her time or where to go. That on top of the fact that she was trying to save the money she had, and generally hated people, she didn't have the driving need to go out and party, be social. "Where would you suggest I go instead?"

Considering his own places in the city that he frequented, Eric could actually offer some suggestions, but wasn't really sure any of them would actually mesh well with the younger woman who was decidedly in a different class than most of the city. "I'm partial to anywhere large enough that you don't usually run out of space in one visit. Fontaine, here, the library, the space around the Echo's office and printing press. The park's good for a lot of reasons, though. I like seeing what happens when man tries to shape his surroundings." Which was odd, but his service days had been devoted to wartime developments with those exact goals. "And obviously here's no good for you as an option for something different. If you were looking to drink? You look like you could scare off trouble at the Round."

Tilting her head to the side as she considered him, she internally hummed a little at his answer. "Sounds to me like that's a whole lot of avoiding people, with all the space mentioned. You antisocial?" she asked. "Or are you just tailoring your answer to what you figure I am?" And if he was he was right, and her tone didn't indicate otherwise. She was just curious.

"Not quite that, but some cousin," Eric answered freely, nodding to December. "I mentioned the temper, after all, and with this many people in one city it's mathematically impossible for me to avoid someone I'm gonna clock for too long. Unless I more or less put myself in a cage. And to hell with that," he explained, pouring out the last of his coffee. "Short and sweet? I don't go looking for shit, but I know it'll come knocking."

"What sets you off?" December asked, curious. He seemed to be pretty open with his answers on things, and she appreciated that. It wasn't a dull conversation, and for a girl who generally really didn't like people--and yet still had some internal craving for companionship of some kind--that constituted something she wanted to keep pursuing, not wanting it to wander off so soon. Not that she gave any indication of that, but she did keep the conversation rolling. he was being nicely accomodating with that.

"Just might be a shorter list to say what doesn't," Eric joked around a drink of coffee, feeling a pleasant warmth in both his gut and his cheeks by now. "Arrogance, stupidity, misogyny, racism, classism, don't get me started on nepotism," he said with a devilish grin of his own, shaking his head after a moment. "Any behavior you might not want to tell a stranger about for fear of the shame or guilt? Sets me off," he summarized, leaning back to light a fresh smoke off his old. "How about you?"

"You could put a check by a lot of what you just said." December said. "Only less morally grounded. Most of the time I just don't care. But some people are just stupid, and they sort of want to get their stupid all over everyone else." She looked out at the water, not sure she was going to continue or not, but then she did. "I hate all the bullshit, too." she admitted. "Everyone runs around pretending they've got this perfect life or something, and no one does. But they all play pretend, and everyone else lets them. It's like everyone's got this unspoken agreement that everyone has to be picture goddamn perfect, and so everything else gets ignored. Maybe it's that, mostly. I'd rather not have some coat of bullshit over everything, no matter how fucking shiny they want to make it."

That deserved a few quiet moments that Eric spent looking out at the water and the early-evening haze in the distance. She sounded like plenty of the people who'd worked for Eric in the past, too fed up on the willful ignorance of the city. "I imagine most of them need those lies and surface illusions just to get through the day sometimes," he offered eventually, still watching the water. "Joyless marriage, addiction, corruption, you name it... too many people in this city have something they need to ignore, and they buy into the entire cycle, your 'unspoken agreement'. They're a good reason for me to keep to myself, too; most folks wouldn't like me knocking sense into them." The average citizen of Eidolon would not pass muster in Eric's eyes.

Absently swinging the leg on the side of the rail by the water back and forth, December thought about that. Then she shook her head. "No, y'know what? Fuck that. They don't need shit. They should open their eyes and quit letting themselves be snowed by everything. It's pathetic. If they really need some fuzzy illusion to get through the day they're doing it wrong. Or maybe they just don't have the life they should have, or they should do something else." she said. Then she was looking at him again, at his profile. "Is that what you do? Knock sense into people? Or do you just smack them around, and tell yourself you're knocking sense into them?" she asked.

"Honestly, I tend towards a good yell more than anything," Eric clarified for her, "It takes something special to make me swing first. And I've seen a few people sort themselves out after dealing with me? But it's not like I keep tabs much." He didn't need to in most cases of criticism that Eric doled out; his opinion was nearly written in stone with most people. "And okay, so these people don't need the lie, but they want it. They can have it. So does that mean it should be taken from them, in your book? Would you force them to open their eyes, if it was up to you?" he asked, turning things back around on December after her last condemnation.

She nodded, not hesitating. "Yes." she answered. "I'd strip the illusion down and lay everything bare for everyone to see. Then you'd see change. And sure, there'd be dark times but the times are pretty damn dark already. Maybe what this place really needs is to hit rock bottom." she suggested.

"And leave nowhere to go but up, hey?" he asked rhetorically, voice quiet with the question as he looked back December's way. "Good intent, but the problem is that first you'd need to level the playing field. Otherwise the people with power just rebuild whatever gets knocked down. I've seen it before." It had been a driving tenet of his work with the military; how to hit an enemy hard enough that there was nothing left to rebuild from.

Watching him, she was silent for a moment. "Where have you seen it before?" she asked. She had opinions on things, and they were talking a purely hypothetical situation to start with, but she still wanted to know what he was drawing from.

Eric was lucky, he'd only really seen action a few times in his service career, and always in the company of cutting-edge weapons. He didn't have the trauma plenty of people brought back from the war. "Overseas," he answered, "I did a few visits when I was enlisted. Never seen people so entrenched before, or since. You couldn't advance with one wall still standing for them to use for cover." And the city was the same, to him. Every defense, every crutch the people here might use? Needed to be broken before they could be helped.

"What kind of military man were you?" she asked. "and you've seen people rise back up from nothing?" she asked, since that was why she'd asked in the first place. So, she wanted to know what he'd seen, what he'd actually experienced. Though if he'd only been there a few times, she didn't know how much he could have seen. Still, that didn't mean she didn't want to listen.

"United States Marine Corps," Eric answered smartly, still proud of those words every time he said them. "Master Gunnery Sergeant, I did R&D as well as field training for new battery installments. And I've seen people rise from absolute rubble, yes, but only when they had an overseer who could still give them the tools to." Shifting his lean to one arm so he could look straight-on at December, Eric ground out his smoke idly, studying the curiosity that had come from somewhere in her during this encounter.

"I don't know what R-n-D is." she said, feeling like she should know, but she didn't, and she didn't want to misunderstand something. So, she was asking. "So is it just having the leader who can give them direction? Is it the image they present that gets it done?" she asked.

He grinned at that, nodding in unspoken apology. "Research and development," Eric clarified first, "I helped design munitions for the front line war effort." He was allowed to say that much, at least. "And it's more image, yes. It's symbolism in this case, people will attach sentiment and stubbornness to any icon, and as long as they have it they can't or won't give up. It's a trait that can be admirable, but a lot of the time isn't."

Not wanting the point to be something insubstantial like that, Eric's lips pursed in thought for a moment before he looked back up. "Okay, so for instance: My first trip overseas, we have a large group of troops coordinating movement through hostile country. They've hit a choke point, this village that's been shelled and raided, but that they still can't break. Crazy bastards on the other side just won't quit, see, because their commander's villa was still standing at the farthest edge," he recounted evenly. "Our commandant had thrown enough men into the grinder, so he flew me and some of the other technicians out, and we installed a long-range bombardment system. Once the villa was gone? People started to surrender."

December paid rapt attention to everything he was saying, drawn in by that thread of darkness that was a description of war. She'd seen news reels and such about it, but never heard anyone give an account like this. So, he had her attention, and she waited until she was positive he was finished speaking before she spoke again herself. "So what it took was a crack in the illusion. Or the face of the power structure." she said, checking that she was understanding his point.

"Exactly," Eric said with another smart nod, smirking a little over the fascination she had for his story. Given what December had shown so far, it wasn't surprising, and definitely kept with the darker bent to the woman, but it was definitely amusing in an unexpected way. "To win a war, you need to eliminate those with the will to fight back, and break the spirits of their followers. My old commander said it nicely. 'Pull down their gods in front of them and take away even their prayers for salvation'."

"In other words, break everyone." December said, understanding that completely. That she didn't have any trouble following. "So, keeping with that, in order for things to work here, everyone would have to be stripped down, and everyone in charge on both sides of the law would have to be left bleeding in the streets?" she suggested. There was maybe the lightest hint of a smile on her lips as she watched his eyes, waiting to see how he reacted to that.

Eric just watched her in kind for a moment, compelled by the ghost of a smile he caught there, oblivious to the spark in his eyes from it. But god would it be glorious to do that, to mete out justice in the city. "More or less," he finally said, looking back out to the water before he smiled. "And I'm a little busy to take on all of that these days."

"You don't look busy." December noted. And even if he looked back out at the water, she kept her eyes on him. She was interested. And she liked to find people's dark spots. His just happened to be readily available for her to gaze at. "You kill anyone over there?" she asked. "And not just you set things up that happened to kill people. Did you pull the trigger on anyone." she clarified.

He didn't hesitate in nodding, didn't flinch over the question, but Eric's eyes definitely grew darker, narrowing on the water. "A few times, not as much as most of the boys." Though the bodycount attached to his research? That would shame any soldier.

"Does it bother you?" she asked. She kept watching him, not letting her eyes stray in the slightest. No, she was fascinated in an odd little way. She'd been there before, when she'd occasionally crossed paths with people who had something deep down that wasn't all that shiny. It had just been a while since she'd really managed to meet anyone who had it. There seemed to be a pretty decently sized well of it in Eric.

His shoulders shrugged a little as Eric straightened up from the railing. "A lot of things about the war bother me," he admitted. "Killing changes things, doesn't matter if it's one man or a hundred." And while he didn't regret those changes in himself, he wasn't ready to force them onto the rest of the city either.

His switch in demeanor was curious for her. He'd started out talking about getting into fights, even mentioned what it would take for this city to get a restart. But when brought up on the specifics of it, it seemed to bother him, even if he hadn't specifically said. "If you could take it back, would you?" she asked.

There were some things that Eric didn't need to think about, and that was one of them. "Not a chance," he answered easily, head shaking a little. "No matter what part I played, people were going to die on one side or the other. If I kept it more on the enemy's side? I'm here to tell the tale, so I'll call that good enough." And he was aware of what might've been December's intent; getting him to consider his war experience and compare it to how he saw the city now. It was clever if it was her intent. "Besides, we're a species that's meant to carry some burdens, right? I don't want anyone having to pick up my slack," Eric added, grinning more steadily even if the darkness was still clinging to him in minor ways.

"Pretty much everyone else expects other people to pick up their slack." December pointed out. Though it wasn't actually a jab or anything, it was just an observation. "So, what you've seen and done bothers you, but you wouldn't change it if given the chance." she said. "Where does that leave you?" she asked, tone just a tiny bit lighter than it had been, as she kept that unflinching gaze on him.

Meeting her gaze intently, Eric just shrugged after a moment and glanced from side to side. "That leaves me anywhere large enough that you don't usually run out of space in one visit," he said, bringing back what he'd said before about where Eric liked to spend his time. "It's quiet, generally speaking. And are you really someone who should point out what everyone else does like it's a good idea?" Eric asked with a touch of amusement.

"So is the space so you don't have to see the echoes of what you've done in the people around you?" she asked. Then she smirked faintly. "And I didn't say it was a good idea, I was just pointing out that technically, everyone else pulls that shit, you could too, if you really wanted."

"More so I don't have to see just how much sacrifice they'd have to make, because I know a lot of them couldn't make half of what was needed," Eric answered. "I'm not looking to vent my anger on people who it probably won't matter to, I figure it's worth saving for when there's someone there who'll listen, or who needs it." And she got the same smirk in kind as Eric shook his head at her. "I suppose I could, so could you, but there's no value in that. I haven't seen a reward for playing along that's made it seem worth my while yet." Which was why his enlistment was a thing of the past.

"Are you looking to vent in general?" she asked. "Or is that not topping your agenda?" She was aware she was asking a lot of questions. Hell, she was doing the very thing she'd accused Nate of doing the other night, when she'd said it was irritating. But Eric didn't seem to mind, so much. So, she wasn't stopping as long as he was answering. If he was happy to tell her what she wanted to know, she wasn't going to quit on principal.

"Not so much," Eric answered, shaking a few drops of coffee out of the cup and screwing it back on to his thermos. "I've got a lot of nerves to hit, but it's not like every day I have steam to blow off. And if I do, I just settle in with a project back at my shop." Metalworking was always a good relief when he couldn't take his anger out on a source. "Really, the less I'm out and mingling, the cooler my head is. If I didn't get tired of the surroundings or run out of beer I'd probably never leave my patch of land."

"So being out and about hanging out with the normals doesn't do it for you, huh?" she noted. "So who do you mix well with?" she asked. "Assuming anyone makes the list." Which it was entirely possible no one did. However, she was willing to bet that wasn't the case. He seemed pretty damn personable, so he had to have some people skills, and people who didn't give a damn didn't bother with that sort of thing. Or, in her experience that was how it was.

He didn't want to sound like a braggart, but at the same time Eric wasn't one for false modesty when he knew his own talents and skills. And in a lot of cases, he could get along with scads of people wonderfully, could even have them hanging on his words. But so many of those cases also had behavior that he couldn't stand, and all it took was one glimpse of them to make Eric into a very different man. "Anyone who doesn't have their head in their ass," he told December, smirking thinly. "Short list, right?"

She gave a short little almost laugh, that was mostly a bit of an exhale with a smirk attatched to it. Reaching up, she tucked her hair behind her ears. "Extremely." she agreed. "Good luck in your search for those people. I don't think it'll go all that well for you. But I guess you have whatever you're working on to keep you company." Not that she knew what it was, and she wasn't sure if she should ask or not. She wanted to know, but at the same time, he'd said 'research and development' before, and she didn't want to ask then not understand anyhow.

"Work doesn't make for much company. But maybe if I turn up dry in my search, I'll wander back down here," Eric offered easily, "Since you've clearly got your head far away from your ass, which, can I be forward?" He didn't actually wait for permission, just grinning warmly as he stepped back from the rail and shoved his thermos back into his satchel. "It's damn nice to find. You oughta head uptown sometime, expose a few more people around here to the concept."

She looked a little amused at his asking if he could be forward then going ahead anyhow. And with his comment in genral. "Oh, I've been uptown." she told him, turning to sit on the rail facing him then, crossing one leg over the other, and she let her hair drop forward over her shoulders. She locked her eyes to his, and gave a dark little smile. "I've handed out a few lessons." she told him. Which was true, considering the more lucrative employment she had than the boardwalk.

Both hands got stuffed in Eric's pockets as he watched her, took in the way her hair framed her face and the piercings gave dull flickers from what streetlights the boardwalk had. "You've got my gratitude for it," Eric told her, fingers fidgeting around the junk in his pockets for a moment. One hand came up, a business card for the scrapyard poised between two fingers. "And if you're ever feeling like trying the Round, I figure a few lessons ought to get you a drink, too."

December held her hand out, palm up so he could give her the card. She'd take it. She might even stop by if she was feeling like it. Maybe she'd get to see some of the projects he was working on. See how things got put together. "Not sure you'd be able to handle the kinds of lessons I give. But a drink sounds good." she told him. "Nice meeting you, Eric." she added, a sentiment she almost never handed out. It usually wasn't nice to meet anyone.

"I think that's a two-way street," came the reply, a mixture of a challenge and a joke as Eric handed over the card and stepped back, wondering what might be so special about December's lessons. "And maybe I'll hear from you sometime. If not, it was still a treat for a little while here," he complimented, "Thanks for occupying the same space, December, it was good to meet you too. Be well." And he was gone, smiling thoughtfully as he turned to walk away with his mind ticking over everything they'd talked about, good and bad alike. It wasn't often that you met someone who would encourage that urge to lash out... it bore some consideration. And coffee.