[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 coasters of the future!!!!

When you walk down the ramp, it's all white sand and blue water. Down about half a mile is a pier that juts out several hundred feet.

It's a nice beach. Not too crowded.

Comments

[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."

[bothbutneither.livejournal.com]

"I was thinking that might be a good plan." Not that he's all that big on advance planning, but if they leave here and go through the market area and pick up a few things, go back to their room and change clothes -- he's got nothing against her very skimpy bathing suit or his rolled-up shirt and khakis -- but these outfits probably won't get them into the casino if it's anything like the ones in their galaxy.

It's a special night, and he'd like to treat her with as much grace and intention as he can muster. After all, it's been... two and a half years for him and even longer for Faye since a night out on the town actually meant a real night out on the town. The confines of the bar are... confines. A bigger, more pleasant prison of sorts but that's really not a fair assessment. It's where they live: no more, no less.

Or where they stay. No: live. He's stubborn enough to refuse to give up on that particular dream.

Watching with guarded amusement as she unwraps one of the nut candies, he follows its path from the bag to her mouth with more than a little envy: he knows what it's like for those supple, strong, fine fingers of hers to take hold of something. Whether or not she knows it, Faye has a musician's fingers. She moves them with such grace. The first time he noticed that was when he was pouring her a drink at his apartment in Blue Crow and the second time was when she was firing a gun at him. The third time was when he stopped to consider those hands of hers cuffed behind her back as he left her on his bed.

He could have taken advantage of her but... women weren't his style, or so he said. And he's glad he didn't; he knows what that's like only too well and would never inflict it on anyone under any circumstances.

A gentle breeze kicks up now, rolling right off the water. The smell of salt wafts over to them; he breathes in deeply then turns his attention back to Faye and the chocolate disappearing between her lips. He'd like to chase it with a kiss, a caress, a hug, some macho statement of ownership.

He'll save that for later. They have time.

[anythingbutblue]

"Well, once we finish our little snack," she tells him, perfectly willing to drive the action, "I'll want to wait long enough to take a dip."

You can't go to the beach for what feels like the first time in forever and not actually get in the water. She plans to take full advantage of this little vacation.

His eyes don't leave her even once she's got the candy in her mouth, and she can hardly be blamed if her chin tilts up a little, if her eyes narrow slyly, if another smile quirks her lips.

It's not exactly her style to help other people do what they're capable of doing themselves, but she unwraps a second piece and this one she holds up to his mouth, nearly bumping his bottom lip with it.

"But after that, I could be willing to let you escort me to the nearest casino."

[bothbutneither.livejournal.com]

He's about to tell her he's not going into the water for a whole multitude of reasons -- which she can more than likely figure out for herself -- until she starts to feed him candy. There's something so indulgent about it that he lets out a low laugh, then touches the top of her hand as he eats the treat. Most of their touch-based play has taken place in private and so it's both surprising and a little bit liberating to do it in public.

Still, he's not much of an exhibitionist when he's not on stage with a saxophone in his hands and while he's not shy, he's got enough of a sense of self-preservation and privacy so he doesn't want to flash all of Santo with the... unusual components of his body.

No wet t-shirt contests for him. But he'll gladly watch if Faye wants to indulge, along with the rest of the population of the beach, he's sure. Still not letting go of her hand, he kisses the tips of her fingers -- all of them -- before swallowing the chocolate which is really good, actually, for something in a bag from a seaside food stand.

"Okay. It's a date." He kisses the tips of her fingers one more time then lets go of her hand; he needs his own hands to roll up the legs of his trousers as far as they'll go. He's more than happy to wade into the water with her, stand there while she swims, keep the towels dry on his shoulders, and keep everyone else away from her.

And after that, they can walk through the market and pick up whatever they need, then head back to their room and get ready for the casino. If he has any say in the matter they'll take their time with that, but Faye might have other ideas. And whatever she wants... he'll see to it that's exactly what she gets.