route_1065 | You can't dance and stay uptight

Entry tags:

You can't dance and stay uptight

Who: Dale Cooper (

tapestodiane) and Carmen Sandiego (

doitrockapella)
Where: Mahogany Town and Route 44
When: The night of August 31, into September 1
Summary: Amid the Clefairy swarm, a couple of dorks sneak out to look at the moon, eat takeout, and make Attempt #6001 at finding out why Dale Cooper is afraid of birds.
Rating: PG
Log:

[The best part about Agent Cooper's assigned room in the Mahogany Inn, as far as Carmen Sandiego is concerned, is not the simple but pleasant furnishings, the bathroom's water pressure, or the relative proximity to the various amenities the little hostelry in their current town of choice has to offer — it's the fact that there's a rather nice, sturdy tree with low wide branches almost directly outside his bedroom window.

One that she happens to be sitting in, at the moment.

(Granted, she doesn't actually need the help of the tree, of course; if she were really determined to get in his window, there are any number of creative ways she might go about it. The tree just happens to make things convenient, both in terms of support and providing cover, and if it's already there just waiting to accommodate her, well, she might as well put it to good use.)

It's certainly not the first time she's ever spent time lingering in the branches of a tree, and it probably won't be the last, but there is a certain method to her apparent madness tonight. It's the night going into September 1st; in her opinion, that means it's also a fine choice of night for a late-night rendezvous, for a wide variety of reasons. It's a blue moon out, for one thing, and if the sudden appearance of Clefairy bouncing around is any indication, she's not the only one with the thought of dancing in the moonlight on her mind. For another thing, September 1st is four months from May 1st, one-third of a year from the day she first met Special Agent Dale Cooper in person at the Beltane festival in Goldenrod City.

For a third thing, it's her half-birthday. Not that she usually goes out of her way to observe that particular half-holiday, but it's something to think about, nonetheless.

But regardless of which reason she's relying on, the fact remains that she's still sitting rather contentedly on one of the low-hanging branches of the tree, feet (encased in sensible black boots) dangling over the side as she double-checks her count of the inn windows to ensure she's got the right one. It's a little strange to be without her usual red coat and hat tonight; she hasn't worn her charcoal turtleneck and black slacks since Beltane, and there's an odd feeling of exposure that comes with having her hair tied off in a neat side ponytail and the distinct absence of her hat's brim framing her vision. But it's the sort of night that seems to warrant a change of pace, and so for the moment, she's chosen to indulge it.

Her mental count finished and her accuracy confirmed, she gazes thoughtfully at the warm glow of yellow light from behind the closed curtains before reaching for her Gear to send off a message.]

Tree at my window, window tree,
My sash is lowered when night comes on;
But let there never be curtain drawn
Between you and me.

[While she waits for her response — be it electronic or in person — she tips her head back to search for stray beams of moonlight that have managed to filter their way down through the crisscrossing canopy of the tree's branches, and thinks of how close she once came to making it into space, herself.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[She takes that as her cue to start walking, nudging lightly against his arm before returning to a comfortable — by their mutual standard, which by an average person's definition would probably more aptly be termed close — distance from his side.]

My own alien? I can't deny I'd considered it.

[Again, as if brought on by her words, another flurry of them go past, bouncing along on their way — and Carmen slows her pace just a bit, giving them a chance to get ahead before resuming her original walking speed.]

But it doesn't seem very sporting to single one out and keep it from its goal, whatever that may be, purely for my own satisfaction. They've obviously got a destination in mind; who am I to hinder them?

_{[He walks with her, and much like her he's very content to stay close by, leaning just slightly towards her as they go. He did spot the plastic bag she's carrying and even if he hadn't, there's still the smell of food, subtle in the air. It seems like it'll be a long night. But a very nice one.]}

I don't know. A lot of people say the journey is more important than the destination.

_{[Not arguing, and she'll know - just thinking, with a hint of a smile her way.]}

[It's a good night for a walk, and one made less solitary with the presence of a companion at her elbow. She's not one to fear the cover of darkness, just as she's not one to fear just about anything else, but it's an undeniably different experience to move through it with someone by her side instead of venturing through the shadowed streets alone. Without him, she'd be immersed in all the assorted sensations of the night, acutely aware of each of them in turn — the sound of branches rustling and the swarms of the Clefairy as they go by, the cool breath of the breeze against her face and in her hair. With him here, she's still noticing all those things, but they seem mildly dampened in the face of his ambient warmth, his footsteps beating their own rhythm alongside hers, his general presence on the periphery of her vision.

It's a different sort of walk than the one she's used to, but that doesn't make it unpleasant by any means, and her pace is deliberate but unhurried as she guides the way toward the outskirts of town.

The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

Lao Zi, always poignant.

To think it's been almost six months now, since that first day.]

Maybe I've got a journey of my own in mind tonight.

[She lets her fingers lightly brush his, as if in reassurance that it's not another one like her recent race to Mt. Mortar she's referring to.]

_{[He weaves his fingertips briefly with hers in response to the contact. Briefly because that's always how they start out - a nudge here, a tap there, in that back and forth they've never stopped playing.]}

Any destination?

I've thought of one. But it won't be up to me, whether I get there.

[And that is, she thinks, sufficiently cryptic enough to suffice as a clue to her plans for the evening, without giving them away outright.]

You know the story of the rabbit in the moon, don't you?

_{[Cryptic or not, it's an answer that satisfies him. He hadn't expected it, exactly, because expectations don't mesh all that well with Carmen, but it still stays true to her.]

[A nod before he speaks. He looks at the moon too, even though it's not the moon in question - the rabbit, if even there, is certainly harder to pick out.]}

The rabbit sacrifices himself for a stranger and his image is drawn onto the moon as a reward.

_{[In other words, yes. It's a story he likes, even if he hasn't been in touch with it for a long time now.]}

Edited 2012-09-04 03:18 (UTC)

He asks his friends to give him over to the stranger, you know.

[She tips her head back to look skyward as well, thinking of a night once spent in a tea garden with Suhara, when he'd first told this story to her in his kind, familiar voice.]

Monkey and Fox both bring their gifts to help feed the stranger, and when Rabbit realizes that the grass he eats won't suffice, he asks them both to help him collect firewood. Once it's ablaze, he tells them how he plans to jump into the fire, and asks that, when he's cooked, they take him and give him over to the man. After he stops Rabbit from jumping into the fire, and after he's thanked Monkey and Fox for their offerings, the stranger tells him, "Rabbit, your generosity is without compare — but you must learn never to harm yourself."

[She leans a little, nudging against him.]

It's not just a reward that carries Rabbit up to the moon. He's up there for safekeeping, too.

_{[It doesn't really matter much that he already knows how it goes. He's happy to listen to her retell it .. and to note what she chooses to emphasize about the tale.]

[He doesn't see it, at first, the comparison. But he does think about the gift she gave him those months ago, the wood carved into a rabbit: the netsuke he doesn't have on him right now but always knows where it is.]

[The little nudge makes it obvious and he looks at her like he's caught off guard, just for a moment. If he is the rabbit ... it looks like that's what she means, although he wouldn't assume it as fact.]

[But if he's the rabbit, then what tale is she?]}

I know. Quite the grand gesture to ensure his safety.

_{[Spoken softly, an opening for her to deliberate if she'd like.]}

Someone had to. Otherwise he might throw himself into a fire for every stranger he meets.

[The smile she flashes him in exchange for that look is light and even a bit sweet, but it doesn't even try to be worthy of being called innocent. She's well aware of the game she's playing, and if he doesn't know — though she suspects he does — he will soon.]

He does live safely ever after in the end, you know.

_{[He muses on that for a moment. It seems like he's going to learn something, isn't he?}

You think that's an ending I'll get?

_{[Showing that yeah, he gets it. He's not sure, though. In a sad way, he's always had a bit of a feeling that he'll probably not make it all too far, in the end. It's not really palpable in the same way here which could let him believe it for a moment, but it's in the back of his mind all the same.]

[And that kind of thinking is in his voice, even with the contemplative smile.]}

[Her response is light, simple; one might even call it effortless.]

If I have my way.

[They've walked a fair distance by now, and are on the verge of the route proper; with the lights of the town behind them, the darkness seems to stretch out for miles upon miles, sprinkled with a dusting of stars, the watchful moon, and the occasional cluster of Clefairy still fluttering their way toward some unknown location in the distance.]

So. Shall we pick out a home for you up there, too?

_{[He smiles.]}

I wouldn't mind staying where I am, for now.

_{[Not an objection, not really. It's said with a certain fondness as he looks over at her and then follows the latest trail of Clefairy with his eyes.]

[It's perhaps a double meaning, too. A small repeat of what he'd told her once before - that he's really not all that eager to get home.]}

I'll be able to come visit you, you know. When I finally make it there.

[Despite the walk and the cool evening air, the contents of the bag in her hand are still warm, but they won't stay that way forever. Metaphorically, that could be a parallel for a lot of things; for the moment, it's enough to simply be the driving force to find a comfortable place to sit and unpack, preferably with a good view of the moon.

The benefit of Route 44 with its twin lakes is that there is also a fine scattering of trees near their banks, and where there are trees there are often stumps and fallen logs — which, when in need of a makeshift bench, are often as good a find as any. So she guides them on, and as they approach she abruptly remembers to surreptitiously watch the branches of the trees for owls and whatever other birds might be out at this hour.]

But for now, I can content myself with just watching.

Stealing the moon as well?

_{[He jokes - it clicked in his mind, the memory of that conversation. A rabbit and a raven, then. Maybe an unlikely pair ... then again, maybe not.]

[He'd been watching the trees as well, although for different reasons, but as he remembers something else from the very same talk, he looks over again and leans slightly towards her, making his next words almost conspiratory.]}

I believe you owe me a moon story.

_{[No just watching here, apparently.]}

[She can't help but smile at the overtly conspiratorial gesture he throws in — the lean, the slightly hushed quality of his voice — because there's something charmingly absurd about making a show of secrecy when there's no one out here but the two of them, and the remark wouldn't make sense to anyone eavesdropping anyway.]

I've told you one moon story already. Now you want another?

[She knows exactly what he means, of course, but she remembers that late-night conversation, too, and the banter that inevitably ensued on those nights when he was still simply an intriguing voice through a speaker to her, and the idea of reenacting those moments in some small, adapted way here is proving too tempting to resist.

She turns her eyes back to the silvery light in the sky, keeping her tone light and gentle.]

I don't know if having even the sun and moon both would be worth it, though, if it meant you'd be afraid of me.

_{[Of course he wants another - or rather, the one intended, the one she mentioned back then. But he doesn't make it known, at least not in any words, and lets the slight tug to his smile speak for itself.]

[It turns into something smaller though, when she carries on and he nods in reaction. It's not really a sad or remorseful smile, it's the kind of ah, yeah you'd hear from anyone who'd realized something forgotten.]

[And he summarizes it neatly, softly, open to let her ask the question he figures she wants an answer to.]}

I suppose I never did tell you about that.

Trade me.

[She says it simply, as though the tenor of her remark will somehow color his response in return — that this doesn't have to be difficult, that it can be simple, that it's just one among any other number of questions they've asked each other in the long time they've known each other, and that it can be just as easy to answer as any of the others. Just tell me, it suggests, like it's as easy as that.

She already knows it's not, that it can't possibly be. But this isn't the first time she's maneuvered information out of him before, either.]

Tell me what it is that makes you so afraid, and I'll tell you how I almost joined the rabbit on the moon.

_{[It's surprising how easy it is in his mind, the idea of telling her what's up with the birds. He really has learned a lot in his time here and the importance of sharing and reaching out is one of them. Besides, she already knows he's afraid. And out here, beneath the moon, it really does seem like a story that's easy to tell. Private. But because of the space above, not all that heavy.]}

Alright.

After we find a place to roost.

_{[They're just by the trees. Getting settled seems like a good idea.]}

[Glancing up at the tall, sturdy branches and following the lines they draw to the moon hanging in the sky overhead, a flicker of a grin crosses her face.]

You know where I like to roost.

[Teasingly, she raises her arm and waggles it slightly, drawing attention to the fact that tonight, for once, it's bare save for her sleeve; without a coat to conceal it, she's opted not to wear her grappling hook (for once in her life), and that means if they're doing any ascending tonight, it'll be the old-fashioned way.]

I promised the next time I'd bring you up with me, but it looks like you might have to handle getting there yourself this time.

_{[He hadn't meant to roost in the trees, of course. Coop's a grounded guy, perhaps a bit too much, but when she makes that comment he lights up in a grin of his own. He's climbed a few trees in Johto but not for this reason.]

[It'll be fun and a good view. He approves.]}

I don't think that'll be a problem.

_{[Lightly, as he looks up at the several set of branches once they walk past the tree line. Not that there are all too many, but that only means that the ones that are there are all the more sturdy. He lays a hand on a tree that seems extra worthy of consideration, then looks over at Carmen with a raised pair of eyebrows in question.]}

[It's a good tree he's picked — tall, but not too tall, with a few branches low enough to get a good perch up into the taller ones and (perhaps most attractive) with a cluster of wide branches about fifteen feet up that brings back memories of the forest on Route 30, and the one she sat in during the very first of their late-night chats.

And so, with a sudden flash of mischief, she passes him the plastic bag in her hand and takes a few steps back, giving herself a brief running start before swinging herself easily up into the branches — an encore of the same grace she'd exhibited at the beginning of their evening out, getting herself into the tree outside his window in the first place.

Once she's made it to the first low branch, though, she pauses long enough to reach back down, motioning for the bag once again.]

Then, as A told B and B told C, "I'll race you to the top of the coconut tree."

_{[He hands the bag back with a laugh that acknowledges the rhyme - not one he's familiar with but it certainly fit the occasion.]}

To gain new and wider views, huh?

_{[A bit distracted, as he reaches up to one of the lower branches himself. He's getting a feel for it, at first, judging the angle of the tree trunk itself and the distance to the branch before he rather smoothly jumps up, grips the branch, kicks off the tree trunk and is up in the branches himself.]

[He looks at her for a moment with a playful grin and then looks up to find the best path onwards.]}

There's plenty to view on a night like tonight.

[And some of it happens to be attractive and following her up a tree, hello.

The place she chooses to settle is a perch about fifteen feet up, and she tucks herself comfortably into a nook created where the base of the branch meets the trunk of the tree, the bag in her lap and her feet dangling easily over the side as she waits for him to catch up.]

Add in a midnight snack and the sound of your voice, and I'd have a hard time dreaming up a better evening.

_{[He finds a good place on the other side of the trunk and a small distance beneath her, where two branches close together make something akin to a seat: one of them comfortable to sit on and the other by his back, making it possible for him to recline some without any danger of falling.]

[The moon is a little bit closer like this and with that and the idle chatter of another group of Clefairy close by, he looks at her warmly as he settles in.]}

With your company it's already shaping up to be one of my favorites.

_{[Meaning that he's glad it's all of her, now. He fondly remembers that time when she was just a voice, but he's even happier to know the person behind it.]}

[Digging into her bag, she unearths a glossy takeout carton with the lid folded shut and a cheery logo emblazoned on the side — Chinese, to an eye born and raised on Earth, though that's not what the Johto residents would call it, obviously — and hands it down to him, along with a pair of chopsticks in paper wrapping.

(He'll find the Johto equivalent of Peking duck inside when he opens it, too; she'll let him have first crack at it for the sake of significance, but she'll reclaim it before long for the sake of dinner.)

She's not picky about her own choice, though, and plucks a box at random, unearthing her own set of chopsticks before finding a smaller, stubby branch nearby to hang the bag on as she settles in for a long chat.]

Here. Flatterers first.

[She's teasing, naturally.]

And then my story, please.

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