Looking for the Secret Garden
Who: Christer and Lindsey Where: around the hotel When: morning
Christer woke with a jolt, reaching for his gun, not finding it, but still feeling as if he was falling back against bed again. What a dream. He’d been helping track a bear. A big bear. It was invading campsites and stealing food and scaring campers. They were going to pull it back further into the forest to keep it and the campers safe. But he wasn’t there. He was in bed. Which...wasn’t his bed. Christer sat up, looking around himself and not sure where he was at all. He ran his hand through his hair, feeling out of place in his uniform in the bed hurrying out of it so he didn’t get anything dirty. And it was weird. How had he gotten here?
The bag was his, full of his things, but it all felt weird. He looked around the room then found the note. That was super strange. It left Christer changing into something less wrinkled and less official, just a t-shirt and jeans, then heading out of his room to see where exactly he was.
Lindsey woke where she'd fallen asleep. Which was really disappointing because she'd hoped to wake up in her own bed and not this crazy hotel. Still, it wasn't all bad and maybe she'd find Caleb again today. Or Ella. Or someone brand spankin new to talk to. That could be fun and very worth getting up and giving a little extra attention to how she looked. She wore bright pink today. One might say her look was somewhere between cyber punk and romantic. And considering how pale her skin was, the bright colors stood out even more. Which she liked. She didn't want anyone to miss her. Not that they could with the mop of red curls and a habit of chattering.
She hummed on her way down the hall to the elevators deciding to start in the lobby and see if anyone new or familiar happened to be there. Except for the shithead woman behind the desk. Lindsey did not want to see her. She pressed the button and happily echoed the ting of the elevator as it arrived on the third floor and the doors opened so she could step inside.
Christer had gotten in the elevator on his floor, one below hers and he’d meant to go down, but then it was going up before he could stop it which meant he went up, scrambling to push for it to go down when the doors opening and bright spot of...something standing in front of him. “I..umm.” And then words failed him completely.
Lindsey watched as the doors open and the guy inside seemed to be rendered completely speechless at the sight of her. She wrinkled her nose cutely with a little giggle. "That's probably the most flattering response to seeing me as anyone's ever had," she said and moved into the elevator, nearly catching on the door as it seemed to hurry to close on her. She pushed the button for the lobby and cocked her head, looking at him. "I'm Lindsey. This place is batshit. Right?" she asked and leaned against the wall of the elevator, glancing down at her black and pink striped stockings to be sure there wasn't a tear.
She seemed all color and light and a million other things and Christer was his usually quiet self mostly just moving out of her way. “Christer,” he finally managed, running his fingers through his hair to try and ground himself. “I’m Christer. And yes. I think. Where are we?”
Lindsey's eyes brightened some and she grinned. "That's a great name. Christer," she said, trying it out. "I wish I knew… Ohhh wait is this your first day? Have you not been down to the lobby or tried to leave yet?" she asked, her expression concerned. "Don't try to go out any of the doors. Seriously bad news. I tried it all day yesterday."
He opened his mouth, then closed it, making a face like he was thinking. Normally he’d discuss that his name was Swedish, which was why it was so different, something passed down through family, but she mentioned not being able to leave and he found himself moving closer to her out of curiosity. “We can’t leave? The doors don’t go...out? What happens?”
Lindsey immediately wondered what was going on in his head. It looked like the wheels were turning. She could already tell he was either shy or reserved. When he moved closer she decided it was the latter. "It's really bizarre. You try to walk out and then poof! You're in someone's room or the bar or some other random place in the building. There's even a courtyard and you'd think you could climb up to the roof and then down again but nope." She shook her head, her curls bouncing.
She hardly seemed real. Christer wasn’t used to people like her. The other forest rangers, they were reserved in their own way and the campers, well the outdoorsy type wasn’t usually this bright. He kept watching her, maybe a touch too intensely, but he was trying to figure her out, put the pieces of the bright pink puzzle together. “Random places in the building. So someone could just walk into my room meaning to go out. That would be unsettling.” He frowned at the thought, looking away from her for a moment and crossing his arms. Being stuck inside was unsettling for him. He liked outside. That was why he did what he did.
It didn't escape Lindsey that he was studying her so she studied him back, a faint smile on her lips at the directness. He looked like he was the kind of guy that didn't laugh loud enough. Or something like that. Her first impressions weren't always right so she instead focused on his musings. "Mmhm, which is why I made sure to tell you. Though maybe you want to try it out first. You know, just to make sure you don't later wonder if I was some kind of crazy person spinning crazy stories." She grinned even though he looked away. "But so far the people I've met have been nice. I've only met two, well three now if I include you. But all nice. Oh, except the staff. They're utterly, craptastically unhelpful.”
He hadn’t even considered her telling a story. Yes, it was weird and it was hard to believe, but Christer wasn’t the type to assume someone was lying. Not at all. “There’s others?” That seemed like some sort of weird situation for them all to be in, all stuck in a place where they didn’t think they’d planned on being originally. “Do you know what they want with us?”
"Mmhm. At least two others. Ella and Caleb. I'm pretty sure there are even more people because I ended up in a few very obviously occupied rooms." She shook her head when he asked if she knew what they wanted with them. "No. So far anyone would tell me was that management didn't allow them to discuss that or some other such what-the-fuckery. We're to enjoy our stay." She pushed away from the wall as the doors to opened into the lobby and started out of the elevator.
Christer didn’t have much else in the way of options beyond following her, so he did that, tucking his hands into his jeans and ducking his head so that the blond locks fell in his eyes. “Management?” That was weird. And it didn’t sound like a kind of stay that anyone would enjoy. The lobby itself though, that was enough to give him proper pause, slowing his steps to look around. “Whoa.”
Lindsey stopped walking to answer him, standing closer than probably necessary. "Yeah. I don't think we're allowed to meet them though. The hag at the front counter wouldn't let us." She watched him, grinning again as he looked around the lobby. She took the opportunity to look him over when he was more animated and found it quite pleasant. "It's something, right? Lot of polish and weird old furniture sort of make it here. Except it's like my grandmother's house vomited all over the place." If she had a grandmother. Which was doubtful.
It was something indeed. When she spoke though Christer glanced at her, surprised that she was right there, next to him. Not one for personal space probably. It didn’t bother him really, but he wasn’t used to people just blatantly invading his. He didn’t usually have that impression on people. “It’s nicer than vomit.”
Lindsey did it with everyone. She was generally a physical person and would have shook his hand or hugged him but she knew better than to do at least that much with someone who was reserved. But standing close to him didn't register as being odd because she wasn't thinking about it. She giggled and nodded. "Okay, it's nicer than vomit. Way nicer and it doesn't smell bad as far as I can tell. Which is weird, right? Because it's so old. You'd think it would be dusty or musty or something." She sniffed the air.
He followed her motion, taking in the scent of the place and nodded. “No it’s fresh, and look,” Christer took a few steps away from her towards a table in the center of the lobby with a giant floral arrangement. “These are fresh. Day or two old at the most. If that.” He touched the edge of a lily petal lightly, as if reverent about it. “Lilies, roses, peonies. These are the real thing.”
Lindsey followed his gaze and then him as he approached the flowers on the table. She felt the edge of a rose petal, never having actually touched a real one before she’d ended up at this wacky hotel. She was surprised by how soft it was. "Ohhh, they really shouldn't cut them. They won't last very long. I once watched a bouquet of flowers slowly die on the mantle piece. It made me so sad," she said and hoped that at least this one wouldn't sit here long enough to decay where she had to see it. She'd start avoiding that shit.
“No they shouldn’t,” Christer agreed. “The bushes and stalks are always prettier. Especially lilies, if you want them inside pot them.” He was starting to go on about plants, which he remembered for a non-camper or gardener or whatever was weird and he checked the comment. “Pretty though.” That much he was aware of. Then something she’d said came to mind. “You said there was a garden?”
Lindsey gave him a slow, slightly knowing smile as he talked about the flowers. It was unusual for a guy to know that much about flowers, right? A lot of them couldn't even tell you what a lily looked like let alone talk about potting them. And it was the most he'd said at one time since she'd met him. "Very pretty. Do they grow well indoors?" she asked, fingering one of the lilies near the one he'd been touching. "Oh, yes! There's a courtyard. Wait 'til you see it," she said excitedly and almost grabbed his wrist to drag him along. Instead she folded her hands in front of her. "It's overflowing with roses."
“Decently. Especially as far as indoor plants go,” Christer said. They were mostly adaptable flowers. He smiled, just a little thing, but it fit his face wonderfully and he nodded. “Will you show me?” he asked.
Lindsey pressed her lips together like she could keep back the smile that made her eyes go a bit wide for half a second. She gave a little excited shuffle of her feet and nodded. "This way!" she said and started in the direction toward the courtyard. "I think I almost died when I saw them all. Do you think you die from a beauty overdose?" she asked him curiously.
He followed after her, keeping up as best he could. She seemed excited, eager to show him and that was a nice feeling. “Maybe you can,” he said shrugging a little bit. “Though I don’t think it would kill you. Just overwhelm you.”
Lindsey half wanted to cover Christer's eyes and make a big reveal or something but she was behaving herself. She wanted to get him talking about flowers again though so she was glad he wanted to go see the courtyard. "That's such a strange word, you know? Overwhelm. Because I know you can also be underwhelmed. But are you ever just whelmed? The courtyard is definitely overwhelming with the beauty." She stopped beside the French door leading out and swept her hand toward it. "Et voila. Le jardin."
“I think you’re always whelmed,” Christer said with a smile in his eyes. Her French, he assumed, impressed him and Christer reached for the door, pushing it open and letting them both into the courtyard. And just as she told him, it was gorgeous. It was the kind of thing he needed after being told he was stuck inside a building. “Beautiful.”
"So being whelmed is the norm. That makes sense I guess. Or, wait, did you mean me personally?" she asked and giggled, her cheeks turning a bit pink. Was he teasing her about being perky? She hoped so. She walked in behind him, coming to stand beside him as close as she'd been before but look around at the overgrowth of roses. "Really is. So very much. And it smells soooo good out here. Like a fairytale or something." She was in awe of the courtyard as much as she'd ever been the few times she'd been in it yesterday. "Do you know the types?"
He looked down at her again, surprised that she was right there, lingering next to him. Looking around them he nodded. “I meant in general.” He paused for a moment thinking about what he would say next. “Though yes, you.” He smirked a tiny bit then looked around them. “Like a book actually. The Secret Garden.” Walking further into the courtyard he looked around, admiring the mess of roses. “I do.”
Lindsey turned toward him feeling the tiniest bit of disappointment until he qualified which made her giggle. She followed him though not close as she got distracted here and there by pretty or different looking blooms. "The Secret Garden?" she asked because she hadn't heard of that one. It sort of sounded dirty to her but she kept that bit to herself. She shifted her eyes to him when he said he knew the types of roses. "Which one are these?" she asked, pointing to a bush with pale lavender roses.
“It’s a children’s novel,” Christer explained. “A girl gets shipped to her family’s house to live with them, only to find a secret garden in the yard. A local boy helps her nurse it back to health.” He smiled and took in the overgrown roses. “This is sort of what I imagined.” His mother had found his interest in the book strange, but she didn’t stop him from reading it. He moved closer to the bush she’d indicated, studying it before nodding. “The simplest and most well kind I’m afraid. Rosa.”
Lindsey looked pensive for a moment. "She gets shipped? That sounds horrible. Though at least it was family and she had her garden." She smiled at the thought, imagining herself the novel's central character. It was so much more romantic than growing up in the foster system. It sounded stable and beautiful in some respects. Gosh he was a sensitive soul, reading stories like that. Understanding flowers. That sort of tickled at her a little and she felt sort of warm. She smiled as he told her the name of the flower. "The color is amazing. Sometimes it's the simple things, right? Rosa. Would you teach me the others?"
“Well it is turn of the century England. Shipping unsavory daughters to family that didn’t want them was sort of normal.” If he’d known that Lindsey was a foster kid, he’d be able to point out that it was close to the same. “The colors can change. They can do amazing things in greenhouses. I prefer the naturals, but there’s a reason why the industry is what it is.” He felt like he was teaching, but that was normal and actually a comfortable situation for him. “I can if you’d like, though these are mostly the same, just overgrown. Probably only a few actual bushes to start and the rest has grown up in vines.” He pointed to where the flowers had grown up the walls.
"Oh," she said in almost a whisper, her mouth remaining in an "O" for a long moment as sympathy rushed in for the poor girl. Boy did she know about being unwanted. She probably would have been the central character in that novel if she'd been alive in turn of the century England. "Poor girl, but at least she had the local boy to help her with her garden. Was there romance?" she asked, perking up a little. She listened to him talk about the roses and felt content for some reason. She nodded, kind of fascinated to know that roses could change color and kind of just enjoying the sound of his voice instead of her own. "Hm, yeah, and they're really thorny." She held up her arms, rolling up one sleeve a bit to show him the scratches from where she'd tried to climb out yesterday."
“Dickon? No, just a friend. Child’s novel remember?” he said, but he still smiled. “She had him and her invalid cousin. Found her own solace and peace. And she was far less ill behaved.” He turned to look at her arms, frowning and reaching to touch her scratches. “I have a first aid kit in my room.”
"Right, of course. Children think romance is gross," she said, making the wrinkly nosed face a five year old might make if he or she thought about people kissing. It made her giggle and shrug. "His name was Dickon, though? That's two guys with interesting names today. Christer and Dickon," she mused with a small smile. She held still as he touched the scratches. She wasn't touched often and when she was, she always chose to allow it as long as it went. "Do you? I'd hate to have scars that make someone think I was a cutter or something," she said, looking validly concerned about that because she was.
“I’m probably more like him than anyone else,” Christer admitted. Dickon had been quiet, calm and good with plants and animals. That was him completely. Maybe that was why he’d enjoyed the book. “I think I have something to keep the marks from scarring.” He took a step back, letting go of her arm and heading back towards the door of the courtyard.
Lindsey made a mental note to check the bookshelves in the lobby for a copy of this book. It would be in an ancient hotel library, right? "So you're like him and I'm like her. Huh," she blurted out without remembering he wasn't part of her internal dialog about her past. "I want to read this book now." She gave him a hopeful look when he said he had something to help. Then she began following him, a rustle of bright pink in his wake. "I really appreciate it. Do you want me to wait down in the lobby?"
“You’re like Mary? How so? You don’t seem irritable and spoiled.” Christer smirked again and shook his head. “You’re welcome to come to my room if you like. Though if you’d feel safer waiting, I understand.” He would bring it to her if she’d rather not be alone with him in a less public setting.
Lindsey shook her head. "No, far from both. I… wow. Um, I forgot you're not in my head," she admitted and laughed a little nervously at herself. "I was a foster kid. I got 'shipped' and the whole unwanted bit," she said, her voice upbeat because she'd made peace with the past mostly. It didn't drag her down at least. She wasn't sure what the right answer was about going to his room. "I sort of don't know protocol on that," she said, giving him a sideways look. "And maybe you want your privacy kept? I tend to look at everything."
Christer nodded with a silent ‘ah’. “Mary was an orphan as well. Her parents died, but her family didn’t necessarily want the girl whose parents didn’t want her.” He shrugged a little. “I see the connection.” He smiled and nodded. “I’m not quite one for privacy with my things. I don’t have much. You’re more than welcome to come with me.” Heading back to the elevator he pushed the up button.
Lindsey felt a pang of something. She wasn't sure if it was for herself or for Mary. But people not wanting a girl whose parents didn't want her hit so close to home. She brushed it aside and nodded along with him. "She overcame though, right? Even the being irritable and spoiled if Dickon spent time with her. Hm?" She followed him to the elevator and stood close beside him to wait for it. "Sold then and maybe I enjoy riding in elevators way too much. You'll cut me off when I've had too much, right?"
“She got better. So did her invalid cousin.” Christer looked at her curiously. “Had too much what?” he asked, since he wasn’t following with her train of thought completely. The elevator bell went off as the doors opened and he got on it, doing a better job of hitting the button for where he wanted to go this time.
Lindsey was pleased to hear Mary did well. That was good. Really, really good. "Elevator riding, silly," she said and poked his arm lightly. She hoped he liked her as much as she liked him. It was rare she found someone who balanced her out in some ways. She wanted to be friends with him. She followed him in and leaned against the wall, realizing that was her MO every time she got into an elevator. "Where are you from?" she asked nosily.
Ah yes, that. He should have caught that. “I think you’re fine until you move in.” Christer leaned one shoulder against the wall, even if the ride wasn’t all that long to get to his floor. “Wyoming last. You?”
She glanced at him with a grin that turned into a giggle. "Do you think I could actually do that? Is it big enough to fit a bed in here?" She looked around and eyeballed the space, using her thumb and forefinger as measuring equipment. She looked over to him after a moment and smiled appreciatively that he was taking her to be patched up and at least tolerating her. "Wyoming! Wow. Um I never left Indiana before now. At least, I'm assuming we're not in Indiana anymore, Toto."
“You might need a sleeping bag instead of a bed,” Christer suggested. “Toto was in Kansas.” But it didn’t bother him that she made the joke. He got off the elevator when the doors opened again, heading towards his room. “I work in the parks out there.”
Lindsey nodded at his suggestion. "You're probably right. And I don't do well in sleeping bags. Bad memories," she said and laughed softly, looking down at her striped tights again. Though her eyes lifted when he called her on her inaccurate Wizard of Oz quote. She almost cracked up but then he mentioned having worked in the parks and all kinds of pieces fell together. She followed him out of the elevator, mulling things over and somewhat uncharacteristically quiet as she did so though she was smiling.
“I used to spend nights out under the stars,” Christer said, suggesting a better memory. He opened the door to his room, glancing back at her when she went quiet. “Are you okay?”
She liked him all the more for suggesting stars and that sort of thing. She smiled over at him and poked his arm again. She wasn't sure what to say. Which was different since she always had something to say. It didn't feel weird though. Almost like he'd calmed her down or something. "Oh, oh, yeah I'm fine," she said when he asked after her. She was following and thinking. "You just kind of get me going a little internal. Which is so not a bad thing."
She poked him again. That was something. Christer wasn’t always the first to pick up on flirting and things like that, but he was starting to think that was what that was. “No, it’s not a bad thing.” He would know. He was a true case of an introvert, the kind that did the same thing and recovered from social stimuli alone. Christer headed towards his bag and pulled out the first aid kit. Unlike probably everyone else, his bag was a camping backpack and he was over-prepared. Opening the kit he found the right ointment and a few bandaids and motioned for her to come closer.
Lindsey nodded when he acknowledged it wasn't a bad thing to be internalized and quiet. She looked around his room, noting it was different from hers but not by too much. Same type of furniture and decode, all outdated. Then she noted his bag and more things clicked into place because he was definitely a backpacker or something. That he liked the outdoors had already been obvious but that he camped and/or backpacked made sense. She came closer rolling up both her sleeves when she was bidden. "Will it hurt?"
Christer looked at the scratches, then went for the small swabs rubbing alcohol as well, just to make sure the cuts were clean. “This might sting a little,” he admitted after opening the packet and taking out the little pad. He rubbed them over her scratches to clean them but tried to go quickly enough so that it wouldn’t hurt for too long.
Lindsey held still, her eyes closing and she bit her lip as it did, in fact, sting. Her breath drew in sharply through her nose and she made a face. "Ow ow ow," she muttered. Then she opened her eyes and looked to him, wondering what was next, if anything.
He wasn’t thinking when he did it, a trick he’d used with kids who’d been hurt in his park before, but he still leaned down a little and blew on the wounds something soft and cool, trying to be soothing. He looked up at her and threw the alcohol wipe away and grabbed the ointment. That he brushed against her scratches so they would heal.
Lindsey watched him lean down and blow on her scratches and she kind of thought that it was the nicest thing anyone had ever done when she was hurt. It was sweet. When he looked up at her she was simply bracing herself for what might lie next though the ointment felt soothing. She closed her eyes and breathed until he was done.
Christer wiped his hands off then went for the bandaids, covering the worst of the scratches, the deepest ones. She might look a little silly with a few bandaids littering her arms, but it would be better than something getting infected. Once he was done he stepped back, cleaning up his kit so he could put it away and to give her her personal space back.
Lindsey didn't need the personal space, as evidenced, but she was glad when he'd finished. Only because it hurt less. Still it had been the longest anyone had touched her in a very long time. She sort of cherished that silently. "Thank you," she said with relief in her tone and rolled her sleeves back down. "This is a horrible room. I'm sorry," she remarked, looking around.
Christer only smiled in acknowledgement of her gratitude, a close lipped kind of look before he glanced over his shoulder at his room. “Is it?” It was ornate and outdated, but he didn’t think it was all that awful. It was probably nicer than his apartment.
"Grandma House Vomit," she said succinctly. But then she shrugged. Maybe he liked retro furniture. Why not? Guys who liked flowers and gardening and were outside dudes who worked for parks? They deserved no judgment on their tastes. "Well it's functional though, right? You can sleep here. Which is far better than an elevator."
“Ah yes. I was thinking vintage,” Christer suggested before going to sit on the bed, not sure what else to do with himself. It was a nice bed at the very least. “Much better.” He waited a breath, not sure what to say next and going with the one thing that made some semblance of sense. “Tell me about yourself.”
Lindsey nodded, giggling softly. Grandma House Vomit … he'd refined it and she should take a leaf out of his book. Probably no one wanted to think about vomit. She watched him sit on the bed rather than suggesting they go somewhere else and wasn't sure what she did with herself then. The logical thing seemed to be to sit on the bed next to him so she did. "What about me? I mean, you know I was a foster kid and that I talk a lot. I'm always whelmed and I enjoy being taught about flowers. Oh. One thing you don't know. I was originally named after a clear, lightly carbonated beverage called Zima."
Christer watched her sit next to him, not sure how he felt about that. He wasn’t used to people wanting to be that close to him without having a real reason or needing something. Not that he was completely cut off, he just wasn’t close to many people. “I remember that drink,” he said with a smile. “Nothing else?”
Lindsey folded her hands against her black and pink striped knees. She probed herself for more information, not really used to people asking her about herself. "I'm a drama major. I played Ophelia in Hamlet and Beatrice in Much Ado About Nothing. I used to wish I was a fairy with special powers and bought sparklers so I could light them and wear costume wings to make my younger foster sisters and brothers laugh." She smiled at the memories, waving her hands in the air a little like she was waving the sparklers. She suddenly realized what she was doing and looked over at him. "What about you? Tell me about you?"
He really had never seen anyone like her. He might have actually believed her if she said she was a fairy. There was plenty of superstition around them in the woods that was for sure. “You seem too happy for Ophelia,” he said with a smile. At her question he considered what there was that was even worth sharing. “I’m a forest ranger. I work in a national park, teaching people, tracking animals, conservation efforts and the like. I’d rather be outside than in.” And he was a skill martial artist which she didn’t need to know. There wasn’t really a need for anyone to know that unless a real need came up. It wasn’t exactly something he was super proud of considering it wasn’t his idea to pursue it, but he liked the physical toll it took on his body and how it kept him in shape. That was enough.
"Well she was a happy girl until her father was murdered. Then she went a little cuckoo, poor thing." She became quite somber, her eyes ever so slightly wild. "Well, God dild you! They say the owl was a baker's daughter. Lord, we know what we are, but know not what we may be…" She stopped and grinned to show she wasn't as nutty as Ophelia. Not quite. Then she listened to him talk about himself, realization dawning on her excitedly. "That explains why you know so much about the flowers. What a very cool job. Do you sit up in high watch towers and that sort of thing or are you mostly a grounded forest ranger?"
He chuckled a little at her playing the part, nodding. He could see it now and it showed in his eyes. "Mostly on the ground. I lead hikes sometimes, but mostly just conservation and animal protection."
Her smile warmed around the eyes as he seemed to see she could be a little more serious. Because she could. She just often chose not to. She nodded at his answer and perked a little. “What animals do you get to see? Like cute little deer and skunks? Bears?”
Christer nodded. "Lots of birds too. I was helping track a bear before here." And then he'd woken up somewhere strange. He hoped they hadn't had any trouble with it when they found it.
Lindsey's eyes widened slightly. That sounded dangerous but he was talking about it like it was everyday business. "Why were you tracking the bear?" she asked, unconsciously leaning toward him, finding him endlessly fascinating.
"He was invading campsites. We were going to try and sedate him, then move him further out in the forest where he wouldn't bother the last of the campers." It was everyday business, sure a little scarier than hikes, but Christer liked that sort of thing too much to consider it too scary to do it.
"Yikes," she said at the thought of a bear invading a camp site. Especially if there were kids. "I hope nobody was hurt. That sounds seriously scary." And now she pretty much wasn't ever going camping. Well not unless she had a forest ranger with her! "How do you even track a bear though?"
"No one was hurt yet. But some coolers were ransacked." And there was a concern that the campers might hurt the bear. "They are huge animals. They make a mess when they go through the area."
Lindsey looked relieved to hear no one had gotten hurt. "Would people really take on a bear? The campers, I mean. That sounds crazy if you ask me. Never poke the bear - literal or figurative!" She tried to imagine fighting a bear and shuddered. It would end badly for her.
"Well if they have guns, which they aren't supposed to, the bear doesn't stand a chance," Christer said. "Plus people food isn't good for bears. No matter how tasty."
“I guess that shows how little I know about camping. I wouldn’t even imagine people bringing guns to camp.” She made a face at the idea of people killing bears just because they wanted food. “No, people food isn’t always good for people these days. Especially if it’s tasty,” she said with a little laugh. “What’s the strangest thing that’s ever happened to you while you were working?”
“Well they shouldn’t, but some do. Especially if they hear there are bears there,” Christer said with a sigh. “I don’t understand people really.” He looked at his hands, trying to think of how to answer her question. “I was sprayed by your cute little skunk once.” Maybe that wasn’t strange. “I’ve found a couple covered in poison ivy because they decided to um, well...have fun in the wrong bit of grass.”
"Poor fuzzy guys. They just want food." She gave him a sympathetic look when he said he'd been sprayed by a skunk. "They're stinky little things, aren't they? But so cute. Like a really furry kitty." She giggled at the idea of the couple covered in poison ivy. "Now there's a memorable roll in the um hay," she said, giggling again. The idea of sex intrigued and made her a little giggly. She wondered what it was like and who she'd want to even have it with. Definitely not in poison ivy.
“Stinky. Took forever to get the smell out,” Christer said shrugging. “And I was thinking more a painful encounter. Rashes everywhere,” he said waving his hand around the worst of the areas. The giggle was cute, enough to get him to give her a tiny smile again.
Lindsey leaned toward him and breathed in. "Mm, well you smell pretty good now," she said, though it wasn't flirtatious, just truth. She nodded solemnly. "Yeah It would be pretty painful. I've never had poison ivy but I had a foster brother who got it from playing in the woods at the park. Poor kid decided to pee in some bushes…" Her eyes widened slightly, then she chuckled and smiled at him in response to his smile. It was a nice one.
The whole leaning in and smelling him thing had him freezing a little. “Good soap?” he suggested, feeling the urge to sit on his hands, to keep from touching her. He could touch her he guess, though he wasn’t sure if he should or if she’d want him to. “That will do it. Itches terribly.”
Lindsey canted her head. "Is that all it is? Hm. No," she said, looking off and very thoughtful, breathing in. She was playacting now for the fun of it. "There's a bit of the scent of pine intermingled with the gentle spring breeze. And what's that?" She breathed in again. "The faintest trace of… bear." She tittered softly and then a bit louder and nodded. "Oh my word, we almost had to give him a cone to keep him from scratching down there."
Christer couldn’t stop himself this time. That teasing, her being close and he reached out to touch her curls, just a little bit as if he was making sure they were real. “Bear makes sense.” He nodded, knowing he was supposed to do more than just smile slightly at the comment, but as always, he’d gone quiet again.
Lindsey looked slightly surprised but not at all put off when he touched her hair. It was different from when he'd touched her arms. Then he'd been helping her. This was entirely because he wanted to do it. She didn't pull away though she wasn't sure what to make of it. Which made her giggle a little. She couldn't help it. "You warrior tracker man, you. You'd ride the bear out into the woods for it's safety. I can picture it."
He raised an eyebrow at her. “I don’t...no.” That was not at all like he was. He was pretty sure he was far more uninteresting than that. He kept her fingers on her curls, twisting part of it around his fingers. It was interesting, that it just curled like that.
Lindsey nodded slowly so as not to dislodge his fingers in her hair. "Oh wait, would it hurt the bear? Because then definitely no," she mused. "What do you do when you're not working, Christer?" Her eyes flickered toward where he was playing with her hair, grinning because she did that sort of thing with her curls periodically too. They were a fun mystery.
Suddenly Christer found himself wondering how old she was. She seemed younger than him, but he didn’t look his age at all. “Read? Camp? Do outdoorsy things I guess.” That wasn’t an interesting thing at all, plus he sounded like he he wasn’t entirely sure about it. He pulled his hand away a little, watching the curl spring back.
Lindsey watched him a moment longer as he played with her hair and then asked, "What do you read? Other than really interesting sounding children's stories." She wondered what someone like him would read. She more really wondered what he was thinking about. So far as she'd seen there were unplumbed depths to Christer that came in surprising places.
“Whatever I can find? Nature books, adventure stories. I’m not picky.” He touched the curl again, but didn’t tug on it this time. He probably shouldn’t have done that the first time.
Lindsey thought of a bunch of question she could ask and a few things she could enthuse about because she liked adventure stories too. But he was so intent on her hair and she really wanted to know. So out it came. "What are you thinking about right now?" she asked, less perky, more interested.
He pulled his hand away, closing it into a fist to keep from touching her more. “Nothing interesting. How old you are maybe. If I should keep my hands to myself.” He wondered if he should have said that. Probably not. But she’d asked and it was harder to not answer than normal when he had an answer.
Her lower lip pushed out unconsciously when he pulled his hand away. Not much but enough that when she realized she'd done it she bit it instead. "How old I am. I'm 19. And honestly, if you want to play with my hair, go ahead. I uh don't get a lot of physical contact with people, haven't for my entire life, so when someone wants to. Well. I'm not saying no." It was probably the most serious she'd been since meeting him a little blip in her otherwise upbeat persona. Which flustered slightly as she qualified, "I mean, appropriately!" She didn't just let people grope her. Oh she hoped he didn't think that now.
Nineteen. Christer ran his hand over the back of his neck, trying not to look uncomfortable. Ten years. That was a decade. He wanted to touch her again but now he was thinking twice about it again. “I figured appropriately.” With the invitation he couldn’t stop himself, reaching out touch the curls again, but lighter this time.
Her age seemed to bother him a little and so she asked, "Why? How old are you?" He didn't seem a whole lot older in some respects but then in others he was like an old soul or something. It was probably his reserved nature that had her feeling that way. That and he was like connected with nature. She felt relieved to know he didn't jump to a negative conclusion about her. Her cheeks turned pink and she ducked her head though she didn't miss that he'd started touching her hair again.
The blush was cute. So different from the rest of her that seemed so sure of herself. “Old in comparison I think,” he admitted. “A full decade older.” Which might be weird. Probably was weird. It had him pulling his hand back and taking a deep breath, trying not to seem strange and creepy even though he was pretty sure he was well into that category. It wasn’t as if he’d been sitting here thinking about her inappropriately, but he’d been wondering and curious about her and enjoying her company and now he was having second thoughts about that too. Should he have been?
Whatever just happened had Lindsey sort of sitting back a little. "I mean, I'm not like a little kid or anything. Or do I come across that way?" she asked looking down at her crayon bright outfit. She'd never been in a situation like this before. Never had the focused attention of someone she didn't really know very well but found so interesting she could think of endless questions to ask. Was it wrong that she was ten years younger right now? She wasn't sure. Surely they weren't doing anything that wasn't okay. Were they? She was in his room after all. She looked to Christer's face for some kind of signal of what should happen next.
“No,” Christer said immediately, emphasizing the ‘oh’ sound in the word as if he was suddenly afraid he’d offended her. “I didn’t say that. I just...how could I be interesting to you?” And he should keep his hands to himself. Definitely needed to keep his hands to himself.
Lindsey gave him a sort of confused look. "Well, because you're this guy who tracks bears in the woods and can tell me about flowers. You're kind of reserved but if someone hits on a topic you enjoy there's this like thing that comes over you. And then you talk. And it's fun to listen to someone who's passionate about something. You're great. I didn't even think about how old we were. You're just kinda fascinating." She paused and then more came out. "And you're not weird about my past or me telling you that I'm good with you touching my hair. That stuff too." She shrugged.
Christer opened his mouth to answer, but couldn’t find the words and opted to stop and collected his swirling thoughts before he tried to speak. He was quiet for a long moment before finally perking up a little bit. “I like that you’ve noticed that about me. And I’m not weird about your past. It makes you who you are.” He’d figured out that much so far in his life.
Lindsey fidgeted a little when he went quiet, wondering if she'd say way too much. Maybe she sounded like she had a crush on him already. Which, maybe she did, but he'd so asked for it. She kept her lips zipped even though she wanted to go on, fill the silence, make it okay again. Not have this awkwardness or whatever it was. But when he spoke she realized that maybe she was the only one feeling awkward about the quiet. She gave him a tentative smile and this time she reached out to touch him. Her hand touching his briefly with a little flutter before pulling it back into her lap. "Oh, sorry. I just. Thank you."
“It’s okay,” he told her, trying to sound reassuring. He didn’t mind her touching him. He was in the same situation she was, not that many people did that for him either. “Thank you?” What on earth was she thanking him for? He hadn’t done anything had he?
She felt so completely unsettled but not in a negative way. Just not able to hold up the bubbly Lindsey for the moment. Not that she was subdued either by any means. Simply quieter, almost matching his reserve. "For saying that about my past making me who I am. Because you don't seem to think that who I am is a bad thing." She smiled a little and looked down at her hands which were folded in her lap and the bandages peeking from beneath her sleeves.
Christer hesitated, that much was clear, but then he reached out for her hand, holding it lightly and wanting to be comforting. “Not at all.”
She turned her eyes toward his face, her smile broadening a little. Grateful. Both for his hand in hers and for his words. And because this was a lot better than she'd ever expected her day to go. She wasn't sure what she'd expected but it wasn't to find someone like Christer. "Wanna go back downstairs and sit outside?" she asked. "I want to know what it's like to go camping. I've never been."
He couldn’t help but give her a small smile in return, nodding at her suggestion. Probably better than sitting in his bedroom with a teenager who seemed eager for someone to be close to her. “Probably much like your adventure in living in the elevator,” he suggested, but got up, stilling holding her hand to help her up as well.
Lindsey got to her feet and laughed, shaking her head, curls bouncing. "I still think that would be fun. Living in an elevator. Maybe not as much fun as camping because I could see it starting to smell like feet in an elevator." She glanced at him, thought of a few more things to say, and kept her mouth shut.
Christer merely nodded, leading the way to the door and being sure he grabbed his key before they left. “It can get smelly camping too,” he added, knowing he needed to say something when he would have been comfortable just letting her speak.
So much for not awkward, but Lindsey was determined not to spend whatever time he chose to give to her feeling weird. "I guess the only camping that isn't prone to smelliness is indoor fort camping. When you make a fort out of sofa cushions and sleep there." She'd only done it once but it had been fun while it had lasted. Which hadn't been a long time.
He considered that then nodded. “I haven’t done that since I was a kid.” Which was not nearly as long ago for him as it was for her. But it was a fun time, like she was recalling. Only he’d always been alone, hiding under it with a flashlight, reading or doing something until his mother came looking for him.
Lindsey almost flinched when he said the word "kid" feeling like maybe he looked at her like one. But he hadn't said so. So she tried to shove that far out of her mind. What did it matter anyway? Caleb surely thought of her as a kid. Everyone seemed to. What did it matter if Christer was still willing to spend time with her, right? "Maybe we could do it sometime then. There are a ton of cushions in the lobby. Wouldn't it just be great revenge to camp out there in the middle of everything?"
“It would certainly make for an interesting afternoon,” Christer said, knowing that much to be certain. It would make for an interesting day indeed. And it might be kind of nice now that he thought about it, but he tried not to think too much about it. It probably wasn’t safe to get invested in someone so young when she had so many other options.
One red brow arched but she nodded, her expression serious. "There's an art to it though. It has to be taken seriously. Can you, tracker warrior man, fort with precision?" she asked, her tone quite obviously masking a desire to giggle. The idea of starting in an afternoon. Maybe even a close-off one. Well it tickled her. Made her happy.
He watched her, liking that giggle and the glint in her eyes that went with it. “I can only hope,” he said as mock seriously as he could.
Lindsey looked over at Christer, unmasked affection in her expression now. Somewhere along the way he'd been inducted into her makeshift family of foster siblings and other important people. She made sure to not make a big deal out of it. Her look quickly turned to mock sternness. "You'd better be ship-shape, sir."
He caught that look in her eyes and while he was mostly able to place it, he wasn’t sure why he’d gotten it in the first place. “What happens if I’m not?” he asked, hearing the gentle tease in his voice that wasn’t almost not like him. He thought those things yes, but rarely said them.
If he'd sounded like he was backing out, Lindsey might have just let him. But he kind of sounded like he might, just might be teasing back. Maybe? She looked at him and shook her head. "Ohhh it'll be bad for you. You'll be banished." And there was a similar affection in her tone. She couldn't help it.
“Banished?” Christer made a face, still joking a little and shook his head. “That sounds awful.” Though he had to wonder if she would banish him. Maybe not. Maybe that was part of the joke. He didn’t have nearly as much experience with others as he should at his age.
Lindsey gave him a queenly look, trying not to giggle. "It's horrible. You'd never get to see me ever again." Like that was a horrible thing. She giggled a little, liking that he'd played along. She really liked him.
“Well that’s just downright terrible,” Christer said smirking a little. He wanted to see her again. She had his attention for that at least. He wanted to see her again and again if possible. Probably not the best thing, but at the same time, part of him didn’t really care all that much.
She couldn't stop herself from grinning immediately but then she petered down into that queenly look again. So amused. "Of course it's terrible." But then she giggled, covering her mouth with her fingers. "Seriously though. You want to make a fort in the lobby? Because that kind of makes you my hero."
She was having fun playing along, which Christer could tell and it gave him the strength to keep up his end of things. “If you want to, then sure.” He wasn’t one to deny people whose company he enjoy the things they wanted.
Lindsey found herself bumping him with her elbow and then looking innocent. He was exactly as great as she'd thought he was. She was simply enjoying him for him. "I do want to. Especially if it inconveniences that bitch at the front desk somehow. Is that wrong of me?" she asked.
Christer was quiet while he considered her answer then wound up nodding. “Possibly a little, but n one would blame you if she’s as bad as you say.”
"Ohh, she's really bad, Christer. She won't tell you anything you don't already know. She's redundant." She paused a moment and looked at him. "Are you sure you don't want to try the whole leaving thing? What if you're the guy who can get out?"
She didn’t sound bad as much as not very helpful, but Christer didn’t burst Lindsey’s bubble. “Do you want me to try?” When she said it like that it sounded more and more like a dream, like he’d imagined her and she wasn’t real.
Lindsey weighed his question. "Well. I don't want you to have the whole horrible disorientation thing if you end up in someone's room or somewhere else. But… what if you're the person who can get out? You could leave and bring people back to get the rest of us out. And if it doesn't work? I'll stay in the lobby so you can find me again if you want." If he wanted.
Christer thought about that and nodded. "I can try. I'll try. And if I don't get out I'll come find you again." Then he'd sort out if this was a dream and if he needed to do something about dreaming about women far younger than he was.
Lindsey gave him a smile that said that she was more than half sure he was the key to them getting out. She couldn’t help but be a little bit cheerleadery with him. She wondered where he’d end up if he didn’t make it out though. Hopefully nowhere terribly embarrassing. “Okay. I’ll stay put, I promise.” She gave a firm nod.
Christer eyed the doors, then started that way. "See you in a bit then," he called back, thinking that no matter where he ended up, he'd come back for her. He had to.
“In a bit,” she called back and gave a little wave at his retreating back. She felt strangely let down to be alone. Which was no one’s fault really but it alerted her to the fact that she needed to be careful not to be clingy. Or come across as desperate though maybe she already had. She sighed and fidgeted.