Who: Leon Orcot and Eliot Spencer What: A surfing accident When: Before Leon's dreams mess him up Where: The beach Rating/Warning: Language, otherwise low Status: Complete | Partner Thread
Leon didn’t get to surf nearly as often as he would have liked these days. It was amazing how easy it was to get caught up in the rest of life, but this morning was too good to resist. The early morning weather was almost perfect, if not a little cool, and it was still early enough that there were hardly any surfers out yet, despite the perfect waves.
Leon paddled out, waiting for the perfect wave, and then he felt it under him. He hopped up, riding the wave into a curl, revelling in it for just a moment until he caught sight of the other man barrelling toward him. Leon’s eyes widened, trying to steer away, but there was no escaping the curl, not really, and he bailed at the last minute, diving into the surf, the currents buffeting him this way and that, and he felt the sharp tug on his ankle when his board crashed into the other man’s.
He came up sputtering, grabbing onto his board as he did - half his board, at least - the other half had been carried away by the surf, and while looking for it his gaze landed on the other man. “Hey, watch where the fuck you’re going!” he snapped, even if there was a part of him that knew it hadn’t been the other man’s fault any more than it had been his own.
It seemed like it had been forever since Eliot had been out on the waves. Last time he'd been out surfing when he was a teenager. Back before he decided that football was a thing. The weather had been nice enough to get out for a while. It gave him something to do before needing to head off to the Silent Dragon later.
Unfortunately, there was another man in the curl and it didn't matter if they tried to steer clear from each other or not. The waves had a completely different agenda for them. Sending them both down into the water. Something that hadn't happened to the chef in a very long time.
When he comes up it's in time to hear the other man snapping," Why don't you take your anger out on the waves. Not on someone like me." He could very well tell Leon to take his anger out on the surfing gods, but neither of them needed that kind of bad luck. "You alright?"
“Better than my board,” Leon muttered, glancing again at the half of his board that was still tethered to him. He was vaguely annoyed that the other surfer didn’t rise to the antagonism - annoyed, and a little ashamed. He frowned. “Sorry,” he muttered. “How about you? Not hurt?”
If people knew Eliot, they'd know that he used to play football. This man before him didn't know that. Didn't know about the antagonism that he dealt with day in and day out when he'd been part of a team. Those idiots had tried everything to get a rise out of him. He wasn't going to let some stranger do it. Besides, accidents happened.
"Minor cuts, nothing that I can't handle," Eliot tells him with a shake of his head. "Sorry about your board." It just meant that he'd have to see about getting this stranger a new one. It was something he could do for him, at the very least. "How about we grab the other part of your board and I'll grab you a drink."
“Yeah, a drink sounds good.” It was early still, but Leon had the day off of work, and he’d never been opposed to morning beers. Besides, after a crash like that, they probably both deserved a drink or five.
He scanned the ocean, and managed to spot a spot of colour on the sea. He’d recognize his board anywhere, and he gestured toward it before swimming toward it, using his half a board as a paddle-board, his powerful legs letting him cut swiftly through the water. He could touch the sandy floor of the ocean by the time he reached the rest of his board. “Man,” he moaned, looking mournfully at the pieces. And then he signed, resigned to the boards fate.
“How’d your board make out in our collision?” he asked, looking over his shoulder. It looked like it had been in one piece, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t taken on some damage.
A drink would definitely do the both of them some good. He can't remember the last time he'd taken a spill like that. Nor did he want to try and remember. So, grabbing a drink with a complete stranger would work for him.
He watches the other man swim out towards his board, paying attention as he did. It was obvious that the other was a strong swimmer. Or maybe just worked out a lot. One of the two. Eliot swims a bit closer to the shore pulling his board up out of the water.
"I'll have to fix her up a bit, but she'll be good as new eventually." The chef would just have to take time out of his day and work the board. "Were you using a specific type?"
“Nothing special,” Leon admitted, tucking both halves of his board under his left arm as he made his way out of the surf. “Just a little shortboard. I’ve had it for years and I’d been thinking of trying out a fish anyway, so I guess this was a sign or something.” A sign he would have been happier not crashing into, but that was life.
Once he was out of the water, he turned to wait for the other man to join him. “I’m Leon, by the way.”
Nothing special? That wasn't something that he really believed. When someone surfed, they loved the water and their board. Put work in that very thing that they used out on those roaring waters. Waters that everyone tended to love, if they could get out there and enjoy it.
He walks out and stands by the other man, waiting until he's ready for walking them towards the bar," Eliot. Nice to meet you, Leon."
“Nice to meet you too,” Leon said with a crooked grin, heading toward his car to drop off his board. Once he crammed it haphazardly into the backseat, he turned to Eliot. “So, let’s get that drink,” he said.