The wind coming off the water gave the warm evening a bit of relief. The breeze cancelled out the humidity briefly when it hit the beach goers. It was a nice night and the clouds gave way to a beautiful sunset, no wonder people were out, setting up lawn chairs in the tide.

However, a beautiful night wasn't why Montrez was walking along in the water. No, it was completely business. His black hair hung in its thick dreads around his face, hiding it from people while he searched the bottom of the water. In his left hand was a pair of well worn flip flops and his cargo pants were rolled up away to keep from getting wet from the splash. His right hand held his pack of cigarettes away from the same thing.

Montrez had already checked to make sure that there was no law or rule against bringing horses/mules out to the beach and had begun to check it for any potential hazards to them. Any big rocks or unexpected dips in the sand would do more harm than he was willing to put the animals in.

There was no joy at the sunset and while he might normally enjoy water, now was not one of those times. While his feet searched near the shore for dangers, his mind searched deeper in the water and farther beneath the sand.

The sky was a million shades of heavenly. Len regretted she wasn't in shape to try to capture it on canvas. She was just now to the point where she could drive herself palces again.

She padded throught the wet sand in barefeet with no care for the denim bell bottoms she wore dragging through the salt water. The sea breeze felt good on her skin. She didn't care if she looked like hell in tank top, with one shoulder that looked like it might have been shot, scars on her neck from nearly being strangled to death and countless other scars on her arms. These things did not bother her, she was not ashamed of her own survival. Many of the people she passed, however, obviously were. They looked or hurried away from her diminutive, pale, scarred form as she moved among them.

She drifted, letting her feet simply squish in places it felt good to squish. She occaisonally brushed against, or bumped into someone, while she allowed her senses to bombard her. This felt much more restful than a hospital. She mumbled apologies softly in a whispery voice as needed.

Montrez stumbled for a moment then mentally tagged where the sand wasn't stable. A little probing with his mind and it seemed like something lived down there. When he regained his balance it was thrown off again by someone else who wasn't really looking where they were going. He regained it quickly enough but the stumble forced him to acknowledge something other than water and sand.

"Excuse me."

Chocolate eyes drifted lazily over the person he'd bumped into. Scars. They weren't that important. It was just where she healed, a simple fact of nature. Empty. What? Oh. His hand was empty, his cigarettes had landed in the water. He picked them back up with a sigh.

"You wouldn't happen to have a spare, would you?"

He stuffed the soggy packet into a pocket.

Len looked at him and shook her head sadly. "Don't smoke." she said in the whispering tones she spoke with. He struck her as intensely focused. "Sorry, about bumping you, didn't mean to interupt you. " she said looking into his brown eyes with her own bright blue ones. She is surprised he hasn't looked away from her yet.

"Are you looking for something?" she asked him, curious as to what he was about, he felt very purposeful in her mind.

His shoulders shrugged, his eyes closed briefly, "Thanks anyway," he looked back at her, "I should have watched where I was going." He should have. He often didn't but he still knew he should have. For some reason, Montrez realized that he really liked the color of her eyes. He didn't think her eyes were beautiful, sure they were nice as far as eyes went, he just really liked the color. It made him feel a little lighter, not like he was drudging through whatever he did.

"No, I was just making sure the uh-the-the, um the" he was trying to say 'beach', "the sand was safe for my animals."

Blood pumped and coursed up to his face, reddening his cheeks. He hadn't stuttered too much, he hoped the speed of his speech covered what he'd done. He'd said animals instead of horses because he didn't want to stutter again.

It's amazing how something small like that can suddenly send one's self esteem plummeting.

Ooohhhh a slightly bruised ego. Len could feel his hesitation as much as she heard it when he spoke. She pulled at some of the negativity and drew it into herself. He seemed to stand a little taller as she did. She smiled.

"What sort of anaimals do you have?" she asked him. She wnted to reassure him that he needn't feel awkward and so unconciously she did with her power.

That was very odd. Very odd. It was so odd, in fact, that he couldn't explain it to himself. He knows how he feels when he messes up like that and he didn't feel like he knew he should have. It felt..nice. Montrez reminded himself that she asked a question and he answered it with a smile.

"I work on a farm that breeds quarter horses and mules. I want to work some of them in the water."

And he wasn't even worrying that he was going to mess up again. He didn't even want a cigarette anymore.

She smiled again, he felt better, even if only in a subtle way. She was pleased, there was no reason for him to feel bad afterall. " Ah, horses and mules, I expect they like the beach too. Horses smell good. "she said in an abstract way, while maintaining eye contact. She could feel the animals were special to him.

"My name's Len, I'm an artist." she said offering her hand.

"M.C.," he said, taking it, "Stable hand and horse trainer."

He laughed, or more like chuckled at her. Her happiness seemed infectious. And in his own humble opinion, Montrez felt that horses smelled anything but good. Not necessarily bad, since he'd long since gotten used to the smell, but good was definately not a word he'd use to describe it.

Len is a strange person, horses smell vastly superior to smog, fungus, gasoline, pesticide, and a great number of other things. "M.C." she repeated with a nod and smile. Having repeated it she will not forget it now. "How many do you plan on working?" she asked truly curious, she knew nothing about horse training.

"Just a mare right now, maybe a mule with her," now that he was talking about horses (or other quadroped animals that are similar in structure and size) the words come easily. "She's a good horse but as soon as she starts to sweat she stops working. 'Gonna see if I can't change that."

Without concentrating on the task he'd been doing, Montrez could enjoy the feeling of the water washing around his heals. And it was nice to have someone interested in what you were going to say. None of the other workers talked to him much. He never minded, though, because they began getting drunk at noon.

"That makes sense let her work in the water to get around it, that's a good idea. That's why I work on the beach sometimes myself." she acknowledges.

"Will you care if I watch, never know where artisitc inspiration will turn up." she confides with a smile. She's sure it will be interesting to watch, vastly more interesting than watching deliberately distant people trudging through life oblivious to simple joy. She wonders what sort of impressions she will feel from a horse at the beach. (yes she has empathy with animals too)

"Yeah, I'm hoping she'll forget she's working so hard. The water will make her work more than she'll expect but it'll keep her cool."

He pushed some locks out of his face, trying to think of when he could bring them. There really wasn't a time restriction, no one was interested in the two he was planning to bring.

"Uh, nope. Feel free to come only I don't know exactly when I'll do it. Sort of depends on the weather but if tomorrow's nice I'll come back then."

There was stuff to do back at the farm, hell he practically ran the entire thing himself. When he got things done dictated when he'd be able to make it out. Maybe he could hide all the beer and make someone else work for a change. Not that he minded. He just did it.

"Tommorow, yes, I could bring a sketchbox then." Len said she really did figure she'd get to see it, evem if M.C. wasn't sure what time. Len was used to getting lucky with things like that, she was normally able to be in the right place at the right time based on instinct. There were of coarse a few exceptions where she had been in the wrong placeat the wrong time, offhand she could only think og two in her whole lifetime.

She continued walking while she talked to him, the wait sand feeling good as it squished through her toes. "What are you doing when you finsih here tonight?" she asked.

"I didn't plan anything," he never does. Most of his time was spent at the farm either cleaning up after the horses or the drunken help. Once again, he didn't mind.

He looked up the beach a ways and spotted a trash bin, the perfect place to throw his soggy cigarettes. Montrez did so and walked back to Len to continue their conversation. Or at least their small talk.

"What about you? Plans?"

"I have a date with a very large plate of french fries. Come along if you like." she told him. Len adores french fries, they may be her one true vice. Seh is especial prone to wanting the crinkle cut type.

Still she was walking along wigglign her toes in thesand. At least since begining to talk with M.C. she had been paying attention to her suroundings more. the waves were rolling in more strongly and soaking her up to her kness now. "Tide is coming in." she commented, still her voice is like a whisper, it is getting hard to hear over the waves.

"What, now?" Right this very second? He looked around the beach. Should he stay and explore the rest of it or grab a plate of food with someone pleasant to talk to?

The water was lapping at the base of his pants, he hadn't noticed the tide coming so quickly. He looked back at those blue eyes and felt that same..exhileration? no..it was akin to happiness.

"You're very soft-spoken."

"Not this exact minute. " she said with a whispering laugh, at one time it would have been a throaty chuckle, but having a crushed wind pipe had changed her voice drastically. Anyone else would be bitter after what had happened, Len was not, she hoped someone found the kid who did this to her and helped him. Though she had been very angry while she'd been beat up and shot.

"I wasn't always so quiet, I had an unpleasnt encounter." she said about her voice, but nothing more.

"I see. It's good to know you weren't effected by it."

She didn't seem effected, at least mentally by it. Her scars were just scars. He had a similar view of them to hers. They meant that she'd survived, that she'd healed.

"Well let me know when you're ready and I'll buy you a plate of french fries if you like." she said still walking along with him, "and replace your cigareetes." she said with an apologetic trace.

She liked listening to the crashing surf as the tide came in. It was nice for a change to ahve some one to walk with on the shore. She could never get her friend Jayme to come with her anymore.

"I'll pass on the fries. Never liked 'em much. I will take you up on the pack of fags, though."

He said a silent prayer to Neptune for favorable conditions the next day. He looked at the sun and sky, trying to asses tomorrow. He shook his head. Better to leave it to his god.

She shrugs, happily though, "Fair enough, more fries in the world for me then, and you can have my share of cigarettes. My car is parked the opposite direction though, we may want to walk that way soon." she tells him.

With soft steps he walked out of the surf, kicked the excess water from his legs and rolled down his pants.

"Lead the way and I'll follow."

Quickly and gladdly Len leads the way back to her old, groovy, volkswagon. It has a large sunflower painted on the hood with a peace symbol on the back. Everyone who knows her knows it's her car as soon as they see it.

She pulls her keys out walks over and climbs in saying "It's not locked." She sits and rolls down her window before starting the car.

He couldn't help the smile and chuckle that came to his mouth. Her world was just full of color wasn't it?

"Nice paint job."

He slid in the passenger's seat and buckled in, rolling down his own window. He never did like air conditioners in cars.

"It needed to be livened up." she says at his paint job comment. She could feel he was not being sarcastic aboutit as many would be.

Once he was comfortable she turned on the radio, though not loudly and pulled out. She drove smoothly though she did seem to enjoy weaving in and out of traffic. Her first stop was a mini mart so that she could replace his cigarettes.

The brand of cigarette he got was only because he liked the smell. He didn't remember when he first smelled it but it stuck with him thus he bought that type.

The car ride had definately been interesting and Montrez was briefly reminded of something a horse would do to a rider it knew wasn't experienced. It had been mostly silent, though. He didn't talk a lot.

Len used to talk a lot,now it gets difficult to sometimes. She drove to a little Mom and Pop place where she liked the fries, she liked it there because they had the crinkly kind of fries. She's very particular about her fries. She opted to sit at the little counter no one else was in the place, besides teh old couple who owned and ran it.

She sat and ordered her usual. A double order of fries and some chicken strips with honey mustard. She also got a milk shake. "You want something?" she asked M.C. in her whispery voice.

"Maybe just a water. They'll have food back at the farm when I get there." They took turns staying the night at the farm, his was that night so no matter how late he got in there would be something.

"Nice place, this. Been here long?"

"As long as I've lived here is all I know for sure. You like art at all M.C.?" she asks as the old woman slides her order in front of her, She immediately starts in on the fries.

She likes fries far to much.

"Art?" He watched her dig into her fries while he sipped at his water. "I can take it in moderation.

"Why?"

"I have an art gallery, you could come visit sometime." she answered and then finished her food.

She paid and then they left. She asked him where she needed to drop him off, and also again about the horse he would be working. She didn't want to miss that if she could help it.

Oh, that was right. She was an artist, she'd said. Yes, he said, that would be nice. He didn't really have an opinion on art and didn't have any positive feelings on going, but none negative, either. He was doing it to be nice and looked forward to being surprised when he got there.

He thanked the little old lady when they left.

"You can just drop me off at the bus station, someone's picking me up there."

"The horse? She's a chesnut mare. I want to get her ready for uh.." he snapped his fingers and screnched his forehead and closed his eyes, trying to remember the word he knew was there. Finally, "lessons. We needed a new lesson horse and this one is a good size."

When he seemed to stumble for a word again for a minute Len sent that slight trickle of confidence and possitive energy like on the beach.

She took him to the bus station and told him she'd see him later.




(dunno if you want to continue in this thread with the horse training or not)

It was strange how that happened. Did it have anything to do with the girl he was talking to? Well he didn't feel any different than normal just...strangely uplifted.

He thanked her for the ride, the cigs and the water and then remembered himself. He couldn't see the gallery if he didn't know where it was. So he asked.

((I don't know...I don't think we'd really be able to get a lot out of it. Can we just say that it happened and she got a pretty picture out of it?))

((works for me))

She made sure to let him know where the gallery was before they parted company.

((I think it is dead now, *plays taps*))