Participants:
| Scene Title | A Night In The Hamptons |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | It's been a lot of years since Elisabeth's even been here, but there's a sense of the familiar at least. |
| Date | May 11, 2011 |
Southampton, New York
The key unlocked the front door and Elisabeth let herself into the massive beachfront house with a sense of trepidation. But there were no sounds in the sprawling structure. No out of place heartbeats. No unexpected noises at all. The alarm system didn't even beep, though she glanced at the panel briefly. Stupid, she thought. She'd have to remember to mention to him that it hadn't been set. And as she explored the house, small details from her childhood kept popping up. There used to be a credenza over there. The piano in the music room was just the slightest hint out of tune. And someone had painted the kitchen a cheerful soft yellow instead of the slate blue that she remembered. The garden was still well kept but had an air of being somewhat abandoned. Standing at the gate in the late afternoon sun, a smile quirked the corners of Elisabeth's mouth.
The sound of classical piano fills the formal living room. People mingle in tuxedos and cocktail gowns. Voices are decorously muted to a dull roar of noise amid the clinking of crystal glasses. Elisabeth Harrison slips away from her mother's side, slanting a glance over her shoulder to be sure they're not paying attention to her departure. Too busy speaking to some client or other at the moment to notice. Thank God.
Moving swiftly but casually out the open French doors and onto the garden path, she makes for the far end of the shrubbery to the gate that leads out onto the beach. Reaching down to slide the high-heeled sandals off her feet, the blonde escapes out the gate into the fine sand. She stops at the water lifting her face to the breeze. It's dark enough that in the midnight blue sheathe dress she would be almost invisible there at the edge of the waves except for the fact that a brilliant full moon is out. Finally, finally she can breathe.
"How long do you think we have before they start looking?"
Aaaaannnnnd there goes the peace and quiet. Elisabeth looks over her shoulder to the boy in the tux with his hands shoved in his pockets. "Now that you're out here too, I give 'em about six minutes, max," she retorts. "Your mother is determined to find some way to get you to dance with Brenda — she's trying to schmooze like a million bucks out of Brenda's dad. And the best way to make him fork over a check for her project is to make Brenda happy." There's a pause and she eyes him. "I love your mom sometimes, but she can be a complete piranha you know."
Phillip smirks and walks up next to her, his hands still shoved in his pockets. "Could be worse. She could be throwing me at you."
The evening sun casts her shadow forward onto the water as she walks out to the edge. It's one of the last memories she has of this house. It had to have been about this time of year, warm enough for the strappy blue dress that had ended at mid-thigh. Not that the weather ever stopped her from doing a little showing off. With the wind off the water teasing the much longer strands of her hair, she replayed the memory again and shook her head. Phillip Solomon was such a jerk as a kid. People changed, though. Grew up. "Last time I trusted my gut we got Jaiden. And Aric. And even Graeme." Blowing out a soft breath, she murmurs to the sky, "Here's hoping my luck holds, lover."
Phillip questioned over and over whether or not he should drive out to the Hamptons after giving Liz the key. Give her her private time, or join her and see how the dice fall. The debate lasted at least an hour in his mind as he played out how both situations could go. Then there was the information he just recently obtained. That's the justification that he needed to push him over the edge.
Six hours later, after taking care of the day's events, he finds himself pulling up to the house and making his way within and then through. Seeing her upon the beach he decides to join her and quietly walks out. Not trying to sneak up on her, more allowing her the peace of the moment. Also, giving her plenty of warning before closing in on her he'll ask, "How long do you think we have before they start looking?" as he too flashes back to their brief encounters.
By the time he approaches, Elisabeth's arms are wrapped around her own waist. Her blue eyes remain on the water, but she's well aware of his arrival — and since he came from the house behind her she doesn't seem to feel threatened enough to go for the grip of the pistol whose butt peeps out from the back waistband of her jeans. The tanktop she's wearing with her pants exposes a glimpse of a tattoo on the back of her right shoulder, its subject matter mostly hidden by the strap and the strands of blonde that shift around her. The question makes her smile, though, echoing as it does her own thoughts. "Now that you're out here, I think we better hope they don't," she retorts mildly. "I'd hate to see the black helo come buzzing in with Horizon armor rapelling off the lines. Or worse yet, the robot drones armed with missiles." She looks over her shoulder toward him. "But I don't hear them so far." And she can hear a long way.
Phillips feet are bare as toes dig into the sand. Ecru linen slacks adorn his legs, a deep blue tshirt covered by an unbuttoned ecru base, blue offset bowling short sleeved shirt atop it. No eyewear or hats. Just him and very Hamptons casual.
His approach finds him standing to her right looking out over the water. He asks, "I'm not intruding, am I?"
"I haven't decided," Elisabeth admits. "I needed some answers, but… I doubt I'm going to find the ones I want here." Her arms remain crossed as she looks back out over the waves. "You should speak to the cleaning staff about setting the alarm. It wasn't on when I got here." Not that he'd given her the code or anything.
"Oh? I'd forgotten about the alarm. Guess Jerry is getting up there in age and he's sort of let it slip his mind." Phillip answers. Jerry is the groundskeeper who maintains the grounds and hires out for cleaning staff when things need a touching up.
"So there's this chinese place back in the village. They deliver." Phillip suggests casually as if she may be as hungry as he.
He would know far more about what's out here than Elisabeth does. She hasn't been to the Hamptons in years. Not since high school that she remembers. "Sure," she agrees easily. Pivoting on one bare heel she starts back toward the house. "Piano's out of tune, too," she observes mildly. "Not that it matters unless you took up music in college or something." That she recalls, he wasn't much of one for such pursuits.
Turning with her, Phillip notes, "Mother played, and wanted me to play, but I really didn't have the patience or desire to sit still for more than 15 minutes." He tries to give information that she may not remember. He's still not sure on what she recalls, he's not narrowed down the dates and their calendar of relations.
"Lizzie," chides the upper-crust New York accent. "Really, what is that piano teacher doing with you? That's not how you play Pachelbel. It sounds like 'Chopsticks'!"
Awkwardly Elisabeth looks up at the woman. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Solomon," she murmurs. "I just can't get my head into this one. I really don't want to play this piece." She grimaces.
"Then why are you?" comes the calm tone.
"Because Mr. Kline said it would be the best for the program," Elisabeth grimaces.
Nudging the girl over Phillip's mother placed her hands on the piano keys. She began to play softly, and Elisabeth's face lights up. "That's lovely."
Elisabeth smiles slightly. "You know, your mother's the one who convinced my piano teacher to let some of us get away from classical music all the time. Into some of the New Age stuff and even some of the rock and roll." And then she laughs. "It's her fault that I fell in with the garage band junior year." As a vocalist and keyboard player, no less.
Phillip smiles inwardly as outwardly while walking along with Elisabeth. There's a chuckle as he rolls his eyes upward, "You thought that band was sooo cool. What was that guy's name that you were crushing on? The one with the long hair and the fuzz that reminded me of Shaggy <from scooby doo>."
"Fft," Elisabeth dismisses. "Like I'm supposed to remember every guy I cru… oh wait." She starts to laugh. "He was that kid from St. Francis's, right? Oh God, I thought my mom was going to kill me over that," she snickers. "She came home from work early the day the band got its first gig, and he was high. I totally had no clue until he offered me some. And she was standing in the door when he did it." She rolls her eyes. "That was the last time he came around."
Phillip chuckles a little more as they enter the back of the house, "I'm surprised you father didn't get him sent off to Leavenworth Prison for corrupting his daughter. Heck; Looking back, I can't believe I wasn't disappeared for deflowering…" then he stops and tries to recover with a grin, "His garden. You know, the flower garden." and realizes that just went worse.
"Leavenworth? Geez," Elisabeth scoffs, and then stops short. "Wwait, what?" Blue eyes go wide, and she looks… well, for the first time since she walked into his hotel room and held a gun on him, she looks flummoxed. And she actually blushes…. something she hasn't done in she can't remember how long. "Oh geez," she says in an aggrieved tone. "Seriously?" She walks past him toward the kitchen groaning internally. Oh GOD.
There's nothing Phillip can say, he just smiles and seems somewhat embarassed about the slip. He starts to say something, "Well at le." and then stops with with a rueful hum and will then follow her inside. Then he'll ask as he moves to the phone at the wall, "You still like the Wu-Shu Chicken? Or was that General Tso Chicken?"
"Well, that's just a little on the embarrassing side," Elisabeth says, scratching the back of her head. "I mean…. I wouldn't want you to think you were … not memorable or something," she adds on a cheeky grin to him. "Prowess being as all-important to men as it is and all." She has a rueful expression. Getting hit with that has sort of derailed her.
"Sichuan chicken and veggies," Elisabeth tells him. And then she slips out of the kitchen to leave him to order, retreating to the music room. Which, truth be told, probably has the best memories she has of this house besides the beach itself. While she waits, she slides onto the piano bench to play quietly. "A Search for Certainty" is an old favorite of hers and singularly appropriate to the day, it seems.
"Oh I wasn't." Phillip laughingly adds about his memorable moments. "I was this bumbling 18 year old boy who had only 2 partners before and with you I was extremely nervous. We were entering a new and undiscovered stage of our realtionship."
Having arranged the hotel within the Skyrise Sheraton the previous evening, Phillip was trying to be sure that everything was perfect. The lights were dimmed upon their entry, the room illuminated by faux candlelight and soft music played from unseen speakers. The suite itself was lavish and tastefully decorated. He spared no expense for Liz on that senior prom night.
However, the environment may have been perfect, but a friendship that had been developing for the last 3 years that was evolving into something more was not without awkward pitfalls. It started with the kissing upon entering the room. Their foreheads bumped, then the noses went the same way, then there was the sweaty palms, the nervous hiccup that errupted mid kiss.
And lets not forget the bra incident. Seated on the edge of the bed, he already had his coat, shoes, cummerbund, tie and shirt off. Leaving his slacks and tshirt. While she was still mostly dressed in the evening gown. While both twisted toward one another, their arms enveloping, he fumbled trying to figure out the clasp on the bra after unzipping her gown. Something he couldn't realize is that the clasp wasn't in the back, but in the front…. Realizing what he was trying to do, she freezes the moment and starts to laugh. He was suddenly taken aback with no clue what she laughed about, thinking it was he and almost becoming defensive. She recovered the moment and stated, "No stupid, the clasp is in the front." and then he was let in on the joke and came around to join her in the laughter.
It was that ice breaking laughter that made the evening finally come together and move beyond the adolescent pitfalls of sensuality into what they would consider the first part of their adult relationship.
Phillip places the order from the kitchen phone and then will join her in the music room where he remains quiet listening to her playing. During the piece he will take a seat next to her, his shoulder brushing against hers and will watch her fingers move about the keys. From time to time look to her playing, but then about the other fixtures that the music involves.
She's quiet as she plays, perhaps digging in her head for memories that simply no longer exist. Elisabeth's fingers move across the keys gracefully, her wistful mood conveying a melancholy to the music as she plays. She could sit here for hours. As she plays, she hits a sour note with several keys initially, but by the time she's midway through the piece it sounds as though the piano is in tune. It's a subtle manipulation, adept … and one she can only manage because of her familiarity with the piece she's playing and how it feels around her.
"Audiokinesis is an interesting ability," she comments quietly as she plays. "It doesn't seem like it ought to be dangerous. The ability to manipulate sound." Elisabeth's tone is thoughtful. "Tweaking it here and there to … make it louder or softer," stunts that she shows him even as she plays. "Enhance your voice to carry over a crowd. Enhance music so that people can hear it better instead of the hum of conversation below it. Mute someone who's bugging the shit out of you." She smiles faintly, remembering the day Will Harvard realized she was doing that to him while he reamed her up one side and down the other for something relatively unimportant. He turned a bit purple. Heh. "But it can be a singularly deadly ability," she admits to him, her hands continuing to move on the keys. "When I'm worried or angry, things tend to hum. Or break." She sounds wry. "I've… woken from nightmares and found that I've cracked windows and drywall. It can make life very… complicated. And there's also the whole…. vibrate your organs and bones to mush in a very short space of time. Most people don't really think of that when you say 'sound manipulation.'"
"What ever it is, it's beautiful." Phillip simply displays his appreciation for that which she produces. He's not one for the details of powers, the mechanics of how things work; he's more concerned with them working or not. With every key she fingers he is brought recall events of the past that bring back fond emotions. For those most part he just sits quietly and allows her to play the piece/pieces. That is until those fond memories bring about desire. That desire is then conveyed. His left shoulder falls behind her and his middle finger traces just above her ear guiding her hair behind it and behind her shoulder. Then his intent is to softly move in and kiss her ear, which will be followed by kissing the side of her neck.
Elisabeth snorts softly. "I wonder if you'd say that if you'd watched me in the riots in November," she observes. The national news was all over the 'zombie apocalypse' of New York. She keeps playing right up until his fingertip trails through her hair, and then her hands stop dead on the keys. She doesn't pull away from him, but neither does she simply turn to him and kiss him. "It is terribly tempting to let you seduce me, Phillip." Her face turns slightly toward him, her voice a soft murmur. "You have a lot of memories of a girl I don't know anymore, and I have to admit that you've grown up into a hell of a good-looking man." Her eyes flicker up to his. "But if I do let you, I make a point of being very clear with the men in my bed." Plural. "I don't play games, and I'm not looking for a relationship. Don't go into this thinking anything else," she tells him softly.
Her words break the moment as he shifts back to his original position while watching her unfold her declaration. Phillip smiles warmly in a reflective sense as he sees something familiar. Not about the situation, but about the strength of the woman before him.
Then he says in a rueful tone after the doorbell rings and he beings to stand. "Nice show of your hand. Which would totally apply if I were trying to seduce you into bed." Phillip then walks off to answer the door and collect the delicious chinese food.
Elisabeth watches him get up and save face with that retort, chuckling softly. "Well, damn," she murmurs. "And here I thought the admiration of asses was mutual. Ah well… goes to show how bad my instincts actually are!" She watches him go and then heads for the kitchen herself. When he returns with the food, two glasses are set out on the table and she's opening a bottle of wine. "You didn't forget potstickers, did you?"
Disregarding her initial statement, Phillip answers the door, gains the foodstuffs, and returns tot he dining room. "I've taken a liking to the steamed version - dumplings, but I got both just in case." Phillip replies while setting the bag filled with small white boxes on table.
His focus is on the bag, and will soon have it unloaded.
Pouring the wine into glasses, Elisabeth seems content enough to leave things where they are. She brings out plates and napkins but eschews the use of forks in favor of chopsticks. And then she slides into the chair across from him with every intention of enjoying dinner. A faint grin quirks her lips. "This is the second time you've bought dinner," she muses with a smile. "Does it count as a date?" It occurs to her that if it does, it's the first one she's been on in…. probably more than a year.
With a look of agreement, Phillip responds, "Absolutely. But I consider this our First Date since you flat out don't remember and I still have problems drawing the line between first real date and all the time we spent together prior. So, we've had entertainment, now we're having dinner, next we'll have the part where we get to know one another."
Elisabeth chuckles. "Well… I suppose that me holding a gun on you in your hotel room doesn't really count as a date," she admits in amusement. "And I have a feeling the getting to know one another is going to be horribly one sided — you know an awful lot about times in my life that I'm not even sure I want to remember." A pang of sadness briefly crosses her features, dismissed quickly. Losing time with her mother — though from what he's mentioned thus far perhaps it wasn't the best of times — she does regret. But it's nothing to be changed.
She sips from her wine glass and then helps herself to the boxes of takeout in front of her. "So," Elisabeth offers with a grin, "Tell me about the person you are now. The one in high school was a bit of a brat."
With a reluctant scoff and a grin, Phillip allows, "I'd prefer to call it, 'international playboy'. Or so I thought. Looking back, I completely agree that I was an ass. So smug, self involved. You may not know this, but if it weren't for you I'd still be that jerk."
"You said that before," Elisabeth replies, setting upon the potstickers and her spicy chicken and rice with chopsticks while they talk. "What did I do, just give you shit all the way through high school?"
"There was that." Phillip chuckles the answer with a broad smile. "Really though, you gave me a sense of perspective and helped me to understand the fragility of it all." He takes a moment and formulates the next reflective line, "Before, I was just this kid that didn't pay attention to much. Hell, I had everything I wanted - except attention. And though I wasn't a bad kid, I did get into a few things that I shouldn't have. Your friendship gave me an anchor and a barometer with which to discern the difference between a lot and too much."
The fist she throws at his nose connects with his cheekbone instead because he's smart enough to turn away from it, but it is still a pretty resounding hit. "That was entirely uncalled for," Elisabeth states with a glare that could melt glaciers. She is furious. "Grace thought you liked her, Phillip. Telling the team what happened was bad enough, now it makes her look like a complete slut. But you assholes called her house last night and her dad is the one who listened to the message. Do you have any idea what the consequences of that are?" The heated rage has no outlet. "Did you see her face today?" she demands. "That was his response to finding out! And it's on the entire lot of you."
That was suitably vague. Elisabeth considers the answer while she chews. "If I asked my father about you —," if she could ask her father — "What would he tell me?" she asks with a smile. "Will he say you're worth my time to renew friendship with?" The man's a good judge of character and Liz trusts his people instincts.
"The man I remember, and being the father that he is; He'd probably tell you to think with your head more than with your heart. Keep me at arm's length, and if you have any gut feeling, kick him to the curb." Phillip responds thoughtfully trying to channel Liz's father. Yet it's been a long time since they've had any quality contact; but on the positive side, Mr Harrison didn't kick Phillip out of his office or try to shoot him for past transgressions.
Elisabeth laughs softly. "Well, that sounds like my father," she agrees. "My gut thus far seems to be on the side of taking the chance on you. I have a young man that I would like to send your way when you're ready to meet with Russo. He's … an analyst of sorts. I think he might be able to help with putting the video together."
Seeing that the conversation shifted to business, Phillip's lips tighten and he says without emotional connection, "Whatever works, that'd be great." and then takes a bite from his plate.
Glancing up at him, Elisabeth notes the tone change. And then she looks down, abashed. "I'm sorry — I'm not very good at the social graces anymore," she admits with a rueful smile. "Tell me about Hollywood. What do you like about being out there that kept you away after college?" she asks.
Phillip says quietly in regards to her apology, "It's okay, you're very driven and focused. It's attractive." then he switches gears and says, "Hollywood was an opportunity to put my skills and degree to good use in a completely different avenue of what my father wanted me to do. I wanted to show him I could do for my self without his firm that I was to eventually inherit." - There's some regret in his tone, as if he realized that he missed out on all the time with his father that he'll never be able to reclaim or replace.
It's an emotion Elisabeth can feel for. And she does smile a bit. "After college I didn't really attend many of the functions that they attended, but I did accompany my father to a couple of them when my mother was out of town. Your father occasionally spoke of your business prowess in pretty glowing terms," she tells him softly. A tilt of her head and she suddenly grins. "He did, however, seem to think that you were turning into a crazed liberal about some things. He tried to get us together when you came home in 2002, but I was … a little busy." She grins a little. "My abilities erupted somewhere around 9/11, near as I can figure out. If they were there before that, I didn't know how to use them. I spent the next year pretty much trying to work out how to use it."
Thoughtful reflections play about Phillip's face as she recounts the past, he displays a warm smile of good memories and even silently chuckles, "When I would fly in, my mother would always ask if I was here to see you as well. Maybe get together and see if there was a chance…" he pauses and grins at the remark, "I think she thought I turned gay when I moved to Cali."
Elisabeth is forced to cover her mouth to keep from spitting out the last bite of chicken she took as she laughs. When she finally clears her mouth she drops her hand and offers him a smile of remembrance. "Your mother would have been thrilled with the fact that I went into teaching after…." After they were all gone. "I, uhm… I spent two years at one of the public high schools before I went back to the police force. I remember how much she and my mother used to commiserate over my choice of career." Elisabeth's mother hated the gun.
"Even though they balked, they were still proud of you for making a choice and sticking to it." Phillip recounts. "Your father raised you to be headstrong and willful. When you displayed those traits against his wishes, deep inside he was pleased. While on the outside he couldn't believe that you would use what he taught you against him."
She laughs outright. "Now I think you're talking about both of us in that one sentence," Elisabeth retorts with a grin. "Headstrong and willful, hmm?" Not as if she can dispute those traits. She might claim that she doesn't make decisions with her heart, but … she does. If she didn't, she wouldn't be here. "So when did you get rid of the Aston Martin?" she asks curiously. It wasn't the car they were sitting on in the picture he gave her the other day. She studied it intently.
Phillip smiles, "When did I get rid of the Aston Martin?" he ruefully repeats her question, "Well, that would be two days after you wrecked it." then he chuckles because she remembers nothing of this story.
Erk!! "What?" Elisabeth chokes on a bite, wide-eyed. "I wrecked your car?" She looks appalled. "Oh God." She reaches for her wine glass to swallow some and then asks, "Okay.. now you're going to have to tell me about that one."
Phillip chuckles, "Senior year, it snowed pretty heavily and we were out being stupid. Neither of us had a date, so we decided to go driving around. I found an icy parking lot and proceeded to do a little skidding. You were giggly scared and having the time of your life. You wanted to drive. It wasn't the first time I let you drive the Aston, but it was the last." he smiles as he leads up to the climax of the story. "So you got behind the wheel. There were a few donuts and near as I could tell the wheels were spinning around 60 or 70 miles per hour but we really weren't going anywhere but in circles… Then suddenly we hit a dry spot, all 8 cyllinders propelled the car right out of the parking lot and into traffic. We were clipped, spun around and for what ever reason you hadn't let off the gas. Instead, we were then propelled through the front windows of some jewelry store."
He gives pause for his own laughter and then concludes, "Neither of us were hurt, but the Aston had taken a beating. When the police came, I told them I was driving. Neither of us were drinking, so they blamed it on the ice. Insurance covered the damages and my parents bought me a new car three days later because they thought it was an accident." he laughs more.
Elisabeth listens with a dawning sense of the awful. She's already laughing when he says he started it. The skidding. And then he let her drive and she did donuts. "I love donuts," she admits on a laugh. "To this day, given the chance, I love to take a car out to do that. But damn, we're lucky we weren't killed." Shaking her head, she sips from the glass in her hand, her appetite slowly being sated by the filling meal. She's mellowing. "Why did you claim it? Did I not have a license yet?" She doesn't even know when she got her driver's license. Good Lord.
Phillip explains, "In Manhattan, it's rare to go through the process of obtaining a drivers license. You got yours that summer after graduation. It wasn't anything though, you'd driven my car(s) enough to know what was up." Then he stands and starts gathering the boxes to put them back into the large paper sack, using it as a garbage bag.
Elisabeth nods to the explanation that she didn't have hers yet. It's something she has now, but it doens't surprise her that she didn't then. She almost never uses it even now! "Thanks for taking the blame." She grins. "Your parents always seemed like pretty cool people. I mean… for parents and all."
"Well, there were lies. They never knew you were driving or that it wasn't an accident." Phillip says with a devious grin. "We got away with a lot."
"It sounds like it," Elisabeth grins cheekily. "Although it doesn't sound like we were too awful bad as kids. I mean…. I've seen a lot of shit in the last two years that make me grateful that you're telling me all in all a little lying and a car accident or two were the worst things to happen."
"Yeah, we were pretty good. Just kids being kids." Phillip agrees as he's taken what he can into the kitchen and sealed away the food and products into the trash compactor. Then he asks, "You ever thought about having kids?"
It brings an odd expression to her face. "Not until a couple of years ago," Elisabeth says mildly, standing up to walk over to the breakfast bar with her glass of wine. Propping her elbows there, she sips from it and says, "I never thought I'd be a good bet. A cop's life is hell on marriages, most of the people I know on the job have gone through at least one divorce or were smart enough to realize that no one wants to sit home waiting for that call." She purses her lips and then says, "But I guess the past couple of years have had a lot of things happen. Changed my mind. Thought I might put some things in motion this year. I think my child, if he's ever born, will be one pretty fucking amazing person." There's a quality of pride to her tone, perhaps chalked up to the arrogance of any parent considering their own future offspring and of course they'd be fabulous. But her expression has a gentle smile much like the one her own mother wore when Elisabeth held her ground and went off to Illinois to be the best damn cop in the world — as if she is remembering something specific in that moment. When her gaze flickers up to him she shrugs and wrinkles her nose. "Isn't working out quite like I'd hoped," she finishes the thought.
Phillip lets her process her inner turmoil on the subject, the ups and the downs and he states in a supportative tone, "I think you'll be a great mom; if and when that day comes.". Phillip then leaves it at that while moving to wash his hands in the kitchen sink.
A great mom? Elisabeth has had a couple of people say that to her. Teo. Cassidy. The proof is in the pudding, as they say…. Norton tells her that Cameron was a wonderful child when he existed in a timeline that no longer happens. Joshua has stood in front of her and she's seen for herself the man one of her sons would become. "I suppose I'll do a pretty damn good job if I do say so myself," she murmurs thoughtfully as she leans on the counter. "What about you? You said you'd almost been married a few times. You still looking for the white picket fence and happily ever after?" she asks curiously.
Phillip scoffs with a smile. "If I were, then I wouldn't be living in LA. I was just looking for compatibility. Mostly a game show trying to decide if I can deal with their baggage and all their other hangups."
She laughs, truly amused. "Now there's a man after my own heart," Elisabeth replies easily, at ease with her lifestyle choices. "When the drama gets too much, there's the door, baby."
"Seriously. I've put enough money into Soap Operas, I don't want to invest in one that's 24/7/365." Phillip chuckles and starts moving from the kitchen into the living area, "Let's sit?"
Elisabeth brings her wine glass with her and follows him toward the living room. "Maybe you should rethink helping me out, then," she observes wryly. "My life the last two years is like a fuckin' comic book soap opera." The admission comes with a shake of her head, almost disbelief as she reviews the past two years or so. Choosing one of the soft couches to curl into the corner of, she's visibly relaxing in his presence, the peace of the house and the sense of finally being … safe… even if just for a while offering a reprieve from constant paranoid vigilance. Oh, she's still listening for anything out of the ordinary, but it's in the way she's always situationally aware instead of in the way of expecting an ambush.
Taking a seat opposite her within a comfortable chair, Phillip settles in and will place his feet on the ottoman after taking off his shoes. "Getting into bed with you has always been one of the better experiences. And I don't mean just 'in bed'." referencing other times and trials they've had.
The blonde snickers. "I'll have to take your word for that," Elisabeth replies mildly. "Thanks for the compliment, though." She leans her head back on the couch, comfortable here. "Do you come down to the house often?" she asks, glancing around the living room. She got the impression not, but it was merely an impression.
"I haven't been here in about 5 or 6 years. Maybe more." Phillip answers while watching her subtle movements and has his own reflections within. "It's probably not seen much activity in 10 years. When I offered you the key, it was because this is where we'd come to get away. I thought maybe it would offer that again."
Elisabeth's smile is soft. "I love the beach," she says softly. It hasn't changed in all the years he's known her. The wind off the water, the smell of salt in the air, the sound of the constant surf. They've always soothed her. Someday when it's done. Tahiti.
Phillip reflects back to a former time in a quieter voice, "Summer, 1994. Belize. I think we'd not seen one another since Spring Break that same year. We couldn't keep our hands off one another, even on the flight down there." He smiles thinking back then gives a segue pause and adds, "You told me to wait down on this private little beach adjacent to the bungalo we'd rented. It was going to be a surprise. And I'll say it was. You wore this bright yellow french cut two piece with a sheer black and yellow flowery wrap around your hips." He relays it as if it were yesterday….
Phillip's mouth agape as he is found laid supine upon an oversized towel and raised upon his elbows. His wayfarer sunglasses cover his eyes but the expression is that of historical awe. No shirt, tanned chest and hawaiian long shorts cover his hips/thighs. Toes curl and he smiles, "Wow." is about all he can get out.
The admiration makes her grin. Elisabeth strikes a sassy pose to show off her very sexy swimsuit, and then laughs. "Glad you like the view," she comments. The year at college has been good for her — she's kept up with physical training, playing lacrosse and softball on intramural teams, and the sculpted lines are definitely showing the care to be in top shape. The bouncy ponytail is just as sassy as she is, barely long enough to skim the nape of her neck.
"Commere." Phillip instructs as he reaches up to her with his right hand while torquing his body to accomodate the angle. A smile remains across his face as he's always happy to see her.
The invitation is met with a not-quite-shy feminine smile. Even after all this time, she has a sense of the modest. Slipping her hand into his, she lets him tug her down, settling against the length of him easily. Elisabeth laughs softly as she twines her free arm around his neck. "A whole two weeks of sun, sand, and sangria. Just can't beat that."
Once she is atop him and her words passed, Phillip smiles and rolls them both to find her beneath him. His glasses are cast to the side. Looking to her once again, his eyes display his intent that is shared verbally, "No more talking, just kissing." and with that his lips will find hers softly at first, kissing the top then the bottom, then parting and as his muscular arms embrace her even tighter, he kisses even deeper. The emotion revealed.
Just kissing. It's an order Elisabeth readily complies with, twining one sleek leg up around his hip while they kiss. It's a heady feeling having his full attention. To be able to do what they want without concern of parents or anyone interrupting. She opens to him readily, her tongue slipping out to tangle with his and invite it to play. If he's given her one thing in their relationship, it's a healthy appreciation for the physical side.
His own tongue finds the interaction playful while a hand rises into her hair. The weight of his body pressing down upon hers, warming with one another's contact and hightened arousal.
So familiar with one another's physical form, likes, dislikes, desires and so on, they're able to fall into a passionate moment at the drop of a hat. Yet still exploring and starting to move beyond the raw desires of youth and reunions, they're on a continued journey of discovery with every touch.
Both brows quirk upward and Elisabeth laughs softly, unintentionally interrupting his reverie. "That sounds like a memorable trip," she replies, a hint of regret in her features that it is not one a memory that she shares anymore. In some ways it's like talking to a stranger. She's missing so much of that time, and it was clearly important time if his expression is anything to go by. "Honestly, until you wandered back into all this and I saw you at my father's…. Sitting here with you like this is the first time I've truly regretted the memories that I must be missing. There've been… moments. Here or there. Where someone's mentioned things that I should know and don't. Most of what I missed and regret losing is time with my mother. But… listening to you talk about some of the things we did together as kids, it seems like so much fun." And fun's sorely lacking in many of her recent memories, though there've been amazing moments of laughter in there too.
Back to reality with a regretful expression on his face, Phillip says, "They were; I'm sorry you don't remember. Your mother, she was great. I miss her too." and then he trails off leaving it to her, as it's her that is missing out on things.
"She was a pretty neat person," Elisabeth agrees. The pang of hurt will never quite go away. Not being able to pick up the phone and talk to your mother is hard, but Phillip has it harder — he lost both of his parents at the same time. "My dad totally rocks. Did he tell you he's seeing someone?" she asks, amused. "Dad's got a giiiiirrrrrlllllfriend." Regression to teen years FTW!
He's happy that she's changing the subject and coming out of the potentially dark tunnel they would both travel down. Phillip's eyes raise up to meet hers with a quizical slant, "Really? Anyone I know?"
"Monica Carmichael," Elisabeth informs him. A woman of the same social circle as their mothers, widowed a number of years before the Bomb. "She and my mom were good friends, and now… she and my dad are," she says on a laugh. "Dad's cute about it, too. He keeps his 'lady friend' away from the house when I'm coming over and stuff."
Reading that as Liz still is able to see her father, Phillip smiles and says, "I'm not sure I remember her. But as long as he's happy."
"He seems to be. Although he was …. let's call it less than thrilled when I went to see him the day before I blew my life to hell," Elisabeth admits with a grimace. "I don't know when I'll be able to talk to him again. They're watching him pretty closely. They tailed you back to the hotel, you know." She sips her wine as she says it, casual about the fact that he'd been followed.
He humphs casual interest with her remark about being tailed. "Well, I'm glad you tailed me too." is said with a rueful smile that crosses Phillip's lips. "Anyway.." is said as he slides his feet off the ottoman and sits forward, "I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted. It's probably time we go to bed."
"Heh," Elisabeth snorts softly, her smile holding a hint of tease to it. "I can think of a number of responses to that." But he's informed her he had no intention of seducing her. "I put my things in the yellow room," the bedroom at the top of the stairs.
"I'll be two doors down." Phillip states as he stands and starts walking toward the stairs, "Oh and Liz." he states once at the foot while glancing back, "I'm glad we're still friends." then he starts his ascent.
She watches him walk up the stairs with a thoughtful look. "Me too, I think," Elisabeth murmurs softly to the empty living room remaining curled up in her seat on the couch to finish her glass of wine before retiring. If nothing else, a night with the sound of the ocean in her ears will not hurt her feelings a single little bit.