2024-11-17 - Crescent Beach Bonfire

BYOB is just fine by Elijah!

Dressed in a plaid long sleeve shirt over a plain grey tee and his wranglers, Elijah's contribution to the festivities are several amber bottles with clearly hand-written labels. One says 'Hard Cider, 2020' while another says 'Amaretto, 2023'. The cowboy-turned-pirate is apparently offering some of his home brew for people to try and enjoy, and he's got a bottle of something in hand as he politely walks through the food line filling a plate with every offering of meat available. Once meat is acquired, he glances around, checking to see if there's any familiar faces out in the world.

There's some sort of dubious-looking-yet-tasty 'Top of the Tetons Pie' on the dessert table that Wesley made after watching a Dylan Hollis video. It is full of nuts and sugary stickiness. He dropped it off on the table, grabbed a cold bottle of water from the coolers, unfolded a wood-and-canvas folding chair near one of the bonfires (the one closest to the stage so he can hear the music) and kicked back in it to enjoy the atmosphere. He'll grab some food later when the lines die down.

He's dressed casually in khakis, a black shirt, and a light autumn jacket thrown on over the rest. And sandals. He's one of those 'feet don't get cold' people, apparently.

Madelyne approaches the beach with a nice big basket in hand. It's covered with a checkered purple and white towel and decorated with some ribbon. She raises a hand to greet some of the folks there, setting down the basket as she pulls out a blanket to settle on.

She's dressed in an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of matching sweatpants in a soft kelly green, and some slip-on black shoes perfect for walking in the sand.

Her basket is full of chocolate chip cookies as big as her hand, some fluffy cinnamon rolls with plenty of frosting, some caramel stroopwafel, and her famous dark chocolate macadamia nut cookies, with plenty of napkins so people can take what they like.

"Evening, all. I brought some sweets, and I hope everyone is well and good today." She attempts to keep her accent at bay, wanting to be understood, especially if folks are drinking.

It had been a long day for Gianna and she had contemplated whether or not to attend the bash on the beach, but when it came down to it, she was not going to miss a gathering and a chance to meet new people. She arrived alone, walking down the sand in what appeared to be an outfit that seemed to be fighting with itself. She was wearing a dark blue University of Michigan Swim Team hoodie and a white sarong with yellow flowers on it. In one hand she carried a pair of sandals allowing herself to be barefoot upon the sand, and in the other a small basket.

There were some familiar faces, but she was fairly quiet for now as she moved to tuck a strand of hair back behind her ear that had escaped the ponytail her hair was in. "Hey" A greeting given with a wave of her hand.

As rare as seeing Gaspar out at a social event is, at least he isn't shocking anyone to death by showing up alone. He does, after all, have a date. Barghest, a rather large black mutt is running towards the bonfire, skidding to a stop (spraying sand everywhere) and then sprinting back to Gaspar, doing the same to his master. Back and forth, the black hound rushes, often choosing to (seemingly at random) trip over his own front legs and tumble over the sand. But he always pops back up and then shakes himself off, sending sand everywhere, before he begins anew.

Gaspar does nothing to stop this. You tell Barghest he can't have fun, see how that goes.

The mechanic is barefoot, with a pair of shoes hanging from his fingertips, wearing dark blue jeans that were around for the French retirement age protests, and a dark gray button down that he keeps untucked with the sleeves folded to his elbows.

"Good evening," he says, as Barghest barks once and then takes off for the water, where he's sure to have even more fun. Gaspar's accent is some undecipherable South European thing; a chimera born of travel and multilingualism.

Sunny shows up mostly empty handed. While he might not have been fully in the mood for socializing tonight, it's still a chance at meeting his new bevy of coworkers. Especially if for once in his life he's going to have to be around them for more than a couple months. Time to get used to people.

He's got a small cinch-top bag thrown over one shoulder, but it obviously does not contain food. Wearing a pair of loose linen pants, a grey tee, and a Hawaiian shirt covered in pelicans makes him look beachy, other than the grey knit cardigan hanging from his shoulders. He's barefoot, though his shoes are likely tucked away in that bag for now. The bonfires are decidedly calling him and he takes a few steps in that direction before food is noticed and he veers off in that direction.

Good thing about being vegetarian? The line there is no doubt a sparser one than that which forms for the meat. And so he's soon loading up his plate with a bottle of ice tea tucked under one arm as he picks through the offerings.

As Elijah glances around for a place to pop a squat, he gives each of the new arrivals a nod of greeting, even going so far as to tilt a non-existing hat at Gianna politely. They haven't actually worked together, but he's seen her around while busking and unless Cap'n Cashew makes a nutty appearance she's the closest to a coworker he has. "Evenin', Ma'am." He says to her, Texas twang thick as mud as he takes a sip of his amber bottle of homebrew.

He raises his eyebrows when he spots Sunny, and gives his roommate a salute with his booze and, upon spotting the plate of veggies, a shake of his head. "Rabbit food." He declares with a snort, and grins when he spots the dog running into the water.

"Hey!" Wesley raises his water bottle in a cheerful raise as some others - some familiar, some less-familiar, just because of the number of employees at the park - show up, an easy smile greeting anyone who looks towards said 'hey'.

As Barghest runs off into the water, he watches him for a few moments with the warm amusement of anyone watching a hound having a good time, taking a swig of water before heaving himself out of the chair and to his feet.

Madelyne doesn't claim a seat, she spreads out a thick blanket near one of the further bonfires and then moves to get a plate of food. She chats cheerfully with some of the folks working at the grills, friends, or co-workers before she retreats to her blanket to sit.

She turns to watch Barghest as he frolics out around the water, eating her food quietly until she catches sight of Gianna. She cheerfully waves to the girl, and waves for her to come sit on the blanket if she would like.

Lennox drifts beachward in his usual all-black from head to toe, though today it's a hoodie over skinny jeans. Under one arm he has some sort of salad in a glass bowl covered over with some saran wrap. Upon closer inspection, it consists of very thinly sliced tomato, onion, and cucumber in a light vinaigrette. This, he deposits on the table with the sides and unwraps, tossing the wrap in the trash before he drifts over to Madelyne's basket and snags one of those chocolate macadamia cookies, flashing her a grin. "My favorites." He then gives an up-nod of greeting to those present. He's been tending bar at the park since it opened and has at least met most folks at one point or another. Grinning, he watches the dog darting back and forth and says, "He's having a good time," as he wanders over to Gaspar. "You're out. In public."

Gianna could not help but smile from the "hat tipping" and greeting from Elijah. She certainly knew of him and had even plugged his Pirate show during on own performances. Venture Cove 4 Lyf! She even did her best to offer him a greeting of her own, giving him a slight curtsy in her sarong and putting on her best southern accent as well, which was not exactly practiced or refined. "Well, I declare. I reckon I've never received such a fine greeting in all my life Good Sir. A good evenin' to you as well." She did her best to not just start laughing at her attempt, but all in all it was not half bad considering she grew up in Michigan, but did major in theatre.

She then began to look fora place to sit, preferably near one of the fires, not choosing to grab anything to eat just yet. The wave and the greeting from Madelyne are noticed and she light jogs over to the blanket, sitting herself down upon it with a smile to her friend. "Maddie!" The other woman is given a brief embrace. "Tell me there are cinnamon rolls still in there." Her eyes darting to the basket.

"Call me Bugs." Sunny replies as Eli calls his good selection rabbit food. He wiggles a grilled asparagus spear in the air in front of him then bites of the tip. He wanders closer to the fires. He nods to the others gathering around before plopping himself down in the sand cross-legged, balancing his plate on his legs. Who needs a chair or towel, not him. What's the point of being on the beach if you're not gonna get sandy?

Curly, sensing the warmth of the fire finally sticks his head out from behind Sunny's cardigan. The blue-green chameleon venturing a glance around as his two eyes flip in different directions trying to take in all the new sights, or maybe hunting for bugs lured in by the light of the fire. Who can tell?

"I'm out in public often," Gaspar says to Lennox with faux defensiveness. It's true, he is, it's just usually when he's working, which is definitely not what Lennox meant, and Gaspar's mirthful shrug knows it.

"You're wearing black," he points out, gesturing lazily up and down at Lennox's attire. "You have a strong sense of tradition, I see." Now he's just teasing the poor guy.

Barghest comes back from the water. He stops in front of the group of people a good ten or so feet away so that when he shake shake shakes himself dry, he doesn't spray everyone with water from the lake, and then he trots over to where Madelyne and Gianna are. He doesn't so much lay down next to them as he does topple-flop onto the blanket on his side, pawing at Madelyne for pets, tongue lolling out the side of his massive maw.

"Good turnout for an autumn bonfire," Gaspar tells Lennox, as he starts heading towards where the food is, to serve himself.

In response to Sunny, Elijah pulls out a hunk of rib and tears the flesh off the bone. So there! Then his eyes travel over the crowd, realizing most everyone else is on Team Rabbit Food. The Texan shakes his head mournfully, and turns back to Gianna, "Now y' just teasin' me." He says good-naturedly, and when Gaspar declares the turnout good, he nods and takes another bite of rib meat, "That it surely is. One o' t' nicer cast parties I done seen. Cute pup. He like lizard?"

"Plenty for everyone. I baked for a few hours today, just in case." Maddie gestures to the hefty basket that she brought with her, beaming as she gives Gianna a hug. "Cinnamon rolls are there, make sure you take one home with you to have with some coffee in the morning."

"I remembered that you favored those." She speaks up to Lennox, tilting her head in greeting.

She leans in to give Barghest a nice belly rub since he asked so nicely, cooing gently over the dog. "You're such a good, sweet sweet boy." A beat. "You better give Gaspar a good whine so he gives you something good from the grill."

"And no skill at separating laundry, a poor sense of color theory, and a tragic emo goth phase that I've never quite gotten over," Lennox says with a sage nod in answer to Gaspar's return teasing before lifting his brows with a grin and taking a long swallow from the bottle in his hand. "It is," he agrees. "It'll get smaller as it gets colder. Only the truest and hardiest souls will make it out for the winter ones."

He grins at Madelyne and says, "I'll try not to eat them all."

Then Gaspar's wander toward the food reminds him to get his own plate, so he drifts that-a-way as well to start loading up a plate a la Elijah, a carefully arranged jenga tower of meats. He'll go back for sides later.

Gianna had put her own basket on the table as well and took off the cover. Inside was what appeared to be a batch of homemade amaretto cannoli. She expresses to Madelyne. "I brought amaretto cannoli. It is like the only dessert I know how to make. My Nonna made sure of that. She always used to say..." Her finger raised to wave it in front of her, her voice copying her grandmother as the Italian flows. "Gigi. Imparerai a fare questo. Ricordate che l'amaretto non è mai troppo." She shook her head. " Gigi. You will learn to make this. Remember, you can never have too much amaretto." She winced slightly. "You could get wasted of that filling...but you have to try one.

It does not take long for Gianna to secure two of the cinnamon rolls, as she intended on having one for breakfast. "This is all I need to eat tonight."

"Did I hear the magic words 'cinnamon rolls'?"

Wesley pads along over towards the sound of Madelyne offering cinnamon rolls to people, both eyebrows lifting up in a hopeful sort of way and a grin crossing his expression, "I swear I heard the words cinnamon rolls spoken somewhere around her. Wait. And did someone also just say cannoli?"

He's going to have to double his exercise time for the week after tonight, he suspects.

King wanders in, ever on her clock when she's off duty. She brings some of her own black bean burgers to drop onto the grill, a spicy spicy black bean burgers. She's in a black hoodie with black jeans, flip flops that are kicked off as soon as she hits the sand, which probably means she's gonna lose them sooner than later. Already gone, babe.

"Everything about an emo phase is tragic," King says upon arrival, heading for one of the grills, but saying her hellos as she goes through. Nox has the misfortune of being the first person she hears. "The eyeliner, though." Ok, maybe not that unfortunate. "Who has the good alcohol?" She pauses, dropping some of the burgers on the grill.

"That'd be me, ma'am." Elijah calls, lifting his bottle in salute to King, "Amaretto an' hard cider on t' table, help y'self." He's got his plate of meats, and is steadily and stoically polishing it off while his eyes drift back and forth from the desserts that were just dropped off. He pauses near Sunny, and offers the seated Vegetarian some of his personal booze.

"Did someone say amaretto?" Sunny says, perking up and craning his neck so he can get a look out over to the table and the spread. There looks to be a moment where me might bustle over there immediately, but then looks down at his plate full of dinner. "In a few." He murmurs to himself, going back at to nibbling what's already on his plate.

Madelyne makes sure that she puts a cinnamon roll in a napkin to hand it to Wesley. "There you are, and take another for later if you'd like. They're great the second day with a spot of sweet coffee in the morning."

"Gianna over here made some cannoli, and I bet it's amazing. I'm going to snag some here with the food on my plate." She shifts her eyes toward Gianna. "I agree with your Nonna. "Amaretto is an amazing taste to the dish, and you can never have enough of it."

There is a slight smile given to Madelyne's reply about too much amaretto "Well, maybe that is why she fell asleep after dessert all the time." There is a shrug given and her eyes shift to the other people attending the gathering. It was true, she did not know too many, but she told herself she was going to step out of her comfort zone a little bit. Her words spoken still to Madelyne. "The one who brought the dog. That's Gaspar right?"

As Wesley comes over and is handed the napkin from Madelyne she takes a moment to introduce herself as well. "Hey. Not sure we have ever met. Gianna. I work in the Mermaid Lagoon.: She rises up to her knees from her seated position to extend a hand to shake his.

"She said the good alcohol," comes the good-natured grumble of Sully as he comes moving up the beach, and lifts a bottle of whiskey up and over his head like he's won it as a trophy. A wide grin flashes across the doctor's face and he winks to indicate he's not really bashing the idea of hard cider or amaretto, though anyone who's seen him drink knows he prefers whiskey in his cup.

He comes up to the grill to hand the bottle to King if she wants some, along with a cup from a bag full of them, before he adds it to the table for the rest to share. "Nice night," he says, to those gathered in the firelight.

Eli's about to comment on cannolis, and maybe tease Sunny some more, but when the music stops and the stage open he purses his lips, glancing down at his plate before he shrugs and after leaving his alcohol by Sunny heads to the stage. The only pause is for him to grab a battered hard side guitar case to pull out a battered looking acoustic guitar.

He pauses, checks the mike to make sure it's live, and winces at the feedback. But then he's slinging the guitar in place and begins to strum opening chords while he whistles. And then begins to sing in a husky, whiskey and chocolate sort of voice:

"Dead Love couldn't go no further
Proud of and disgusted by her
Push shove, a little bruised and battered
Oh Lord I ain't coming home with you..."

Gaspar takes his time piling on the meat. Barghest can, after all, fend for himself. Few can resist the charm of a large, goofy dog.

After getting his food, Gaspar finds a spot to sit near the bonfire, though not particularly near any one person, so he can eat. He eats quietly. People watching might be a sport he's particularly seasoned in, from the looks of it, but he does have a rep for being curious, so eventually it's likely he'll pick someone to gently interrogate, maybe.

Barghest, meanwhile, is enjoying the attention. Without Coal around to claim territorial rights, he has Madelyne's attentions all to himself! At least, the attentions destined for pets.

"I've never been good at delayed gratification," Wesley admits with a grin - and a wink - to Madelyne's words regarding them being better the next day as he accepts the napkin and cinnamon roll, "Thanks."

Then there's a hand extended in his direction, and he steps over to reach out with his non-treat-holding-hand to clasp Gianna's warmly, greeting, "Wes. I mostly work over in River Village, good to meet you. Nice to have a night when we're the ones who're having fun instead of helping the tourists do it, right?"

One of the volunteers leans in to speak quietly to Madelyne while she's petting the dog, and she gets to her feet, leading him back to Gaspar as she follows the man toward the grill. "I don't mind, no, don't you even apologize." She waves a hand at Wesley, Gianna, and a few others as she makes her way up to assist with something food-related for a time.

"Elijah, I knew I liked you," King calls back, heading over to check out the cider selection at hand. She chooses a bottle and tucks it under her arm. She then swings by the table to see what fixings there are to accompany spicy black bean burgs. Which she then demonstrates by taking the bottle and abandons the dessert table in search of some cups, because the doctor's a little more fussy than she is.

There's a little sigh when the whistling starts, because she knows, and before you know it, she's whistling along under the lyrics, until she starts singing along at, "Oh, Lord, I ain't comin' home with you~"

Every party has cups if you know where to look, and eventually she finds some weird mini red solos, which are like chunky frat boy shot glasses. "I did not thing anyone actually bought these," she mutters, going about pouring a couple cups before she hands one back to Sully. "Your cup, fancy." Yeah, a bottle of sider is still tucked under her arm. It's gonna be that kinda night. "Hey, Wes. Haven't seen you in a minute. How's tricks?"

Sunny lets out a little whistle of a cheer as Eli gets up on the stage. Even Curly seems interested in watching, migrating up to Sunny's shoulder, then climbing on top of his head for a good look towards the stage, making Sunny look like he has a vibrant blue and green mohawk.

He picks up the bottle Eli left next to him, giving it a sniff before he kicks it back for a quick swig, squinting a little against the burn of the whiskey. "Oh, that's the good stuff." He mutters to himself.

It is, indeed, the good stuff. Which is why Elijah didn't put it on the table and left it with his roommate; he's polite, but good whiskey ain't what you bring to a party of mostly strangers.

Elijah continues to play, stomping the stage with one boot-clad foot and whistling between verses while he plays. It isn't bad, he's got a decent voice and can carry the tune, but considering how many other people here are performers, it's also clear he's an amateur. But hey, at least the professionals are getting a reprieve for a couple of minutes and the ice is broken for other people to take the stage.

"Exactly big enough for a pingpong ball for the world's most space-efficient game of beer pong," Sully points out to the mini solos, but chuckles. "Cheers," he says to King before moving down to the table full of food, glancing over as Elijah starts to sing. He doesn't know the tune, but nods his head in appreciation as he goes about filling up a plate.

He woofs lightly at the big dog, grinning to himself, before he finds himself a spot to sit and eat, close enough to be warmed by the fire but not too close to the heat that embers will fly in his eyes. He kicks off his Vans and buries his feet into the sand.

"You love the eyeliner," Lennox says to King as he finishes gathering together his food and gravitates over toward that cider that was mentioned. He gets some of that before making his way toward the flames and settling in, cross-legged by one of the bonfires and not far from the others and the music. He makes a careful balancing act of plate upon knee and drink nestles in the sand against one thigh so it doesn't tip. Then he digs in as Elijah takes the stage, letting out a whistle of appreciation.

After introductions to Gianna, Wesley hears his name - and spins a bit on his heel, declaring with a broad grin, "The King is here! Bow down for her Medical Majesty!"

He sweeps an exaggerated bow, nearly loses his cinnamon roll, recovers, straightens. "Been doing alright! You? Hope business has been slow," he offers to King.

"Space efficient. The ping pong ball'd take out the whole cup for sure," King says. "Not that I've played a lot of beer pong." That's a lie, and it's obvious by her face it's a lie.

"I do, you caught me," King says to Lennox. "It's good on you, good on me, good on probably everyone here. If you can only do one thing for yourself in the morning, put on eyeliner." She thinks about that for a beat then says, "Long as you can tight line. Don't listen to me, I'm too sober." She finally gets around to tasting the whiskey in her mini solo cup. Somewhere halfway through that, she remembers to go over to check on the burgers at a nearby grill. She continues to sing along softly to the song Elijah's performing, working slowly through assembling a plate of veg.

She blinks at the bow, opens her mouth to comment when Wesley bows, thinks better of it just in time, and then pivots with a grin to: "Slow enough I haven't had to go home to change mid-shift."

"... I see my red head, messed bed, tear shed, queen bee, my squeeze
The stage it smells, tells
Hell's bells, miss-pells, knocks me on my knees
It didn't hurt, flirt, blood squirt, stuffed shirt, hang me on a tree
After I count down three rounds, in Hell I'll be in good company!"

And so Elijah finishes, fingers catching all the strings at once so that the silence is abrupt and dramatic. The fact even with calluses it causes cuts isn't noticed beyond a quick wipe across his wranglers so he doesn't bleed on the mic. That'd be rude, and he's a good boy. "Now,, who's gunna be next or y'all gunna let some hick with a GED outdo y'all?"

He grins, tips that non-existing hat to the crowd, and moves off stage, pausing to stow his guitar before going to find Sunny and his homebrew. With a pause to grab a napkin even if his face doesn't show anything.

"Shh, leave me my fantasy, boss," Sully says to King and grins, then nods to Lennox. "He has the face for it. I think I'd look like I lost a boxing match, especially if I had to do it myself."

He picks up a burger to take a messy bite, chasing it with a couple of jalapeño cheddar Cheetos. This doctor has no problem eating junk food, and his burger is the red meat variety, not one of King's healthier options.

"That's always the mark of a good shift. I just keep an extra set of scrubs in the clinic," he adds. "Some days an extra set doesn't go far, though. Sick kids are gross." He has a great bedside manner, really he does.

From the grin on Wesley's face he was just waiting for that comment from King. When it doesn't come he faintly clucks his tongue in disappointment. "Better than having blood all over your office, so, I'll count that as a win for you," he observes, and then he bites into the cinnamon roll - chewing contentedly as he wanders towards the food tables. All this talk about food and liquor has reminded him he hasn't filled his stomach just yet.

At the challenge from the stage, he calls back up cheerfully-- "No dice! I'm not following that up!"

"I've heard some people like the roughed-up look," Lennox says to Sully with an amused grin. "Not my thing, but you could probably work it." He makes surprisingly quick work of that precarious tower of balanced meats on his plate. For a guy built like a scarecrow, there's no telling where he puts it.

There's a round of applause as Elijah finishes up his song and a slight snort for the challenge issued. "Maybe when I'm done eating," he says, "But for now the food is calling to my soul."

Taking one more swig from the bottle, Sunny holds it back up to the approaching Eli, dutifully returning it with his babysitting fee claimed. He can always get more later, he knows where that bottle lives if it makes it through the night.

"You still got it." He says to the Texan with a grin. Curly on the other hand is just staring at Eli with both eyes, or maybe next to Eli. Then out snaps the tongue, whipping out and back, leaving a smug looking chameleon with a bug wing sticking out of his mouth, flapping for a few seconds before he snaps that up too. Best bug repellent in the world.

King glances over at Sully when he calls her boss, a twitch of her red lips. "Don't give yourself enough credit. You're right, though, Nox does have the face for it. Especially when he's wearing bunny ears covering over at the Fox." She smiles at that, and then adds after Sully's comment, "I keep a set in my locker, but some days take a third."

"I bet you're cuter when you been punched a few times. I just get that feeling." She says this from the relative safety of across the other side of the grill, but that doesn't mean she isn't ready to dodge projectile items. "Mostly the job's just sprains and sunburn and dehydration, or soreness from being under conditioned to walk so many miles on a visit. Occasional epi pen deployment, asthma. Simple stuff. And everybody loves the anti anxiety meds," she says to the rim of her cup before she finishes off the whiskey she poured herself. Now where did she put down that bottle? Her attention slides to the table where she was standing a bit ago. "Nice one, Elijah!" She calls, but likewise doesn't look like she's gonna hit the stage, at least not until a few more drinks in.

She intends to have a seat by the fire, but King is not a fast moving person outside of an emergency.

As he settles down, Elijah dabs at his finger tips with a napkin, chuckling slightly as he waits for someone else to take up his challenge. Win-Win! If he did shame someone into performing, free entertainment! If not, then he's got a certain notoriety that'll just draw more interest to his busking and pirate show. To Sunny, he says, "Little clumsy with t' final trick." And takes a deep drink of the whiskey, closing eyes as the alcohol hits.

He then opens one eye, and gives King a wave with bloody fingers before pulling out a handkerchief to wrap around his hand. Stoic mother's son, he's grinning and popping a bit of cookie in his mouth.

"I've definitely sported that look a few times, but I wasn't the one who applied it," Sully quips to Lennox, then adds, "You should've seen the other guy," because it's pretty much required.

Elijah's call for someone to follow up his act draws a laugh from him, and he shakes his head. "If I sing, the party'll be over faster than a knife fight in a phone booth. Singing is not one of my talents, but I like to do it anyway."

When Elijah holds up his bloody fingers, he lifts a brow. "Bleeding for your art, are you? Been a while since you played?" he asks, though he sets his plate down to rise again. "I can at least give you a fast pass."

A plate loaded with meat and not a few chunks of bread gathered, cinnamon roll devoured, water bottle tucked under an arm, Wesley meanders back to his chair beside the bonfire -- dropping himself down into it, settling his food in his lap and asking casually of the gathered, "So, anyone got any Stupid Tourist Stories this week? I'm sure some of you gotta have seen something good."

"There was a drunk lady that asked me 'bout m' booty." Elijah offers up to Wesley, as he presses down on the hand holding the booze. "Usually I'm a mite bit back from t' tourists, or can just git when they get rowdy."

He blinks at Sully's statement, and shrugs. "Clumsy chordin' and showin' off." He says stoically, but makes his way over dutifully, "Swear, don't feel a thing." He squints over a King, though, remembering their discussion in the diner, "But reckon' I ain't gunna keep y' from doin' what y' do." And gingerly unwraps his hand. Really, it's not bad, but he's definitely underplaying it. I mean, papercuts hurt worse than getting a freakin' limb cut off.

"Eh, don't think anyone cares. And bleeding for your art is usually approved of. Too bad I left my instrument at home." Sunny says by way of begging off his own possible trip up on to the stage. Which had to have been done on purpose, as he almost always has it on him, tucked away somewhere. Probably just wanting to unwind.

He looks over to Wesley's question with a smirk. "Now now, talking bad about our clientele?" He asks with an amused tone and a small 'tsktsk'. "Sadly, I can't share any of mine, I promise confidentiality as part of my thing. But lemme tell you, I could write a book."

King fixes up a veggie burger on a seeded bun from a pack someone brought, puts her stuff down at a log by the fire, a quick laugh surprised out of her by the phrase 'knife fight in a phone booth'. When Sully moves to pass by, she slides something out of her pocket to hand it off to him on the pass. It's quick clotting powder—the packet's about the size and shape of a to-go wet nap, and made to rip open like a sugar packet, easy peasy. Sprinkle on and go about your day.

Apparently, even when she's not in possession of her med kit or a single bandaid, she at least has this? Why? That's a whole other story.

"Sully's hands are better'n mine, Elijah. No kit on me today." She cracks open the cider to take a taste and hms, nodding to herself. A huge bite of a black bean burger follow. She gets a few chews in before there's a little cough. She finishes the bite, though, swallowing. Came out a little bit spicier than usual. "People do the weirdest shit on the coasters." She thinks on Wes's question about dumb guest stories, though, cataloging back over the last week or two, but doesn't pipe up on that right away. Honestly that bra thing kinda covers it.

"Oh, there we go! Man, that's why they can't have those automatic cameras on rides anymore," Wesley snaps his fingers once and points at Dillon with a grin, before gathering up two chunks of bread and stuffs some meat between them, bringing them up to take a hearty bite of, chewing contentedly, juices dripping down his chin a bit before he catches it and wipes it clean.

"Thanks, Mom Pockets. We'll see if I need it," Sully says to King as he passes by, reaching down to ruffle her hair. While Elijah's also on his way to him, he holds a finger up to indicate for him to wait a moment, and heads to the drink table to pour a bit of some vodka someone brought into one of the micro solo cups. This, he dips a napkin on, and then heads over to the other man.

"I'd rather they bleed metaphorically," he says with a grin for Sunny, "but nothing wrong with it. Not criticizing anyone."

Reaching for Elijah's hand he pulls out the napkin that's now dripping with vodka, then looks back at Elijah. "This might sting, but I'm not as magical as my mum thinks I am," he says with a grin, and then brings the little poultice down to clean the wound, letting it saturate for a moment before he takes it and pops it back into the cup for tidy bio hazard removal. Next, he lays his hand on the other man's wrist, and closes his eyes.

It'll take a couple of minutes for the wound to show signs of healing -- not completely, but as if a couple of days have gone by already, speeding Elijah's wound up by quite a bit.

Lennox is too busy making his way through that mount of food to comment on the guests, at least for now. But once he finishes off his plate, he gets up and tosses it, wipes down his hands, and finds himself a drink to bring with him up to the stage. Snapping his fingers a couple of times, he points a Dillon, who comes jogging up to the stage and picks up the guitar that the other band was using earlier. He still has a cookie in his mouth, but seems perfectly capable of playing the guitar while doing so. The two seem to confer, maybe, as neither actually says anything, but both nod, apparently agreeing on whatever they're going to play.

"Known folk t' go rushin' under the damned things 'twixt rides t' clean up the cash that's fallen out." Elijah agrees, regarding stuff falling off rollercoasters, "'Swhy I avoid the suckers for the most part. 'Sides, when y' can fly that shit is basic."

He continues to chat even as Sunny grabs his hand and poultices it up, yo. No flinch, not even an reactive curl of his fingers. He startles more at the signs of quick healing, eyes widening a touch before he does another touch of his hat in respectful acknowledgement of the doctor's use of magic. "Well, shit, that's useful." He says mildly, and pauses, before offering the bottle in his other hand. "Whiskey?" Beat. "The good alcohol." And that's said with a smirk and a wink at King. "Brewed it myself. Elijah Jones, by the by. Or the Dread Pirate Blackwood, if ye' please, ye' scurvy dawg." The shift of accents is actually quite good, Texan being shifted to Generic Fantasy Pirate.

"Just a bra?" Sunny comments, smirking a little as he does so. "You know, at least the coasters here are nice and big. You ever see anyone try to dash under one of those little state faire ones they can take apart? Almost saw someone lose their head once doing that. Luckily he just got kicked off his feet." He takes his plate back over to the table beginning to grab some of the sweets on this pass before heading back to the warmth of the fire, mostly when Curly starts yanking on his hair, no doubt complaining about the cold.

He slows as h passes Sully and Elijah tough, peeking at the healing with a raised eyebrow. "See?" He says mostly too Elijah as if continuing an early conversation. "That's actually something useful. And pretty damn impressive to boot."

"Mom pockets," King repeats, horrified. She's so horrified, she takes another bite of the spicy burg. She mumbles something completely unintelligible thanks to the food in her mouth. She takes some quiet moments to tuck in, eating efficiently and quickly. Were she on duty, she'd probably get a call three bites in. She looks over to the stage when Lennox heads up there with Dillon.

"I like a change on my tongue now and then, but gotta say, I'm a bourbon girl from way back," King says to Elijah. "So deck was stacked a little bit there. I can say it's the finest home brewed hard cider I ever had."

After another swallow of sandwich and meat, Wesley points a finger over in Elijah and Sully's direction, waggling one finger briefly. "You gotta let your calluses build up," he advises, "You get all fixed up too often and you'll never be able to deal with those metal strings. That's what this guy I used to know told me when I was trying to learn, he used to play on stream for tips. 'You gotta get your calluses build up'."

"I got soft hands, though," he grins over, "Never could get the hang of the guitar."

"Glad to be useful," Sully says with a chuckle, and lifts a shoulder at the offer, but holds up his finger once again, disposing of the dirty cup he holds and getting a new one, so that he can pour a couple of fingers of the 'good' whiskey into it. "Cheers, mate."

A bit of an Irish accent comes out with the Britishism, though it's always there, lurking around the corners of his words, waiting for the right time to slip out in the mostly-American's speech.

"I guess the powers that be that bestowed on us our magic decided to keep in theme with me. For my less useful but more fun trick I can turn into a big ol' woof and blow your house down. Not as useful, but I'll admit, wolf time is wicked fun."

"My what big hands y' got, Granny." Elijah says drolly to Sully, before shrugging amiably at King, "Was one o' my better brews. Hopefully the magic o' this place don't fuck up what I got goin'. Not like I'm usin' local honey for the mead or shit, y'know?"

Sunny gets a roll of his eyes, and a nod. "Yes, Sunnyboy, it's real impressive. An' mebbe if you'd dealt the cards for me I'd have known better'n show off." Which makes him grimace at Wesley, "Sword calluses ain't t' same as guitar calluses, I guess." He lets Sully fill his cup, before lifting it in salute, "T' your health, doc."

Dillon starts to play the guitar, the first strains of the song beginning, and then Lennox leans into the microphone and begins to sing.

"Don't you know
We're still gold
Just another day we made mistakes
Face the rain
Don't walk away
There's another chance to set it straight
It's not too late to turn back home
And we were never meant to be alone
You know we've got each other
It's not too late for two lost souls
We're not the only ones to lose control
We're in this together"

He sways a little bit as he sings, looking into the fire more than at anyone in the audience.

There might be a touch of jealousy on Sunny's face when Sully admits to the wolf thing. "Not helping, doc." He says, though it's good natured enough. "Wouldn't have minded if fate decided to go a little more off theme with me. At least I got a cool hat." He says, pointing to Curly perched on his head who has shifted to a red and orange palette as he cranes himself close to the fire's warmth.

"You need to ask. You know that. Them's the rules. Someone's gotta ask." He replies, pointing an amaretto cannoli in Eli's direction. "Hell, now that the cards actually work I'm afraid to touch them just for curiosity's sake. Don't know what I'll find out that I rather not know. Bad enough stuff popping into my brain when.." He shakes his head. "Well, anyway." He gives into Curly's insistence and steps a few more steps towards the fire to let the lizard bask. "You could just get back under the sweater you know." He says, trying to look up at the familiar.

"So far so good, magic-wise. Seems like the place is more have a good time'n out to get us." King says, conversationally, but not so loud as to disrupt the performance on stage. "Nothing wrong with soft hands, Wes." She falls silent a little bit to listen to Lennox sing, finishing up her food before she tips back to listen to this one, which she hasn't heard before.

"Sunny's right. Sometimes you gotta be careful what and when you ask those cards," she says after a little while, opening her eyes. She dabbles with divination. At the sweater comment, she glances over and finally notices the familiar catching a ride on her fellow tarot-enthusiast's clothing. "Oh, cute. I didn't see your friend there outside the firelight."

"Sully, where'd you hide the whiskey anyway?"

"Sorry, there... Sunny is it?" the doctor says. "I'll stop making you jealous and finish my burger, how's that?" His grin is wide, and then he glances over at King as he she request the whiskey. "On it, boss."

He grabs this and makes his way back to the seat in the sand by the fire, handing King the bottle. He nods along to the music again, but doesn't sing along; instead he picks up his burger and bites into it, happy to have his mouthful for the time being. After chewing and swallowing, he nods to King's assessment of the 'hat' Sunny wears. "He's really cute."

He glances down at his hands as they hold the burger, and looks over at Wes. "My hands are apparently big," he nods to Elijah, "but I'd say not too soft and not too calloused. Goldilocks rated. Just right."

His attention slides then to Lennox and Dillon as they perform. "I'm jealous of you talented folks."

Wesley lifts one of said 'soft hands' to wriggle his fingers over in King's direction. "Never had any complaints, no," he observes with a grin, lifting up his water bottle and taking a hearty swig of it. He falls silent as Dillon and Lennox start to play and sing, bobbing his head a bit in appreciation as he listens.

Lennox has talent. Unfortunately, it's a talent that has found its way into failed band after failed band. As he sings, his gaze is on the fire more than anyone in the audience, singing into the flickering light in front of him as Dillon continues to play the guitar. It's not a song most probably have heard, but Dillon knows it well enough to play it, so it's probably something he's performed before.

"Every time you walk away
I lose the one I need to save
I just paint it black
Like starting over
And every time I lose a fight
And I'm dying to be right
I just paint it black
So you remember
This won't last forever
It's just another night.."

One hand lifts to run through his hair, pushing it back from his face, though the breeze off the water is sure to push it right back into his eyes within moments.

"Well, damn, almost makes me wish I had a bra t' throw at'm." Elijah nods with an approving expression as he listens to Dillion and Lennox sing. Sure, means he's not gunna be able to boast about his challenge remaining unmet, but it's one of those situations that you win by losing. Even if it isn't quite his style of song.

His attention goes back to Sully with a bark of laughter, "Goldilocks rated, eh? Have t' remember that descriptor." He lifts his bottle one more time in salute, and glances down at Sunny's plate. "Jealous o' his burger? Keep tellin' you, Sunny, not our fault our dinner ate yours." And he reaches up to scritch Sunny's 'hat' before moving to sit down and listen to Lennox and Dillon.

"No, just means I know who to go to if I ever need a big wolf." Sunny replies to Sully. "I dunno why I'd need one, but hey, can't hurt to know." There's a gesture to King with a look to Eli. "See, she knows what I'm talking about. I still mostly keep it an act for the general public, I mean, unless I feel like they really are looking for true answers, but that can put you in the spot of being the bearer of ill omen, which just ain't the kind of fortune teller I want to be, right? Especially in this place." He then adds more lightheartedly. "Besides, tarot card paper cuts are the worst."

Curly seems to know he's being complimented, maybe getting the run down from Sunny. Because as people give him positive vibes the red-orange motif turns to his most brilliant blue, curling his tail up behind him and sticking his nose right up in the air. The little show off.

King puts her empty plate aside, takes the whiskey offered over by Sully, "Thanks, fancy," and pours herself a healthier cup. Which is still little more than maybe a finger in a normal glass, but she goes tippy tops with it and reaches down to wiggle and spin the bottle a little bit till the base is secured into a dip in the sand.

She coughs again, glances from Wes to Sully, and takes a big ol swig of whiskey. A big one. Can't talk through it big. Long as she can swallow that before someone says something funny, she should be ok. She turns her gaze to Lennox on stage, where it's safest, and she raises her hands in the air to give a silent applause to his song wiggle-twisting her hands. Whew, got it down before anybody made her spit.

"Aren't you a pretty boy," King says, cooing at the chameleon when he shifts to blues. She tucks her hands into her hoodie pocket, turning a little so her other side's baked a bit more by the fire.

The song continues on for a little bit longer, but then begins to wind to a close as Lennox curls his fingers along the microphone stand too lost in the singing and the performance to really be hearing the conversations going on out in the audience, which is probably for the best, really. He might have thoughts on tarot and wolves, but right now he seems to just be thinking about performing, even if it's just for a few people paying attention at the bonfire.

"So look in my eyes
Clear as the skies
You can see right through me
Your heart blees through me
No matter where you are
I won't leave you behind
We'll make it out alive
We'll make it out alive.."

As the song winds to a close, he relinquishes the microphone and gives Dillon a clap on the shoulder, "Thanks for the backup." Then he wanders on back through the sand to grab himself another drink, leaving the stage to the next person who wants to get up and take a turn.

"Big wolf at your service," Sully says, reaching up as if to doff his cap in Elijah style, and of course he's not wearing one. He crunches into one of the Cheetos, and side eyes King as she goes so silent suddenly. His lips curve up in the corner and it might be that he's about to say something to make her spit out that large swallow of whiskey, but it is decent whiskey and not cheap, so he decides to let her keep it.

The sand wouldn't appreciate it.

"Nice!" he calls out when the song comes to an end, glancing around to see if anyone else is going to take up the mantle.

Wes's grin grows a degree or two wider at something, and he picks up his ad-hoc sandwich in both hands to finish off -- silent for a little bit as he devours it, listening to the music and the singing in contented relaxation. Then he's finished, and the music's ended, and he lifts one fist in the air in a salute towards the musicians as the other hand wipes his mouth clean.

He stretches out his legs, sandaled feet warmer closer to the fire. "Don't look at me, this tongue wasn't made for singing."

Likewise, Elijah nods approvingly, and lets out a wolf whistle in approval as the two leave the stage. "Well, reckon' t' professionals better take t' stage now. After that, us amateurs ain't gunna show our faces."

Whiskey is swigged, and he chuckles at Curly's little show. "Showoff." He tells the reptile before snickering at Wesley's jape. And settles into the sand, utterly unmoved by the grittiness of the sand. Good ol' Texas stoicism at work, y'all.

Curly lets out a little almost frog like chirp at King as if to say, "Yes, I am indeed a pretty boy, kind of you to notice."

Sunny's eyes are mostly on the stage now though, offering his own whistle of appreciation as his hands are too full of plate and drink to really make a go of clapping without making a mess. But he eventually settles back down into the sand, close enough to the fire to keep his reptile topper pleasantly roasty toasty. "You know." He says as an aside to Eli. "I'm pretty sure if I actually did try a real burger after all these years, my stomach would leap out of my body and drop kick me in the face."

King laughs softly at the chirping Curly. "Charming lizards. Who knew."

Another round of silent applause, hands in the air, comes when Lennox finishes his song. King moves to get up and take her plate to toss out in the trash, sipping her whiskey as she makes a slow return, bare feet in the cool sand. She pauses, a little ways away from the fire, and turns to look over over the water. It really is a beautiful, clear night for this kinda gathering.

"If you try the black bean ones with the pepper flakes, watch yourself. I put the wrong ones in and a little too many. Fire hazard." She seemed okay eating it, but that doesn't mean it's safe.

"Oh, god, this'll be in my head for weeks," Sully says, staring in mock horror at the bards trying to bring sexy back as a medieval ballad. "I apologize in advance," he adds to King -- she'll be the one who has to listen to his off-key humming or singing as a result, in the clinic.

His food done, he sets his plate aside and stretches out in the sand, hands planted behind him and head tipped up to watch the stars as he listens to the music.

With a new drink in hand, Lennox wanders back over, having snagged a cannoli and a napkin. He settles back somewhere nearish-by and proceeds to try out the very boozey pastry. "I wonder what would happen if I was able to turn into a chameleon," he muses between bites, studying Curly with a kind of idle curiosity.

"Oh, well--" Wesley rolls up out of his chair again, "--now I've got to go try the black bean and pepper flake ones. No choice. If it doesn't work out, see you tomorrow for medical help, your Majesty--"

"Vaya con dios, my friend," King says to Wesley and his black bean burg quest, as ill-conceived as it is. "Sully, I fight back. And it'll be dirty." He sings, she sings. The real winners are the patients who have to hear that tomorrow in the clinic. RIP good taste.