2024-12-28 - Beautiful Places

Skiing had been fun and Trace had no further misadventures of falling in any other ditches. The trip to the spa had been relaxing and dinner had been filling and people had drifted off in various directions before what other evening activities might be going on.

And Trace? Trace had just started doing the dishes in the kitchen. He'd already done the glasses which were all sitting neatly dried to one side and he was rinsing the plates and putting them in the dishwasher along with the silverware, just sort of quietly lost in his own thoughts as he went through the process in the well appointed kitchen.

He's dressed in a pair of black jeans and socks since he's got no plans to go outside at the moment, and a dark red button down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He's humming something under his breath as he works.

Despite already having had a few drinks under his belt this evening, the only reason why Enzo ends up heading back to the kitchen is to pick up another bottle of beer or possibly something harder. Dressed casually, he only really has on a black t-shirt and black jeans with a brown sweater blazer for warmth if necessary.

With as many people at the place as there was now, it's not unexpected to figure that you'd bump into someone in the kitchen at almost any hour, but he expected to see one of the triplets or a small group of people in conversation, perhaps? Trace cleaning up and doing the dishes was not one of the things he thought he'd come across.

When he first realizes that it's just Trace, after stepping foot into the kitchen, there's a moment where he nearly backs out to head in another direction. In fact, he does take a reflexive step back, but rather than call in a full retreat, he just stands in the doorway a moment to observe quietly, before settling in to lean against the door frame when he finally calls out, "You do know that you're a guest on this trip and... that you don't really need to do that?" There's a briefest of pauses, before he adds, "Though I'm sure that the triplets greatly appreciate your efforts." That's spoken in an almost too dramatic way; perhaps, he's still bristling at how quickly the Kerekes had taken a liking to Trace.

Trace doesn't notice that Enzo is there. Not when he walks in, and not when he leans against the doorframe. He's far too lost in his own head and the quiet meditative process of rinsing off and putting plates in the dishwasher. So when Enzo speaks, he jumps slightly, abruptly stopping whatever he was humming. Fortunately, he doesn't drop the plate, though it does drip once or twice onto the floor before he remembers to put it in the dishwasher.

"Yeah, I know," he says, soapy hands over the sink. And then he just reaches for another plate. "But they were there. And I was here." He shrugs his shoulders. "They probably have someone to come and do it." Then he admits, "I haven't seen them since dinner. I think they might be with Fin."

There are only two plates left, and so he rinses and puts each of them into the dishwasher as well.

When Trace gets slightly startled at hearing his voice, Enzo can't help himself but be amused by that, allowing his features to soften somewhat. Pushing off from the doorframe, he steps further inside to grab the hand towel hanging on the oven door, before dropping it on the floor where the drips of water landed and just mopping it up with his foot to swish the towel around.

Crouching down to pick up that now damp towel, he muses, "I mean, if this is the kind of guest you're going to be, I may as well invite you to all of my events." With that, he rises to dump the towel into some wash bin before heading towards the fridge. "I'm gonna grab a beer. You want one?"

Trace takes an unconscious half-step back when Enzo drops the towel right in front of him between him and the dishwasher where he was holding the dripping plate, smirking just a little bit about his comment. Then he shrugs and turns back to the sink. There's nothing left but the silveware and he takes that out, waiting until Enzo steps away to dump the towel in the bin before he loads them in and closes the door.

"Yeah, thanks," he says, when Enzo offers the beer and goes about draining the sink and finally washing off his hands, reaching for another towel to dry off. "It's just habit. I do it at home, too." He probably means at his family's place. "They have cleaners to do it."

Opening up the fridge and grabbing a couple of bottles, Enzo assured, "Hey, everyone's got a hobby." He says of the dishwashing. "And if you like to do them, don't let me stop you." Shutting the door, he grabs the bottle opener that sitting right on the counter due to constant use this Saturday already. "It's good practice when living on our own at the Park, I'm sure." It's not as if Enzo never did the dishes!

"Here." He hands one of the newly opened bottles to Trace now, before taking a sip from his own.

If there were more dishes to be done, he'd just tell Trace something along the lines of 'Well, I'll leave you to it' and wander off, but the dishes were done, so as he's nursing his beer, he's trying to ponder up an excuse to just leave the room without it sounding too awkward, because it's not as if he had any thoughts on what to do or where to go next from here.

So instead, he'll ask, assuming that Trace has things he'd like to do now too and they could part ways, "So what are you up to for the rest of the night?"

Trace just shakes his head and says, "Well they're done now. I'll leave the rest of them for whoever else is supposed to do them." He hangs the towel back up where it goes and then turns to take the bottle from Enzo. "Thanks," he says as he lifts it and takes a long swallow from it. "I don't know. I heard some rumblings about a game or something by the fire later, or cocoa by the fire pit or something. But I haven't heard when that might be." He pulls out his phone and glances at it. No messages. "So I don't know.. maybe go look for other things to clean," he says, very clearly joking and poking fun at himself.

Yep... the dishes were done now. Enzo tries his best not to look as uncertain about what to do in this situation as he feels. "The game, right." He checks his watch for the time, figuring that any sports thing might be finished by now. "Though! Hot cocoa by the fire sounds nice and cozy."

Seeing Trace check his phone, Enzo decides to do the same, finding no actual memo from Angelo or anyone. Great. If anything, there's a light grin given, at least to Trace's poking fun at his cleanliness habit.

"I guess, we should go find the others and see what they're up to." That sounded like a good idea in his head. With his phone still in hand, there's a notification sound coming from his it which makes him take a look now. First it's a text, then there's a call just a few seconds or so afterwards. It's just your standard ringtone, but if Trace takes a look at the screen, it's clearly from Alejandro Castillo, Enzo's dad.

Was this the excuse he was looking for? Enzo's filled with a whole mixture of emotions right now, but he casually states, "I have to take this." Before he reverts to Spanish when speaking to his dad.

Trace nods and says, "I'm sure they'll text us and let us know what the plan is." He doesn't seem too worried about it. He pushes away from the counter and says, "Sure. We can go look for them. I think I saw Fin go that way," he nods in the general direction of whatever living space is further down the hall. But then Enzo's phone is ringing, and he does notice the name on the call. He hesitates for a moment, and then he nods when Enzo says he has to take the call, and he starts to move away silently as he begins speaking Spanish to his father. Trace doesn't speak Spanish. He knows a few words here and there, but not enough that he would even know what they were talking about if he lingered, but still, he wants to give Enzo his privacy. So he lifts his beer in a little salute and begins to duck out of the kitchen to give him his space.

The conversation isn't overly long as Enzo explains where he is to his father. There is mention of the Kerekes, that's spoken in... English? at least. And Michigan. There's mention of the Park as well and maybe magic. In the beginning of the convo, there was more listening on Enzo's part, before things get slightly heated as he has to explain himself, before it's a back and forth exchange in an annoyed tone, at least coming from him. And then it's over. That took less than ten minutes and while he was on that call, he did more pacing around the kitchen than drinking, so once he's done, his bottle of beer is still there waiting for him, which he takes up somewhat tensely.

Trace was gone. That's something that he hadn't taken notice of once he took the call, being fully focused on his father.

After taking a deep swallow of his beer and drawing in an even deeper breath, as if to compose himself, he sticks his phone into jeans pocket and heads out. Not so much to catch up with Trace or the others, but to, at least, wander in that direction as he thinks on the conversation he'd just had.

Trace had wandered off in the general direction that he'd seen Fin go earlier but wherever they'd gone, perhaps they'd gone out, because he doesn't find them. So instead he just keeps going, right out the door onto a small deck off the room. It's sheltered under a balcony above and so it isn't wet to stand on in his socks. He leans a shoulder against the support post and just looks out into the woods, drinking his beer. It's chilly out. He won't be out there long, but it's quiet and from here he can watch the lit slopes in the distance, now devoid of skiiers, the chairlifts still.

With no real desire to find the others, but he's still, somewhat, going through the motions of it all, Enzo pauses in his already aimless steps when he catches sight of the small deck. Maybe that's what he needed. Just a breath of fresh air. The chill to soothe his soul and maybe even invigorate him some. There was this sense of loneliness in this quiet, but really, he wasn't in the mood to converse unless he had to. So there was this strange, odd mix of emotions running through him right now.

When he steps outside in socked feet as well, the cold is rather welcoming. He also doesn't even notice Trace there as he's captivated by the night scenery and whatever thoughts had brought him out here. Moving forward, he sets the bottle of beer down on the surface of the railing before leaning forward against it, palms resting against the rail, as he takes in another deep draw of chilled air.

Poor Enzo. Everywhere he goes, there is Trace, like he's haunting him. Trace is quiet, beer in hand, when the door opens behind him. He doesn't look back, content to just stand there in silence for a bit unless whoever it is says something. When he glances over though and sees that it is Enzo drawing in that deep breath, he asks quietly, "You okay?" There's something about the hushed quiet of the cold air and the quiet trees that makes him feel the need to drop his voice. He couldn't understand the words, but he could hear the tension in the exchange.

Now it's Enzo's turn to be startled and that's seen in the stiffening of his shoulder and posture before he turns to view exactly who is out here with him, though he can already tell by Trace's voice alone. "I didn't realize that you were out here. If I'm interrupting..." Which is strange, because it's not as if Trace were speaking to anyone else or doing anything at the moment.

Taking in a more natural breath of air, he is quick to then state, "I'm fine. Why? That was just my father. I'd sent him a picture from the ball last night and he called to wish me a belated birthday." Looking around now, he asks, "What are you doing out here?" As if trying to put the weight back on Trace rather than having any more focus on himself.

Trace shakes his head, "You're not." He turns a little to lean against the railing with one hip, facing Enzo now instead of the trees in the distance. He studies him for a moment at that quick answer. That conversation certainly sounded a lot more heated than a belated birthday wish. And perhaps it shows in his eyes for a moment that he suspects that there's more to it than that. But he'd stepped out to give him privacy, it'd be rude to try to invade that privacy now so he says, "Okay."

"I went to look for the others, but they may have gone out for a few," he says and then nods and says, "It's pretty out here. Quiet. Still. Was just taking it in a little." He lifts his beer and then pulls away from the railing. "Your turn," he says with a somewhat crooked smile, clearly moving to leave the quiet spot to Enzo.

Hearing Trace talk about how pretty it was out here, Enzo could only slowly nod. He doesn't even look out at the landscape again, the moonlight, the stillness of those lifts that one might imagine being stuck on and forgotten about... No, his gaze was solely on Trace Accardi now.

Then he's told that it was his turn to enjoy the moment and begins to head out. There is a moment where Enzo's lips part, almost as if he were about to tell Trace that he didn't have to leave, or that he could stay or, that he wanted him to stay. That's also indicated in his subtle body movement as he lifts a hand, but then that hand withdraws and returns to hanging at his side.

This is soon followed by a sigh, where he can clearly see his breath. When he turns back to leaning against the railing again, he murmurs, "Pretty? No. I'd say, it's beautiful out here."

Trace is just about to turn to head for the door, to leave Enzo to the quiet night air for a bit, but something in his expression stops him, the slightly lifted hand, the things that Enzo doesn't say that he's just starting to pick up on. And so instead of going for the door, he just takes one step back and leans back against the railing where he was, one hip against it, his bottle of beer lifted to take a swallow from its contents.

He can't help the little crooked smile at the murmured words and he lifts his gaze back up to the side of the mountain. "Fair," he agrees. "It is beautiful." Then he asks, "Have you been here, before? This chalet?" He's not sure if it's a family place or if they just happened to rent it randomly.

Enzo wasn't expecting Trace to actually read his mind... especially, not this far from the Park. So when Trace returns to his original post and making a comment on something Enzo had said when he'd believed himself to be alone, that certainly jumpstarted his heart a bit. His eyes flicker in the other's direction, before he turns slightly to regard the man.

"I've been here before, yeah. It's not the top spot," In Michigan, "But it's nice and cozy." There's a moment when he ponders on what to say next, "Where do you normally ski at?"

Trace's smiles faintly when he realizes he's made Enzo jump twice now to his one. Were they going to end up startling one another all weekend? He's still looking out at the trees, watching as some of the snow-making machines come on to thicken up the powder on some of the trails. They create a flurry of flakes that fill the air before settling onto the trails and creating those perfect powder surfaces. "I like it," he says, of this spot.

"Bretton Woods in New Hampshire. Sometimes Loon Mountain. Sometimes I just like to go to Loon in the fall and ride the gondolas to see the foliage. But there's a cabin that my aunt and uncle have up at Bretton that I like to go to. Reminds me of here, really, just smaller."

"Sounds nice." Enzo says of the cabin, even though you'd expect him to be more impressed by something flashier, somewhere more popular. "While we have a beach house and a lake house, we don't have a cabin or lodge up in the mountain or anything like that. Seems like it would be nice. Quiet too."

He then has to laugh at something, "I guess my dad isn't all that much of a nature person, since as a developer, he's more inclined to chop all the trees down and whatnot to build upon the space. But this? This is what some might call prime real estate. People would kill to live in a place as beautiful as this." He also then realizes something else, "And here I go talking about what I do... and ruining what could be a quiet, contemplative moment." At least whatever was bothering him earlier seems to be somewhat forgotten.

"Yeah, it is," Trace says. Not that it's particularly flashy. The ski resort certainly is larger, the largest in New Hampshire, but the cabin isn't. "My parents have the house on the cape. That's our summer, beach place. It's bigger." He shrugs slightly. "The cabin is really quiet. It's on a small pond. Surrounded by trees. Not far from the slopes. It's an old log cabin style. Front porch swing. Big loft sleeping area. Cozy fireplace. When the snow falls it makes everything near silent."

He tilts his head a little bit and smiles when Enzo laughs. And he has to nod, "Yeah, lots of people would love to live in a place like this. I like being able to at least visit it for a while."

But there's a little shake of his head. "I like listening to you talk about what you do," he points out.

Enzo gives Trace this look like why? "It's usually not that interesting unless you're an urbanist. And I'm only a semi-urbanist because I like space. I like land and I don't always like living next to other people... which does make walkable cities slightly more difficult... and there I go again." Now his brows raise and he lifts both palms as if to gesture that yeah, he's gonna stop right there with the urbanist talk.

Hearing about Trace talk about these family properties and the like, he then asks, "And you're willing to live a simpler life than that? Or will you always be allowed to use your family cabin and that house on the cape whenever you wanted?"

Trace laughs at the look and just sips his beer while Enzo gets going again. The longer he goes, the broader Trace's smile gets, until he suddenly lifts his palms and stops himself. "Honest truth?" he asks, but doesn't wait for an answer. "I don't have to be an urbanist to be interested in a thing that you're passionate about. I like hearing you talk about something that you have a deep interest in."

As for his family's properties, he chuckles and says, "I've been living a life simpler than that for a while now. My apartments when I was in college were tiny. My apartment in L.A. was.." he trails off, a faint shadow crossing his expression, "Anyway.. would I miss the cabin or the beach house? Sure, who wouldn't? They're nice places. But I can be happy without them. I've been happy without them. I don't need them anymore than I need a private jet."

He then says, "When I chose to move out and away and not go into law, I started working real hard to do what I needed to be independent from them in every way. Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst."

At first, Enzo doesn't quite catch what Trace says, but after playing that back in his mind a few times, even as Trace continues on about the simpler life he'd lived, the way that it was worded does make the man wonder. As he lets it mull over in his head, he's distractedly watching Accardi as he speaks, then finally tuning in when he brings up L.A. Maybe it's that sudden darkness that comes over the man's expression that catches his attention. He remembers the text conversation he'd had with Camilla about that one.

Trace then has his full attention when he mentions all of the things he could live without and that makes Enzo wonder if he ever could do the same, if it came down to that for whatever reason. "I don't know... that would be. Rough. I think anyway. I mean, not about the private jet. Though those are nice to have and feels great to be in when you're trapped with a bunch of people you don't know up in the sky for who knows how long." Curiously, he then asks, "But you would be happy living that way? Like..." He shrugs. He could say a lot of things right not. Blue collar, working class, but in the end, he decides to just skip it altogether, ending simply with a more thoughtful, "Hmm..."

Trace chuckles and says, "I mean, don't get me wrong. I really LIKE the private jet. I really LIKE the house on the cape. I am never going to complain about the nice things that I grew up with and have access to. I know I'm very, very fortunate. I know there are plenty of people who would kill to have lived my circumstances." He gestures a little with his bottle of beer though and says, "But yeah, I would be okay living without all of it. If it came down to that. I don't think it will. But I'm prepared if it does. They haven't threatened in a while. Maybe they've realized they shouldn't piss off the guy with a chemistry degree and access to explosives." He's very clearly kidding about that though, with the little sly smile as he finishes off his beer.

Throughout all of this, Enzo had forgotten his beer which was just sitting there and possibly very chill and a bit icy by now, something he realizes when he finally reaches to grab it. "Now that sounds far more reasonable. Otherwise, I would've thought you were crazy or something." Though, he looks as if he's ready to head back inside and look for the others. There's also this look given Trace when he makes a dark joke about having access to explosives in regards to people who piss him off." It's just a slight furrowing of his brow when he turns to the pyrotechnician before one is raised.

"Right... On that note..." He says with a laugh, "Let's go see if anyone's ready for that hot chocolate yet."

Trace laughs, "Don't worry. I'm only a very little bit crazy and I haven't blown anyone up... yet." He pulls away from the railing and turns to follow Enzo back into the house to look for the others.