The Pier (Zoe)

[Sam O'Connor]

It was October 2459. Sam was eighteen - he'd graduated in July, not the top of his class, but he'd done fairly well, and had been working at his Uncle's restaurant ever since. Three months and he was already beginning to make a name for himself - not bad considering his Nan had teased him about his cooking his whole life. In an odd way, it had made him a better cook; whether his Nan had intended for that to happen, who knew?

Portaferry was a lovely town. Despite falling into disrepair after the turn of the millenium, the formation of the UGAP in the late 2100's had brought wealth back into many areas of the United Kingdom, and Portaferry had sprung back into life. It still had its rustic charm, but it was a hub for tourists, which brought in a lot of revenue, especially with word spreading about how good the quality of the food was at his Uncle's restaurant.

Sam's favourite part of the town was the wooden pier to the south of the docks. It stretched a quarter of a mile into the sea and he went out there all the time, rain or shine, ever since he could walk. Today it was overcast and breezy, but warm for the time of years. The wind licked at his unbuttoned shirt and t-shirt, making them flap in the breeze. He'd only had his hair cut the other day, so that (more or less) stayed where it was, as opposed to blowing itself into a frenzy.

He stood at the end, leaning against the wooden railing, the grey clouds rolling through the sky in the distance. This place would never stop being perfect. Little did he know, he was about to have an experience that would make the place even more special.

[somerandomhippie4]

October- the month of true fall, Halloween and falling leaves and the trees lit in bright colors day and sunset. It was one of Zoe's favorite- then again, most of them were. Earth was so expressive in it's landscape. It was almost like the planet had a mind of it's own, painting the skies to keep it's occupants looking and wondering. She seemed to be the only one happy about this change in seasons, though. All the locals were grumbling about the mess, and winter coming, but Zoe couldn't see it. It was so pretty right now, couldn't they just take it as it was?

Her neck craning from looking around, she strolled down the road with a spring in her step. After high school had ended, she'd zipped off to university, opting for London. It was still English, which was nice, but it was so close to all sorts of crazy places. She was finding there was plenty to do in just the United Kingdom, however. It was so nice, right to the sea. Temperate. Perfect.

Wandering, she eventually spotted the piers, and headed down. It was a bit of a breezy day, and the waves were lapping against the edge of the structure, the occasional feisty wave sending a splash up. Giggling as the spray licked at her shoulder, she peered over the edge as she walked on, watching the white foam spray everywhere. That was probably the reason she crashed into the gentleman standing at the edge, rather hard. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" she instantly apologized, spinning. What a klutz.

[Sam O'Connor]

The wind grew stronger, whipping up the waves against the pier. Folding his arms across the railing, he peered over the edge and down to the sea, watching as the waves crashed into one another, sending up plumes of white mist. This was another reason he loved living here, by the sea, the biggest piece of nature (water, the ocean) was right at his doorstep, there for him to marvel at in all it's wonder. Plus, there were pretty darn good sunsets here too.

Sam was so distracted that he didn't see Zoe coming. The next thing he knew, a blonde ball of beauty practically bowled him over, and he had to seize the railing quickly with his hands in order to stop himself from falling over. Pulling himself back up, he hoped he hadn't made any loud and undignified noises. "No, no, don't worry about it," he said, letting go of the railing and tugging his over-sized t-shirt straight. "Better to be knocked over by you than a two ton body builder, right?"

Whoa his accent was strong today, must have been the surprise. Tone it down, tone it down. "I'm Sam by the way, Sam O'Connor," he thrust his hand towards her, looking her over properly for the first time. She looked to be maybe a little older than him, he couldn't tell, her short blonde hair being tickled by the breeze. She was pretty. "And you are?"

[somerandomhippie4]

Grabbing onto the rail comfortingly to keep herself steady, she looked up at her rather tall obstacle. His plaid shirt rather dwarfed him, and so did his mousy hair. He looked rather scruffy, but honest. Farmboy-esque. That was it. Well, better than most of the type she'd been used to seeing around in the halls of the university. You either got the nervous professor types or cocky politicians in the linguistics department, never anyone down-to-earth. It was kind of exhausting, if she had to be honest, and probably the reason she'd been so compelled to come here.

Grinning rather abashedly, she conceded, "I suppose. I'm not that big. But at least the bodybuilder might not be daydreaming." She hadn't really meant a dreamy fitness person. They were mostly forward-thinkers. It would be interesting, certainly. Snapping back to the present, she just caught whatever the man had said- his name, obviously. "Nice to meet you, Mr. O'Connor," she grinned happily, taking the hand. It wasn't callused, so much, but sinewy- still used to working. "I'm Zoe Robinson. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Letting go, she leaned over the edge of the railing, looking around at the dock. It looked wooden, mostly, but quite new. "So, do you live around here?" she asked, glancing over. If he did, maybe he knew some nice spots for sightseeing, if he would oblige such a touristy request. Usually, she read up about wherever she was vacationing, but she'd decided to wing it this time. It was kind of nice, actually. Out on a whim. Refreshing.

[Sam O'Connor]

Sam couldn't help but grin in return. "Yeah, maybe not. If he was, I doubt it'd be anything so distracting. No fairies or flowers or thinking about how to wear his hair." Not that she had been thinking about any of those things, but he made a habit of teasing and joking with pretty much anyone he met. It was habit by now. "Ditto, Ms. Robinson. Nice to bump into you, and vice versa." Her hands were relatively small in comparison to his, but then, he wasn't used to shaking hands with women. More just being glomped by his cousin on a regular basis.

Pointing at his throat and raising his eyebrows, he said, "the accent didn't give me away?" He grinned, continuing, "yes, I've lived here my whole life. I take it you're just visiting then?" He hadn't seen her around before, and she sounded more like she was from London, or around that area, not that he was an expert on accents. "Interesting place to choose for a holiday," he said. Despite it being a touristy town, people still preferred to visit Dublin in Ireland 'proper' (pfft), or Belfast.

[somerandomhippie4]

Zoe snickered. Well, he had a sense of humor. "Those fairies are very distracting, you know," she informed him with a laugh in her voice. "Darting about your head and leaving that dust everywhere. Clogs up my vacuum and gives the cat allergies. Not the best for concentration, much less walking straight." As for her hair... Well, she didn't really need any help with that. "Just call me Zoe," she insisted, squeezing his hand. "And it was quite nice bumping into you. Not flail-like at all." She grinned teasingly.

Laughing, she admitted, "I have so much trouble with you Irish folk. You all sound the same to me." Not like the French- half of them spoke Spanish nowadays. Weird. "Yeah, I'm just getting away from the city. I might have to stay a while longer, though- it's so nice here." She meant it- towns were so much nicer. Everyone knew each other, and treated them like family. She felt at home here. She was chatting with some guy she had just bumped into, for Heaven's sake. Surely, it must be nice.

[Sam O'Connor]

"Oh, I have no doubt," he replied with a chuckle. He liked Zoe already, she seemed to share his somewhat wacky sense of humour. "Gives the cat allergies? How ironic. Karmic payback for all the times they've made people sneeze." Sam smiled, "all right, just call me Zoe. Call me Sam, it's much easier to say than Mr. O'Connor, and doesn't fluff up my ego quite as much." This was fun, he was enjoying himself.

Snickering, he said, "we are a troublesome lot, we Irish. I'd imagine it's those leprechauns, they infect our minds with all sorts of mischeivous things." That wasn't what she'd meant, but still. "Stray to the South and you'll begin to notice the difference. Everything begins to slow down to the point where they sound almost constantly stoned." No offence to them or anything, but that's how he saw it... or heard it. "I will agree with you there," he nodded, "it is nice. Got any plans? Going to adventure into the heart of town, and venture into one of the dastardly souvenir shops?"

[somerandomhippie4]

With a silly smile, she added, "Cats have never really been the most karmically inclined creatures, anyways. Too proud of themselves, the universe doesn't apply to them." That was the cats she'd met, anyways. Some of them could be cuddly, sure, but they still behaved like they ran the world. Which some of them would probably be alright at, actually. Sticking her tongue out at Sam, she asked, "Ego? You? I can't believe it."

She snickered at the leprechauns. "Thoughts of gold and rainbows and pretty green tights." From what she knew of leprechauns, anyways. She wasn't too well versed in Irish lore. "That's because half of them are, and the other half are just trying to make sure they understand," she grinned. "It's all the rain, I would imagine. I don't mind it myself, but living with it for most of your life would be annoying, I'd imagine."

Grinning deviously, she shook her head, and burrowed in her purse. "Nope, I got something better than that..." She whipped out a camera with glee. It was rather nice- she'd managed to scrape a little money together and treated herself before she dashed off to university. "You get a picture, of course, for being so wonderful." Flipping the antique thing on- it was digital, but it gave a nice olden quality- she added, "Of course, if you don't mind."

[Sam O'Connor]

Sam let out a laugh. "I can believe that. Because if it did, they would have to pay for all the puncture holes and scratches that they marr people's limbs with when they're pawing." He pointed at one of the scars on his hand, the oldest one, "the only scar not inflicted by a kitchen utensil. That kitten was vicious. You have never seen a five year old boy howl so hard. Let alone the cat." He neglected to tell her that he'd been trying to put the kitten in the bath at the time, and it hadn't been too pleased. With a chuckle, he said, "really? You don't have much to go on." But he grinned nevertheless.

He snorted, "not too many of the pretty green tights, otherwise the sexuality of many Irish men would probably be called into question." Smiling at her, he said, "yes. The rain in Ireland tends to fall everywhere, in copious amounts, regularly. You certainly won't get dehydrated while you're here, I can tell you that." It was pretty much the same on the other side of the Irish sea, in Scotland and Northern England, or so he'd heard. In London though, they were closer to Europe, so they were more lucky with the sunshine.

Sam was curious to know what she was going to pull out of her bag after that comment, but grinned when she pulled out the camera. "Wow, you don't see those much these days," he said, looking it over, "it's practically an antique." Waving a hand at her nonchalantly, he said, "me? Wonderful? You're making me blush." Then, he laughed, "sure, if you want a goofy looking teenager on there, by all means." He took a step back from her, and pulled a pose. But before she could take the photo, burst into laughter instead.

[somerandomhippie4]

Laughing incredulously, she asked, "And how many remaining scars do you have left?" Sure, she wasn't the most co-ordinated person on the planet- let alone the other ones- but she had pretty steady hands. Plus, she wasn't a big fan of knives, so she was usually pretty careful with them. "Sounds like a horrifying scene," she commented. With a beam, she insisted, "Well, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt this time. Or maybe benefit of ignorance. However the saying goes." She was getting a lot better with the nuances of the language, but it was still a bit of a minefield.

"Well, with the quality of the alcohol here, I can imagine after a few pints anyone's sexuality could be called into question," she snickered. She'd tried some earlier, and it was actually quite good for someone who didn't really enjoy drinking. She'd stopped short of getting drunk, thank the gods. Applying her palm to her face, she lamented, "And I forgot my umbrella. Well, guess I'll have no need to take a shower whist I'm here."

Grinning, she explained, "I have a friend who's friend's uncle restores antiques, and he made a few modifications. It's so pretty." She had a soft spot for photography- she couldn't draw to save her life, but the colors were gorgeous. "You'll look so pretty, with rosy cheeks for the camera." Pointing, she just pressed the shutter as he dissolved into laughter, and couldn't help but follow. "Oh, that's perfect!" she hooted, handing the camera over for him to look.

[Sam O'Connor]

"You want to count them?" Sam chuckled, offering her both of his hands jokingly, beginning to explain each one in turn, "this was a cheese grater, my cousin decided to toss it across the kitchen instead of handing it to me, and this one's from a miniture blow torch for glazing food..." he smirked, "I could go on, but I think they could all be explained in three words: I'm a chef." Eighteen and a chef who was already making a name for himself, even if it was only with the local townsfolk. It was awesome. "Benefit of the doubt, you don't seem very ignorant to me, even if you did almost bowl me over." He stuck his tongue out at her in return for her doing it to him earlier.

Letting out a laugh, Sam nodded fervently to show he agreed, "ha ha, you're probably right," he felt the need to actually say 'ha ha' out loud, "especially if there's some sort of sports match on, all homophobic worries go straight out the window." Seriously, if you wanted to see many men kissing each other with delight, all you had to do was wait until someone scored a goal. "AJust carry your shampoo in your bag at all times, you never know when it'll come in handy out here," he grinned, spinning her comment on.

"Oh, that's brilliant!" he smiled, he wished he knew someone who did that. He could have fun pouring over the old collectables for hours. His Grandparents had some stuff in the attic, but it was mostly buried in crates and boxes. Batting his eyelashes, he waved a hand at her and said, "stop it, you'll make me blush." Once he'd calmed down, he looked at the camera, and covered his eyes, "I don't look like that, do I?" he cried, pretending to be bashful.

[somerandomhippie4]

Zoe leaned over, peering at his hands quite exaggeratedly; they did have little patches of lighter skin scattered around. Raising her eyebrows, she could only imagine what he had been doing until he mentioned he was a chef. Then she beamed. "Oh, really?" she asked with delight. "I've never actually met a chef before, not really. Seems like a rather dangerous occupation." Beaming, she placed her palms to her cheeks, insisting, "Oh, stop it, really. You'll make turn beet red."

Poking at his tongue but missing horribly, she got his cheek instead and snatched it back. Whoops. "Maybe you should make that into an advertising campaign," she suggested, waving her hands in the air. "Ireland- the land of orientation tolerance, but only during the football season." She'd only seen a proper football match once before, but it had been wild- the fans more so than the actual game. "And the soap, don't forget the soap."

Nodding, she went on, "He buys them from old families who don't want them anymore, fixes them up, and sells them as collectibles. I got a lovely little clock for my birthday, all wind-up and everything." It sat up on her dresser, it was so cute. "Oh, it looks lovely," she insisted, patting his shoulder comfortingly. "Very natural." If a little blurred.

[Sam O'Connor]

"Yes really," he grinned. He liked how excited she seemed about hearing this. "Oh, it is. All those sharp utensils in one place, it's more perilous than being, say, a spy or a ninja." He nodded to reiterate his silly point, smirking as she told him to quit it with the compliments, however back-handed they were. "I can't help it, compliments just tumble out of my mouth when I'm around pretty ladies."

Sam let out an 'oof' as she poked him in the cheek, rubbing his face. "Nice aim." He snickered at her advertising campaign suggestion. "It would have to be accompanied by beer, lots and lots of beer. Otherwise I'd be lynched for even suggesting such a thing." He had enjoyed some sports in the past, he was more of a basketball person though, because of his height. Slapping a hand to his forehead, he said, "Gods, how could I have forgotten the soap?!"

"Oooooh," he hummed, nodding, "sounds nice." There was one small antique shop in the town, but it only really sold things from the past 100 years, and mostly useless junk, nothing of real value. "Oh, well thank you kind lady," he smiled widely, "you get to keep it as a memento of the crazy Irish guy you met on your holiday. I hope you'll cherish it forever," he said teasingly.

[somerandomhippie4]

Beaming, Zoe quipped, "Oh, ninjas. They think they're so sneaky, but really, we could all do that if we had a black bodysuit and a sword. Now, cooking, that is an art. A dangerous one, at that." She raised a brow, drawling, "I bet you say that to every lady you meet. Still, I'll take it as a compliment." She'd been called pretty before, sure- she looked nice enough. No one had ever done it with quite that much snark, though. It was amusing.

"I try to keep my skills up," she said off-handedly, waving it aside. She was going to crack and break out giggling soon, she knew. It happened just then, as he commented on the advertising. "Oh, that's a horrible mental image," she laughed. "Maybe they were too busy using the soap to wash your mouth after such horrible tourism suggestions."

Nodding, she flicked through a couple things on the camera, then snapped the lens back on. She would have a hard time fixing it if it broke. "I like it, anyways." Grinning with her tongue between her teeth, she nodded, "I'll put it up on my mantle and frame it. A reminder that such craziness still does exist, good thing." What would be the fun otherwise?