On the Steps of Pick Your Poison, Saturday Morning

[joan_of_bark]

Four months. More or less. Four months of hiding. Four months of researching. Four months of... healing? Pam wasn't sure if... that's what you could call it. There was a peace in her that hadn't been there before, but it was hard to tell it apart from resignation, stagnation, settling.

Or maybe it was just... winter.

She carried the little rhododendron sapling outside, a whisp of a thing in a large pot that would, hopefully, with time grow into something bigger and more beautiful. She set it down next to the Christmas ferns, not far from the witch hazel. Native plants. Winter-hardy plants.

Time for things to grow again. (Trite metaphor, or truth? Maybe both.)

It was cold out, but the chill and the overcast sky fit Pam's mood perfectly. With the plants settled, she went back inside to pick up a mug of coffee, and on return let Pick Your Poison's door close neatly behind her. She sat down, legs outstretched, and stared out into the street, at the cold rocks and their ever-abiding moss that lined the northern side of Loon Drive.

Winter. But also, soon, spring again.

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[beautiful_boc]

Boc had found that the quiet of Saturday mornings made for a good time for him to go about various errands, his usual scavenging about the streets and preserve and stopping by Turtle & Canary to get supplies and avoid the cheese panda. When he loped his way down Loon Drive, once he was sure the morning running had already cleared the way, and saw Pam out in front of her shop, he paused, freezing for a moment. Of course, he recognized her from that party a while back, but his skittish nature and general desire to not upset anyone with the mere existence of his presence made him want to just scurry into the store across the way as quick as possible. But also, something had him hesitating, a rare but slowly building bit of boldness that had him bobbing his head in acknowledgement toward her instead.

"H-hello," he stammered,still ready to scurry at the slightest indication of displeasure. "Good...g-good morning."

Big day for Bocs, apparently! Although he was generally hoping she didn't notice or hear him, that'd really be bedt scenario.

[joan_of_bark]

Of course she heard him. It was quiet, and she recognized his voice, if distantly. Pam looked up from her steaming cup of coffee and let her eyes settle on-- right, that shy being from the party.

She smiled. Faint, but pleased. "Good morning," she agreed. "Out for a walk?"

She was from Gotham. She'd always have a soft spot for people who were different.

[beautiful_boc]

There was the slightest, barest wince at the plight of being acknowledged, but there was also, beyond it, a faint relief as well. Boc figured it was for the kindness, but he wasn't entire sure.

"Erm," he said. "Yes? A bit? Tou could call it that. Need a few things from the shop, you see," his hand gestured vaguely toward the very beckoning doors of Turtle & Canary, "unfortunately. Erm, are you...ah...enjoying the morning, I suppose?"

[joan_of_bark]

"I am," Pam agreed, glancing in the way he had gestured. Both as a recognition, and to give her a moment of thought. "There's something about a winter morning. The quiet. All the living things laying in wait for their turn to come back."

[beautiful_boc]

"I do rather like that padt of it," Boc agreed. "The quiet. But I also miss the flowers, and the leaves. All that green. And I don't like the cold."

He shivered a little, somewhat performatively, what with all his layers of self-made knitting.

"Feels a bit...desolate. Lonely."

He felt that way even in the other seasons around here, too, without the Erdtree, but there was no point getting into all that, especially when winter did just make it feel more so.

[joan_of_bark]

Pam let out a soft huff, a greater, if still brief, smile crossing across her features. "It can feel that way," she agreed. "But it's a necessary part of life. A time for things to rest, so we can enjoy the flowers and the leaves when they come back."

She reached out to touch the Christmas fern by her side. "And there's always the perennials if we get lonesome."

[beautiful_boc]

"It's always green and golden," said Boc, head tilting a little with curiosity at the fern as Pam reached over to it, and a percentile eye might have noticed him leaning, shifting, a little closer, "in Limgrave. I've never experienced changing seasons like this . Not before coming here, that is, anyway."

[joan_of_bark]

Hm. Pam looked at him with interest. "Is it always warm there?" she guessed.

[beautiful_boc]

"Not particularly, no," Boc said, "but it's not exactly cold, either. Not that I remember, anyway, unless you're in the caves where it's a bit dark and damp and dank. A lot of the times, it just sort of...is, unlike here, where it seems to bring something new and different almost every other day."

[joan_of_bark]

"Strange," Pam mused. "You'd think somewhere temperate would have seasons."

It was probably for the best there wasn't any YouTuber nearby to sit her down and lecture her on the themes of stagnation in the works of FromSoftware.

[beautiful_boc]

That was probably best for everyone, really.

"I...well, I suppose so," said Boc. "Or...rather...well, I don't really know, I've never really thought about it before now, as I've never really had to before. It does...well, I suppose it does make things more interesting, the seasons, but there's also never really been a lack of interesting around here to begin with. Not in my experience."

[joan_of_bark]

Pam let out a soft laugh. "Depends on your point of view," she said. "Compared to where I come from, this island is... quaint."

No Bats, no clowns, no crime and decay.

[beautiful_boc]

"It's....strange," said Boc, with a long pause a somewhat agonizing one over trying to find just what his perspective was, and it was a cautious emphasis, but not necessarily a negative one. His head tilted a little more; he'd mostly kept his eyes safely off to Pam's side, on the fern, but they seemed to drift just slightly more toward her. "Is that....a. good thing, in your opinion? The quaintness? What's it like where you do come from?"

[totalwildcard]

It was impossible not to hear Harley and Bruce coming up Loon Drive, even before they were visible. Harley's incessant chatter was indistinct from a distance, but eventually...

"-- got ya fair and square, you gotta admit that much! And you of all pe-- hyenas should know that just 'cause someone's all dolled up in pink doesn't mean they're just gonna let ya push them around! That goes for birds too! So maybe think on that next time before --"

She hadn't noticed anyone else on the street yet, but even without the hulking hyena, she made for quite the eyecatching sight, herself. Given as it looked like she'd thrown a big winter coat (with an oversized and fluffy fur trim, in itself not so much a statement but rather a shout) on on top of some kind of fuzzy, garish onesie. What, like she was gonna dress in street clothes for taking Bruce out for his morning walkies? In Fandom?

[joan_of_bark]

Pam would know that voice anywhere.

Her fingers stilled in the rhododendron's soil, and her eyes... caught on the eyecatching sight.

Her other hand half-raised into a definitely half-assed sort of wave; it stopped halfway in as she wondered if it was a good decision or a distinctly poor one.

[totalwildcard]

Bruce was the first to spot her, mostly reacting to the movement with a noise. It got Harley to look up. She looked surprised, first, then confused, looking around the street that may not have been the street she'd thought she'd been on. "Aw, did we get turned around again?" she wondered, to a hyena who offered no comment on the matter.

Still, her wave was big and lacking in hesitation. "Hi, Pam!"

[joan_of_bark]

"Hi, Harley." Pam's response had something wry - if fond - about it. "Are you trying to get somewhere in particular?"

[totalwildcard]

"Home," Harley replied, "but all these tiny streets look the same, and somebody --" A pointed look towards Bruce, who did not give even an ounce of a shit about it. "-- got into hijinks in the park!"

[joan_of_bark]

Pam nodded. Sympathetic, mostly.

"Well, as long as you're here," she said - cautious, but still, "Can I get you some coffee and Bruce a steak?"

This might be a bad idea. She wasn't sure.

[totalwildcard]

Could you really be sure before doing the thing, anyway?

Also apparently Bruce knew the word steak, because he immediately perked up and made curious noises. Harley eyed him, then gave an easy shrug. "What the hell! He didn't even get to eat one of those pink freaks, yanno."

[joan_of_bark]

"They're flamingos," Pam said, rising to her feet. "They know how to survive inhospitable environments."

[totalwildcard]

"I dunno, between a hyena's chompy teeth seems a bit beyond inhospitable to me," Harley mused, as she and the hyena in question finally approached the store. "Think he got at least some feathers, last time."

And she wondered why the people at the park near Cass's place kept giving her the stink eye.

[joan_of_bark]

"They live on salt flats," Pam said. She brushed the dirt from her overalls, and turned towards the store. "Places so salty, they can burn out the eyes of most living things that go near them."

[totalwildcard]

Harley threw a quizzical glance over her shoulder towards... the general direction of back where the park was. "Hunh. Maybe that's why they act so goddamn salty all the time."

Or maybe that was the hyena effect.

[joan_of_bark]

She opened the door. Stepped inside, and held it. "They expel the salt through their noses," Pam said, with some amusement.