+BANG

Cam couldn’t help but chuckle with her... it really was a mystery, about the glass. As for the question of who, he’d just have to stay tight-lipped. “Would you agree that I should dump this out and go back to my apartment?” he finished the thought with another small laugh. “Uh, yeah, my...” think, cam. “My aunt, told me about it.” Sure, good cover. Not that a total stranger would a. know who he was and b. care about why he was doing this. “She’s very into art.” Yeah. “What brings you out on the beach in this weather? Surely not a pointless task like mine?”

Cam began a quizzical look at her- why would he know about chick flicks or romance novels? Either way, he noticed that she moved in to look at the little shards he’d collected so far. “I really couldn’t tell you what’s ‘in’ or ‘out’ of style, but also... I’m from the midwest. We don’t have very many ‘sea towns’ in the middle of Pennsylvania.” He shrugged. “But they’re significant then? For real? Or is it just decoration that people like? Reduce, reuse, recycle or whatever.” Cam didn’t want to sound like he was blowing off the explanation, but he really wasn’t knowledgable about much- how he got through college was a pure miracle.

Why did the package have to come to him? It could have been anyone else, it should have been anyone else. Getting mail was the only thing he didn’t expect, and when he was notified he had a package waiting he had gotten his hopes up— hoping someone cared enough to think of him while he was alone out here. Knock. “This is yours, I think.” Cam offered the box to the drowsy figure who opened the door. “It ended up all the way across town at my place. Be glad I am not a thief that you need to thwart with a glitter bomb.”

“Scottish whisky on the rocks, please.” The please almost croaked out. He wasn’t even sure if she’d looked his way, or what sort of bartender she would be, but he ordered nonetheless.

Cam was trying new things... yeah, that’s what we’re calling it. Two weeks in Rocky View and he hadn’t set food in the arcade yet. It felt weirdly comforting to be surrounded by arcade cabinets. His dad was somewhat of a collector. Because that’s what you do with money— collect dumb shit. Still, there were fond memories of standing on a stool with his dad behind him, teaching him how to play. Cam heard bragging a row over, though. His competitive spirit was no match for the talent he had for Burger Time. “Oh yeah? What machine is it? I bet I can beat you.”

Walking was another activity prescribed to Cam. The team did not want him on any frozen surface until further notice so... walking. With the weather around here avoiding ice was usually difficult, but not in this little slice of sidewalk. In his path was a person, and normally Cam would walk right around, but he was too intrigued by the chalk to do so. He watched for a few beats before deciding that was a weird thing to do. “So, is this, like a serious art thing? Or a fun art thing?” He never understood it in new york and he didn’t think he was going to do it now.

As Cam was crouched he swished around the pieces in his bag. Small, muted clinks came from it. He considered each one as he heard someone comment back to his aimless wondering. “But what is the value?” His eyes flicked to the piece hanging from her chain. Oh. “In a... general sense... I guess...” Cam, never the sentimental type. “Isn’t this just glass bottles that have been sloshing around the ocean?”

Cam heard shifting in the sand behind him, not too worried about company but still wondering why anyone else would be out here as he was... it was January in Rhode Island. The cold never bothered him... anyway. The sand was shifting closer and closer until it was accompanied by a voice. “The Last... what? What is that?” The only movies Cam had watched in the last two years were to study other teams, not even a reluctant date night. “Well, can you explain it then? Why people do this? If it’s in a movie it’s got to be at least a little worthwhile.”

He looked over his shoulder while still crouched, into his little bag, and then back at her.  Choosing words carefully was an acquired skill of his. “Someone told me to collect it— it’s like a thing, I guess. To make stuff with it.” He understood the point of therapy, but not why he needed to do that. Make stuff. “Apparently people from New England are deprived. Sifting through sand and water all day.” What he wouldn’t admit was that he’d only been at it for about 45 minutes.

Cam went to the beach for one reason and one reason only— seaglass. His therapist had advised that he pick up some mindless, local activity to occupy his time. Being in Rocky View wasn’t his favorite thing in the world... it was being on the ice. Instead he gets imprisoned in the most small and insignificant— whatever. He was bent over and sifting through sand and rocks to find the little pieces of glass. His bag was barely full. “I can’t see why people do this for fun. What do you even do with it? Seaglass is just trash when you really think about it.”

“That’s a shame. I hope it turns up eventually. I can’t imagine how he must’ve reacted.” In his head he was chuckling, maybe, just maybe, it’d be enough to break them up. “Darling,” He held her face in his hands. “I’m so glad you’re alive.” And he meant it, too. Though the thought of Henry being around terrified him to no end, he’d never stop seeing her. Not until she wanted to end it. “I know, I know.” A kiss to her hand. “I’m just- no never mind.”

“My God that must have been a nightmare. I wished I was in my room so bad. I just had to go buy orange juice, didn’t I? The entire time I was terrified, I wasn’t sure if you were okay and nobody could call anyone or anything. It was the worst.” He didn’t know how to handle everything back there, it was pulling him apart. Cam did a complete 180 once again, his voice falling to disappointment. “Oh, that seems pretty out-of-character for him.” He was looking for an opportunity to put her old ring back, but there just didn’t seem to be an opening. “He came all the way out to check on you. Must be a stand-up guy.” There was no acid in his voice, only dejection.