[center][h1]What happens in the Lagoon... (Part 2) - Greenleaf Day2[/h1][/center]


[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/5M2xGq0.jpeg[/img]                                       [img]https://i.imgur.com/pg6Bb2R.png[/img][/center]

JP/collab from [@Xandrya] and [@Wanderingwolf]
[h3]Retcon Day 2 afternoon/evening[/h3]

“You ever been to a place like this before?” Cal asked, chin turned to watch that pristine look on her face when she knew he was watching her. 

“No, can’t say I have,” she grinned, holding his gaze, “only ever seen pictures.” He had that certain look about him, or so she imagined because Alana was momentarily distracted by the way the sun above lit up his eyes. With one hand, she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear before giving the blanket a slight tug. Alana then eased herself down into a sitting position, softly patting the empty space adjacent to her. 

“Join me if you will and let’s make a toast to this beauty of a day."

Cal filled a glass for Alana with non-synthetic mango wine cultivated here on Greenleaf. Handing it to her, he sat and filled his own glass; much closer to her now, his eyes swept the lagoon before landing on the visage of Alana once more. Holding his glass to her’s, he toasted, “To this beauty of a day, and the beauty before me.”

She tracked Cal's large frame as he settled down adjacent to her, the space between them practically non-existent. As Cal handed her the glass before tending to his own, Alana leaned towards him, using her free hand for support to keep herself propped up. “And to that I say [i]salud[/I],” she responded, her voice a notch or two above a whisper. With a smile, she clinked her glass on his before taking a sip, instantly in love with the refreshing taste. 

It had been a long time since he’d let himself get entangled, but he could already feel the pull from where he sat. Normally he had strict rules about crew: one night stands only. Kept things simple. Clean. And usually they’d just get off at the next port anyway. Somewhere inside he realized, he didn’t want the same to happen with Alana. That carefree attitude she portrayed on the surface was certainly a front for something, though he had yet to plumb those depths. It wasn’t just the enigma of Alana that spurred him; it was those eyes, framed under those prominent brows, so serious yet so ready to smile. And that wit? He smiled picturing the way she’d not only proposed this wager, but hustled him at the pool table. Woman after his own heart, it seemed.

If she was being honest with herself, Alana hadn't heard such compliment in a while, and although she hid it well, Cal’s romantic gesture had just about caused her to blush. Almost. She'd summed it up to being slightly intimidated by him. Given what she had experienced thus far, it went without question that he knew how to draw a woman in. Though one always had to be careful of the other’s intentions, she was curious where the road would eventually lead them. Yes, there was a possibility that this phase between the two of them would be temporary, but that wasn’t holding her back. 

After the two of them had had their first taste, Alana pulled in even closer, their faces maybe an inch apart. She looked into his eyes momentarily before going in for the kiss, feeling the moment to be just as right as any.

The moment of recollection as Alana’s face drew near—a yearning in those bespeckled, blue eyes, and Cal’s lips parted in reply of their own accord. His hand found the gentle curve in the nape of her neck, pulling her closer. The intoxicating call and response of testing kisses followed Alana’s overture. She tasted like the bright mango wine, and smelled like floral lavender. To Cal, the lagoon faded from view except for the chattering of budgies, parakeets, and love birds in the palms above. He thought he detected an urgency in her touch, in the way her hand felt on his skin, in the brief glimpses he peeked between kisses.

In his mind he saw amendments being made in the matter of Ms. Alana Lysanger. She had been a medic, a vagabond of sorts, perhaps aimless, perhaps searching for something–maybe even running [i]from[/i] something. Eager as she was to join the crew and just after seeing him rough a man up in a bar; that too did not go unnoticed by the Captain. As cool and calmly as she proposed a game of pool and a backrub for the winner; strong and able as she was to pull a half-living man out of the freezing drink. In the short time he’d known this woman she had proved her mettle, that and more.

And now here she was, walking the edge of the ‘Verse on the China Doll. With her captain. Cal wasn’t sure it all made sense to him, yet, but if her first move was any indication, it nudged the time for talk somewhere into the future. The now being flooded and filled with endorphins.

The little flutter in one’s belly typically described during these experiences made its presence as Alana kissed her captain, the decision to make the first move independent from any alcohol influence, making their intimate moment that more intense. She lost herself in the kiss once her attempts to quiet her mind were successful, shutting down any sort of doubts which could have potentially turned into unwelcomed distractions. And thankfully that wasn't the case. Her skin started to tingle, eliciting a soft sigh from her which was muffled by their greedy passion at play. Needless to say, her own needs were as clear as the day they were both currently enjoying. 

When Alana did eventually pull away, she was nearly breathless, her chest heaving up and down in steady rhythm. There was quite a contrast in the white of her eyes against the flushed skin surrounding them, and she collected herself by running her fingertips down to his wrist in a gentle caress before breaking contact altogether.

"Quite the start to our date," she whispered, subtly shying away from his stare as she glanced over the crystal blue surface in near distance, "wouldn't you say?"

That far-off look took his eye as he ran his thumb over the flat of his cheek, tracing the path of her hand moments before. “To quote an old crooner from Earth-That-Was ‘Still it’s a real good bet the best is yet to come,’” he said, tucking his hat around his ears. His tongue tingled still, that sort of gentle postcursor to a really good cigarette. He watched the flush from Alana’s cheek subside; that tough exterior she hefted was coming down and he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she was in that moment, out of breath, slightly pink, but happy. Reaching back into his satchel, he retrieved more of local fare, offering her a vine of grapes from his open palm.

As she accepted the offering, the Captain sighed, hand automatically flipping open the silver case to produce a row of neatly packed, unfiltered, synthetic smokes. With a flick of his wrist the flame touched the end and any worry he may have had floated to the heavens like the plumes from his mouth and nose.

“So tell me, Doc, what are you runnin’ from?” His eyes were soft as he watched for her response.

…

The day wore on as the two spoke in confidence to one another, the flush and fire of those first moments still lingering in their eyes. When the wine and food was gone, and the budgies inhabiting the trees above them began their evening songs, the Doc and Captain bid farewell to the lagoon in its jungle-lined glory and packed up the mule for the ride back to the China Doll.

It wasn’t far, thankfully, only a few miles in the dimming light, and it so happened that Cal bid farewell to Alana as she and her beautifully somehow-still-white dress made her way back to her bunk. As he watched her go, his hands lazily finished unpacking and strapping the mule.

The sun was glimmering its goodbye from the canopy as he pulled out a cigarette to bookend an evening he’d be playing back a time or two.