middleofsomewhere | [OVERFLOW] Event: Healing Waters

"Then I hope I'll see you at one tonight," Bucky replied with a grin, heading in the direction of the water already, eager to get his feet into that sand. He hadn't even bothered to bring so much as a pair of flip flops along. "I'm gonna see if I can't dig up some clams."

Colden nodded. "I look forward to it," he said. He trailed a half-step behind Bucky, looking around as he walked. "Clams?" he repeated, "Like, for eating?" Gross.

He laughed. "Yeah, not everybody likes 'em, but if I can find enough, maybe I can bring some back and make clam chowder," he suggested. "I haven't had that in ages," and there was a big, fat recipe book in the kitchen that surely had some clam chowder recipes. "What kind of seafood do you like?"

He scrunched his face up at just the idea of clam chowder. "I'm not much of a seafood guy," he said. He wouldn't stop anyone else from enjoying what they wanted, so long as no one tried to force any clams or anything on him. "I'm more into pasta and lasagna."

"Oh, clams are great in pasta," he agreed warmly. "Toss 'em in with a little white wine and some fresh cheese, it's just like being back in Italy," he sighed happily, as if his time in Italy had been pleasant and not punctuated with gunfire and explosions. "I don't think I've ever heard of it going in lasagna, though. Clams are a little too chewy for that."

"Let me reiterate," he said, "I don't like seafood." So he didn't care what clams went well with, or if they were bad in lasagna. He wouldn't eat clam lasagna or pasta anyway. Well, he'd eat the pasta maybe, and just pick around all of the clams.

Bucky hummed, patting Colden's shoulder lightly. "We all have our flaws," he replied sagely, then cracked a grin. "D'you at least eat hot dogs?"

Colden laughed, shaking his head a little. "Yeah, I eat hot dogs. Why wouldn't I?" They weren't secretly related to seafood, were they?

"Well, if you know what's in 'em..." he shrugged, as the ground underfoot went from grass to sand rather abruptly. "But I can't resist a good hot dog, even though I do know," he chuckled.

"I try not to think about what's in them," he admitted. "I know it's gross, but I still like 'em."

Rolling his shoulders, he craned his neck a little, taking a deep breath. The smell of water and the ocean was especially pleasant compared to the train.

"Me, too," he agreed with a chuckle, grinning as he looked at the surf. "So digging for clams is off the menu... how about building a sandcastle?" He suggested.

More like clams themselves were off the menu. "I could still help you dig, but I won't be eating any of them," he said. "Or we could do a sandcastle." Which sounded very...childish to him, but he also knew there were plenty of sandcastle competitions for adults who built amazing things. Not that he was going to build anything amazing, but.

Well, if Colden thought they were gross, it wasn't very nice to ask him to handle them. He shrugged in reply to the offer. "We're supposed to be here to have fun, right? Nothing un-fun about a sand castle, and if we find clams along the way... well, that's just lucky." He chuckled as he went down to the edge of the surf and dropped to his knees in the sand, starting to clear a nice little starting area for them.

It was the inside of them that were gross, not the outside, but he appreciated that he wasn't going to have to dig up clams. Dropping down across from Bucky, Colden watched him work, pressing his fingers into the sand next to him.

"So how many sand castles have you made?"

"In the last seventy years? None," he flashed a little grin. "I made a few as a kid, though. It was one of the few things we could do for free, so when Ma had a day off, she'd take all us kids and Stevie down to the beach. We spent most of our time diggin' for coins and clams, but sometimes we'd take a break to build a sand castle."

He did a small double-take when Bucky mentioned seventy years. Colden wasn't sure if he was joking or not, but he decided not to comment on it.

"My parents took me to the beach a few times when I was a kid," he said. "Like, yearly vacations. Do you find a lot of coins on the beach?"

"I'm a hundred years old, pal," he says without even looking up. "And no, not really. People were more careful with their money during the depression. You could find a few, but it was only ever enough to get a couple pieces of candy. If you were really lucky, and worked at it for a week or two, you could scrape up enough to go see a movie," he flashed a little grin. "Things are a lot better than they used to be." He started scraping damp sand up into mounds, plucking out twigs and stones as he did, starting a pile off to the side of things he could add back in later, to make it look fancy.

Bucky had to be shitting him. There was no way he was a hundred years old. "You've aged well," Colden said, starting on his own piles of damp sand, though he didn't know what he wanted the castle to look like.

"Are you being serious?" he added. Because if Bucky was...then what was he? He'd seemed human enough to Colden so far, but he wasn't really an expert on things like this.

Bucky nodded as he formed the mound into something roughly square-shaped. "Serious as a heart attack," he replied lightly. "I fought in World War II, as part of the Howling Commandos," though he wondered if Colden would even know what they were. "I got captured by the Soviets and they put me in cold storage for a while. So literally I'm a hundred, but I'm physically somewhere in my late 20's. It's a little hard to figure out my exact age, a lot of stuff kind of bled together."

Colden listened quietly, frowning more and more as Bucky spoke. "I didn't even know something like that was possible," he said finally. "It must have been rough." To put it lightly, anyway.

[OVERFLOW] Event: Healing Waters

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