It's an absolutely gorgeous night - clear sky, light breeze - entirely
unlike it actually is outside in New York right now, really. The stars are
extrordinary to the east, and kind of lame to the west. The City, after
all, never sleeps; it's a little like the world's biggest nightlight.
Sandy's sailed out past Titans' Island, and taken in the mainsail - come
to a stop out there somewhere, with an overly clever (yet slightly
sheepish) look on his face and a rock in his left hand. He rolls up his
sleeve and reaches over the side of the boat, into the water, and
tentatively taps the rock against the side. Just feeling out the sound it
produces.

Ooooh, but that water is cold. The Atlantic isn't warm at the best of
times, and November is definitely not the best of times. Beneath the
slapping of the waves, the light tap echoes against the hull of the boat -
a tinny sound for the man listening above. Something more echoing for
those who dwell below. Tap.

Yeah, that's definitely the sound Sandy was aiming for. And holy jeez,
yeah, that water's frigid. But the night's still, uh, lovely! And if Your
Humble Narrator can get you to believe that nighttime New York City over
the Atlantic is balmy and swell, then there's this fabulous bridge with a
great view of Brooklyn for sale, cheap. But it honestly is. Sandy starts
tapping again, to the easy, catching beat of 'Down On the Corner'. He
grins to himself.

They say that mankind knows more about the eternities of space than it
does about the depths of the Earth's oceans. Miles of water stretch
beneath Sandy's tiny sailboat... countless more stretch around it. The
tapping sound echoes out. Mingles with the clicking of dolphins, the
singing of whales, the silent communion of sharks and smaller fish. A few
pause, circle. Listen curiously. The sound itself is echoed back in query,
not that the man above can hear such aquatic questions. The message
carries itself through the salty depths.

Meanwhile, the source of the rhythmic tapping silently hopes to himself
that what worked in the lake at camp when he was a kid will work in the
ocean - naturally, it'll *work*, but he's not sure how far it carries.
He's sure of a mile. After that, who knows. And he has no idea where
Dolphin might be - Sandy could be tapping for hours! But no, he's not a
complete dork - fifteen, twenty minutes. Otherwise his hand'll be entirely
numb, and who wants that? Down on the corner, out in the street. Willy and
the Poorboys are playin'; bring a nickel, tap your feet.

Beneath the boat, the blonde man's message carries further than he
intended, as murky shapes relay it curiously. ~~Translation?~~ The pattern
extends, seeking aquatic ears that understand. Perhaps three miles before
it reaches the dolphin pod - a pod whose own chitterings are reduced to
startled silence. And then, underwater, for those who can hear it.. the
delighted sound of one dolphin-lady's laughter. A slender form breaks from
the pod and speeds beneath the waves, toward the waiting vessel. Several
minutes pass.

'You don't need a penny just to hang around. But if you've got a nickel,
won't you lay your money down? Over on the corner, there's a happy noise;
people come from all around to watch the magic boy.' Gah, okay, time for a
break - Sandy's hand's getting *real* cold. He laughs softly, well aware
of what a fool he must seem, and shakes the water off his hand. He lets it
warm up slightly, then grins again and taps against the side of the boat,
'Shave and a haircut, two bits!' Okay, now he's just fooling around.
Chopsticks. Then Heart & Soul.

Ever been to an aquarium show where they make dolphins jump through hoops?
That's sort of similar to the effect Sand finally sees. Possibly, in true
dramatic sense, just as he's about to give up hope and save his fingers
from hypothermia - then again, possibly a few moments before. The sky is
gorgeous.. the ocean is balmy.. the lights of the city are a sparkle in
the distance. And the sleek form that explodes from the water leaps
straight in the air, pale hair streamed back gleaming and ghostlike - it
curves, and spins gracefully, arching over Sandy's head with a spray of
chill water droplets. A silhouette, a few seconds hangtime, and Dol leaps
right over the boat and splashes back into the ocean on the other side.

And, not quite dramatically - okay, nowhere near, but equally as classic a
cinematic action - Sandy flinches back in extreme surprise, and ends up
tripping over rope and landing gracelessly on his rear in the bottom of
the boat. Oh yes. Classic slapstick, is this. Nothing quite so old school
as physical comedy. It isn't, however, quite the image he was aiming for,
and he hopes no one saw. You know who you are.

That thud is probably audible for a mile in and of itself... Dol
re-emerges from the water, not so vehemently this time; just kicks her
feet and jumps up enough to rest her elbows on the side of the boat,
freezing water running unheeded down her skin. She blinks it out of her
eyes - and herself is no longer so perfectly picturesque, as she takes a
moment to cough out a bit of water before drawing her first breath of air.
Blue eyes sparkling mischievously, she arches a wet brow and peers at
Sandy.

Sandy Hawkins is at least known for his quick image recovery, if not for
his un-startlability. He smoothly rearranges himself, like he meant to be
sitting there, yeah, and grins like a kid at Dolphin. "You're here! God,
that's far more fun than a telephone."

Dolphin smiles, with a flash of white teeth, and replies, her soft voice
blending with the murmur of the waves. "You've puzzled every fish within
four kilometres. It took me a few minutes to catch on."

Laughing, startled again, Sandy crosses his arms. Looks a little like a
very blond (and very fit) Buddha, sitting there in the bottom of the boat.
"What do they think? Did you tell them?" Then he blinks, and holds out a
hand, sort've halfway. "You're obviously welcome in the boat, here, but if
you're more comfortable in the water..." He trails off.

Dolphin's smile curves still, and she extends a dripping webbed hand -
oooh, her skin is cold. Well, not /quite/ as cold as the water Sandy's
fingers just spent so much time in. Of course, she doesn't actually appear
to need the help, as her feet kick beneath her and her other hand presses
down on the edge of the boat, rocking it a little as she makes the easy
jump into it. "I told them it was a human song. They liked it." Oooh.
Dol's got Sandy's hand still. Her wet skin sparkles in the moonlight.

Sure, he's dimly aware on an intellectual level that Dolphin doesn't need
his help, but, well, hell with *that*, his innate chivalry dictates that
he assist. Sandy grins again, also not letting go of Dol's hand, and leans
in a bit, eyebrows up. "It is," he says conspiratorially, jokingly, "by a
band with 'water' in their name."

Dolphin joins Sandy in the boat-bottom, sitting cross-legged - and close
enough that she doesn't have to give up his hand, but far enough that she
isn't touching. Wet, cold Dol isn't all that appealing for snuggling
purposes, and she knows it. A grin. "How very wise of them." She tilts her
head a little, and the smile fades slightly. "I hope nothing's wrong? That
you called me, I mean."

With a wry look, the heir to the weirdest legacy the Golden Age has to
offer shakes his head. "Nooo, nothing's wrong." Sandy grins suddenly,
making a brief tongue-sticking-out face, then laughs and squeezes the
merwoman's hand. "What, I can't just want to see you? Missed you." Then he
pauses, eyes wide, sobering quickly. "Ay-yi-yi, I didn't even think-- did
I interrupt you?"

Dolphin shakes her head in turn, startled. "No... no, that's fine. We were
just swimming." She smiles again, and reaches forward her free hand to
Sandy's knee. Tap Tap. Tap-tap-tap.. tappy-tap.. tappity-tappy. Lightly.
"Can you memorize that?"

Sandy Hawkins looks profoundly relieved, then nods cheerfully. "Sure!" He
lightly taps his cast against the bench on the inside of the boat, in the
exact rhythm Dolphin just illustrated. Err, demonstrated. Tap tap.
Tap-tap-tap.. tappy-tap.. tappity-tappy. He raises his eyebrows. "What's
it mean?"

Dolphin leaves her hand on Sandy's knee, and keeps her other hand in his.
Hmmm. Funny how those things happen. Her pale gaze gleams approvingly.
"It's one way to say my dolphin name. Many of the sea people would
recognize it and find me; they don't understand music tappings."

Sandy Hawkins nods. He chuckles softly, "So basically, I just lucked out
solid that you were near enough for the fish to ask, huh?" Wow. So now he
knows Dolphin's real name. "What's another way to say it?"

Dolphin tilts her head to the side, and replies with a swift series of
exotic-sounding clicks and whistles which nevertheless have a rhythm
easily recognizable - mainly, the one that was just so carefully tapped
out. Then, after a moment's consideration, she adds, "In English, it would
be 'Sleekskin'."

Unthinkingly, Sandy brings his casted hand - fingers free - up, to lightly
run the backs of his fingers down the side of Dolphin's face. He nods,
cheerfully again, and concurs, "Aptly named indeed." Then he blinks, and
tries to control the resulting blush. "Er, sorry." Jeez. Dork.

Dolphin does blink, surprised, though she makes no attempt to pull back,
letting Sandy's fingers do as they please. That's very likely amusement
which tugs at the edge of her lips. "That's alright. You can touch me."
The blue eyes are steady, and a little curious.

That definitely warrants the incredulous look Sandy shoots Dolphin. My
goodness, what an extrordinary statement. "Er," he falters, blushing
again, "I, ah - wow! I mean, I guess I just have a dirty, dirty mind,
because that sure suggests a lot more than I'm sure you meant..." Sandy
trails off, studying Dolphin's eyes, thhen adds an uncertain "...I'm
sure..."

Dolphin laughs quietly - see, there you go. She has such a pleasant laugh,
that can't be bad. Unless you're trying to be some big kickass tough guy,
but there don't seem to be any of /those/ in this boat. She raises Sandy's
undamaged hand to her lips and nibbles on his fingers for a moment before
observing, "I probably meant what you thought I meant. But I think that
makes you uncomfortable?"

Sandy's mouth opens and shuts once, in surprise, and he blinks, for once
utterly comment-free. But oh no, no sir, he doesn't move that hand of his
- not an inch. "Er, well, I *do* like girls," he says frankly, first off
the bat. Then, when that's out of the way, he adds, "And I *really* like
/you/. But you knew that. It's just that...ah, well, I mean..." He trails
off again, looking for a way to say this that *doesn't* make him sound
completely lame.

Neither of these terribly shocking admissions seems to startle Dol. She
regards our intrepid hero as he speaks, waiting patiently, and having the
grace to keep the amusement from her features. Well.. mostly. There's a
sparkle in her eye that could be interpreted as less than absolutely
serious. But she enquires, quite gently, and certainly without judgement,
"You haven't done this before?"

"Er, well...that is...er, no." Sandy looks away, unable to meet the
woman's eyes; my goodness, is he ever embarrassed. "Never had a girlfriend
before, and...well, see, where I come from, it was kind of..." He pauses,
again looking for a way to say it. "I mean, I *know* people did it without
being married - all the time! But it wasn't...I mean...*glory*, I was
/fifteen/. We all bragged, sure, but none of us actually...y'know."

Dolphin squeezes Sandy's fingers. "That's alright," she replies earnestly.
"It surprised me, but I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Her
expression is a little wry. "Dolphins are much more open about things than
humans are."

Sandy Hawkins laughs softly. "And I imagine most humans are a bit more
open about things than I am, at this point." He leans forward and lightly
kisses Dolphin; he lingers if she does.

Dolphin does indeed linger, but not aggressively so; she only nibbles on
Sandy's bottom lip for a moment, before pulling back enough to rest her
forehead against his. "You can do what you like... but I won't push you.
Alright?"

Smiling ruefully, Sandy answers softly, "All right." A beat. "You're sure
you don't mind? And...jeez, if Jack only knew, he'd make /so/ much fun of
me...

Dolphin laughs again, and her lips brush Sandy's cheek before she moves to
lean her back against the side of the boat. "Your reputation is safe with
me." A shake of the head. "No. I don't mind." She smiles. "I like you."

The man's smile remains, but gains a sort of mystified aura. Mystified and
faintly self-mocking. "Well, naturally; I'm amazing," says Sandy then,
agreeably. "Astounding, even. And say, the cast should come off soon. We
still on for the grand tour?"

Dolphin nods. "Of course." Her own smile brightens at the very prospect.
"I'll show you my grotto." Then, with a frown, she pauses, with an
attitude of listening. Quiet sigh. "Right now I have to go."

With a fully understanding nod of his own, Sandy squeezes Dolphin's hand
one more time, then releases it. He smiles crookedly. "Say hi to that
wiseacre pod of yours, willya?"

Dolphin stands, running a webbed hand over Sandy's hair. She smiles one
more time, then an easy leap sends her, distracted, back over the side of
the boat and into the water. Gone.