Watershed || Cambron & Stan
Cambron checked his phone again as he got out of his car, just to make sure that the boy he was expecting hadn't changed his mind. When he had found no new text, he put it into the pocket of his pants and locked the car, then he walked up the way to the building that stood on several elegantly spiraling posts in the sand right next to the golden beach. For a second he stopped at the end of the parking lot to look over the glittering sand and the water of the ocean, which were slowly turning orange below the setting sun. Far in the east, the first stars had already shown up on the sky. Stars and the Sea... For a moment he allowed the old wistfulness that was a part of every Elf's soul to take over, then he shook his head. He wasn't here to become sentimental, he was here for a prospective fuck. And that was far better than waxing philosophical about the old 'Who are we and where are we from' question.
He walked up the white stairs in front of the door to the lounge, where Henvanimo stood in the open door. He exchanged a quick greeting with the tall, broad-shouldered doorkeeper, whose empty eye socket was housing an orb made of shining white crystal which was so extravagant that it even distracted from the thick scars all around his eye. After Henvanimo had waved him through, he was taken to his table by the daughter of the lounge's owner, who boasted about two dozen piercings on both of her long, pointed ears and an undercut. Cambron had to grin when she cast him a cheeky smile as soon as she noticed him looking. He had done quite a few not all that socially acceptable things himself when he had been at her age - though most of them had been a lot less visible.
He took of his beige jacket and sat down on his table, right next to the glass wall that lead out to the sea. Its panels could be pulled apart like sliding doors, turning the entire lounge into a large terrace, and at the moment they still were, letting in the gentle, warm, salty breeze from the sea. For a second he considered opening his pony tail to let the breeze get into his hair, but he decided against it; he'd just have to re-do it before dinner, and he didn't like doing his hair at the table.
He asked the waitress for a bottle of one of his favorite white sweet wines, hoping that his date would approve; then he sat waiting while he watched the sun set over the ocean.
