Two's A Lonely Number [Ella, Orion]

A silver girl walked amongst the pale streets glimmering a faint blue in the light of night, almost blending into her environment with how much the two suited each other. She was leaving her station, her share of today's package handling finished; if it wasn't for recent tragedy, she would have just gone home. Distressing events led to humans conveying their pain in potentially destructive ways, thus her father had given her a light recommendation to 'look out for those around her'. Such a recommendation was taken seriously enough in her mind that it was interpreted as a duty to the people, not much unlike her typical responsibilities.

Tonight took her to the beachside; it was a typical location for the distraught or drunk to lurk. The occasional sea bird landed on the railing to greet her; sometimes she fed them during the day, they must have remembered her.

"Sorry Mister Bird, I do not have any food. Have a nice night," She'd repeat the same phrase with a slight apologetic bow with each pestering. Pale eyes scanning the silvery sands, she would finally settle upon a figure out alone. From her understanding, late night beachgoers were normally having a party or hanging out, or otherwise in company. It was unusual to be alone.

So, her dainty footsteps would step off the solid stone and onto the soft sand, hardly a sound as she approached and would finally speak,

"Are you in distress, Mister?" She'd ask, her head tilting slightly to the side.

"You're just a scavenger like me, huh?" Orion muttered, annoyed by the pestering seagull perched on his arm. It's his own fault though. He dared allow the avian pest a meal he had no intention of finishing. Now the thing thinks he's something worth staying around.

Annoying.

However, Orion didn't try to shake the seagull off, despite being fully capable of such. He did come out to the beach alone, even if just stopping by while on his way home. It is rare for him to feel sentimental, but the calm waves struck his mind. His therapist had suggested he learn to appreciate how slow life can actually be, learn to get lost in a moment or two. Well, here he is, lost. It's not that great, honestly.

But the voice of a woman pulled him away from the white noise that his mind produced. Tired eyes flicked to the silver-haired individual, his sudden turning body forcing the seagull to finally fly away, an understanding that there is no more food to take. Again, Orion searched for identifiable features, anything to place this woman as anything but a stranger. Unfortunately, he has not learned of the mail system of the Vandenreich just yet.

"Yes?" Wait- "No. I mean no. I am fine."

A silly blunder as he answered her in a manner of asking why she's bothering him rather than what she had asked. Hopefully, she'll not take his stutter as a reason to press.

The monochrome girl's head tilted to the side with the scraggly man's strange response. Was he not expecting another party to attempt to commune with him? Was he tired, unwell, drunk? He did not appear to have the features or symptoms of an alcoholic, rather he just looked like a droopy person. Papa had told her that some people just looked sad, and that didn't necessarily mean something was wrong with them. Either way, she did wish to be hospitable for the troubling, appearing to think for a moment while standing in place.

Almost robotically, she opened and stuck her hand into her rather plain-looking satchel, before drawing out something pretty surprising for such a little deflated thing; A breakfast sandwich, perfectly hot and fresh. She had entirely neglected to eat it this morning, but rather than save it for the next morning, perhaps she could extend it as an expression of friendliness.

"Would you like it?" Her calm voice was hardly above the gently crashing waves, "It is an attempt of sharing-"

SQUAWK!

A flurry of white and black features dove by her hand, only to be reduced to worthless flapping and screeches; She not only put her free hand in the way of the incoming attacker, but had the feathery would-be thief gently held back like a small child. Papa had told her to not grip living things tightly unless they were a considerable threat to her, after all.

"I promise it is fresh and untainted, Mister." She hardly seemed to acknowledge the flapping hooligan stopped only by her small pale hand, "Do you need a drink?"

He's not entirely sure how he's supposed to handle this situation. Should he find it comical, saddening, or insulting? Well, considering the annoying winged rat that's trying to take off with the sandwich, he'll try to make the most of this situation, reaching out to take the thing. However, he did not keep it for himself, ripping half of the sandwich apart.

"Let the bird go," He sighed, tossing the piece to the side before returning the other to the woman who had tried to give it to him.

"I'm not hungry, but thank you."

He can tell there's not something entirely correct about this woman. She speaks formally, too formally for a man meandering on the beach. Maybe she has perfect manners, or maybe she's inflicted with things beyond his understanding. Her hospitality is something he's always been warned to care for, lies and tricks a basic way of catching another off guard, but he doubts someone like that would exist in this city, in a sense. He doesn't feel in danger anyway.

"It's a bit late to be wandering on the beach though. Are you lost?"

His gaze went to the slow moving waves.

Even with the winged rat's nipping, scratches, and flapping, Ella remained unfazed with the offered meal extended to him. But to her surprise, he tore the sandwich in half and tossed it away, requesting she let the bird go. Despite her confusion, she obliged - the feathery menace greedily going for the stray piece as Ella inspected her hand, now covered in nicks and lines of red.

"Papa says it's bad to waste food," Even with her flat tone, a bit of huff could be detected in her tone, as if his careless tossing of the sandwich was violating of her moral compass, "It would have been acceptable to simply state your lack of interest in eating currently."

Taking the half sandwich back, she would put it in her satchel - a curious sight as it was rather odd to drop a sandwich into a bag of things you likely wouldn't want grease on. But when her hand pulled out, it had a small travel medical kit; she was scraped up, Papa did tell her anytime that happened to her or anyone else that she should try her best to treat it or ensure they stay alive long enough for help to arrive.

Sat in the sand applying colorful character bandages and antiseptic, she would look at him to address his question, "Being lost is an impossibility for those such as I."