"Could be worse." His voice has an odd dot of dry amusement, as he's snapping his belt off, getting out the car and shutting the door behind him in a smooth movement. Before he's off after Chin, already, expect Danny will follow.
It's crawling with people. That's the first thing Steve notices.
The kind of spot that has dozens on dozens of witnesses of every age and walk.
Which works well both directions really. It means no one could come straight at you here, without all those eyes. There's a modicum of safety in the utter lack of anonymity. As well as a shell of normality, soaked a place most people would visit and forget all about. Shave Ice. On the beach. Front area covered in benches, boards, and hammocks. It's a island paradise afternoon spooling out slow, with golden sun and high waves. A lot of worse places out there. Steve's would know.
"This way," Chin says when they get to him, turning to lead them up through the crowd of beach goers everywhere between them and it.
"Hey, Komekona!" Chin calls out, all loose easy shoulders, and broad smile you can hear all over his voice. Which, apparently, isn't entirely out of place. When he and the large guy behind the counter, clap hands and lean in for a shoulder bump and back slap, even through the wall and counter of the place. "Howzzit?"
"Good to see you, my bruddah." The other guy is saying as he pulls back, and Steve can helping think he blends about as well as the place. All bright, broad strokes, wide smile himself, and that powder blue shirt. That all changes, when Chin is leaning in, dropping his voice. Asking for a name, and changing everything about that face. The easy Aloha smile withering, for a look toward Steve and Danny, with an eyebrow cocked. Same with his voice, when he's nodding to the beach, and saying, serious and even this time, "They wait out there."
That's...annoying, but it's not all that surprising. Which is why Steve catches Chin's eye, when the man turns back, as though it needs relaying. But Steve is turning away , to walk off, because he doesn't really need another person to say it. He'd rather be hearing this discussion, but he'd rather have Hesse than split any hairs about how he got there. Not when there's a chance he might actually have a name.
"After they pay." Comes from over his shoulder and he turns back. That's not all that surprising either, when Steve's hands are already in his pocket, and that whale of a guy is turned back, talking to someone else in the beach shack. "Two cones. Two t-shirts. To go!"
"Medium," Steve adds, not arguing, as he pulling money off a stack he fished out of his pocket. Peeling a fifty off the pile.
"XL and up, brah," the guy -- Komekona -- is saying. Shirt stretched wide in front of him. About as wide and obvious as that glint of enjoyment he's getting from this. "My face don't fit on anything smaller."
But Chin is still smiling, so Steve doesn't feel any need to rock the boat. He folds the bills back holds them, willing to get along to get along. Sliding into words he hasn't used since getting back, since a long while back even. Short visits ages ago, his childhood. "How much kala, pupule?"
He's nodding, even though he doesn't look all that impressed. "You speak bird."
"Yeah." Easy. Natural. Falling toward something like a smile. "I grew up here."
"Doesn't matter," the guy says, with this short shake of his head. "You still look haole to me."
Steve doesn't let go of any of the words. It doesn't matter. Because it's not the first time. It's not like he didn't hear it all the time in his childhood before it wore through, thin and stupid and ultimately ignorable. Besides if a little insulting goes along with his shirt and snowcone, he can pay that too. He's not a thin skinned panty-waste who's going to take offense from a shave house shack runner, when the things on the line are more important.
He half-rolled his eyes but handed over the crisp bill. Watching the man, flatten it and look at it in his hand. "This one feels a little bit lonely, brah."
Which actually maybe does annoy him. It's more than the cost of the extortion of goods already, and he wants more for the name. Making Steve slide a sharper look at Chin, but he's half-easy, half at attention, and gives a nod, like Steve should just do as this Kamekona is saying. Like Steve wouldn't give nearly everything on himself for Hesse. Which he does. Pushes his hand in, without thinking or looking at it, handing over the rest of the cash in his hand.
Reminding himself one stack of cash for Hesse is still less than anyone else has ever paid, or had a chance to. "Cool."
But he's turning away, to go past Danny, toward the waves and sand. When that voice sounds again, smooth and smug and aloha broad even with that warning note already pinching the muscles in Steve's shoulders tight. "One more thing I need you two fine, white gentleman to do."
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It's crawling with people. That's the first thing Steve notices.
The kind of spot that has dozens on dozens of witnesses of every age and walk.
Which works well both directions really. It means no one could come straight at you here, without all those eyes. There's a modicum of safety in the utter lack of anonymity. As well as a shell of normality, soaked a place most people would visit and forget all about. Shave Ice. On the beach. Front area covered in benches, boards, and hammocks. It's a island paradise afternoon spooling out slow, with golden sun and high waves. A lot of worse places out there. Steve's would know.
"This way," Chin says when they get to him, turning to lead them up through the crowd of beach goers everywhere between them and it.
"Hey, Komekona!" Chin calls out, all loose easy shoulders, and broad smile you can hear all over his voice. Which, apparently, isn't entirely out of place. When he and the large guy behind the counter, clap hands and lean in for a shoulder bump and back slap, even through the wall and counter of the place. "Howzzit?"
"Good to see you, my bruddah." The other guy is saying as he pulls back, and Steve can helping think he blends about as well as the place. All bright, broad strokes, wide smile himself, and that powder blue shirt. That all changes, when Chin is leaning in, dropping his voice. Asking for a name, and changing everything about that face. The easy Aloha smile withering, for a look toward Steve and Danny, with an eyebrow cocked. Same with his voice, when he's nodding to the beach, and saying, serious and even this time, "They wait out there."
That's...annoying, but it's not all that surprising. Which is why Steve catches Chin's eye, when the man turns back, as though it needs relaying. But Steve is turning away , to walk off, because he doesn't really need another person to say it. He'd rather be hearing this discussion, but he'd rather have Hesse than split any hairs about how he got there. Not when there's a chance he might actually have a name.
"After they pay." Comes from over his shoulder and he turns back. That's not all that surprising either, when Steve's hands are already in his pocket, and that whale of a guy is turned back, talking to someone else in the beach shack. "Two cones. Two t-shirts. To go!"
"Medium," Steve adds, not arguing, as he pulling money off a stack he fished out of his pocket. Peeling a fifty off the pile.
"XL and up, brah," the guy -- Komekona -- is saying. Shirt stretched wide in front of him. About as wide and obvious as that glint of enjoyment he's getting from this. "My face don't fit on anything smaller."
But Chin is still smiling, so Steve doesn't feel any need to rock the boat. He folds the bills back holds them, willing to get along to get along. Sliding into words he hasn't used since getting back, since a long while back even. Short visits ages ago, his childhood. "How much kala, pupule?"
He's nodding, even though he doesn't look all that impressed. "You speak bird."
"Yeah." Easy. Natural. Falling toward something like a smile. "I grew up here."
"Doesn't matter," the guy says, with this short shake of his head. "You still look haole to me."
Steve doesn't let go of any of the words. It doesn't matter. Because it's not the first time. It's not like he didn't hear it all the time in his childhood before it wore through, thin and stupid and ultimately ignorable. Besides if a little insulting goes along with his shirt and snowcone, he can pay that too. He's not a thin skinned panty-waste who's going to take offense from a shave house shack runner, when the things on the line are more important.
He half-rolled his eyes but handed over the crisp bill. Watching the man, flatten it and look at it in his hand. "This one feels a little bit lonely, brah."
Which actually maybe does annoy him. It's more than the cost of the extortion of goods already, and he wants more for the name. Making Steve slide a sharper look at Chin, but he's half-easy, half at attention, and gives a nod, like Steve should just do as this Kamekona is saying. Like Steve wouldn't give nearly everything on himself for Hesse. Which he does. Pushes his hand in, without thinking or looking at it, handing over the rest of the cash in his hand.
Reminding himself one stack of cash for Hesse is still less than anyone else has ever paid, or had a chance to. "Cool."
But he's turning away, to go past Danny, toward the waves and sand. When that voice sounds again, smooth and smug and aloha broad even with that warning note already pinching the muscles in Steve's shoulders tight. "One more thing I need you two fine, white gentleman to do."