Sidewalk Salt

Feeling:
busy

Who: Dale and OPEN!
Where: Her house
When: Middle of the morning

Dale was salting her sidewalk. Yes, it had only just rained. That was fine. And the salt made it a little more difficult to walk without, maybe, slipping. That was okay too. She knew it was there, after all. But it was Russia. Fucking Russia. The wet might freeze overnight, and the hell if she wanted a skating rink in front of her house. So, she was salting it with that white and blue sidewalk salt that was in the hardware store, figuring that the environmental impact would be worth the price if it could keep her from falling and possibly breaking already brittle bones. And if it melted away, well, she could always re-salt it. Though her grass would probably be all burnt in the spring - assuming everyone made it that far.

Dale pushed that niggling little paranoia away from her mind. She was going to think positive on this dreary, cold, wet, bedamned day. ...maybe. Probably not. Dale went pack to sprinkling salt over her sidewalk.

 - .

"I hate to point it out," Chris said, stopping as he walked past her house, having watched what he was doing for a moment or two. "But we're a way from winter yet. And if it rains again, it's just going to wash away your hard work." He leaned leisurely against her fence, ready to move straight on, if needs be.

 - .

Dale shrugged. "If it freezes overnight, which it very well could, I'd rather have the salt dealing with the ice before I walk out on it then have to walk on a skating rink while salting it. Preemptive avoidance of injury, as it were." Dale pushed her sunglasses up her nose a little, since they were sliding down. "Mostly because I am a wuss."

 - .

"It's the beginning of October," Chris pointed out. "Hardly freezing weather." Though he knew it was possible, it was getting toward winter, after all. Still it seemed rather, well, paranoid. Which meant only one thing - she was one of them. Right, of course. He looked her up and down anew. "You intending to do this every day until spring then?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

 - .

Dale blinked at him. "Of course not. That'd just be utterly paranoid to think that they'll remove the salt off my sidewalk day after day after day, don't you think? Besides, it's bound to get very cold out. Salt only works on the sidewalks to a certain temperature. I forget what, exactly, but I think it's around minus ten or fifteen or something like that." She waved expressively to her little stake of cement - which resulted in her tossing another bit of salt around. "So maybe only half the time. Or if it washes away. Whatever comes first. Er. Who are you?"

 - .

"I was thinking about rain, actually. Washing it away," Chris told her, rolling his eyes at her leap to paranoia. But, she was one of them - course she was. Little fucking labrats. "I'm Chris, just passing, you were acting weirdly," he told her, bluntly, not trying to be nice to the mousey.

 - .

"And?" Dale blinked at him. Not that he could see it behind her glasses. "Why shouldn't I? I think I've earned the right to act as weird as I want. So has the vast majority of the population here, as far as I'm concerned." She paused for a moment. "I'm Dale." The last was tacked on. "Pleased to meet you."

 - .

I didn't ask for your name, Chris thought to himself. The labrats were all the same - they didn't need individual identities. "I guess so, he said, aloud," giving her a small smile. "It was just an observation. The reason why I stopped."

 - .

"And now you know. And knowing is half the battle!" Dale declared, dusting the salt dust off of her hands, and admiring her handy-work. "The other half of the battle, of course, would be tanks."

 - .

Chris raised an eyebrow and shorted a laugh. "Right, okay - whatever you say... because you can't possibly have a battle without tanks." Fucking labrats were just weird. He wondered what this one had been like in its experiment. Whether the little labrat screamed when things went wrong, whether it cried. Whether it wanted to go home. Diddums.

 - .

Dale raised an eyebrow at him, and it arched over her glasses slightly. "And how would you have a battle, then?"