Francis Wallace has to sit for a moment because she can’t manage pacing any longer. Rafe Matthews does not mind, he sits himself because he quite exhausted. Theirs is a conversation full of explicit words. Most of them are falling from Francis’ lips, but to make her feel a bit more comfortable, Rafe lets some fly as well.

“Holy fuck!”

“A holy fuck is called for, I believe.”

“Ya mean ta say...”

“I don’t mean ta say much, but what I do say is little with a lot in’t if ye get what I’m meanin’ thar.”

“Och!”

“Aye.”

“Fuck me!”

“Ehm, yes, tha’s ... well. One way o’ puttin’ it.”

Rafe is dripping with moisture. His hair is slick with ocean water and beads of the ocean trickle down the small curls that form at the nape of his neck. There are beads collecting on his brow, along the curve of his jaw, down the contours of his entire body. Rafe Matthews is soaked, and while he could easily fix this problem faster than any old towel, he is a bit too tired to do it himself.

He looks to another, eyebrows shooting up so that he might pass along his desperate desire to be dry without words. He is lucky that at least one person is watching so that when Finn Grady doesn’t get the message, Symphony Jones can elbow him sharply in the ribs.

“OW! What?! Oh. Ohh yeah hold on a minute,” grumbles Finn, and what happens next only seems to cause Frankie to curse louder.

“Fuck me! Ya all got.. ya all can, oh shite! Tha’s bloody amazin’! How do ye do that?!”

Finn has lifted his hand to the sky in that minute after being elbowed and it is as if he was pulling a bit of the sun into the palm of his hand. A bright glow floods his flesh and when his stunning fistful of sun is brought close to Rafe’s body, the moisture begins to evaporate.

“It’s the heat, it’s a blow-dryer without that sound. You can feel it, if you want, it’s not that hot anymore,” offers he, but not to Francis. He offers this to Francis’ very speechless friend with the dark hair and wide grin. The friend glances to Francis with uncertainty, but then Francis is quick to make a few hand gestures while she speaks.

“Oy, I say ye do it! Ain’t no harm in it, is there? Fuckin’ saved lives, didn’t they?”

So in the end he reaches out and touches the top of Finn’s hand where the glow is slowly fading. He jerks his hand away out of surprise, but he is still smiling wide as ever. Nothing said, but a few more gestures shared between them, it becomes apparent to Symphony that the friend of Francis is quite..

“Deaf. He’s deaf. Isn’t he?”

“Aye, tha’ he is. I’ve only just been able to make sense with me hands for him, I’m hardly fluent in his language. His name is Demetrios. Ye can just do this,” and Francis makes a small sign instead of spelling out the name with her fingers. “An’ tha is the short of it.”

“But maybe he isn’t fully deaf.”

“Ehh.. I’m pretty sure tha’ he is. Ain’t ever heard a word in his life.”

Symphony smiles and turns to face Demetrios, who is watching Finn create light shapes in the palm of his hand. They are small illusions but impressive none the less. It is what happens next that causes Demetrios to truly feel amazed.

“Can you hear this? There are many tones you can’t hear, and maybe none at all.. but can you hear this?” To Francis, it seems as if Symphony is simply mouthing words but saying nothing at all. Finn knows better and Rafe speaks up.

“Ask him, er, ask him with ya hands if he can hear her.”

“Oy, Rafe, I’m fuckin’ tellin’ ya..”

“Just ask.”

And she does, because even she notices an odd expressions overtaking Demetrios’ grinning countenance. He seems perplexed and he rips his eyes away from Symphony’s lips long enough to see what Francis is signing.

And he nods.

Symphony grins, and for the rest of the day Demetrios is at her side, eager to make sense of what his ears finally pick up. It’s been nearly twenty four years since he has heard a thing and while everything is a jumbled mess, he still feels a great excitement welling up in him.

“Rafe. Ya fuckin’ arse, ye’ve known me for fuckin’.. oy.. years, an ye never told me. Ye better be invitin’ me to yer little get togethers. Are there more of ya?”

And it’s at that moment that Felix zips up and flings his arms around Rafe’s shoulders. “RAAAAFE. PHIL IS TRYING TO START A SANDBALL FIGHT! I GOT SAND IN MY PANTS.”

“HE PUT SAND DOWN MY BIKINI. MY BOOBS ARE GRITTY. OH. HEY.” There is a blur and Felix is no longer behind Rafe, but now hiding behind Finn. Francis has gone from cursing out of pure excitement to going as speechless as Demetrios as she witnesses the speed Felix exhibits.

It’s this Phil girl who manages to snap Francis out of her inability to speak by her own loud, and rather rambunctious way of speaking. “Oooh! I fuckin’ looove your board shorts, Feeeelix stop hiding behind Finn. I’m not going to be able to catch you anyways... fuckin’ Dodger. Who the hell are these people? Who the hell are you? Man, where the hell did you get those shorts? I want a pair!”

“Phillida, this is Demetrios and this is Francis... an ol’ friend o’ the family,” says Rafe.

“Fuckin’, i’s Frankie, not Francis unless yer me Da.”

“Frankie. Fuckin hell yeah, and it’s Phil. Not Phillida unless you want your ass kicked, like this guy over here,” replies Phil and she jerks her thumb at Rafe.