It doesn't take a genius - or a lawyer, even - to know that Valentine's Day isn't going as planned. Ellen spends the majority of the afternoon testing her limitations on the only audience she has at this point - Zeus, who doesn't seem fairly inclined to care whether she's telling the truth or not. In the end, it only makes her more frustrated and she stays silent for the remainder of her waking hours, pouring herself a glass of wine to enjoy on her front porch, alone.

She is grateful for the company of her dog, who can always sense when something is wrong and who always proceeds to drape himself over her lap as a result. She falls asleep on the couch with him on the floor beside her, one hand absently drifting into his fur.

When she wakes up, there's nothing more than a crick in her neck and a wet nose nudging at her arm to get her to rise, and she stretches in the rumpled clothes she's slept in as Zeus licks at her fingers. "Good boy," she murmurs, almost absently - and then her eyes snap open with the revelation that it's the first truth she's been able to utter since before yesterday. The morning hours pass in a whirlwind - she showers, dresses, and then leaves a whining Zeus indoors with a promise to let him outside later for play before taking off for Matt's at a near-run.

It's late enough, she thinks, that she won't be waking him up - he's an early morning riser - but she doesn't want to wait until he comes back to hers, tapping at his front door in a flurry of knocking before it opens and everything she's been dying to say falls from her lips in a rush.

"I'm sorry," she declares, still slightly winded, her hair damp and wavy from air-drying. "You're - you're not mediocre, you couldn't be farther from mediocre, and the other night was amazing, but really I haven't learned to expect any less from you, and I promise I know perfectly well what color the sky is, or that you're blind, or that your relationship with my dog is like walking on eggshells at best. I hate that the island managed to screw up everything up, but I'm so, so sorry, and I love you, and did I mention I was sorry?"

There's a reason she hadn't decided to sign up for yoga after she'd heard Matt was taking over the job from the previous teacher - another person who had disappeared as unexpectedly as the rest. More accurately, she hadn't heard it through the grapevine - Matt had just come right out and mentioned it to her during one of their date nights, and she'd felt the need to mention that she wasn't going to be signing up this time around.

She's probably being ridiculous for refusing to take a class taught by someone she's involved with. Technically, the relationship they've fallen into started after she'd been sitting in on his lectures. But she's at least willing to settle for learning one-on-one, and it's why she's cleared a spot in the middle of her hut for the two of them so he can walk her through the moves. Her ponytail hangs forward over one shoulder as she leans into a stretch, craning her neck to watch him in an attempt to mimic his movement.

"So be honest," she says, between breaths, "how am I doing so far?"

It strikes Ellen all of a sudden, as she's sitting on the front steps of her hut - she hasn't truly allowed herself to dwell in the disappearance of yet another friend. She hadn't been as close to Ianto as others - she'd only just started to get to know his wife - but she'd started to consider him as something more than a casual acquaintance, and to find out he's one of the more recent to have vanished - it's leaving her somewhat at a loss.

The puppy she's adopted from the newest litter born on the island is doing more to lift her spirits than she originally realized. He's playful, sweet, and follows her just about everywhere she goes - which is probably a good thing, since he's not completely hut-trained yet and too little to be left alone. He'd been nameless for a couple of weeks before she decided to name him, and since Zeus is often affiliated with justice, it feels like an amusingly appropriate moniker. He's tired out from an afternoon of playing fetch on the beach and sits curled up at her feet, one paw lightly twitching as she runs her fingertips through his soft fur in a repetitive movement.

Her thoughts turn to Matt, after a moment, and the accompanying pang in her chest surprises her more than her thinking of him to begin with. She doesn't want to turn into one of those clingy women who absolutely needs to see the person she's slowly becoming more and more involved with every single day, but in the wake of recent disappearances, maybe he won't hold a visit against her. She leashes Zeus up - he might not need the leash to stay close to her, but it's getting late and she doesn't want to let him run too far in the dark - and takes the path up to his hut. She might not need an excuse for a visit, but she's still trying to come up with one anyway as she knocks on the door, listening for any sounds inside.

By the time the island goes back to normal, Ellen's realizing that she doesn't have many complaints to speak of. Her gift from the island had arrived shortly after the snow had disappeared, though the sudden arrival of an armoire filled with new clothes in her bedroom hadn't gone without some suspicion on her part. Only after talking about it with friends had she realized that this seemed to be a yearly happening, maybe the island's way of making it up to them for everything they'd been put through over the past year - and then she almost laughs at herself, for starting to consider the island as some sort of higher power, personifying it, though the other option (magic) sounds just as ridiculous, if not moreso.

She's grateful that the armoire arrived when it did. Everything inside is definitely not considered Victorian-era wear, more beach appropriate with a few nicer dresses mixed in for some of the parties she'll go to this year. She's had some luck with the clothes box - the little black dress, in particular, worked in her favor - but she's given up on finding anything designer since then.

She dons a sundress at the first available opportunity and steps out into warmth instead of winter chill, taking a deep breath of salty ocean air, and sets off down the beach to the dock she likes to sit out on, only a few minutes away from the hut she calls her own. It takes her a little while to reach the end of the dock once she starts walking, but after she gets there, she realizes she isn't alone.

"Matt," she murmurs, greeting the unexpected company by name before she crosses the space to stand next to him. "Hey."

These really aren't ideal walking shoes Ellen's chosen, but then again, she didn't exactly anticipate walking up the side of what could legally be termed a mountain - and she's a lawyer, after all, she's rife with legal terms. Somehow, by the grace of something (she stopped believing in higher powers a long time ago, especially after everything that happened to David), she makes it up with little incident, even if she has to bemoan the state of her shoes upon their arrival at the very top. Glancing over at Eames, he seems used to the whole trip, though she can't picture him making it multiple times every day. Maybe that makes his appearances among the general island population all the more appreciated. The giant V catches her eye and she hides a smile to herself for the most part, until the ground finally levels out and they're standing in front of the rather impressive home. The exterior alone doesn't exactly seem suited to a man of his taste, but the square footage alone looks pretty significant compared to the other huts scattered around the island.

"The view'd better be good," she says, but she's only mildly out of breath, cheeks flushed slightly as she smooths both hands over the front of her dress, adjusting the hem. "Really, if I'd known we were going to be participating in a good climb I would've packed some better shoes for this." She tilts her hips to one side, glancing back over one shoulder and lifting a foot to examine the mud caked on the bottom of her heels. When she sets her foot back down, she narrows her eyes at him, but there's no malice behind it, only playfulness. "And I might have to insist on you finding me replacements for this pair."