2019-05-15 - Bird And Monkeyse

While the weather isn't really cooperating for a day at the zoo, Sally is quickly realizing the zoo isn't really cooperating by actually being a proper zoo. Two negatives cancel each other out so she's got her game face on and her camera of her phone at the ready as she stands near the monkey cages and waits for them to do something cute or funny. Luckily, it's feeding time and there's fruit in a large bowl that a vew have noticed. "Eat the banana, monkey, eat it.." Leave it to Sally to focus on the food part and try to encourage them.

There's not too many visitors at the zoo this evening, but there's a small stream of teenagers walking by, laughing, a couple pretending to be monkeys themselves, making all of the ooh ooh, ahh, ahh sounds and scratcing heads and beneath their arms. It impresses the girls they are with even if they pretend not to be, and they move off ahead now. Sally finally manages to capture a picture of one of them as it digs into the food, and she checks it once it's taken. "Perfect. Such a cooperative little thing aren't you?"

It was perfect for Jack. The cool, unagreeable weather. That it had less people in the zoo, more animals inside than out, it was a good time to walk. Hands in the pockets of his dark carhartt, it zipped up against the chill, while his boots scuffed lightly on the walks of the zoo. He is happening along near the monkeys as the girl there gets the image after encouraging them to eat. More it started, she telling the monkey to do it and he pauses, gawker like, to see if the monkey listens or waits for people to go away. He could walk away, not talk, but is drawn a little more into the happening as she gets a picture at least. "Monkey trainer," he side comments, "Not sure it pays well though." Either he called her one, or suggested she could be one.

Standing from her squatting position, Sally turns to face the man, the triumph still clearly on her features and laughter in her eyes. "You caught me out. I'm training them the way I want them. Owner be damned." Amused, she pockets her camera and glances after the teens who disappear a little further down at a curve in the path. There's a look to his expression to see what sort of mood the man seems to be in, judging completely on the blind since she doesn't know him. "Sometimes the pay doesn't matter. The love of the job does."

The man is mostly straight faced, like smiling is odd. And she's turning around cheeky even, all smiles. Jack is off the rocker a little, new waters even. A nod, "If you get away with it, you do your thing. Then you have to name them." The monkeys probably. He is still a little back, hands in pockets as if a casual observer just the same. His expression remains mostly stoic, but a brow raised with some curiousity. "So, you love monkeying around you're saying?" Still that straight face, and he may be teasing, but his face doesn't give a good read. Except a few lines on his forehead as brow is lifted, that's more an age thing though.

"Oh I don't know. If I name them, then I have to keep them and I'm not sure the zookeeper would be real agreeable to that." A shake of her head accompanies the refusal and it brings that pixie cut hair bobbing around her cheeks which she just tucks away behind her ears. "What is it about this town?" The smile slips a little, turning more serious herself. "Everyone seems so.." hesitating, she searches for the right word, but comes up with a dreadfully lacking, "serious." Another curious look over his stoic features and she shrugs lightly. "What brings you to the zoo today? Just came to see random outsiders training the monkeys?" Because he so obviously didn't fit with the norm zoogoer. Or something.

As his brow lowers, he seems to seriously contemplate her question. "The rain." His eyes turn up at any clouds there to emphasize, then slowly fall to her again. Jack shrugs though, "Could be psychological, or just we're a little off I guess. You're saying its more .. cheerful in other parts of the country?" A challenge, but hopefully not a real one. A smile might help tell the difference and he's not giving any for the now. "Oh, yeah, heard a new trainer was in town, had to come see." Deapanned, a beat passes, but he clarifies. "Needed to get away from the shop and church tonight. Zoo is where my car ended up taking me. Or where I ended my drive." So, some was teasing, he did clarify at least. A little in his own way. "So, new in town you say. Just passing through?"

"Maybe. I'm reserving judgment for now though. I've only met two of you and neither one were rolling out the welcome or anything. So, I am biding my time until I meet more locals before making a decision either way." This time it's Sally's turn not to smile, joining in the stoicism, but not so deliberately. "The zoo is as good a place as any and yes, I am new in town. Just happened through heading towards Seattle. The quaintness of it struck me and I opted to hang around awhile. Hopefully it'll grow on me." Hands tuck into her hoodie pockets and she hears the rattle of a granola bar. Withdrawing it, she realizes it's already opened and it was from the previous night. A nearby trash can is given it for donation and she tucks her hand back in. "What about you? What's your position in the town?"

"Plenty of good folk around, some just more serious," he returns in his serious manner. "I just sit back in church, they sing and have a good enough time when I go. Its not a bad place." Jack's take at least, "I guess, it was a different experience for some of us, but look I'm still here, can't be half bad." He watches as she finds the wrapper and then puts it in a bin. "I work as a mechanic in town here, spend a few ours keeping grounds at St. Mary's. Charity work. Not settled on getting to Seattle it sounds like, trying to find a place?" Or just wandering the coast. "Look, you want to grab a bite, maybe find some of the cheery folk, get a better image of the town? That or split some popcorn, my treat?" It could be he saw her toss the food and is being amiable, in his stoic way, but its a solid offer either wya.

"Like I said, I'm reserving judgment on that." A half smile that looks more tentative refinds her features as Sally turns away from the monkeys more to face him. "You attend the church? I grew up going, but haven't been in.. a while." Only a slight hesitation there but she does look at him curiously. "A mechanic? On vehicles? I'll have to keep you in mind. My old lady is always giving me fits at least once a month. I'm about due for another." The invitation for food has her clamping her mouth shut, more to stop herself from immediately accepting. "Food sounds good," she finally allows. "As long as it's a public place. No offense, but I'm not going anywhere alone with anyone I don't know so well."

"None taken," returns Jack about offense, "Some fellow was saying we have an inordinately high amount of homecides." He's slow to say it, picking words, finding homecides as suitable for conversation at the last minute. "I go to churhc I guess, not quite attending, but present. So, you're safe, I'm not going to do the come back to Jesus with you." No flyers, no come to church this one time spiels. His head turns, "Lets see a couple animals on the way out. You paid for the expeirence after all." He'll turn, but only settle s on a direct course once she seems like she's chosen one. "An older car then, I take it. Only one question I have then ... ford or chevy?" Nothing else matters, even Dodge. Sure the brand is back with Chrysler, but Chrysler is merged with Fiat, and they're all European headquartered.

"I was told something along the same lines. As well as suicides and other rather unfortunate circumstances." Sally looks down the paths and though she'd seen most of the zoo already, it wasn't hard given the small size of it, she opts for one that leads towards the peacock again, meandering that way. "Yes it's an older one but I like it. Mostly gets me from point A to point B on demand." With her hands still tucked in her pockets of her hoodie, she continues to walk along on the path in comfortable silence for a moment. "It's an old Ford Pickup. A '71. She's my baby."

"Read into it or not, sometimes it feels weird, but I imagine every place has its own character." As far as other cities and towns go that is, Jack shrugs and follows, walking alongside her now as the work their way towards the peacock area. "So, its a car, faster than shoes and it works." He concurs about getting from point A to B. Then a nod, "Not just a getter between points. A fine piece of automobile there. If you feel the need to stay, you can come by and have me look. Visitor discount for you, see what we can do to stop it being a month to month visit?" Serious offer at least, he doesn't wait to see, its just out there, "I drive an 84 ford to work, but my weekend ride is a 34 coupe." Like she is that into cars just by having an older truck, he offers it out though at least.

"I guess it does. I mean when I lived in Oklahoma, there was the conspiracy theorist thing going on that they called Jade Helm. In Texas, they wanted to be their own state. Every state, every town has their own issues. I even went to Fall River Massachusetts and it wasn't as creepy as this town seems to come across. Oddly enough Fall River comes across more as trying to force people to be weirded out while the people here come across it naturally. That's what makes it all too real feeling." The peacock comes into sight and Sally walks over as close as it will allow and draws out her camera again to snap a picture if the peacock will allow in full show. "Yeah it has more sentimental value," she speaks now of her vehicle as she lines up a shot to wait for the animal to show off. "I'll bring my truck by one way or the other. I don't want to break down halfway to Seattle either. Just need the location of your shop."

"Jade Helm you say," Its more a question, as if he's not familiar with that. Or most of it, but that had a pretty specific name and stuck out as she talked about the locations. He stands by and watches as she gets another picture. "That you're thing, pictures. Like I'm sure there is a good peacock on a postcard somewhere." Just to get that out there, his hands come out of his pockets, he scratches his beard a moment, "I guess we're good by not forcing it then. Old Gray Harbour, we still have some value." That gets a little grin from him, maybe forced, but better than nothing at all. "Yeah, I can make sure it gets you there and stays good a while, don't need you stuck outside of town thinking I did it, like weird cultist movie or something." That may not sound right, he affirms, "You'll be good to go, whenver that is. So what sort of food do you like. I'd hate to take you for some fish when that's not to your liking."

"Careful, you'll have me calling you Mr. Jones by morning. Or Koresh, or even Manson.. whatever your flavor of cult is for the day. I've seen shows about them, but mostly I watch the supernatural shows like Ghosthunters and the Paranormal. The Dead Files is good. And Ghost Bait." Nothing whatsoever to do with cults but either way she shares it. "Not really pictures just for the sake of having them. I write a blog and share photos on it sometime. You're welcome to follow it. I'm Sally Storm and the blog is called Journal of a Foodie. Not had to find if you search it out." She finally captures the photo and smiles at the pure beauty of the peacock in all its glory. "Worth the wait." Pocketing the phone she faces him again. "I've yet to find a food I don't like. Let's do fish. Another townsfolk recommended a place called Fried Fish."

"Oh, those are ... ghost shows?" As if Jack hasn't seen them, while she names them off. Not knowing that or the Jade thing, maybe he just doesn't get out enough. He does look down towards her phone, to see the quality of the picture she took. If she shares, that is, she could turn it away from his eyes. "Well, if food and blogging doesn't pan out, that's a good lead on a name to be a daredevil. Not many left, but you could revive the tradition, jump a canyon or something." He nods his head, leans towards the car area, only eyeing the peacock she snapped the picture of, "Its a good place to start, Fried Fish. You get into doing that, blogging about food, at like culinary school?" Sort of, how's one fall into that line of work, as if it baffles Jack just a little.

"I'm definitely not Evel Knievel." The only off the cuff daredevil she knows. Then she remembers another. "Or Houdini." Sally gives a tentative smile in return of his little grin and allows him to see the photo that she had taken. With the zoo done, she starts walking towards the vine gate, walking that way, her phone in her pocket where her hands are. "I actually did attend culinary school but only because my original plans fell through." Not that she elaborates. "Did you always want to be a mechanic?"

"Not yet at least, give it time," not that he really knows if she could be a daredevil, but Jack takes the counter point just the same. He's moving right along same gate. Probably parked close to her regardless, small zoo, small lot. "See you say it that way, makes a fellow curious what plans fell through," he says, warning that it leads him to want to ask. But he holds that thought and responds to her question for him. "Well, I mean, I liked cars at a young age. It seemed natural, so I took all the classes in school, got certificates and junk along the way." Straight forwards, as he looks at the walk in front of his feet in thought, "I mean, a race car driver would have been great, but you need money to even start in that."

"Don't count on me being a daredevil." Sally holds laughter in her tone. "I'm playing it safe for now. Self preservation and all that." His hint at wanting to ask is left as is, unasked, unanswered. Instead, she looks over at his explanation. "So it's something you liked doing from a young age? Something you've always imagined yourself doing?" For a moment she listens then she laughs again, "You don't need that much money. Don't you watch NASCAR? You need to get some sponsors with money if you want a car and to drive. The rest comes with it. The pit crew and everything."

"You have to start driving to show you can, need a car to get on the track." Explains Jack, looking about for ford trucks in the lot. He knows where his is, but is curious where she parked hers, she had an older model after all. "Like just a go-cart before a skip barber, need the thousand or so to get a decent little rig running for kids." He shrugs, "My dad could barely afford to keep his car running, let along throw down something to get me to sponsorship level>" Maybe why he's so serious, but a shrug, "Someday, I'll live the dream." He could probably afford it now, but he goes for the divert, to feed his curiousity. "So, what were those other plans, before culinary school. I got it, no daredevil, no racing, what is that dream?" Or was.

"I didn't realize it included so much before you could get in a car and drive. Well then how about finding someone who owns a car and is looking for a driver? Save up, weld in your own roll bars, get a plastic fuel cell, take out all of the glass and build your own? Show off a little down at the track. I guess the entry fees are a lot though." She motions towards her truck.. which seems to be parked exactly beside his, on the far side, and she smiles a little. "Looks like we are neighbors." Walking over towards it, she hesitates a moment at the question. "Let's save something to be a mystery. Ask me again at the fish place and maybe I will tell you then."

Seeing the trucks as she does, next to each other, Jack is moving in that direction at least. "You make it sound pretty easy. I mean, I could probably get a car and get it running enough to do soemthing on the track." Meaning be competitive at least, "But, better things to spend my money on. Home projects, the coupe, going to shows sometimes." THey are nearing the trucks, she pauses and he looks to meet her gaze where she stops too. "Leave something to mystery? You got more of that going on just saying it like that. I guess I shouldn't tell you about my time with the CIA then." He turns to walk to his truck, takes two steps, "Nah, I did no such thing. It was ATF, busting rum runners." That is even more a joke than the first, but his stoic face turned to finish walking to the trucks.

After opening her door, Sally turns her head and watches him, brows arching a little in response. "It's not hard to build a racecar. My mom and dad owned one, once upon a time. I'm sure you could do it pretty frugally, especially if you got the frame from a junk yard or something." She climbs up in her seat and rolls down the window before she closes the door to look over at him again. "CIA? ATF? KGB?" The last brings a chuckle. "Meet you there." With that, she turns the key in the ignition and nothing happens. Well, she curses, that's something.

Before he moves to his truck, he nods, "Bet. When you start training to be a daredevil, I'll slop together a car capable of racing, we'll go from there." As if, it was a dream, but maybe not so much these days. There is a litle grin to his eyes at least, as if that awoke him a little from always being serious. Which is good. "Yeah, careful, those people are the deadly sort of pyscopaths. Don't get me in a clock tower, or you'll be back to calling me Jones." Or whatever cult or mass murderer she was comparing him too. He agrees to meet her there, his truck starts, he see her having trouble. "Well, good timing, more coincidence. I can take a look now if you like." He leaves his truck on but hops out of his cab, there are some tools in his bed, but he's waiting to see what she thinks of him helping.

"The only difference is that I don't have any desire to be a daredevil. You want to be a race car driver." Sally smirks to herself though. "I'll skydive though, that's close enough. And when I do, you'll have to build that car. I'll help." Then her pickup does its usual and she sighs heavily. "Tell you what, I'll do what I usually do, it's one of two things. Either I have to bang on the starter while you turn the ignition, or I have to check that a battery cable hasn't shaken loose if that doesn't work."

"Pop the hood, Monkey," he says, all stoic as he has been, then justififes after very brief pause, "Trainer." Moving there himself, He does call out. "I'll get the spark going now, we can run it by the shop. Probably needs a good cleaning on the wires and at the plug. If you're up for it, that is. Get that fish, I can clean it in half an hour, enough to bandaid for the month. YOu bring it in during working ours, I'll be more thorough." He looks over at her from where he gets into position near the front of her truck, "Tonight is a clean for humoring me with a bite to eat, the next visit you get visitors discount. Lets take a quick look at least, get you going now either way." He says, with a couple tools from the back of his truck and ready to go.

It only takes a moment for her to pop the hood. It's an old vehicle, you do that from the front of it. So while he does get something from his truck, she opens the large, heavy hood like she had done it a zillion times before. Likely because she had. Once it's open, it registers what he had called her and she laughs lightly. "Monkey," putting a pause in there too, "Trainer. How soon they forget a name." Just sort of joking back about the nickname.

It only takes a moment for her to pop the hood. It's an old vehicle, you do that from the front of it. So while he does get something from his truck, she opens the large, heavy hood like she had done it a zillion times before. Likely because she had. Once it's open, it registers what he had called her and she laughs lightly. "Monkey," putting a pause in there too, "Trainer. How soon they forget a name." Just sort of joking back about the nickname. "I don't mind a quick fix tonight. Usually it'll last me a few weeks after it does this. Sort of an apology from the old girl I think." With a wry look she climbs inside the cab and readies her hand at the ignition, waiting for his say-so to try it. "We can go get some food after she starts."

"Exactly," he says, more near a wheel well than trying to go in over the grill. Jack gets in and checks wires, the route of the spark from battery to the plug over the cylinder block. Not just checking ignition and the connection, but giving things little twists and turns, scrapping old battery gunk off to assure its conencted and then tightening there too. "Yeah, she's an old girl, can't just give her a pat on the rear. Just need to take her out for a good meal, some dancing and drinks too once in a while." This is the pat, the going to the shop is better treatment in his anaology. After a few minutes of checking the connections all along they way. He calls over, "Start her up." Called while looking at the engine, in the way most of his kind do. "And you get a little grease before we close the hood, make you an official monkey that way." Grease variety.

While she waits, Sally watches him working beneath the hood, trying to pay attention to what it is he does. Trying to learn as she goes. "I guess a good meal means a necessary tune up, with the wires and plugs and cap and all. And a new breather filter. You're hired, but it'll be early next week if that's fine?" She hears him tell her to try and she makes sure his hands were away from the fan and belts before turning the key in the ignition. It turns over once, slowly, then twice before catching and starting up. "That's my girl," she murmurs, petting the dash lightly. "Thank you, should we meet over at the fish place?"

If his hands are not away, Jack makes sure when he realizes she's paused for him. Its that been under the hood too many times to count mentality, he knows where to keep his hands but is compliable to lift them out of the way for her level of concern/safety. "That's fair enough, just when you can, I'll make sure she gets you around a lot longer." Then she's purring and he'll gladly close the hood, catching her patting the dash lightly even. "It take more than a pat," he says, a corner of his mouth pushed up, fascimile of a grin there. Then a nod, "Yeah, meet you over there, you know where it is?" She blogs about food, she probably looked up a few places in town even if it is just passing through or visiting en route to Seattle. He's heading for his truck, "If not, you can follow too, otherwise, see you there monkey." There, trainer dropped, he climbs into the cab of his newer model truck (10 years newer even if 30+ yeaars old counts as newer model).

"She'll do with a pat for now," Sally tells him once he closes the hood. The door is still open and the window still down. "I passed by it on the way in so it won't take us long to get there. I'll still follow you there." Her door is closed, but she keeps the window down. It's how she hears his parting words enuugh to laugh over that nickname. From Monkey Trainer, to an unspoken grease monkey to just monkey. Waiting there until he pulls in front of her, she will follow, a small smile to him when she sees his features. The pickup is handled well by the foodie, like someone used to handling the temperamental vehicle until they get closer to the restaurant and she puts on her signal to turn in, finding a parking spot fairly easy and pulling in, turning off the engine and getting out to wait on him.

"Like most of the town, you pass it all on a drive through," he grins. Its bigger than that, but nothing wrong with claiming smaller town nonetheless. Jack get in, meeting her offered smile with a hint of one of his own. Then he's driving, her behind. He gives a moment of waiting where he parked for her to get out, then joins her, giving his door a good shove to close properly and meeting her to head on in. "I was thinking," he begins as he moves to get the door for her, "I can't ask how the food was compared to home or whatever, its sort of your job isn't it?" More rhetoric than a question, he'll follow her in, let her choose a place to sit as she likes, "So I guess I have to ask how the animals are here compared to home instead?" He gives a look around, nods to anyone he knows, if they're here that is. "Other than more serious I mean." Does he mean the animals at the zoo, or the people?

Falling into step beside him, Sally smirks at the exaggeration on the size of the town. Or lack thereof. "It's a one dog town and he's old and mean? One stoplight that's always green?" From somewhere she's getting these references. A poem? A song lyric? "The high school colors are brown." As they approach the door to the restaurant, she puts up no argument when he gets it for her. "Oh you can ask me anything you want about food. It just happens to be my favorite subject. As she looks around, she motions towards a booth so they can go in that direction. Once there, she slides in so she's sitting across from him. "The animals? Oh the zoo is much, much smaller, but the monkeys," a nose crinkle at that mention, since it seemed to be her new nickname, "and the birds seem pretty much the same. I'd like to see the Seattle Zoo sometime." Whatever the name of it was. Taking him more literally on the subject of animals.

"A regular poet are you," he asks, not familiar with that song or poem or whatever it is. "That's the kicker there, though. You'll have an opnion, a good one probably if you make a living doing just that. So its not like something you think about. I mean you do, but its not like if we went to find a couch and I asked if you like the old couch with hard springs or the new one that green." He doesn't know much about couches, that's on the spot. He goes towards the booth just the same, as she sits across from them he watches. A slight grin at that nose wrinkle, "What's that you do there, is that a critic thing you do while thinking ... see exactly why I can't ask you about food, you'd be more prepared, unexpected questions unexpected results." The waitress is approaching, "Ours is better, Seattle gets more rain or something." He doesn't know in all honesty, he'll order a coke and a fish basket with chips/fries. He knows what he likes here, but if she's not ready he can wait the same. When the person leaves he comes back to the conversation, "So, same animals, different cages. Is the old mean dog the same in every town?"

"It's a song I heard recently. I found it amusing." Settled in, Sally places her own order of fish and chips once she'd seen it was cod filets. "Sides of tartar, your house hot sauce and vinegar." And a large drink. Iced water. The explanation she gives to Jack? "I like to try the different sauces they serve with it and comment about the best one." Her head tilts a little with the couch mention and comparison. "You really don't have to ask about food, just read the blog if you want to know. Or don't, if you would prefer not to." Her water is delivered along with his beverage of choice. "I think the mean old dog is different in every town. Have you ever traveled far from here?"

"I'll have to hear it I think," Jack responds, by way of saying he liked the way it sounded when she said it most likely. "Heinz, dark malt vinegar. That's my choice for fish, gonna stick to it." Still he seems more amiable then his stoic self earlier. Like she's broken some shell away as they talk more than random comments at least. "I'll check out this blog, I'll click the like or whatever you need to rake in more dough." Not meant as a food pun, just a money commong. "Unless I disagree with the critique, then I'll have to say something stupid in the comments." A slight head shake, like he wouldn't do that, or that's not him at all. "Me, I've travelled up river a bit," he names a few towns that are up river along the main river that pours into Grey Harbour. Its more local stuff actually. "Like Seattle, I've had no reason to head up there even. Serious, or quiet, or murder capital of the coast, I'm good here in Grey Harbor. Its a town, its in my bones, no reason to leave or find another. If I go somewhere else, I'll just have to learn the odd peculiarity that is that town. I'll settle on the oddness I'm familiar with I think. What's our mean old dog like in Grey Harbor?"

"

"You can like it and you can subscribe, that would be ideal." Sally finds herself getting into it too, the matter of her blog and all. Surely it would make her more money, she knew that and was grateful to him for it. "And I will make sure you get a healthy portion when you fix old red out there," she smiles, glancing affectionately out the window towards her old truck. "So you've lived here and mostly stayed right here all your life?" It seems hard for her to imagine. "I have traveled the world over. I can't imagine not having seen it all in my travels. I think it's kind of nice you've stayed all this time and been content with it." Pausing a moment to think on his question, she shrugs lightly, "I am still figuring that out."

"Old Red is her name," he says, scrutinizing even as he repeats. Drinks finally come, he takes his glass and drinks without the straw. "That could be part of the issue see, she doesn't want to be called old. She's mature, classy, elegant. Not old." A tease, its just a car, or like car superstition, name is important. He holds the cup, and scoots back along the both, back to the window/wall, he can face her and look at the rest of the establishment. One lege comes up on the bench on his side. "Fair enough. I have yeah, my whole life." Settled, she talks about her worldly travels even but he's content right there. "Of all those places, did you really get to know it, that place?" Another lift of the glass, the ice clicks on cup and his teeth, he's comfortable with it. "See, like right now I could probably go five mile out of town and still find some place here I haven't seen. There are features of the church I still find every day. Did the original builder even know how all the stone was laid based on their plans?" Seems the little things in life, and appreciating them.

"Maybe I will rename her one of these days, but not today. She's my baby and she knows it." Collecting her drink in hand Sally turns like him, though faces him a little more. "That's sometimes the bonus, not getting to know the skeletons in the closets of every town I've ever been through. Tell me, what are the skeletons you carry? Have you got any skeletons at all?" The question is brief, but she is curious.

The hint of a grin remains, she can call it what she likes, it was more a tease of finding a better name. Not even going into what Jack might name his truck or the coupe he's talked about. "That's the thing about skeletons," he says, laying down the hand holding the cup on the table, cup just over the edge/his lap. "Every town has them. Just the way of things I imagine. Some are out there, your Jones cult or your murderers, they get caught. Some, you just don't. They're still hiding in the closet." He seems way more serious again. "You don't know what they'll do, just its hurting someone or worse, and can't do nothing about it cause its there in the dark." A lean forward, as if to not tell anyone else in the room, more quiet. "And you don't know which closet. That's the catch see, one day you'll be by that closet and its your down. Its gonna jump out and get you." There could be more but then THUD on the window nearby where they are sitting.

A few glasses and utensils clink as most pause and look towards the window. Its a little quiet a moment until someone a few tables over finally announces, "Bird hit the window, stupid crow." Conversations slowly pick up again, but seem more subdued than before.

He made a certain sense, the skeletons were sometimes better left laid to rest in the hidden confines and shadows. It still brought questions, all the intrigue and mystery in the town just kept her here wondering about it. It seemed ominous and Sally opens her mouth to say so... and that's when there's a thud on the window. Jumping, she gasps and turns towards the window that was at her back with her position. That's when she sees the crow, or hears about it. A sudden shiver and she says quietly. "A group of crows is called a Murder. Odd that with the conversation, it's that particular bird."

There is a little flinch of his head, ducking, Jack turns to look or gawk too. Slowly he comes around and nods in agreement. "Just an oddity. I don't like crows, they watch me over at the church." Then he lifts his voice a little, back to some more normal converstaion at least. "I ain't going to say if what my skeleton is, but its there, in the closet. Not to be rude, its a good question Sally. But let it lie a little maybe." Then he takes another drink, "So, not your skeleton, but any good ones from the places you visitied." Conversation around the restuarant slowly gets more conversationally, finally some chuckles a little to help it return back to more normal after the bird on the window. Seems more talked about it and the window than perhaps a more normal town, but normal finds its way back, it always does.

"Everyone has their skeletons, I guess and it's probably not something you talk about with a stranger. Or maybe sometimes its best to talk with a stranger about it, then the skeletons can remain without being dredged up by the more familiar time and again. But I do respect your decision, I'm sure not everything is easy for others to talk about to just anyone."A drink is taken as things return to normal and as the food gets delivered, she takes her time in spreading out the sauces in a row and inhales the aroma of the fish. A fork is gently poked towards the batter and the chips as well, testing for crunch most likely. A pleased smile crosses her features and she sighs. "This smells and looks better than some well renowned places.." Letting his question rest during her exploration of the food but not taking a bite yet. "Like you said, each place has their own. Who am I to give out secrets of other places? I share food, not secrets." A light smile, slightly enigmatic, "Mostly, I don't stay long enough to find any secrets. And usually that's intentional."

Jack takes a focus to his drink, watching it long enough to see ice melt enough to shift without moving the glass. One breaks off another it stuck to and floats to the top while she talks. There is a slow nod of his head all the same while she speaks. Sometimes his eyes trail over to look at her, then back to the glass. The food arrives, he reaches for Heinz Malt Vinegar, probably on the table in a fish joint like this already. A bite is taken, enjoyed along with one of the chips. Its peeled/sliced potato fried into homestyle chips at least, not just fries. He puts some of that in the vinegar too, then a little ketchup. "I saw a boy die, when I was younger. The details aren't important, that's the skeleton, what I saw, what really happened, what people believe." He lets that hang and shrugs, "Is what it is, he's dead and I let it rest with him in the ground." He shrugs again and grabs a chip, dipping that at the ketchup a moment, "See, too late, stayed long enough. Not a town secret, a person one I guess. Hopefully that doesn't affect your karma of not sticking around, long enough to learn that stuff."

"Saw or watched?" The details, as he said, weren't important. Except whne they were. It was a gruesome question almost, could be considered so, but it was important one to Sally at least. For the moment she doesn't eat, which technically wasn't fair to the food, letting it set without eating it fresh. Her eyes remain on the man across from her though, squinting a little as she considers him.

Sally/'

Its a quick return, one simple question. Jack has to consider that, as if the story is more complicated than just that. A nod of his head though, "Saw, I suppose." Leaning back where he sits again, idly eating food for now, he continues. "Something happened to him, then he was gone. He screamed, then nothing. Never found him, never heard from again." A shrug, he takes a chip and pops it in his mouth, crunches it. "Everyone accepted he was lost in the woods, assume he drowned in the river. The town moved on." He takes a drink to wash out his mouth, whether from the telling or that chip he ate before he finished is anyone's guess.

The explanation brings more questions than answers but Sally takes the time to break off a piece of the fish and dip it into a small cup of the malt vinegar before taking a bite. There's another question burning to be asked, it's there in her eyes, bordered on the brink, but for some reason she's holding it while she eats. A few more bites of fish and she just watches. Even the drink seems to say more than he had said and finally she can hold it in no longer. "What did you see that day?" Because it seems there's something more than a simple disappearance.

His fish more gone, he's toying with another chip in consideratio nof eating it. "Well now monkey," says Jack, a hint of a grin or smirk, unsure if its something he's putting on, even himself. "Tht's the skeleton there. What and I saw and that happened, who knows. Something took him." That's where he leaves it, no telling, could of been a bear, or a cougar or mountain lion. He doesn't say. He takes that chip after all, crunching at it. "You into that stuff, weird stories? I mean you said you watch the shows. Maybe Food Blogging is your start, you more interested in collecting stories and skeletons?" He shakes his head a little, "You'd be good at it, you got me talking. I don't talk to hardly anyone these days. Or maybe that's what makes it good to be a food blogger, you can talk to the people in the restuarants you go to."

"I don't find conversation difficult to find almost anywhere, but sometimes the conversations aren't worth having. This one, I had no idea the direction it would go in when we sat here." Lips quirk, relieving the seriousness a bit when he calls her monkey again, and she spends another few minutes of silence concentrating on her food and the different sauces, seeming to favor the malt vinegar also. Finally, she comes up for air. "Gymnastics. That was my first love, my first choice." He had asked her before at the zoo, she had put him off. Now she was sharing, likely because he had.