2019-05-16 - Brunch. Kind of.

At this hour in the diner, the early morning rush is nearly done, the children are in school, and there are only a sprinkling of people present in the diner: two teens clearly skipping school, a group of four elderly people debating what the world is coming to, and at the counter is a rather disinterested, purple-haired woman flips through one of those magazines that discuss Batboy or the secret love children of the Greys. From a sound system somewhere blares what sounds like heavy metal mariachi.

The door opens and in shuffles a very disheveled looking Easton who quite clearly just woke up not that long ago judging by the state of his hair that is sticking out in all sorts of unflattering directions despite not being terribly long. His beard even manages to look scattered. He walks with a not quite smooth gate to the counter and flops down at it, seemingly content to rest his head in his arms and wait for someone to come and offer him a menu or ask for his order. He might be there a while, and he's okay with that.

Gina glances over at Easton when he sits-- and spotting his posture, makes the executive decision to finish her article. Which means it'll be a few minutes before she pushes away from the register, setting the magazine on the counter and pulling a small notepad from the back pocket of her black jeans. SHe meanders the four steps over towards him, before resting her elbows on the spot next to him. "So you're hungry or just looking for coffee or what?" She asks, tapping the notepad with her pen.

His head slowly rises up from his arms and he look at Gina, and blinks a few times having expected perhaps a much older woman with a raspy voice or at least someone dressed in something resembling a uniform. But he quickly realizes he doesn't care, she's offering coffee and food, she a four year old dressed like an astronaut and he'd still roll with it. "Coffee. Please, ma'am. And uh, three eggs easy, homefries and toast." He looks around as if trying to see if there's a menu, not that he would change his order but that might just be a start. It seems he forgot to eat again yesterday and that caught up to him. Along with other things.

There is a menu. There are stacks of menus, actually, shaped like bears on all fours and opened by flipping at the long edge. They're even laminated-- and Gina makes no move to hand one to Easton, just scribbling down his order. "Seriously? Ma'am? What were you, raised in the country?" She says as she writes, before ripping the order and impaling it on the window leading to the kitchen, ringing a bell before she casually grabs a chipped mug to add the surprisingly okay coffee into. "Oh, right, you want your toast like, just toasted or burnt?"

Finally spotting the menu, he laconically reaches out and slides one in front of himself. He looks back up and winces at the ma'am comment. Shoot. That's a marine-ism. Something he has worked at erasing from his lexicon, but between the lack of sleep and raging hangover, that slipped through. "No ma'am" Yes, of course now he's doing it on purpose. Because it's Easton and he can't help himself. Taking a look at again though he shakes his head ever so slightly, as if chagrined by something he 'sees' or more accurately something he knows. Asking himself again what the hell is with this town and why he it felt so important for him to move out here. The question interrupts this train of thought though and replies "Toasted" in more of a grunt.

A few moments later, he inquires, "Can I ask you some'in? Are you from around here or...? " Is it something in the water? It can't just be locals though because, well he's not. But the number of people pinging his whatever sense (Scooby sense? Sixth sense? Nonsense?) is off the chart.

Well, now that he's doing it on PURPOSE Gina just raises both brows at him, before giving a huff of amusement. She sips the mug of coffee, judging its flavor before she adds some caramel sauce (the sort usually used on ice cream) and a sugar. Then she fills up another mug with coffee and sets it down for Easton. What, he didn't think he'd get served first or something, right? Taking her own mug again, she sips, leaning back and shrugging at the following question. "I guess more here than anywhere." she confirms -- and smiles, just a little. As if she knows precisely why he's asking. "Haven't seen you around."

Watching Gina take a sip of coffee and add caramel to it causes his eyebrows to raise and then raise further in confusion until he realizes that she just poured herself a cup, and is now pouring his. He chuckles, apparently quite amused. "I think I might have to do that at the bar sometime. That's a full on power move." His low chuckle turns into a laugh as he thinks about the look on someone's face if he first pulled himself a beer and took a sip after they ordered one. He is in no way put off by it obviously.

The slight knowing smile as she answer causes a very slight narrowing of his eyes. He nods and says, "Yea. I just moved here, not that long ago." He thinks about it for a moment before adding, "But I used to come here with my family for vacations as a kid." And not for the first time he wonders why of all places his parents would vacation here, let alone have a full apartment rented despite calling it a timeshare. It's one of those weird puzzle pieces that never bothered him because he never thought much about it.

He thinks about pressing the issue of why she's smiling at his question, but decides instead first coffee, then food, then interrogation.

"Can't take care of others if you don't take care of yourself, or whatever." Gina says mildly, though she is smirking as she has another sip of her coffee. Slow. Definitely audible. His explanation has her nodding, that smirk still in place. "Must be why I don't remember you. I wasn't really big on hanging out."

As he goes quiet, she does too, focusing on drinking her coffee and checking her phone instead of say, attempting small talk or paying any further attention to Easton. Eventually, however, in the midst of the growled 'Ai ai ai ai's of the mariachi metal comes the ding! that declares the plate of food is done. And with her attention STILL on her phone she lifts the plate one-handed, setting it in front of Easton. The food looks amazing and the toast is just right, with those little packets of butter near it. She sends off a text after setting the plate down, before she gestures a seat away, "There's ketchup over there and there's some salt and peppers and sriracha and some other stuff if you need it." Because she isn't getting it for him, obviously.

Agreeing after a big gulp of black coffee, Easton very seriously says, "It's true. Self-care is so important." It's not mocking her per say, so much as bending any and all usual definitions of that phrase for the sake of a joke. "You? Funny you seem so social and chatty." There's a teasing tone in his voice, but he doesn't belabor it, instead happy to focus on the hot coffee that is far better than he expected if he's being honest.

He pulls out his own phone and stares at it for a moment as if deciding on something before he sets it back down. The ding! causes him to look up and again smirk as she manages to serve his food with the least effort at service possible. Somehow it reminds him of a friendly but indifferent cat that doesn't want to seem too interested in being friendly. He leans over to pull the condiments down and does make use of all of them, mashing the food into a pile, minus the toast. He happily eats through it, far too fast and with the vigor that suggests he may have either been starving or raised in a barn, or both.

"That's me. Totally a people person." Gina confirms, returning to her lazy lean against the counter with her own mug of coffee. She watches his defilement of the food with those expressive brows of hers marking she is somewhere between disdainful of his manners and rather impressed with his enthusiasm. Before she can warn him of the dangers of fast eating, however, one of the little old ladies approaches the counter with cash, and she heads over to ring them up, letting Easton dig in while she handles the transaction. He may at least be pleased to know that her catlike indifference extends to little old ladies just as it does ex-marines.

Eventually the transaction finishes, of course, and she picks up her magazine to flip through-- before deciding, it seems, that Easton is more interesting, leaning her weight on her elbows as she settles on the counter, watching him. "So what's your name, new guy?"

Somehow despite the rapid shoveling of food into his maw, Easton manages to smile at her crack about being a people person. Her laconic handling of the other customer just further confirms his mental suspicions about her, but he doesn't break focus until he's cleaned his plate, buttered and eaten every last crumb of toast.

Using a napkin to do as good a job of cleaning bits of food out of his beard as possible, he nods appreciatively. When she sidles up to the counter, he smiles and waits for her question.

"Easton. Marshall." He extends a hand though it strikes him about halfway through the motion that she doesn't seem much like the shaking hands type. He lets it hang there anyway.

Gina adjusts, leaning more on one elbow as she reaches a hand out-- and instead of shaking it, gently turns his hand so the palm is up, leaning to the side to look at his hand for a long moment. "Hmm." She says, studying his palm for a time, should he let her and not curl his fingers in. Soon enough she lets go, however, and offers, "Gina Castro. Welcome to Gray Harbor, doing its best to prove Seattle isn't the rainiest city on the coast." She gives a small little smile again, taking his mug of coffee without even being asked and filling it with more coffee, setting it down between the two. "So which is it man? Easton or Marshall? Or is it just lady's choice?"

Sutton pulls open the door to the diner and pauses just inside the threshold, visually assaulted, for a moment, by all things bear. She blinks behind a pair of mirrored aviators, and her lips part. She closes her mouth, and takes a few more steps in, perhaps a bit reluctantly. Then the smell of food hits her and all is right with the world. She makes her way toward the nearest menu to pick it up and linger near a dented up 4-top table, though she doesn't sit right off.

Geoff makes his way into the Diner and after a glance around settles on grabbing a stool at the bar, his clothing of the day a simple pair of jeans, an old jurassic park shirt and a black zip up hoodie. Leaning forward against the bar, he rests on his forearms as he peruses over the menu with only a passing interest, snagging the first person who works there as they walk by to place his order "Hey could I get a burger and a coke? Thanks."

Easton's dressed in casual jeans, big grey hoodie with tears in the ends of sleeves and still looks like he just woke up despite the food and coffee, seated at the counter. Having finished his 'breakfast' which he didn't order until well past noon Easton doesn't seem phased by Gina's turning of his palm. He cocks an eyebrow though more curious as to a) what she's doing b) if this is a 'thing' thing and c) what she sees.

"Will Prince Harry ever leave his wife for me?" That's the thing about Easton, he dreams big. And hardly is ever very serious unless necessary and even then it's a toss up.

"Nice to meet you Gina." He glances around and replies "Oh ladies choice for sure. I'll answer to just about anything." He smirks at the introduction to Gray Harbor, "Well at least they were honest about the name and didn't call it Sunny Happy Land. "

The entrance of Sutton gets a glance and a small shake of the head, as yet again there's another ... one of those people. He's surrounded.

Geoff's entrance however gets an actual greeting, granted it's little more than a lifted chin and a "Yo" but that's a greeting.

The menus are in 'landscape' mode. And are silhouettes of a bear on all fours. At least they are laminated! But it's true the place at least smells great. As for the staff, beyond the purple-haired, black-clad Gina talking to Easton, there's a plump blond of indeterminate gender practicing ASL hand signs from flashcards. Said server glares at Geoff for being RUDE and expecting them to do their job, before heading out counter with the order.

Gina, for her part, only smiles at Easton, "Sorry, your hat game is too weak for the royal family." She does answer, almost breezily, before her attention goes to Sutton and Geoff, studying them a moment, before glancing at Easton and letting her smile grow. It's very clear Gina knows Easton is also in on it. Her eyes slide back towards Sutton, however, and she calls out while reaching for her magazine (which declares that the mole people have sided with the Nordics against the Greys, in a shocking turn of events) "To go is ordered at the register if you want it. Or just chill, whatever."

Did we mention the music currently blaring is heavy metal mariachi?

Sutton loiters by the four-top reading the menu for a moment, then slips a hand up her face to rub her eyes under her aviators, like maybe she's not convinced getting out of bed was the best idea to happen this morning. It could just be all the bear themed things in the room. Or the bear-shaped menu in her hand. Probably it's the music.

"Uh." Sutton is exceptionally well-spoken today in her reply to Gina. She slowly meanders over to the formica counter along the back, and gingerly takes a stool. Oddly, not far from Geoff. Again. "Could I just -- buttered rye toast and two eggs over easy."

Geoff offers a fist ut to Easton for a fist bump as is quickly becoming their custom "Hey man, didn't think I was going to catch you around here. Thought you were in some sort of loop of only visiting the local bars." As Gina looks over to him he greets her with a small dip of his head before his phone is coming out to check some notification that's just popped up before he is sliding back into his pocket once more. Hearing Sutton's order he chimes in "You should also get some bacon, breakfast isn't complete without bacon when you can get it."

Easily returning the fist bump to Geoff he smirks and replies, "Yea, well my little town bar hop will continue tonight I'm sure. If there's anywhere I have not yet shutdown I will remedy that."

Gina's smile to him is met with a suspicious one of his own. It's like the creepy town where there's some unspoken thing that other people know. No one was phased the other night when that guy clearly busted a stool with his mind. Geoff didn't blink when he somehow thought at him. The only good news is that maybe there is a reason he came here. He just needs to figure out if it's a "good" one or not.

As if there wasn't enough uptick in custom, two more people find their way through the door. Wait, no. Just the one. Weird.

"-never won a house in a duel." Alistair Carver's sentence is unfairly shortened as he opens the door, the muscle in his forearm twitching as he grasps the handle to fight off the habit of holding it open for someone. Not necessary. It's just him. With a folded coat tucked over his arm, the man is in his usual getup of waistcoat and tie that would almost define as 'respectable' if not for grass stains patching the white shirt, and what appears to be a small twig caught in his hair. That's before even mentioning a pair of obvious tourist-merch sunglasses, wide and with bright blue frames that declare he visited 'THE PIT TO NOWHERE' on route 108. At least he's not still smoking. That's a nice change for a place that serves food.

There's a glance around at the decor. Then realization he's not in a bar at this time of day. There's a slight furrow of the brow that suggests behind those glasses his eyes are squinting, but then a voice mentions the word 'Bacon' out loud. A stool is beelined for. "Shit. Yeah. That'll do."

"I mean, if that's what you're paying for, sure." Gina replies to Sutton, pulling out her little notepad from her back pocket and writing up the order, before impaling it above Geoff's. "Welcome to the Grizzly Den." It could not sound more halfhearted, though she does tell Geoff, "Bacon is okay, but--" Whatever she was going to say is lost as her attention goes to the door, pausing to study Carver and...smile, a little more than she did with Easton, and chuckle softly before she looks towards her employee doing ASL signs, "Tal," She calls out, and then waves in the general direction of all the incoming people. Tal gives the boss an exasperated look, but Gina just shrugs and rubs her thumbs over her fingertips, reminding why she's the boss, and Tal writes up the order of bacon and gets to pouring water and offering coffee.

Her attention goes back towards Carver, Sutton, and Easton, "Sooooooo......" She stretches the word out, looking over them all curiously, before ending on Geoff, fellow local, "....there some kind of vacation package to Nowheresville being offered I don't know about?"

Sutton glances over when Geoff bacon-vises her. She squints a bit, then reaches up to slide her aviators off, the mirrored lenses rising to reveal mascara-blackened lashes and smokey hazel eyes, trending amber rather than green today. She purses fuchsia-glossed lips, far too bright and cheerful a color for how sleepy she looks. Maybe that's the point -- it's a bit distracting. "I get enough of that at work."

Sutton smirks at her own joke, then says, "What the hell, bacon too, please. Not super crispy." The woman glances over as the bro-bump goes down, gaze flicking briefly over Geoff and Easton. She turns her arm and looks down at the watch on her inner wrist, lifts her arm, taps the readout like maybe it's stopped. Of course the intonation of 'Shit. Yeah. That'll do.' brings her head around to glance at Carver. And then she looks him over too. Grass stains and all. She pulls a small enamel pill box out of her pocket, flips it open, and dumps a handful of NSAIDs into her palm. Those go down dry, tossed back like she swallows pills habitually.

"What, do I look like I'm on vacation?" Sutton pauses. "Sorry, love, that was harsh. No, I'm ... I live here now. Job things. I'm not a morning person. I apologize in advance." She's actually apologizing after the fact, but perhaps there's more to come! She barely has an accent except when she apologizes the first time, and then it's a bit English-ish. Sutton puts her aviators down on the counter. "What an arsehole." She rubs her face. "Sorry, me again. Not you." Though she could have been talking about Carver.

Geoff 's shoulders hunch up at that question from Gina "Damned if I know, but it definitely seems like we've become a vacation hub for only god knows why." the comment about bacon prompts him to think for a moment before conceding "Bacon is okay but chorizo is definitely better. Eggs sunny side up with a side of chorrizo and hashbrowns smothered in cholula. That's the breakfast of champions right there." glancing over to Sutton he studies the woman idly, taking in the obvious outsider before Carver steals the show

"Sadly, I also am not a tourist. I'm the new bartender over at Two if by Sea on the beach." He finds himself again wondering if there even is such a thing as 'tourist' season in a place like this, though he supposes any place on the water must see at least a mediocre bump in people at the very least in the summer.

Looking over at Carver when he enters apparently talking to someone and then not and having the appearance of having slept rough last night despite his fancier clothes. He looks at him, something akin to FFS flashing across his face, before he very not subtely looks at Gina and gives her an explicit WTF face. In fact he mentally sends those three letters at her without meaning to. It's still tripping him up to be in a place where his crazy leaks out. Normally it took massive effort or strain to do something and it was hit or miss. Here it feels like he's just leaking crazy left and right in a giant pool of crazy.

It's taken him a little while, feet getting a little scuffle on, but Carver makes his way to the counter eventually, settling up in to a stool, seeing the request for bacon attended to, and promptly leaning over to rest the side of his face against the countertop surface. It pushes the glasses a little awkwardly along his face, showing, surprisingly, no sign of hungover bags to sleep deprivation on one revealed, if closed, eye. "I'm on vacation." He pipes up. adding to the English lilt this diner seems to be taking. "S'a working one, pet, but a vacation all the same."

The eye shutters closed again, and a wayward hand pats along the top of his head to find and remove that errant stick. It's got a leaf on it and everything.

"Small town. I grew up here. I can put a face to most of the lifers." Gina explains to Sutton, enjoying the last of her coffee before she shrugs. "I mean, feel your feelings, chica. Let your inner bitch out before she strangles you. Nobody in here cares." Geoff gets 'shot' with a finger gun, and takes the order from Tal, scrawling something on it before impaling it for the chefs to take over. "You lucked out, G. We actually have some chorizo left over. And the cholula bottle is over at that booth," She points, blatantly not going over to get it herself like a good waitress might. There's a slight tilt of her head, however, when the WTF flashes brightly in her mind, and her eyes shift to Easton, with a little Cheshire smile. "Don't look at me. I've always been this way." -- possibly cryptic talk, for those still floundering with concepts of the Veil.

Carver, though, his attempt to find the stick has Gina reaching over to pluck it right from his head, examining it. "Northeast." She remarks with another little smile, rolling the branch between her fingers so the leaf spins about. "If you drool on my counters I'll bleach your shirt and use it to wipe up the mess." She also adds, quite casually.

Sutton tips another something out of the pill box, but doesn't take that until she has at least a water sitting in front of her. "Trying to stuff the bitch back down." She clicks the box closed and tucks it back into her pocket. She turns her head to look down the bar again, to the other men seated there. Geoff is studied for a moment more. "The bar yesterday." That's a statement, not a question, but it seems she finally recognizes him. "You didn't tell me they have chorizo. That's a game changer. Failure to educate." She shakes her head as if deeply disappointed.

"Everly Sutton." They're seeing the mixed bag that is her morning personality, so it seems as good a time as any to introduce herself to everyone clustered here. "Everybody calls me Sutton." She's looking at Geoff when she says that. She glances at Easton then. "Check, bartender. I haven't been to that one yet." She may notice E's expression, but she doesn't say anything. Her gaze flicks back to Geoff. She watches him for a few beats. And then there's Carver. And his accent. Which... is somewhat overshadowed by his show of smooshing his face into the counter. "You have foliage in your -- nevermind." She watches the man for a moment before she asks, "Do you need medical assistance?" That seems mildly reluctant, but serious nonetheless. Say no, Carver. Say no. She quirks a smile at Gina's alternate approach to the man's antics.

Geoff hops up when he's pointed in the right direction for the Cholula bottle, striding for the booths and only offering a "Sorry folks" to the two chatting there before he steals the hot sauce bottle with a roguish impudence. Taking a seat on his stool he positions the bottle in front of him "See, you get me. This is why you're my number one bae." dipping his head to Sutton he chimes in "Nice to meet you chica, and the name is Geoff." his gaze only momentarily glancing to Carver, but by now he's seen enough in life, hell he's seen enough in /this/ diner that this much doesn't phase him much.

Sutton's introduction is met with a nod and a returned "Easton. And yes, come by. Our bartenders are not as hot as the Pourhouse but we're working on it. A little more hot yoga, maybe a Queer Eye makeover, we'll get there." While it's true that there are more than 2 bars in town, Easton has yet to visit the others so he can't speak to the relatively hotness of said bartenders.

Smiling at the face down Carver, who looks very much like how he felt when he first came in Easton nods in approval at the face-counter maneuver. He waves off Sutton's concern, "Nah, he doesn't need medic. He needs a bloody mary and half dozen ibuprofen." That's his official diagnosis at least. Or maybe he's just projecting his own life on a situation that looks very familiar.

Gina's statement causes him to chuckle ruefully at it's unhelpfulness. It feels very much like they're playing out some weird "Don't ask, don't tell" game and everyone else knows the secret besides him. Maybe it's an outsider thing? Maybe there's a dark town council meeting with robes and human sacrifices. Ooh, maybe they're gonna sacrifice him.

That'd be different.

Christ. The one thing Carver wasn't hoping for. People talking to him. It should really be expected, considering the entrance, but you'd be amazed at how often settling like this in a diner puts a big neon sign of 'IGNORE FOR SAFETY' above your head. The arm reaching out to pluck the twig from his hair gets the reaction of him hastily making sure the glasses are covering both of his eyes, but he at least restrains the urge to duck his face harder into the counter. "Love, my shirt has been and will be used for worse in the future. Get me a proper cup of black coffee going with that bacon, and you can even use the waistcoat." He doesn't look up. Usually he doesn't need to. The accent does most of the heavy lifting.

But then there's Sutton, giving it a run for his money. "I can see how you'd think that." This may well be directed at Easton, as well. It's hard to tell. His face isn't moving. "What I need is a sea of grease and a nap. But thanks for asking, doc."

"And that's why I've never had to murder anyone in town. You've always known to keep me your number one." Gina's tone of voice doesn't alter one iota as she informs Geoff of this, but he is probably used to her deadpan sense of humor. As for everyone else, well, they can all just be left to wonder if Gina and Geoff are in some sort of torrid, murderous love affair. To Sutton, she adds, "I was in the mood for chorizo last night so we made some. It's not really on the menu. But I mean, ask if you want it, we'll see what we've got." A shrug, because that's how she runs a business. Easton still remains amusing, and his commentary on the bars actually draws a whole little laugh out of Gina. A WHOLE LAUGH. "Nice." She says to Easton, approvingly, before nodding towards Carver, "Cool. Second booth from the wall is where the homeless dudes take naps. It's apparently the most comfortable, but it's a little musty-smelling. Crash if you want after you eat, but the limit is two hours."

"I do prefer something pretty to look at while I drink. Let me know how the hot yoga progresses." Sutton's response to that whole assertion regarding the bar is a bit dry. She nods to Geoff's introduction, "Pleasure." And then she glances to Easton, sharing the one word acknowledgement of intro with him as well.

"Don't call me doc. I'll break out in hives." And the dryness just keeps coming. It seems something about Carver's accent has woken a deeply ingrained quality of Sutton's. "Drink some water before your kidneys desert you along with your liver's higher functions." She pulls a little squeeze bottle of blue flavored electrolyte drops out of another of her cargo pockets and slides it down to Carver without comment, skimming the little bottle along the counter. The accuracy is impressive. She probably rules at bar bowling on one of those little slippery tables with the pucks.

Sutton says to Gina, "You make your own? Nice. Bacon's good for today, but I'll ask after that next I'm in. Heard some good things about this place from the blonde bartender at Pourhouse." She says that like the good things were warranted. Even considering the bears.

Geoff returns that deadpan sense of humor perfectly "See, really I'm a humanitarian looking out for the rest of the town." clicking his tongue he says "That burger I ordered earlier, I'll take it to go. I think I'll go for the chorizo breakfast while you got it can't go passing on a good opportunity like this." With a laugh he mentions "I'm glad I can just take a nap at work unless I know I got a job scheduled. Anyone who is going to be coming into the shop is going to know to just wake me up."

A moment of mourning for poor Carver, who totally did all of this to himself and is entirely to blame for it all. He's stuck, hungover, with a proprietor that lights up in his eyesight like a Christmas tree, and a woman who mugged his accent in an alley and stole all of it's loose change. At least he's been given a place to nap and an offer for medical assistance.

Worryingly, this makes it his best first impression of a new town in 14 years. "Noted, Doc. And thanks.........Ma'am?" See, they're both thanked in their own way, as grabby hands make for the offered bottle of electrolytes, his expression suggesting there's serious thought being put in to how to drink it without lifting his head. "My organs know they're in it for the long haul, but they're thankful, too."

"Cool." Gina says, nodding to Geoff. And conveniently, there is a series of *ding!*s heard over the mariachi metal music to show that the food is ready. Tal sets Sutton's and Carver's items in front of them, Geoff is given an upnod before she goes to pack his food. His chorizo isn't ready yet, but it was ordered later. Gina, for her part, starts putting together the ingredients for a milkshake. She does pause, however, to look at Carver, both brows raised, "Another one?" She wonders, before sighing, "Gina Castro. It's my place." Bears and all.

Sutton is given a nod, "Must've been Mariah. She's a nice kid." She is three years younger, Gina. "Glad to know the diner's reputation precedes it." Boy does it. Bears everywhere.

Just then, there is cursing in the back. Loud cursing, that sounds like arguing, and Gina sighs. "Ugh. Not again. Excuse me." She says, drifting into the kitchen, milkshake half-done.

Sutton glances down as her food arrives, seeming to give Carver the benefit of the doubt in terms of caring for himself now that she's passed off the electrolytes. She spins her plate a little and scoops her eggs over onto her toast before she unrolls her silverware and starts cutting the eggs and toast they're sitting on into neat pieces, spilling yolk everywhere like a sunny little massacre. "Good to meet you Gina, and thank you." She nods to the food, a smile finding her lips at last. No sign of smirk in this one. "Mhm, it was. She didn't mention the bears." Finally, she takes a bite, then tips her head back to chew. The first bite of breakfast when you wish you were still in bed: priceless.

"God, yes." Pardon her happy. Sutton reaches for a glass of water, then resumes a normal tone to inquire, "What kind of shop?" That must be a question for Geoff.

Geoff waits patiently for his food that's yet to come out, after all the atmosphere is half the charm of this place "A tattoo shop, Pens and Needles." with a cocky grin he adds "I'm not half bad if I do say so myself." eyeing Carver he finally addresses the man "So what brought you to town? Running from the law? Are you searching for long last family?" leaning against the bar with a devilish grin he muses "Or maybe you faked your death in the last town and just need to lay low."

Carver goes through a process. It involves slowly propping himself up on his forearms, the glasses clattering down onto the counter as he moves, eyes squinting and blinking at the apparently incredibly harsh light. The lid of the squeeze bottle is undone, completely, his face wincing at the exertion off it setting a small fire somewhere around his subarachnoid, and then he drinks. All of it. The contents are just gone. He might as well have inhaled the damn thing. "Gyyyaaaarrrrhg." Queen's English, that.

And then there's bacon to follow it up. No cutlery is needed, the man just grabbing a piece by his fingertips to tear off a chunk as some questions are thrown his way. "Naw, mate. Nothing so fanciful." There's no eye contact. Bacon. You understand. "I got yelled at to come here. So, I did." The bacon is waved in a little lackluster flourish. "Ta-da."

Sutton turns back to Geoff, scooping another bite of eggy toast onto her fork, but she doesn't take it yet. "Oh? I had a little incident and could use a touch-up on mine. Do you take walk-ins or prefer that kind of thing pre-booked?" She sounds as if she knows the answer, given the 'wake me' comment from earlier, but she asks anyway, being polite again. It happens occasionally. She eats her breakfast in neat, small bites, but she's also quite good at putting away food at a steady pace, so she can finish before something disastrous happens. Only after Carver's drank the little bottle does Sutton say, "You're meant to put six drops in your water glass." She smirks into the last few bites of her breakfast. Then she turns to the side of bacon she ordered, and dips that in what's left of the yolk on her plate before she stuffs it into her mouth. So much for neat bites.

"I take walk ins though if you were planning on getting something massive it'd need a consultation then a booking, but for a touch up that's fairly easy to handle." Geoff responds easily enough though his attention is perked towards the kitchen, not only for the wonderful smells coming from it but also from the bilingual drama that can be caught in small batches. Perhaps in response to Carver he states "Definitely killed his wife and is now fleeing the police under a presumed name."

"I'm also meant to drink in moderation, pack in the cigs, stop pissing things off that are bigger than me, and eat a vegetable once in a while." Carver responds to the advice with all the charm of a man eating bacon like it's the first bit of cooked food he's eaten in a month. Which, given his appearance... that's a definite maybe. "Mate." Carver's hand hovers, bacon suspended in place as those dark eyes finally turn in Geoff's direction. "My name is Alistair Carver." He sniffs, and the bacon hand attempts to shoo away something off to his right as there's a questioning look slipping over his features. "If I was presuming a name, you think I'd pick one only a couple of alcoholic parents would think was a good idea?"

There's definitely a bilingual drama. TRI-lingual drama, in some spots, as two distinct voices argue in the kitchen (neither of them Gina). Eventually however, the voices fade off into grumbles and Gina reappears, mildly miffed and carrying Geoff's plate with her, as well as his to-go bag. "I wish they'd just bang in the alley and get it over with." She notes, setting the plate in front of Geoff with his soda. She glances towards Carver as he finally gives a name-- though her eyes then go to somewhere just off-center of him, a small smile on her face, "Love the hair." She praises. Maybe she likes hair without sticks in it?

Her eyes center back on Carver, and she smirks, just a little. "I like the name Alistair." She does comment. "Use Lee as a nickname or something. Why Carver presuming names again?" She asks Sutton and Geoff, having decided apparently to go straight with the last name.

"Jesus." Sutton licks a smear of bacon grease from her thumb. "You really couldn't get any more English if you ordered Darjeeling and assumed the position." What position is she referring to? Carver knows, surely. She finishes off the last of her bacon, wipes her hands, and starts in on the very last triangle of her rye toast. She smirks a bit as Gina returns. "Ally sex is never a good idea unless you're angry and drunk." No, no, it's an even worse idea then. Don't listen. Why's Carver presuming? Sutton shrugs. "I think his blood system doesn't have enough alcohol in it this morning."

"I'll drop by sometime and check out the shop, Geoff. If my down time goes on much longer, I might book in for a full back design." Sutton pops that last pill into her mouth, washing it down with the last of her water, once she's finished her toast.

Geoff fills in for Gina "You see Carver there killed his wife and faked his own death in a car accident and is now living under an assumed name." With a deadpan grimace he studies the other man out of the corner of his eye "Then he chose an outrageous name that no one would actually suspect of being fake, because only someone high on bath salts would choose it." all the while he explains this he is dishing his hashbrowns up with the hot sauce "And alley sex is great for working out differences and relieving simmering tensions in a work environment."

"Takes me a little longer than a couple of months in this sodding country to try and hide where I came from, love." Oh, Carver knows, but he's hungover and has bacon. Delicious bacon. Bacon that has him looking at the returning Gina with the most thankful expression a man can offer when there's a red hot iron ball slowly melting through his brain. That's probably what would explain the squinting, at least. It doesn't explain the little laugh at the hair compliment, but too many explanations at once can rot the teeth, you know.

"Where'd the car come from?" His eyebrow goes up at this new development of the ongoing story, chewing on pig thoughtfully as he does so. "Besides, car accidents are terrible for faking deaths. Way too much inquiry. Especially when it's supposed to be the death of a wife-killer." Chew. It's only now he remembers coffee came with his order, so the bacon gets washed down with a solid mouthful. "Dumpsters leave scars. Kills the spontaneous mood when all you're thinking about is a tetanus jab when you're done."

"Honestly as long as they don't do it in the kitchen, closet, or dining areas, since that's a bio hazard." Gina adds, "And they clean up after themselves. Nobody wants to step on a used condom." As for the questionable merits of alley sex, she doesn't add in her opinion, instead continuing to make some weird chocolate ice cream-coffee-coconut-raspberry-cinnamon milkshake comblomination. She glances at Carver, however, adding, "You want me to get you a Canterberry mauling?" She pauses, before clarifying, "Hangover cure. Four bucks, ancient Russian recipe, and you'll wish you'd chosen death instead as soon as you drink it, but that only lasts twenty minutes and any time you burp after. I don't recommend it if you can bounce back yourself."

It's actually on the bear menu. Left foreleg, last page.

Sutton glances over at Geoff. She regards him for a moment, then says, "That's a horrifying thought." Funny thing is, she doesn't mean the murder and assumed name thing, which becomes clear when the brunette continues, "Never at work. That's one Christmas slide show I'd rather not star in." She falls silent for a long moment, probably mentally walking down the path being caught fooling around on camera would have when the alley at work is parked between Police and Fire. She pulls a face, which is mildly horrified, lips parted, then she presses them together. Nope. Noooope. "Nope."

At length, Sutton finally observes, "If you need a jab, love, that I can do for you." And she's back! The more Carver talks, the more accent creeps into her words. It's probably a little disorienting to everyone involved. She reaches for a napkin, dabs her mouth and wipes her hands once more, then moves to stand. "Thanks for the breakfast company, all." She folds the napkin on top of her plate.

Sutton pauses, and studies Gina for a long moment after that whole Canterberry mauling description. Her lips part, but she doesn't follow through with a comment. Food seems to have revived her. Or the painkillers and anti-inflammatories kicked in. "Morning." She smiles, and that tone is downright chipper. She turns to go, pauses, then says, "Carver, stop by the firehouse if you start to feel worse." And then she's headed for the door.

Geoff simply shakes his head at Carver's words "Look man, I'm not going to judge you for the life you've decided to live, when you took that mistress from Guatemalayou knew what you were getting into." digging into his off the menu breakfast, he begins to down it with obvious appreciation saying between bites "Really you've got to try the mauling at least once, it's the best solution after a night of hard drinking." lowering his voice he asks Gina "When did we start importing the greater UK? This is now three new arrivals from there I've met in as many days."

Folding up the final piece of bacon into something of a roll, Carver shoves it deep into his mouth, taking another swig of coffee to help the inevitable chewing. The offer of the canterberry mauling gets a look. It's one of consideration, which, if anyone here actually knew Carver, might find that a little terrifying. And then he nods. "Fufit." Mouth full of bacon, but that's an affirmative. There's a mention of jabs from somewhere off to the side, which has his head turning and his hand holding up three fingers. He's probably a little behind on his shots. A hefty gulp follows, and he responds to the departing appreciation with a "You're welcome." It probably wasn't meant for him. Doesn't matter.

"Guatemala isn't all it's cracked up to be." He muses almost idly, settling into a soft sip of the coffee now his bacon is gone. And that's it. That's all the rise it gets. He's got something called a 'mauling' coming, the one person with a similar accent is bailing, and there's a local taking the piss out of him. All is right with the world. "Will do!" is thrown to Sutton's offer, and then only when she's out of earshot does he reply to nothing in particular with "I know I have no idea where that is."

"Later Sutton." Gina says, quite as if it's the most natural thing to assume people absolutely will return to the bear-filled diner full of apathetic waitstaff. The food WAS good, after all. And Carver's acceptance of a mauling has Gina reaching to the bell. No menu item, just a 'shave and a haircut' knock near the door, returned by a responding knock, that has Gina nodding, "It'll be out soon." She informs Carver, with a little smile. Apparently done being helpful, she takes her milkshake and leans against the counter, reaching to pinch a piece of chorizo right off of Geoff's plate to nibble. "It depends where you go in Guatemala, honestly. But yeah, not all it's cracked up to be. But I like quiet." She notes, sucking on her thumbtip to get all the flavor from that stolen piece of chorizo.

She shrugs at Carver, "You'll probably find it. Ask literally anyone in town-- or just walk enough. It's not a big city here, Carver."

The aviators are slid back on, and to the door Sutton goes, muttering something about drizzling rain and it being the death of her. She slides a phone out of her pocket just as her Henry Rollins ringtone starts to yell 'answer your fucking phone,' and brings it to her ear. "... I know. My watch stopped. I'll be there in fifteen minutes." The door swings closed behind her, and she's gone!

Geoff nudges the plate an inch closer to Gina though he shows no sign of slowing down, while he has no problem sharing with the hostess she's going to have to be on her feet if she wants any of the good bits. "Later Sutton, swing by the shop and I'll see what I can do about those tats of yours." tipping back his drink he takes a long swig from it before clinking it back against the counter "Never actually been out of the country, though I hear Guatemala is not all it's cracked up to be." Soon he turns his attention on Carver and waits for that drink to be brought out so he can watch the other man's reaction to the concoction

Carver finishes off his coffee with a final swig. Preparation is key, after all. And then, with the sound of Sutton departing hitting his ears, that door swinging shut, the man claps his hands together. Oh, he's still definitely hungover, but something of a shift in his demeanor suggests that he's so very used to it. The shoulders come up, the slouch vanishes, and the hands drum on the counter for a second in a surprising burst of energy. Geoff, Geoff gets a toothy grin. "To actually answer your bloody question, I'm thinkin' most of them got dropped a little piece of bait like I did. The feeling like something is on the way. Not sure if they got the note from the same source-"

From the opposite side of Carver, a face appears. It's even attached to a person. Late teens or so, her face framed by chin-length dark hair that ends in pink and purple highlights. She gives him a brief wave before turning back to Gina and offering actual thanks for the earlier compliment. "And I love yours!" They're parting words. She's away as soon as she appeared. Ducking behind the man as if it's a doorway to somewhere that sure isn't here.

Oh god, the accents match.

"-but I learned not to ask too many questions. Now. Where's that drink?" The smile to them both. Oh, it is beatific.

Ding! Right there, Carver, Gina stops leaning, to go forth and grab the slender glass - it maybe holds a cup, cup and a half, and the liquid in it is...thick. And a very dark red, with a few streaks of green not quite stirred through, and...aerated? Swallowing it will be much like drinking fluffy applesauce, except the taste is an explosive mix of sour, salty, and sweet in a very confusing mixture. It has, deceptively, a sweet odor -- you know, like rot. It's left in front of Carver, "One Canterberry Mauling." She explains, before listening to Carver's explanation on his presence. She glances at Geoff, before her eyes go back to Carver. Weighing. Thoughtful. And then she says, "It's always been strong here. More than most places in the world. Guess I'll have to bust out my good cards soon."

Geoff would know she means the tarot cards she's played with since she was young. "Anyway, enjoy the drinks. My shift is over." A hand is held out for Geoff to tap knuckles, before as easily as that Gina slips away, calling out just before she disappears, "Leave a message at the diner if you need me." Presumably, for Carver, since Geoff has her number.

Geoff of course fist bumps Gina in an easy going manner and begins to stand his plate having been cleared as he watches the man go for the drink. Grabbing his to go bundle he tucks it under his arm and calls towards Carver and his tagalong "If either of you need any tat work done, you can find me at the shop from noon to nine usually, barring late lunch and dinner." Given the times he lifted and the exceptions it is quite possible pinning him down is just as much a matter of luck as it is going during business hours.

Giving a wave to both of the departing, the singular Brit eyes the drink. And what a drink it is. But Carver? Carver's pretty world-weary. There are hangover cures, hangover cures and then there's this. Judging by the complete lack of hesistation, and a downing of the glass that brings back memory of the earlier squeeze bottle, He chugs.

And chugs. And chugs.

The glass taps down twice on the counter, the brit looking distinctly unimpressed. ...Until he belches. Just once. It's one that requires a fist bumping against his chest in satisfaction when it's done, though. And it definitely caused his eyes to roll back in his head. "Oh. Christ. I'm going to be tasting that all day."