2019-05-17 - Wine Smoothies and Bear Fashion

You would think a diner in the bad part of the small town, with terrible customer service, would be abandoned at this hour-- and you'd be right. The bears watch, of course -- they ALWAYS watch-- but the only two staff members are currently seated at one of the center tables, playing cards and absolutely, clearly drinking. On one side of the table is Gina Castro in her black skinny jeans and ripped up grey tee over a long-sleeved black tee, and on the other is an older, scruffy gentleman covered in enough spills to imply he's the cook. And also the loser, considering how he slaps down his cards, calls Gina something very unfriendly, and stalks off to the kitchens. Gina just smirks, raising her glass to toast him, and pulling out her phone.

Oh, there is one more person - some homeless guy in one of the booths. But it's cool, he has another hour left on Gina's two-hour napping limit.

Is Gray Harbor really big enough to sustain an official bad part of town? Well, maybe if they keep working at it. Whether Aidan is doing his part depends possibly on how one feels about guys who drive old vans parking them outside to show up at diners this time of night wearing red jeans, a Jake the Dog tank top, and a fairly well-fitted, unbuttoned blazer with the sleeves rolled to mid-forearm that is, more to the point, entirely covered in little square pieces of mirror, like a disco ball. It sparkles in the outside lighting, and moreso in the brighter lights of the diner itself as its owner drags the door open and steps inside, apparently muttering something rather annoyed to himself. Whatever it is clears up as he glances around; homeless dude is clearly getting in some important Zs, but Gina looks pretty awake, so she gets a bright grin. "Evening!" A glance around; it's clearly seat-yourself o'clock, but first he could use a menu. Or someone who looks likely to be inclined to trade him food for cash in the near future, anyway.

Gina looks over, raising both brows at the newcomer who pings so strongly on her senses. Another one, in under twenty-four hours. "Sup." She says, raising her wineglass towards him -- wine, by the way, is not on the menu. They do not have the liquor license. "So just here for coffee or you want food, too?" She asks, shifting forward to prop her elbows on the table, neither smiling nor getting up to offer him a seat. "There's a menu over on that table over there," She points towards the menu, which is in landscape mode, laminated and cut out as a silhouette of a bear on all fours. "Just lemme know what you want."

Aidan may or may not need wine at this time. Well, he did drive here, so maybe one should hope he does, really, but the van's parked properly in a space and not halfway through the window, so there's that. He does, mutter on entrance aside, look pretty cheerful, though, and studies Gina for a moment in that way that probably means he's noticed the same Noticeability in her that she has in him. Or he likes her hair.

"Definitely food. I was thinking strawberry milkshake and-- I had waffles last time. And pie. Pie'd still be good. And..." He's gotten to the menu by then, and scans it a moment. "...sausage? Sausages and toast, with jelly and maple syrup." Which is probably not on the menu as such, but surely the component parts are. "And coffee," he decides belatedly. "I like your hair."

It's a toss-up as to whether Gina was actually listening to Aidan give his order, more looking at his sleeves, of all things, and enjoying her red wine. She looks only half interested in what he has to say, though the compliment does earn him a little smile, "Thanks. Cool sleeves. You also get vibes to wander this way?" She asks, pushing her chair back with an audible scrape, tucking away her cards in a back pocket and taking her wine glass over to put in the order, "It'll be a sec with the food."

The song changes, from the Chords' Sh'Boom to The Clovers's Devil or Angel. Doo Wop night at the diner, apparently, and Gina's steps sway and roll slightly with the music. Apparently she is also not telling Aidan where to sit or anything like that, just calling out, "That to go or you eating in?"

"Thanks!" Aidan replies, clearly far more free with the smiles, since she gets a fairly bright one to go with it, "And that's okay, I didn't think it'd be instant or anything." It's not sarcastic. As she wanders off, he could seat himself... or he could get seduced by the music, which is possibly what's happening, since there's some definite swaying settling in there too, in time to the horns. "And I guess, sort of? I didn't want to be where I was and I thought maybe I'd come check out where I was born."

And then she's got her back to the room at large, and the music switches to a somewhat slower tempo, and he moves on to steps in time, which count as actual dancing, just not very fast. "Here please!" he calls back, "Is it okay if I join you?" There's snaps now, too. He's got rhythm, he's got music -- though possibly not his girl/man, so he might be able to ask for anything more.

"Cool." Gina calls back, writing up the order and impaling it, before she shrugs at Aidan's comment, "Sure. I'm Gina." And she's also apparently making Aidan's milkshake one-handed, while sipping at the wine, "Don't think I remember you from Elementary around here. Born but not raised?" She wonders, glancing towards Aidan. She's definitely more curious than invested in the answer. And also not asking about what he doesn't want to talk about.

Aidan doesn't seem in a hurry to sit down just yet. Doo-Wop is clearly approved. Plus this one's slow enough to easily chat anyway. "Aidan," he replies, "and yeah, I was only here until I was three." A small pause. "The house burnt down." That is, at least, less cheerful, though it only really gets to 'matter-of-fact' right now. She wasn't much older, so she probably doesn't remember much related to that, but then again, who knows? Houses don't burn down every five year old's day. Well, not locally, anyway.

The music changes again, this time to The Marcels doing Blue Moon, which makes him grin again, and he hums along with it for a few moments before, "Good music tonight. 'You knew just what I was there for / you heard me saying a prayer for / someone I really could care for...'" He is not a good singer. He is at least not a very bad singer, though. Acceptable. Unoffensive but unintimidating. "You've always lived here, then? Is this, like, a family business?"

The milkshake is pretty easy to make, and after refreshing her wine glass, milkshake and wine are brought back to the table, Gina falling easily back into her seat. She leans, really, in the seat: butt at the edge of the chair, shoulders resting on the back, legs straight out in front of her. "Mm." A sip of wine, before she adds, "You're the Kinney kid. Some of the kids tried to turn you into an urban legend. Before my time, though. We moved here when I was six." She DOES give a small snort when he mentions the family business, "Ohh no, this definitely isn't that. I did get it when my mom died, though. Mostly because the insurance money meant I could afford it." The words are casual, maybe even a little callous, "So depends what you mean by 'family business.' Neither side of the family's into restaurants, far as I know."

Milkshake! Aidan's dancing brings him back over to the table, and he does a little twirl that has one hand pulling a chair out so he can drop into it afterward, and pull that shake toward him. A straw's promptly unwrapped and stuck in, so he can take a good sip. "Mm. Thanks. ...yeah, I'm the Kinney kid. What, uh." He hesitates, looking almost wary a moment, "What kind of legend did they try turning me into?" Another little pause, and, "Sorry about your mom. How come you picked restaurant, then? I mean, there's worse choices than one that has milkshakes in it, obviously, but." A glance at her glass, and his. "I wonder what a wine milkshake'd be like."

"Not as good as you'd think. Milk and wine don't go well together. Wine smoothies are pretty good, though." Siiip. A brow quirks up at the question, "I mean, it was elementary school. Everybody was confused about it. Apparently you survived but were abandoned in the house. So you know, baby crying in the burnt wreckage, or you were a feral kid who lit the place by playing with matches and ran away to get out of trouble and were living in other people's basements, or you died too." Gina explains this the way one might the plot of say, their high school English paper.

A brow does rise at the question about her choice, "I mean, I had a business degree and some spare cash. How could I resist all this charm?" She gestures to the diner, so very heavy on the wood and bear statuettes. Is that a taxidery bear head on the rafter? Maybe.

"What if you replaced the milk with wine? Though I guess ice cream is still basically milk. And if you used some kind of wine sorbet then you're ending up with a wine smoothie, basically..." Aidan studies his actual shake a moment, and takes another sip as she answers the bit about him. In that English paper sort of way. "...huh," is what he ends up saying, a few moments after. "I don't remember any of it. But I definitely didn't die, and I definitely didn't live in anyone's basement. Well. Not then, anyway." He doesn't say what he did do, but being a perfectly bright adult person who mostly grew up around here, she can probably guess the basics. Just a question of family or strangers.

Another good sip, and he's lowered the level of shake in the glass a reasonably impressive amount. Looking around, he nods. And seems fairly willing to accept it, though he does ask, "Did the bears have the ties and glasses and stuff when you bought the place, or did you do that part?"

Gina watches Aidan work through her being right with a faint, amused smile, nodding, "Pretty much. Wine smoothie is the way to go." She toasts him slightly with her glass, but chuckles, "Don't worry, your feral weird crying things never really stuck. Someone let it out you went to somebody so the mystery was solved."

She raises a hand through purple hair and looks around her diner with maybe a trace of satisfaction, "Nope. But I mean, the whole place was like a lumberjack bachelor pad. It needed a little fixing up. Besides, nobody wants a naked grizzly watching them eat. Had to class up to get that family demographic." She deadpans, her own wine running rather low. Of course, luckily for all the chef storms out of the kitchen, dropping the plate of food - everything requested - in front of Aidan without a word, before turning on his heel and storming back away. It all looks amazing, and tastes about the same.

"Could probably do a whiskey smoothie too. I bet they'd sell." Aidan is not versed in the ways of liquor licensing. He does know milkshakes, though! And possibly smoothies. "Definitely someone wants a naked grizzly watching them eat," he says, shaking his head, "but I bet almost no one thinks of them as naked until you start putting clothes on them. Well, unless they're--" How shall he put this? The plate's thunked in front of him about then, and his eyes widen slightly. It looks and smells like exactly what he wants, right now, and he calls a "Thank you!" over his shoulder to the angry cook. Then stabs one of the sausages with his fork, and lifts it. "...unless they're, you know." It gets a little wiggle. "I bet if you left them as they were and put little fig leaves on, THEN everyone would start thinking of them as naked, though." He laughs suddenly, "But even now they're bear-assed." He picks up the syrup, pouring some over the sausage, and then snags his knife, cutting a bite around where his fork's stuck, and popping that into his mouth. "'s really good," he notes, fairly careful about not displaying any of it.

"Nah. Don't think I could run a bar. Too much effort dealing with drunks. Hungover's easier." Gina comments, not acknowledging the cook's arrival or disappearance at all. "Not too worried about other people's opinion on bear accessorizing, though. I follow the Hanna-Barbera rules of bear fashion because that's what I believe in my heart is right." Gina continues to say this with such -seriousness-, too. But there is a small smile, as he enjoys his food, before she pushes herself up from the seat, stretching before lazily collecting her glass and reaching to give Aidan a light pat on his shoulder with just her fingertips, "True fact. Apparently a bear in a tie is well dressed even if you don't cover up his basically invisible bear cock. But put a fig leaf on it and it's just highlighting a problem. Anyway, night." As easily as that, Gina's turning to head back towards the kitchen to the tune of Little Anthony and the Imperials's Shimmy Shimmy KoKoBop.