2019-05-23 - Breakfast Bitches

The diner has, as always, only a few filled tables, watched over by the plethora of fashionably-attired bear statuettes and busts and paintings and carvings and decorations... One only goes to the Grizzly Den Diner for the ironic decor, or simply because the food is good and cheap. It's certainly not for the customer service, considering the two waitstaff are currently up at the counter, the tall, gangly mohawked teen currently painting the blonde's nails, while she focuses on her cell phone. Gina, the purple-haired owner, flips through a magazine while she enjoys the occasional bite of some kinda sandwich, "watching" the register.

Today's music of choice: 80s hair metal is playing.

The little bell above the door, the one that every greasy spoon has, rings to announce a new victim to the diner, and in walks Nicholas, wrapped in a red windbreaker with a white block cross on the sleeves. Removing a cap that shielded his face from the drizzle outside, he stops as the door swings shut behind him, sighing as he rubbed his face. Then, moving his way to the counter, he swings a leg over a stool and sits down.

Even with the bell... the staff pretty much all just glance towards the door, before going back to their respective focal points. Nicholas has free reign to seat himself wherever, and after finishing whatever paragraph or article she was reading, she closes the magazine and asks, "Hey. So you want coffee or food or what?" She asks. Today is apparently sweater weather, too, because she's in an oversized black knit sweater with ornate skull-and-bone trim, over black leggings and heavy boots, purple hair pinned back with a pen into a bun. She looks comfortable, at least.

His hand snatches up a tattered, stained menu and he flips through it, "Oh, the usual, I guess. Eggs, hashbrowns and some bacon. Two pancakes?" he half-asks, half-dictates, before stuffing the menu (still mostly unseen) back into the holder habitually. "Coffee, black, yeah," he says with a yawn, covering his mouth.

The menus are quite lovingly shaped like a silhouette of a bear on all fours. And open/close along its back flipbook style, to maintain the illusion. And laminated! But... well, still usually pretty stained, because effort, honestly. They're wiped down every fiscal quarter, which is probably enough right? Probably.

Gina carelessly scribbles up the order, before turning around and impaling it for whenever the cook gets to it, before she reaches for her sandwich again, taking another big mouth and clapping crumbs free from her hand, reaching for one of the bear paw'd mugs to serve Nicholas his coffee. The bear-paw is also throwing up a peace sign. The coffee is not bad - the place makes money on the food actually being good, despite terrible customer service and no choice on what music is played. "If you're going to fall asleep on me, remember there's a two hour time limit on naps in here. After that I can't promise you'll leave intact and undamaged."

A chuckle rocks his shoulders as he rubs his eyes, "Just woke up, but thanks for the offer of a tussle in a booth. I'll remember that for tomorrow." The bantering tease is half-hearted, for he has dealt with Gina and the girls here before, and honestly, it just seems like teasing isn't thing this morning. Too early. Too wet. Besides, work looms. "You guys have any blueberry syrup?" he asks curiously, looking up, hopeful that there might be a slight change to his daily drudgery.

"Well, there goes my cougar dreams." Gina deadpans, before pausing to consider Lex's question, "Think we've got blueberry, maple, and strawberry in the back. Waiting on a delivery of the pecan shit." Gina says, before glancing to the side and telling, "Yo, Pepper. Get the blueberry pitcher." The guy with the mohawk gives a deep sigh as he's BOTHERED from his IMPORTANT SIDE GIG as a manicurist, getting up to go slip through the back. Turning back to Nicholas, Gina asks, "Normal sleep shit?" She wonders.

"Sleep?" Nicholas snorts with a laugh, "What the fuck is that? Oh, you mean the shut-eye thing? The naps? Yeah... something like that. What with our other EMT out, I've been racking double shifts. Drinking a lot of coffee, lots of 5-Hours, you ..." He stops himself mid-sentence and looks up at Gina, "No... maybe you /don't/ know the drill."

Gina shrugs, "Not since university. This is the shit you get for being one of those caring fucks who wants to make a difference in life or something." Gina points out, entirely without sympathy. "I was going to be a CPA before I said fuck it and went with business ownership." After she collected her mother's insurance payout. Everyone knows it. "The diner business is a lot more complicated, but I get to snack whenever I want." Since it's open 24/7 and she's the boss.

Looking up at her for a moment, Nicholas only nods, "Yeah, those types of people should die in fires, right, Gina?" His tone is flat, neither sarcastic or snarky, as he reaches for the sugar decanter for his coffee. "Goddamned capitalism, anyway, right?" comes his return fire, deadpan. Glancing into the back, he sees that his order is still on the spike, "Where is he? Out back jerking off into the cake icing again?"

Gina gives a little smile at Nicholas's flat tone, "Didn't say it wasn't a noble goal, Nick-o. I'm all for there being caring fucks in the world. But it's drama giving a fuck, and I've had enough drama." The smile only increases when he curse capitalism, and she raises a fist, adopting a rather convincing russian accent, "The most heroic word in any language, it is always REVOLUTION." Somehow she manages to make that sound both serious and just a liiiittle mocking, before she smirks and grabs her sandwich plate, pulling it closer and leaning her elbows on the counter to take another bite of her sandwich, "Drink your coffee, it'll get done." She mentions. Because they ARE pretty good about timely food items. "Besides we got an order for the fire department this morning. Might be finishing that shit off."

<Scene so far> Nicholas, dressed in a Paramedic's red windbreaker, is seated at the counter of the diner, stirring sugar into his cup of coffee, as the owner (Gina) sits at the register nearby and the two employees stir to life from fingernail-painting. Nicholas smirks, "Yeah... I know. They sent -me- to pick it up. Two hours before my shift starts, and they call and wake ME up." No, he's not bitter at all.

Lilith Winslow is on a father-daughter lunch outing with her father Hank. Actually no, that's not quite what this is from the look of the pair of them coming in. When they cross the threshold, she's slapping him upside the back of his hungover head out of whatever zany idea he's trying to present to her and shoving him toward a booth well away from people. He's somewhere between stumbling drunk and hungover. Or both, who knows with Hank.

"Holy hell, that is the -stupidest- get rich quick scheme you've had all week, stoppit. I'm getting you coffee." The brunette splits away from him once she's pushed him toward seated and pointed her finger at the old drunk like she's telling a dog to 'stay'. But Hank, he's hollering with a wobbly lift of finger, "The future of fortune is in chicken, daughter mine! We can fight them like in ol' Mexico!" Very unamused, she tells him, "That's roosters, Hank." He doesn't seem to know the damn difference.

Rolling her eyes, Lilith goes to pop a lean on the diner counter with upnod once Hank has slumped against the wall to halfass drunk doze with tug of his hat down in the booth. She's wearing a little leather jacket with her distressed skinny jeans and black slouch boots, a buttoned red henley tank beneath, "... can I have two coffees?" Then she does a bit of a double take at Gina after rubbing her forehead and casually half-ass smiling at Nicolas nearby, "... Gina? Hell. Hi."

Well, that earns Nicholas a vaguely sympathetic look. "Sounds like it is just not your night. At least you aren't being kidnapped by the globetrotters, I guess." Because that's not a really, really random statement to make. Gina has another bite of her sandwich at that, apparently not realizing maybe it might be rude to eat in the hungry guy's face, and adds, "And since I feel bad for the fire deptartment breakfast bitch, the blueberry syrup's on the house." It always was. There is no charge for the flavored syrups on any day. But then her eyes slide towards the entrance, watching Lilith and Hank, both brows rising. The current music playing, by the way, is 80s hair metal. GOOD LUCK HANK. "Lil' goth girl," Says the purple-haired, smoky-eyed, trimmed-with-skulls-black-sweater-wearing diner owner, "Been a whiiiiile." She pushes herself off the counter, to go prepare the coffees.

Nicholas turns to the commotion at the door, watching with half amused smirks as Lilith deals with Hank then approaches the bar. "Roosters are chickens," he notes solemnly to the brunette as she leans and gawks at Gina. People do that. Lifting his coffee to his lips, he otherwise stays pretty much out of that conversation. Belatedly, he nods to Gina's super-kind offer with the pancake syrup, "Oh, good. I thought you were going to overcharge me -AGAIN-, glad we got the syrup thing worked out finally!" The paramedic quietly watches the interaction here.

"Oh god, don't tell -him- that. There were chickens in the trailer park or some nonsense and I just -know- I'll find him throwing Spam at two chickens trying to rile them into cockfighting while they bock-bock. He'll be telling them it's the food of fighting champions." Lilith sidelines to Nicholas after a sudden pulled grin at Gina's greeting. She's not wearing all the eyeliner and her hair has no black dye in it anymore this time around, nor is there any vampy lipstick accompaniment or general brood (other than the dealing with Hank mood here and there).

As she leans and Gina gets coffee, she nods suddenly, "That's right, Geoff mentioned something about you having a place in town at some point here since I've been back. Totally looks like your kind of digs. Must mean life can't suck too bad, right?" There's a dryness to that, because they both know -that- is probably utter bullshit, but this town tends to work in the form of relativity when it comes to such things.

A hunter-lodge-esque cheap diner with a profusion of bears transformed into a subtly ironic hipster-esque diner still absolutely covered in bears? Yeah, it fits Gina's sense of humor. Which is mostly weird. "I heard about the chickens in the trailer park. Kind of wanted to know whose they were, but then I lost interest." The dual coffee cups are set down in front of Lilith, and a wave made towards the sugar-creamer coffee accessories, because Gina isn't going to put in the effort to get it. There's also a ding! from the back, and Gina turns to collect Nicholas's breakfast and set it in front of him. It looks and smells amazing, with that little pitcher of blueberry syrup included. "Bought the place with my mom's life insurance money." She informs Lilith, not seeming at all grieving or awkward about the admission. "Kind of liked the idea of my own business. Nick-o, you ever met Lilith? Lilith, Nicholas. He saves lives or something."

Watching as the plates are put before him, the paramedic at the counter looks up at Gina and her friend, "Hey," he says non-committally to the introduced brunette. "Yeah, something," comes his admission of guilt, letting his eyes wander over Lilith for a few moments before digging into his breakfast.

Breakfast, lunch, dinner, whenever Frankie gets hungry, that seems to be when she turns up at the diner. She's humming quietly to herself as she makes her way through the door, sporting rather plain, dark clothes for the day. Maybe she's not been working yet, because this is no 'working Frankie' outfit.

Hell. Gina gets another smile for the coffee, and even though it still has the slant of what's familiar, that's two in a row now, so she's definitely adulted straight out of her broody phase at some point while away. Probably. At least it seems that way. After a look around and a brief detour on the way to carry coffee over to where ol Daddy Hank is slumped in the booth, she comments, "I like it. Too bad my dad is worth negative in bulk. I might off him for insurance money at this point." She probably wouldn't. But when she gets to the booth to drop one of the coffees off, she kicks the leg of it to rouse him and tells him, "Drink." He starts asking for a wee nip of the Irish when he opens his bloodshot eyes to see the black and bitter sobering stuff and she ignores him to return to popped lean on the counter.

After looking at Nicholas, her head shakes a little bit at the intro-question, "Don't think I have. Hello, Lifesaver. Good luck living up to that introduction forever and ever. I save junk." After a drink of her coffee, leaving it black, she clarifies, "Pawn shop." Then she gives a little happy purr shudder and looks at Gina with compliment, "Ohmysweethell, your coffee is as dark and bitter as your soul, bless you." She apparently needed the caffeine and drink of it with what she's toting around from the morning.

Gina smirks at Lilith's comment, shifting to go make herself a cup - hers gets sweetened with caramel sauce, though. Same stuff that goes on ice cream. "Thanks. I buy good shit, since I drink it. And the diner grew on me. Plus I can tell my therapist I'm being social as shit every day." She doesn't see a therapist, it just makes people feel better to think she does. Her eyes glance up as Frankie arrives, both brows rising, "Yo, Frankie. You suddenly develop a sleeker fashion sense?" She's still smiling as she says it, though. "You want food or just coffee? Because we still don't do alcohol."

Nicholas takes his time using a fork to arrange his breakfast, draping the eggs over the hashbrowns, combining them together as the two women speak. As the diner fills up, he looks over his shoulder at the new entrant, and in the process checks on Hank slumped in a booth seat as he waited on Lilith. Looking at Frankie for a moment, he starts to eat his breakfast quietly.

"I did not suddenly develop anything. It's laundry day." Frankie replies cheerfully as she drops herself onto a stool at the counter, her elbows thumping against the counter, chin propped up in her hands, "I'd love something to eat, but I've only got time for a coffee. So I'll take that instead." She glances over at the others, Nicholas gets a wink before her eyes settle on Lilith, and she stays there, watching her with a half-dreamy smile.

"Totally counts as social, people in bulk are exhausting." When Gina drops Frankie's name, Lilith does a bit of a turn spin in place and looks between the two females with a sudden huff of partial laughter. Then she doesn't address the other female as such, instead, she uses another term of endearment that just pops right out, "Firecrotch! I'll be damned, this is almost a lunch table reunion."

Then she looks at Nicholas eating nearby like she -almost- feels sorry for him, the three of them together like an old storm of smartassery. Then she takes the time to wonder, "You're not easily butthurt, I hope, because once there's a table and food or drink between the three of us, I think it might be an old catalyst invitation to talk some general shit about what's nearby. But you seem to have a fabulous ass on that counter stool, so you're probably fine." There's a bare twitch of her lips too that indicates he's probably fine. At least from her. When she looks between Gina and Frankie again, though, she's briefly distracted with a subtle cut of her lashes on viewing them, momentary as it is. Then she breathes out a tiny 'ah-hah' to herself and drinks long from her coffee cup.

Hank suddenly pipes up from his booth across the way at slump, rising his coffee, "We'll jack 'em up with caffeine!" Which gets a very exasperated return from the brunette, "... you're not fighting the goddamn chickens, Hank."

"High school." Gina says the two words like they should explain everything to Nicholas. And, in a small town like this, where people stick around if they don't fade or run away-- maybe it is enough explanation. But she sips her coffee - noisily - before slowly pushing away from the counter to make Frankie her coffee, setting it down in front of her before preparing a new batch. So many coffee lovers! As she does so, she adds, "Tell him chickens are herd animals. They'll probably try to peck out his eyeballs. Saw a guy get attacked by a whole flock of chickens once." Gina clicks the coffee pot into place. "They eat just about anything." Returning to the counter, she picks up her cup and smiles slightly, nostalgically, a little darkly, like remembering a past Christmas where she kicked Santa in the junk.

Nicholas looks down at his ass, gives a shrug and shovels some hashbrowns into his mouth before chasing them with a sip of the brown coffee. "I suspect," he calls out to Lilith just as non-plussed with the opportunity of being waylaid by snarky gossipers in the guise of women, "that I'll be safe. But, thanks for the warning, I think. If someone was dubbed Firecrotch at -lunch-, I'd probably better count my blessings that this is -breakfast- and the coffee's not imbibed yet." Pancakes never judged anyone, or at least he has so decided, since he slides the little plate over to himself and reaches for the syrup.

"Ugh...really?" Frankie crosses her legs at the nickname, looking momentarily like all the horrors of high school are being revisited on her, then she beams a smile at Gina for the delivery of the coffee, "Thaaank you." It's sing-songed cheerfully before she looks back at Lilith, "So when'd you blow back into town?" Whatever ugh was about the nickname is rapidly forgiven before she leans back from the counter so that she can check out Nicholas' butt, then she shrugs, "Eh."

"Little less than a month ago. I had to come and--" Lilith starts to reply to Frankie and steals a lean to actually look at Nicholas' ass on the stool now that she's went and called it tough enough or fabulous. "... steal my fortune!" Hank finishes her sentence from over in her booth and suddenly she doesn't look so good natured about wrangling him. Then she clarifies, even though everyone probably knows better even if they don't know a thing at all considering what's slumped in that booth piping in, "Take over the shop and do some clean up. Good times. I imagine you know how that goes."

Her coffee cup comes back up and suddenly she takes Gina's suggestion to heart if the man wasn't in a way to overhear before, "Hey. Hey Hank. You hear that? Herd animals, they'll come at you and peck your eyes." He just grumbles and pulls his hat back down and he might be weighing whether or not he actually needs eyes if there's money to be made in trade.

She goes back to ignoring him in favor of current company and gestures at Gina with her cup before wondering of Frankie, "So Gina's got her red carpet personality all rolled up in this place and I dig it. What're you kicking around doing these days?"

Gina isn't ogling Nicholas! They've established unspoken rules about their simmering tryst. Okay maybe not but he's come in before, she's seen the goods. "Not like we didn't all get our share of lame ass names." Gina says, more amused by the memory of bullying than anything - she was amused by it back then, too. "Does this mean we have to take you out for drinks or some shit to celebrate? I feel like Geoff would be down for it. Probably his belated jail wife Marsh, too. Mm." Gina sips her coffee, looking thoughtful. "I'd show up for like a bit then bounce unless you all got entertainingly drunk." Forever honest!

A head peeks out of the kitchen, a middle-aged woman with a...sleeveless chef's jacket? Yeah okay. It shows off the full tattoo sleeves she has. She looks around, spotting Gina, and gestures for Gina to get closer. And, sighing, Gina takes her cup, "Gonna handle a thing. See you both around." And as easily as that, she slips into the back.

The paramedic at the counter seems to have no problem being ignored, seems to prefer it, actually. It is almost a silent wash of relief that the ladies turn their attention inward to their own conversation as he finishes off his breakfast, then finally leaning back with the coffee in hand. Calling Pepper, one of the other employees over, he asks if the fire department's breakfast order is ready to go yet as he digs into his front pants pocket to pull out a few fives to leave next to his plate as he stands.

"Same thing I've always been doing." Which could, and probably should, be very depressing. Except what Frankie does is amazing, if you ask her. "Still got the parlor over on the Boardwalk, a few regulars that come through every season..." The coffee is suitably doctored with half a pound of sugar before she ever takes a sip from it, sighing in pleasure before she catches the chicken talk. "Just get a dog, they'll eat the chickens." Then she pauses, "Fuck, no...I'll come get them. I can use them for work I bet." Then there is talk of going out drinking and a hand slaps down on the counter, "Yes! We will go get drunk. Yeeeessss.....It'll be fantastic."

"I like how she sets that up with a disclaimer to peace out before it even happens." Lilith comments to Frankie as she watches Gina go to tend to work stuff and puts her hand out with a parting air-fistbump of agreement to drinking plans from afar before making her hand explode to seal the plan. There's a fond twitch of smile at her lips and while she's distracted and Frankie's talking about dogs and going to get the chickens herself, Hank slips out. Probably to go back to baiting them with Spam or whatever else he thinks is a great idea because he heard that and now there's a competition on for him to round them up.

Lilith doesn't see him slide out from her bout of trying to sober him up with coffee and a booth, and if food was eventually part of that plan, she never made it that far. Instead, she looks at Nicholas rising up to throw money down in preparation to head out and she smiles some at him, "Hey. Way to be a good sport." Then after draining her coffee and putting the cup down, she falls into heavier lean and works her fingers absently with carding through her hair as she plans aloud over to Frankie's drinking enthusiasm, "But yeah, we should definitely have a bar or club blotto night. Or hell a bonfire to drink around. Seems to be call for it, and you know Geoff's down. Maybe Tobin and Byron too, we've kind of reacquainted and made up since I've been back. So that's like... whew."

Nicholas collects the large togo bags from the mohawked Pepper, thanking him quietly before turning toward Lilith's 'good sport' comment. "Sorry, I don't even play the game, ladies. But you have fun," he says with a plastic smile of tired sarcasm, and with that the paramedic carries the firehouse breakfast toward the door.

"He's a prickly one." Frankie points out as Nicholas makes his exit, shaking her head as that momentarily distracts her from what Lilith was saying to begin with. With Daddy Hank gone things are a little more quiet though, right? Frankie doesn't notice, so can't warn Lilith that the old man made his escape.

"I talked to Geoff the other day...ran into him, too. And Gina." She glances to where the woman slipped off to before looking back at Lilith, "And a bar. Together." Yes, she's creating a false narrative as revenge for something, maybe. "We should do something, though. I guess a bonfire would be cool, and by guess...well, I mean I think it'd be amazing. Anything, honestly, would be. With it being the off season I'm dying of boredom."

"Seems so. I mean, ladies ogling the ass usually gets their pride a little up and up, even if the general consensus varies." Lilith quips to Frankie in mention of the prior 'eh' commentary, pulling a sudden snerk of half-grin and noise after the fact. She has one of the waitresses refill her coffee cup on the counter and opens her mouth as if to ask Hank what he wants to eat, but when she looks over, he's gone and she rolls her eyes, "Okay, well. I guess that's easier than him irritating me until I say nevermind-get-the-fuck-out." Then she rubs a hand alongside her face, free of any cosmetic edginess this adult go-round, a puff of air over her lips with dismissive agitation just after.

"Burning things is always fun. Of course, before I came back, I was staying in Miami, so I actually miss being able to go out and be incognito blind drunk on a salsa or club dance floor. So we'll just see what everyone's inclined to do. I mean, bonfire in the spooky trees though, what could possibly go wrong." Her tone of voice is mostly dry and joking, but there's that lingering lace of resigned truth to it too. Then she wonders, "Yeah? Seasonal work blows. But at least you get to do things your own way. You ever think of taking that show on the road?"

"Not a thing could go wrong." Frankie agrees with a laugh, then she shakes her head at Lilith, "I can't...still owe on the parlor." HOW?!?

She stretches over to steal a pen from some magical place Gina keeps pens, then starts to write her number on a napkin to slide towards Lilith, "Just let me know, I'm pretty much available any time. I'm my own boss, so I can close shop whenever the hell I want to. No one'll miss me."

Lilith takes the written number on the napkin to pocket in her distressed skinny jeans instead of bothering to work her phone out of the other pocket where it's jammed, though there's a moment where she kind of raises her brows at the parlor still being... oh yeah. Stellar parents they both had. The look turns into a little 'heh' noise that practically sings of understanding without any real given details, just airy weight. Then she checks the time and mentions, "Ugh, speaking of work, it's getting about that time. But you know what I'm going to do while I'm in there tinkering around later... I'm going to use my phone and make this haps."

That's different. Lilith actually seems pretty keen on reaching out to people to wrangle them into drunk shenanigans together in whatever fashion. Apparently she's her own brand of social butterfly now. Her hand pats on the counter and she yells very loudly to be heard in the back after paying up some bills to overtip for coffee, "Seeya later, Va-Geena!" Then her hand shifts to squeeze on Frankie's forearm for a silent fond moment before she heads out, reiterating, "We're making this a thing."

Maybe she's missed having friends.

"FUCK OFF." Is the response called out by Gina, with zero actual malice or anger - it sounds downright genial, really, just loud. After a few moments she enters back into the main room, sleeves pushed up as she dries her hands with a paper towel. A glance shows Frankie is somehow still around, though the others are gone, but Gina first addresses the mohawked kid in denim and leather (shouldn't he be in school around this time??) "Kitchen needs help, Pepper. Make your ass useful." And with a scowl and an eyeroll, "Pepper" does, and Gina turns her attention to Frankie with a shrug, "Lil Miss Fixit left already?" She wonders, settling back to lean on the counter.

"Lil Miss Fixit?" Frankie wonders as she sips from her coffee, glancing around before she gives Gina a look, "Lil? She fixes things? I didn't realize that she was handy." Assuming that's who she means, at least. "But yeah, she rank off to work, so she said. Might actually be chasing the old man down, though. He vanished on her...poor chickens. But we're doing the drinking bonfire, whatever thing. Just so you know."

"Oh yeah, she's pretty handy." Gina says, with a small little smile on her face that implies she's saying a lot more than she's saying. She shakes her little at the mention of Lilith's father, because-- well, which one of them doesn't have some sort of parental issues? "She should just drop him, honestly." Gina says, and she sounds sincere in the statement, apparently unfazed by ideas of familial loyalty or blood ties. She looks back to Frankie, adding, "Sure you don't want something to go with that coffee? We have bagels and croissants and shit. But I'm down for a drinking bonfire or whatever."

"You know parents aren't that easy to get rid of." Frankie points out with a shake of her head, finishing her coffee off to then put it down, reaching into a pocket to pay, "Can't linger. Got laundry, then I'm supposed to have this guy come by for a reading this morning, so if some guy comes in for a to-go order of fries, remind him to bring the ketchup."

"She avoided him for a shit ton of time." Gina poins out. "She could just let his ass do whatever he wants, he'll probably resolve himself eventually. Somehow." Ahh, Gina. So merciful, isn't she? But Gina exhales, shrugging, "Whatever. People gonna do what they're gonna do. If he was more like my dad I'd get it more, but he's always been an asshole. I'll let the ketchup guy know if I see him. But since I'm going off duty in a few, you're probably shit out of luck."

"Hopefully he remembers." Frankie replies with a laugh, setting the money down on the counter for whatever gremlin will come and collect it. "Alright...I'll check you later, Gina. If she needs us to help move the body I'll bring the ritual gear, we can make a fun night of it."

"I've got the robes if you need 'em. Bunch in every color." Gina says. And Frankie? Frankie probably has seen Gina wear enough weird stuff to know it's probably true. "Later, Frankie. Good luck with your work."