2019-05-30 - Anything but omelettes.

It's that middling hour where one wonders: is this breakfast or lunch? It doesn't matter so much on Sundays, because it's brunch time at the diner. Zoe is seated at the counter this morning, with a fresh plate of pancakes and a chipped cup of coffee within reach. A leather jacket hangs over the back of her stool, and blonde hair has been pulled back into the laziest of ponytails. Between bites she skims the screen of her phone while the rest of the diner engages in friendly chit-chat to catch up on the week's happenings. "Can I get another when you have a sec?" she asks of one of the waitresses, with a hopeful look toward her nearly empty brew.

Alexander slouches his way in. He's dressed in a truly unfortunate sweater meant for someone probably a hundred pounds heavier and half a foot taller than he is, and he looks like he hasn't been sleeping much. Possibly, not much in the last decade. There's a local paper tucked under one arm, and he makes his way to the counter, sitting down heavily next to Zoe. Thump goes the paper on the counter, and he stares blearily as the waitress approaches with the precious coffee. "One of those," he mumbles with a nod towards Zoe's cup. Then he stares at her for a moment. It's not really polite. "I don't know you," he says, at last.

Chloe had stayed up late working on getting the childhood home set up for clinic things and so had slept in later than usual. Still getting refamiliarized with the town, she decided to stop in at the Diner for a bite to eat! Stifling a yawn as she entered not too long after Alexander did. She was clad in a pair of dark jeans with a navy blue, cold shoulder top and a couple bits of wooden and beaded jewelry - a necklace and two bracelets.

She made her way to the counter - on the other side of Zoe, probably recognizing her from their school days, but takes a seat one away so it's not like the woman's bubble is getting invaded. Picking up the little counter menu and skimming it. "Coffee, Eggs and bacon." She finally settled on. "It still feels too early to be awake." She mused, looking over towards Zoe and Alexander for a moment.

"You don't remember me at all? That's how much the rooftop hoedown meant to you?" Zoe's expression is one of feigned horror followed by mischievous teasing. "Zoe Fox," she introduces herself, extending a hand to the newly arrived coffee companion found in Alexander. "For real, Sundays are for sleeping in. Cheers and welcome back," she lifts her coffee in the other woman's direction with an inviting grin. Aside to Alexander: "In case you don't know her either, that's Chloe. Haven't seen her in...? Oof. Years?" There's a lean back in her seat and a curious squint. "What brings you back?"

A couple of stools down the bar, there sits Emily. She's managed to get herself the end-stool, next to the wall, so she can slump a shoulder against it and, quarter-turned, keep a partial attention on everyone coming-and-going, though most of her attention stays on her paperback. Her meal is long-since finished, though she looks daggers at the waitstaff any time they ask if they can take her plate away and, to punish them, clumps extra ketchup out of the bottle and onto the remnants of her now very soggy fries. A quiet laugh through her nose, and she can be heard to mumble, "Zoe and Chloe." Beat. "And Alexander Clayton." Quieter, "This fucking town..."

Alexander stares at Zoe in confusion and possibly a little horror. "Hoedown. I don't...I don't remember. No." He runs his hands through his hair, as if he might pull a memory out of there, or force it back in line. "I'm sorry. I don't always remember things correctly. I'm sure it meant...a lot?" He frowns and looks away, down towards Emily. "That is my name, yes." He narrows his eyes at Emily, going defensive. "What are you laughing at?"

"Zoe yeah?" A little smirk quirked on her lips as she just barely caught part of Emily's words. Alexander was given a quick appraisal, stifling a giggle because on the one hand, she was pretty sure Zoe was messing with the guy. But on the other hand...a Hoedown in Gray Harbor wouldn't surprise her in the slightest. Focusing back on Zoe. "Figured a decade was a long enough break from this place. And that Gray Harbor can always use another doctor." Flashing a smile. "How've you been?"

"Don't worry, I was fucking with you. I've never met you before either," Zoe chokes out a little laugh mid-bite of pancake. "I'm not the hoedown type either." Hearing Emily's relatively familiar voice, she glances sidelong in that direction - especially once hearing her name. "Hey Emily." Shifting, she perches her chin on a clenched fist with her elbow resting on the counter. "Still me, still here, never left," she assures Chloe with a wry smile. "Hell of a long time. I'm... good," she doesn't sound so sure of that, but is not so keen on being a Debbie Downer, either. "Shop keeps me pretty busy. Shit, you're a doc now?" Her words are punctuated by an impressed whistle.

"You." Emily helpfully feeds the defensiveness, dropping the book so that it stays open to her page by holding it flat against her chest for now. "Alexander Clayton, having brunch with girls from high school. Like it's just perfectly normal." She shrugs loosely and concludes, "It's fucking funny." To her. The book-free hand lifts with a finger-wiggle at Chloe. "Hi."

"Oh." Alexander's brow furrows at the stifled laughter from Zoe and Chloe. "I...of course." His frown grows deeper as Emily speaks, shoulders hunched. "I am not eating /with/ them. I am at the same counter. That's all." He reaches for his paper, mumbling out an order for, "Anything but the omelette," when the waitress comes to deliver his coffee. The paper is opened, clearly as a method to try and ignore the women.

"Hey Em." Offering Emily a bright smile. "How's your Sunday going?" A thank you to the waitress when the coffee was brought and she took a long sip of it. Nodding to Zoe, "Shop? What sort of shop are you running?" Because it has been like a decade and there were only like two people she'd maybe kept in contact with from all that time away. "Mhm. House calls. Private practice sort of thing." To being a doctor now. Peeking over at the paper Alexander had opened. "Anything good in there?" Clearly the poor man was not going to get his peace.

"Don't need normal with pancakes," Zoe decides, pouring on some more sticky sweet syrup. "I'm not the worst person to eat with. Probably not the greatest, but definitely not the worst," she adds. "Don't be bummed, dude, I was just trying to be funny," she advises Alexander. There's a pause before she explains for Chloe, "I run dad's auto shop these days. He's not doing great, so it's pretty much just me."

Emily does skepticism like a boss. "'Kay," of Alexander not eating with them, that single syllable, paired to another laugh through her nose, is just riddled with sarcasm. It helps that, a moment later, Chloe asks Alexander if there's anything good in the paper, and then there's the 'trying to be funny' comment from Zoe, and Emily obviously thinks her point has been made, tyvm, the brow-lift triumphant before she drops her eyes back to her book.

Drawn by either the dope decor or the to die for pancakes, Ruiz shoulders open the door of the diner and takes a moment to scan for both clientele, and a spot to sit. He's dressed down in civilian attire this morning: a tee shirt with a band's faded logo on the front, worn jeans, a light jacket with fraying seams and battered boots. He ends up going for his 'usual' seat at the counter, and slides onto it with a soft squeak of vinyl as he waits for a menu to magically appear in his hands.

"It wasn't. Funny. Whatever Miss Harris thinks." Alexander's expression is stiff. He gives Chloe a suspicious sort of look, but says, "I was looking for when the play starts. There's supposed to be a play. MacBeth, I think." He doesn't exactly look like a happy playgoer, this one. But maybe he has layers. He reaches for his coffee and barely blows on it at all before gulping a couple of swallows down. His head jerks up as the door opens again, and he glances in that direction. "...Captain." He actually sounds a bit relieved to recognize the man. "Any interesting drug heists of late?" He looks ridiculously hopeful.

"I'm sorry to hear your dad's not doing well. I'm always happy to come out and check up on him if you ever want. I'm sure running the shop gets interesting sometimes though?" Chloe rose a brow. "MacBeth? That Shakespeare in the park is still going on?" Of course it was. Chloe just hadn't been paying too much attention. "Well, what time does it say? Maybe I'll catch it." Her gaze flits over to Ruiz when Alexander addresses him. Taking a moment to give him a quick size up as he was most definitely a new face. Then her food came and she was all too happy to dig in - starting with the bacon. Hungrier than she thought maybe.

The pancakes are definitely good if the rate at which Zoe is eating them is any indication. Her plate is nearly gone now. There's a casual nod for Ruiz as he joins the crew at the counter. "Mornin'." A curious look for Alexander, then. "Didn't know about that. You figure out when it is?" She gestures toward the paper before her attention returns to Chloe. "I'd actually really appreciate that. He just keeps getting worse and- yeah," she frowns, deeply so, worry all over her face. "Interesting sometimes, yeah, but not so much when it's lines of oil changes since we're at half staff now. I'll figure it out. You specialize in any kind of medicine in particular?"

There are normal people at this diner, of course, but Emily takes her chances. She confirms for Alexander and Chloe, "Macbeth. Brought to you by the the Creepy Fuckers Theater Company. But in the Daydream instead of the park, so proper production. I'm calling bloodbath." Her eyes continue to move down the page of her book while she talks, brows knitting momentarily like she's somehow saying these things and reading those things at the same time. "Anyone wanna bet on the over-under for the body-count? Odds-makers are saying two dozen." She smiles across at Ruiz, happily talking about mass-murders, like you do at brunch.

Geoff of course had just come in and was heading to the counter when he hears the odds on the body count and redirects his stride for the group of odd people "Is it too late for me to get in on this action? Do we got any numbers on preliminary ticket sales?" with a click of his tongue he says "If not I got my money on over eight under twenty five."

"I wouldn't go. If I were you," Alexander starts to Zoe and Chloe, his chin then jerking in a reluctant nod at Emily's words. "I don't think it will be a good play," he mumbles, and rubs at his head. He twitches a bit as Geoff enters. "Mister Turner." About this time, his plate is delivered - a random hodge podge of breakfast items (sans omelette, of course) that he starts methodically eating. He doesn't show any desire to bet on the theatrical murder count.

"Morning," is Ruiz's terse reply to the polite greetings leveled in his direction. His mouth curves in a fractional smile that looks tired around the edges, and he scratches at the bridge of his nose before sliding the menu closer that a waitress shoved in his general direction. "You know I can't discuss that with you, Mr. Clayton," he murmurs to Alexander. In regards, one presumes, to the question of 'any interesting drug heists lately'. His accent, for those even passingly familiar, is tinted heavily with Mexican Spanish, with a little Virginian twang worked into the corners. Chloe gains a brief, reciprocal sizing up with his eyes, and then he shifts his gaze to the waitress who stops by again to ask what he wants. "Coffee. Just.. black."

"Just general medicine right now, but part of the reason of coming back here was to slow down a bit and figure out what I want to specialize in." Chloe offered to Zoe. "I'll give you my number before I leave and you just call me up whenever. I'm happy to give my recommendations." A little wink to Alexander. "Maybe I just like terrible plays." She looked over towards Emily, and then Geoff and clicked her tongue, one time, in thought. "Over 3, under 15." And if there would be a bloodbath, well that was a warranted use of her abilities.

"I don't have much to take these bets with but I'm sure as hell curious to see how it pans out now," Zoe says with a wry smile for Emily. "All you," she gestures cheerfully from Geoff toward the others. "And miss out on all the fun? C'mon now, that would be a drag," she wags a finger at Alexander. Dabbing at her lips with a napkin, she nods encouragingly toward Chloe and - after cleaning off her hands - wiggles her cell phone out of her back pocket. "Here," she offers the "new contact" screen for the doctor's input. "Thank you."

"Are you allowed to gamble?" Emily asks of Geoff, squinting up at him doubtfully for a second. "Like, won't they revoke your parole or something?" She also wiggles her fingers at him, hi-there! happy sunday!, and tells anyone that's still listening to her ray-of-sunshine commentary, "I'm going. Logan's at home, washing his one shirt right now. You have to go." She must mean Zoe and Chloe. "Otherwise - " She tips her forehead toward Zoe. Miss out on all the fun. "Plus, no one wants to be the sole survivor. That's always shittier than dying in the initial onslaught."

"That usually means 'yes', Captain," Alexander says, looking the brightest he has since coming into the diner. "I could help? I'm not working on anything right now, except old, old things." His eyes dart from one speaker to the next, lips twitching downward again. "It's not...that's not..." He lets out an exasperated huff of air. "Judas goats. They're dangerous." But even as he says it, there's an air of resignation; he doesn't expect to be taken seriously.

Geoff grins as he takes a seat near the cluster he'd approached, telling the waitress "Ill go with coffee and a BLT, thanks." Leaning in he looks down the line at the other three "See, now can we still keep bets if we go and interfere in the production? Because then that just seems like we can print our own money." Which is probably alarming considering he'd bet at least eight people would be murdered "I got tickets anyways, but I'll still keep my numbers." Emily's question provokes a snort "Action isn't legal anyways, so if I'm going down for it then we all are and not because I'm a snitch." Casually he offers a fist out to Alexander clearly intending to fist bump

Chloe accepts the phone and puts in her number and then sends a quick text to herself so she would have Zoe's. "There you go." Offering up another smile as she handed the phone back over. "If it's dangerous, well, everything dangerous these days isn't it?" Poor Alexander. She took another sip of her coffee and shook her head. "You can't interfere in the production. That defeats the purpose of an honest bet. Just has to play out however it'll play out." She drummed her fingers lightly on the table.

Ruiz pulls his coffee closer when it arrives, blows on the surface, and takes a tentative sip. It's decent, and moreover, it's hot. And that seems to suit him just fine. "On the contrary," he tells Alexander with a wry smile that reads more of fine-edged annoyance than warmth, "That was a 'no'. But you keep turning up at crime scenes and threatening the integrity of evidence, and I might have to bring you in." A glance to Geoff when parole and gambling are mentioned, brief stock taken of the man. Though it seems distracted; his mind is on the pancakes he ordered, and the syrup he's going to smother them in.

Emily is very good at rolling her eyes. Like, if it was possible to do it for a living? She totally would. She does it now, saying into her book, "Okay, Geoff. You go down and interfere with the production. Good luck with that. I'll put flowers on your grave." Her brow hangs upward for a second - Judas goats - and she turns a page, marking her place with her finger in the margin, but - before she gets to ask after that term - Ruiz is threatening to arrest Alexander, and she looks pleased, so. "Play out," she mumbles after Chloe, ahaha. 😃

Alexander stares at Geoff's fist like it might sprout teeth. His hands twitch in uncertainty, before he pulls down the overlong sleeve of his sweater so that it flops entirely over his hand. Then he returns the fistbump, tentatively. If it counts as a fistbump when there's an inch thick layer of ugly green knit between the two fists. Then he snatches his hand away and reaches for his coffee, nearly knocking it over until he remembers to push back the fabric past his wrist. He shakes his head to the talk of the play, even though he started it, and deflates a little as Ruiz speaks. "Wouldn't be the first time," he mutters. "Not my fault most of Gray Harbor's finest can't out-think the town loon."

Geoff offers towards Ruiz at that glance "No money's changed hands man." with an amused snort he tells Emily "You know me I'm absolutely full of good ideas and carrying them out." As his coffee is delivered he takes a drink rom it and comments "But yeah I'm not eager to go starting riots or interrupting stage plays. Figure I'll go and observe though. What have you been up to of late Em?" The bastard of a fist bump is taken with grace if a healthy amount of skepticism at the need for them to not actually touch.

Chloe gave Emily a fleeting little grin and then returned her attention to her own breakfast. Eating another piece of bacon and taking the opportunity to situation Zoe's contact information into her phone. "It'll be interesting, nonetheless." Of the play, probably. Before taking another few bites of her eggs.

"Thanks, Doc." Zoe smiles at Chloe, pocketing her phone once more. "I gotta go check on a few things before the big show. Guess I'll see some of you there," she offers. Leaving payment and a tip in arm's reach of a waitress, she slides off the stool and snags her jacket in the process. "I definitely wouldn't want to mess with the theatre people. They get feisty." With a quick smile for the group, she ducks out to tend to business.

"Which town loon?" Emily's only got half an ear on that conversation, but it was enough to pick up on that bit, and she narrows her eyes at Alexander for a second, mentally pitting him against the roster of possibilities. A quick-wave chases Zoe out the door, and she's left straightening up abruptly, slapping the paperback against her open palm. "I dunno, I feel like we could really use a good riot. Some looting, maybe burn down a couple buildings." She inhales over the top of the words 'like the bed and breakfast' and then smiles at Chloe. "Plus, it'd give the doc plenty of work, patching people up." As for what she's been up to? Well, Geoff, "Just spreading sunshine and cheer. You? How's life on the straight-and-narrow?"

Alexander looks pleased that the fistbump was accepted. Even a touch proud of himself - look at Alexander, acting like a Real Boy. Sort of. He tucks into his breakfast hodge-podge, looking up only briefly to watch Zoe leave. A sidelong glance is given to Chloe. "You're a doctor, you said. May I have your number as well? I am sometimes injured." A paus. "I won't send you autopsy photos," he adds, as if she needs that reassurance. Or that he needs to remind himself. Then he turns to narrow his eyes at Emily in return. EYEFITE. He doesn't answer her.

Ruiz listens in on talk of a play, expression mild and a little curious. He scoffs quietly when Alexander refers to himself the town loon. Or maybe it's the dig at the city's 'finest'. Either way, he isn't taking the bait; his pancakes arrive presently, and he starts slathering them in enough maple syrup to drown a rat. "None of my business," he murmurs to Geoff, regarding money changing hands. Well, he'll probably make it his business, if it does. But he doesn't point this out.

Chloe produced a pen from her purse and grabbed a napkin after a wave to the retreating Zoe. "Of course you can. Alexander was it?" She asked, starting to write on the napkin. Paused. Then looked towards where the waitresses were before leaning over the counter to snag a blank order ticket and scrawled her number on that instead. Much easier. 'Chloe Rose' written above it. "Call me any time. Even if it's to send autopsy photos." Chloe gave a touch of a grin as she handed him the paper. On the topic of the play and having work to do, "Well at least I won't be bored, yeah?" A soft laugh given with that.

"Man being on the straight and narrow is terrible, I haven't been able to go to the weekly dogfights down by the harbor. I've been having to get my car inspected and worst off all my mattress still has the tags on it." This is said with a faux solemnity between sips of coffee "Other then that it's pretty good." Something Alexander says draws his attention "Wait, why do you have autopsy photos? Where do you even /get/ those?"

"Alexander Clayton. Yes." Alexander takes the offered paper. "Dr. Chloe Rose. I will remember." His mouth twitches upwards as she consents to being sent autopsy photographs. This is a decision she may well come to regret in the future, but for now, he just jerks his head in a nod, and pockets the paper. A glance towards Geoff. "Estate sales. The internet. Old books. People." He shrugs. "People will sell anything." Or buy it, apparently. "And I have them because I'm not often allowed to attend autopsies. It's research." He takes another sip of his coffee. "Captain. You should come to the play." He doesn't look at Ruiz as he says it.

"That sucks." Of the dog-fights. "You shoulda caught those chickens." Emily uses one hand to make a bitey-beak, making it peck against the cover of her book, the pantomime of a bird-fight that ends when the book swats the beak-face. At that, she has the air of a person gathering herself in preparation for departure... but she dallies, because who doesn't want to know where Alexander even gets autopsy photos? "So someone let you go to an autopsy and you took pictures? That's." She's a hypocrite. "Fucking weird."

Ruiz's expression shifts to amusement as Geoff prattles on about his various illegal enterprises. Genuine amusement. Not taking the tags off his mattress gains a look, like, that's going too far, man. Then his fork slides into a mound of soggy, syrup-drenched pancake and shoves it into his mouth. His napkin follows a moment later, dabbing at his beard like he's worried he might be wearing the syrup. "I might do that," he tells Alexander. Also without looking over. "What's the production?"

Chloe just shakes her head at the mention of dog fits and the like. Maybe a touch amused. Then she tuned in to listen to Alexander and where he got his pictures. "I think I'm more curious on how you talk your way in to attending the autoposies you were allowed to attend." A soft chuckle, but she did seem sincere enough in being curious to know. Another glace towards Ruiz when he speaks up - offering the information up because why not, "MacBeth. Part of the Shakespeare thing that's been going on this week."

"That's not what I said, Miss Harris," Alexander snaps back at her, irritation that flares, then dies into a hunched-shoulder withdrawal. "And I'm fucking weird. I know that." He shoves the paper towards Ruiz, nearly taking out two glasses and a plate of half-eaten breakfast on the way. It's been opened and folded to show the details of the production. Chloe just gets a crooked, sideways sort of smile, and a shrug.

For the record! Emily's player knows the character is dead wrong when she insists, "Yes, it is," what Alexander said. This is normally when a FITE breaks out, but she's putting money down on the bar for her food (and is a terrible tipper) and sliding off the stool to her feet. "I gotta go spray my brother-in-law down with the hose before this play," she shares for no reason, letting that serve in lieu of an actual farewell. She walks out the door.

Ruiz sets his fork down in order to reach for his coffee cup, and snags the paper that's passed over with his left hand. He sips and reads, squinting slightly now and then, paper drawn a bit closer to him like maybe his sight is starting to go a little. "I guess I need to get out more." He glances to Chloe without quite meeting her eyes, and smiles faintly. "I wasn't aware there was anything going on this week." Too many long nights at the precinct, maybe. The paper is nudged back toward Alexander, and he reclaims his fork, and digs into his pancakes again. A brief glance as Emily walks out, then eyes back on his food.

There was another click of her tongue when Emily left. Looking a little concerned even perhaps. A mental node made to really try and talk to her alone at some point. Properly catch up. Pulling herself back to the present - "I just picked a terrible week to come back to town." Chloe offered Ruiz with a wry smile. "My soon-to-be clinic is near the park so I couldn't help but see all the festitivies." She finished off her coffee and then took out some money to set on the counter. "I should get going. Try and put in some more work before the play. It was nice to meet you both," To Alexander and Ruiz - though she realized she hadn't actually caught Ruiz's name. "And you Geoff. Maybe I'll see you all there."

"You did, Doctor." Alexander admits this easily. He also finishes up his breakfast, and carefully pulls several small bills from his wallet. He DOES tip better than Emily, but maybe that's just spite overriding his better judgement, because he certainly doesn't seem like he can afford to be generous. He stands. "Be careful, Doctor. The actors are dangerous." With that, and a curt nod towards Ruiz, he leaves.