2019-06-07 - Just Ducky

It's summer evening, just after sunset, and the nearly-omnipresent drizzles have died off for the moment, leaving the stars visible through wisps of clouds. The fireflies are blinking like tiny stars in the park, basically shouting 'hey, I'm sexy!' to the world. The park is fairly well populated this evening due to the balmy weather and the lack of rain. The carousel is OFFICIALLY closed, but several young couples are sitting on the animals, cuddling and drinking. Alexander is not particularly young, and definitely not part of a couple. Which may be why he's closer to the duck pond, and has enticed some of the ducks to stay out after dark, as he is feeding them with bits of bread. The quacking is actually sort of soothing, and Alexander has a rare smile on his face as he's watching them squabble over bread bites.

Aidan is youngish, arguably part of a couple, and would probably be perfectly happy to be sitting on a carousel creature cuddling and drinking, but as it happens, he's not. He's just wandering through, eating a hot dog and watching the people around as he goes. Several of them get quick grins, which some take better than others; most just smile back, though one looks decidedly wary and tugs her kid off in another direction. Aidan looks briefly confused about this, then shrugs. And spots Alexander, who qualifies as familiar, so he heads that way. "Hey," he greets cheerfully when he's close enough he doesn't have to yell and scare away ducks. "How's things?"

Alexander turns at the familiar voice, as the ducks back warily away a few feet. They don't scatter though - the New Human is holding something in his hand and that usually means that they will get more food. There are a couple of hopeful quacks and tail waggles in Aidan's direction. Alexander, meanwhile, studies the younger man with a fair amount of feral wariness, himself. But instead of fleeing (or quacking), he says, "I remember you. The magician. Mister Kinney." He frowns a bit, looking Aidan up and down. "Things are...they exist. Are you well? You were injured."

Aidan nods once at the identification, and gives Alexander a grin and a finger point, replying, "Mr. Clayton." 'cause matching address is polite! Right? He rips a bit of the bun off his hot dog -- there's always too much bun to dog in that ratio anyway -- and tosses a couple little pieces of it out to the ducks. If they had trenchcoats they'd look like a deeply unstealthy spy meet-up. "I remember you too. And things existing is... good, I'm pretty sure. I mean, I guess it depends on the things, but I think usually better than not. And I'm okay. It got treated." He looks Alexander over in turn. "Are you well? I think you got hurt too, didn't you?"

"I would prefer to exist rather than not," Alexander agrees, solemnly. He looks down at himself; he's wearing an over-sized blue sweater that hangs half-way down to his knees, despite the warmth of the air. "I was set on fire. It hasn't gotten infected. I've been tending it, and it is healing." A pause. "Someone tries to help," he adds, and there's still a thread of disbelief there in that. He glances up again. "You also set a man on fire." That in a voice even quieter than Alexander's typical near mumble. "Are you well?" There's a bit more of an emphasis on the question than before, and he searches the other man's expression as best he can in the gloom.

Aidan winces faintly at the mention of being set on fire, nodding once and eyeing where the other man's looking down at himself. There's a sense of hesitation, as if he were going to speak, just before Alexander looks up again and makes that observation. It shuts him up before he even speaks, and there's definitely a pause after the question. His brow furrows a little, and he glances to the ducks again, tossing another few bits of bun to them. The closest couple fall upon them as if they'd never been thrown bread before and were dying to death, despite the clear evidence otherwise.

"...kinda?" he decides, looking over to Alexander again. "I mean... I don't like hurting people. I don't like people trying to hurt me and mine and-- innocent people, either, though. So." A pause. "It's been kind of... weird since I got fixed up, though. Quiet." The glance is sidelong, brows lifting a touch, as though he expect the older man may understand what he means. "Um. If you wanted, I could... see if I could help the healing some."

Ducks are fickle, fickle beasts. They abandon Alexander entirely at the offer of buns, and Aidan soon has several clustered around his feet, looking up at him with adoring eyes. Presumably. It's dark, so it's hard to say. Alexander takes a breath, lets it out slowly. "Me, too. I've slept. Better than...in a decade or so. Only regular nightmares." He rubs at the back of his neck. "No." A pause. "Thank you, though, for the offer. But it's almost healed." He scatters more bread crumbs to the ducks, who now are forced to deal with conflicting loyalties. OH NOES. Alexander says, after a moment, "It probably wasn't what you expected. When you came to Gray Harbor."

Ducks, man. They know which side their bread's scattered on. Aidan nods to the demurral, and takes a bite of the hot dog, bun and all; some of those presumably-adoring eyes probably switch to betrayed, but at least there's another source of immediate crumbs to be had. "Only regular nightmares," he agrees, and Alexander gets another sidelong glance, considering. Possibly it's a glance that remembers an investigation into whether a pickpocket might be an Illuminati thought-stealer, because he risks adding, "Even the ghost's been mostly leaving me alone." He tosses another few crumbs to the ducks, at least one of whom solves his dilemma of loyalty by having none and immediately turns from snapping up one of Alexander's crumbs to one of Aidan's. She now has two crumbs. Her plan is working. "I dunno what I expected, exactly. I just didn't want to be in Portland anymore and kinda thought maybe I'd come see if I could figure out who my parents were, or something." He shrugs. "It's been interesting, anyway..."

Alexander rewards the industrious duck with another group of crumbs. He celebrates initiative! The talk of a ghost draws a quick of his eyebrows, but not any disbelief. "You have a ghost?" There's a spark of interest in the dark gaze. "And your parents? Were they from Gray Harbor?" He steps forward, closing the distance a bit more between them, although he's careful to avoid stepping on any ducks.

"He gets annoyed if I imply he's my ghost," Aidan says, "...so yeah, I've got a ghost." With all that suggests about that relationship. The sigh that follows supports it, as well as, "He's a dick, I don't know what his problem is. I mean, aside from being dead, which I figure probably does kinda suck, but millions of other dead people seem like they're coping fine." Things he doesn't often get to complain about. He rips off another bit of bun, a bigger one, and tosses it toward the ducks; a mallard practically shoulders a smaller duck out of the way to snap it out of the air. Aidan blinks at that, and there's a moment before he returns to the previous train of thought. "Anyway. I know I was born in the hospital here, so I think my parents were from here, or around here, anyway. My birth certificate just has my adoptive parents, though, so I dunno for sure." The closing of distance doesn't seem to bother him.

"I've never seen a ghost," Alexander muses, still without notable disbelief, although he does narrow his eyes at Aidan, as if he might suddenly force it to appear by staring hard enough. Then there's the upward lift of his mouth. "How do you know they're coping? Maybe they just can't find anyone on the right psychic wavelength to yell at." The rest is given a thoughtful, contemplative noise. Alexander's shoulders straighten, settling more firmly into his natural height. "So, Price wouldn't be the name of your birth parents. Have you accessed the hospital records of the year of your birth?"

"I kinda wish I never saw a ghost." Aidan gives Alexander a half-smile, and polishes off the last of the hot dog. Inevitably, he's left with at least an inch or so of bun to rip up and share out between ducks. A little more slowly, which might be wise. What if the ducks riot when there's no more crumbs? "You got a point, though, for all I know the others are all wandering around invisible having totally useless fits at us. The ones that have someone they can bother ought to be a lot happier then, though. Unless this is the happier version..." It's not quite clear how much of that might be joking and how much serious, but Aidan might not be entirely sure himself. He is pretty sure about the parents thing, though, and shakes his head. "I know the Kinneys weren't them," he says, "but that's kinda it. That and the hospital and the day. Do they let you just go look at hospital records?" This is not his area of expertise.

"Sometimes it seems like everything which might, on some level, be considered wondrous or compelling, ends up being terrible. And wanting to murder us." Thus is the Wisdom of Alexander. He's standing by the duckpond with Aidan, and they're feeding ducks after dark, and are likely to be set upon by them once the food runs out. Alexander scatters some more crumbs. "They don't let you," he says, with a shrug, "but you often can, if you exert enough effort. I usually just stare at the right person until they give me what I want to make me go away." There's no hint that he's joking. "If you give me your birth year and month, I could try and look into it for you?"

"You know, that staring at people thing works. Especially when they thin you might shiv them." Lex's voice comes out of nowhere -- much like Lex herself. The silver-haired tattooist is dressed in faux-fatigue cargoes and a black leather jacket. There' s tank top under that, and enough visible tattooing to justify the shiv comment. "Though staring at ghosts don't do shit. I think it makes them follow you. The ones who ain't already tethered." Yeah, she speaks English. She speaks English good. She also inserts herself into strangers' conversations.

Aidan makes a face at the Wisdom, but doesn't necessarily look as though he disagrees. Not entirely, at least. "How do you know the right person? Staring at the wrong people at hospitals doesn't always go so great," he says, breaking off when they're suddenly joined by a female voice from nowhere. And the voice's owner from slightly less nowhere. He hesitates briefly, though it's less the potential shivving and more the ghost remark. "Have you tried it much?" he asks, but adds to Alexander, "It'd be cool if you would, though. April first, '93. Or, I mean, if you're busy, you could tell me who to try staring at and I could see how it goes?" He still seems faintly wary of that particular idea, but apparently game nonetheless.

There's a visible flinch from Alexander when the voice comes out of nowhere, and he falls into an instinctive, defensive combat posture as he pivots to face Lex - although it's perhaps notable to mark that when he does so, he moves so that he can keep Aidan in his sights as well, as if he fears an ambush from the two of them. Then he recognizes the woman, and the voice, and relaxes. Fractionally. "Miss Falco," he says, after a moment. "I know you." A glance to Aidan. "She runs a tattoo parlor. She may have shivved some people in her time, but is unlikely to do so right now." To the rest, he offers a brief nod. "I will look into it. I don't think your staring would have...quite the same effect. Although you might be able to distract them with your magic. Which is entertaining." The compliment is given in the same nearly lifeless tone as most of his words.

Lex appears unapologetic for startling the men. Or maybe it was just Alexander. In fact, watching the older man take battle stance seems to amuse her. Black-gem piercings are strategically placed where dimples may or may not be naturally, but give the effect regardless as she grins at the comment about shivving. "Mister Alexander," she returns, apparently opting for the less... formal of greetings. "Miss me?" You leave for a few years, and suddenly everyone but Alexander's forgotten you. Jade eyes flicker to Aidan then, and a pierced 'brow is arching upward. "I made up half the shit I just said. If you got an actual question, I /might/ have an answer... but you're gonna have to ask it again." Honesty's the best policy.

Aidan tenses at the change in Alexander's posture, less like he might partake in an ambush and more like people dropping into combat stances may not have historically led to his very best days; there's an inadvertent half-step backward that throws his balance off and briefly threatens to tip him into the pond. Where the ducks would surely eat him, once the last of that hot dog bun was gone! His eyes widen, and there's a quick movement of his arms to regain balance. It's not the most elegant or suave he's ever been, but at least he settles again once he doesn't in fact fall in, and Alexander relaxes a bit. He glances to the older man when the comment -- assurance? -- about Lex is given, and whether there was any intentional humour in the note that she probably wouldn't get to shivvin' immediately or not, it still makes him grin. Possibly relief from the momentary loss of balance. "Thanks," he says, firmly pretending that absolutely nothing odd just happened, "I mean, for the offer, but also about the magic. I guess if they had the file out I could probably sneak it away from them? But I'm not sure how I'd get them to get the right file. Assuming that's a file." He looks Lex over again, thoughtfully. "Okay. Which half?"

"Gray Harbor, historically, has been somewhat slow to modernize. There's probably a paper file, with the early nineties - but I'd have to check to make sure. Good point, though," Alexander muses, looking vastly more confident when talking about illegally accessing restricted records than he does in...possibly anything else. He doesn't step forward to try and help Aidan catch his balance, although he does throw a concerned look in the younger man's direction. "I should find a computer person, just in case everything from that year has moved to servers." He seems to have no fear that Lex is going to run tattling to the police, and in fact, his expression warms a little bit at her greeting in return to him. "The town is slightly less interesting without you," he allows, quietly. "Are you well?"

Well, damn. Way to call her on her bluff. Lex snorts softly -- more a huff of air than an actual sound -- as Aiden gets down to the specifics. Then again, she did just watch him very-nearly-possibly tumble into a pond, so she's only half-suppressing what was probably a grin before she noticed that people were actually looking at her. Amusement at others' misfortune? /Surely not/. "Okay. I know this place is fuckin' X-Files for the shiny people, and ghosts are Goddamn annoying. You can safely assume that everything else I said was bullshit." Anyone have a censor handy? ... Language warning? "Except the staring at people part. Learned that one from him." Whether she's back to casual lying or actually giving Alexander credit, she gives an upward nod of her chin toward her fellow Gray Harbor...er. "I'm not behind bars at the moment, so I'm callin' it good. You?" That's the response to 'are you well?' Because, you know, people cages aren't for everyone. "What're you two tryin' to steal?" A pause, and a glance toward the herd of ravenous birds. "Nice... ducks."

Aidan is super cool, yo. He seems to be continuing to do well on not falling into ponds, so that's good at least. "Maybe I should start staring at people more again," he muses, "but yeah, not locked up somewhere is pretty much always a good start. And we're kinda trying to get at the hospital records of me being born." Because... they need to prove he exists, maybe? "I dunno who knows computer stuff around here, though. Baylee might know some? PIs probably have to look at that kind of stuff these days, right?" That's to Alexander, who surely knows this, what with his own investigationy...ness. He tears off another few bits of hot dog bun to toss to the ducks, who are starting to look not particularly nice, really. Impatient. Where are their snacks, humans? One's come close enough to peck the ground just by Aidan's boot. Like a threat. The boot is next. "There's a whole lot of shiny around here," he agrees, "More than anywhere else I've been, I think. And ghosts are goddamn annoying."

"We're not stealing. At most, it would be illegal access of records." Alexander seems peculiarly intent that the distinction here is understood. "And it's for a good cause." He tosses the rest of his bread crumbs at the ducks, setting off a feeding frenzy in the dark. Oh noes. "I know someone. I can see if she will work with me on the matter. If not, you could always hire Miss Bewicke-St. John. Of course." Although he looks /grumpy/ about it. Just a little. Then he just looks worried at the rest. "Yes. More now than ever. It is as if the town is calling people. I have concerns. I don't know why it's doing it."

"Well. I figure we're like... magnetic glitter. Once it's out've the bottle, there's no putting it back in. A bunch of us got out, and this shit town's a Goddamn magnet?" She's shrugging a black-clad shoulder, and her 'brow furrow just a bit as the Duck Food seems to be running out. The explanation about Aiden's birth record has her flickering a more curious glance toward the curly-haired man, and a pierced 'brow goes dubiously upward. "'Kay... I lived here for sixteen years, and that's a new one. I promise, you were born." Thanks, Lex.

"I mean, if you think about it, they're kinda my files, so really it shouldn't be illegal to access them anyway," Aidan says, shrugging. Not that he looked particularly bothered by the implication of theft being involved, but as long as they're rationalising here. "That'd be cool if your friend'll help," he says with a small nod, crumbling what remains of the bun in his hands. "Um. But if there's hiring I can probably only do, like... in kind stuff?" So, you know, if Alexander needs some magic done or something. Okay, maybe there's other things he can do. Though presumably if so they're not well-paying ones either.

"I only lived here three, so I'll take your word for it," he tells Lex, giving her a quick grin. "But it's more I kinda want to know who made it happen. And maybe there's something to that magnet thing, I dunno, 'cause definitely some places have more of us than others. Like, there's these tunnels in Portland? Any time I went by there, any time, I'd run into at least a couple of us. Nothing like here, though."

There's a faint look of disbelief on Alexander's face as he listens to Lex. "Spoken like an artist," he mutters. "Magnetic glitter." A shake of his head. "We are learning new things. The...shadows. They can talk. Ally with real people. As well as their influence. They could be drawing us here. For feeding," a glance to Aidan at that, "or for some other purpose. I don't trust it." But, really, Alexander doesn't trust a LOT of things. He runs his hands through his hair. "And don't worry about the fee. Call it a favor." He offers a brief, weird sort of smile towards Aidan. "I...am trying to be more social. Favors are social."

"You're acin' the social thing, Alexander. Damn proud of you. And yeah, it's a total glitter situation." Lex even smiles up at the man, though it's difficult to take anything /entirely/ seriously when the speaker looks like a tattoo needle and piercing gun had a kid together. Oh, and throw in some serious experience with hair bleach. Anyway. Green eyes have returned to the ducks, who have no doubt begun to swarm, before she's tipping a glance back to the perilously positioned Aiden. "Mmmm... you wanna come stand by us, darlin'?" She's even extending a hand -- the one without the tattoos! -- in a gesture slow enough not to scare Alexander. "Ah, fuck, they're talking now?" She multi-tasks her conversations, tipping a glance toward Alexander. "Earplugs work, or are they those in-your-head fuckers?" And we all wonder why the Lexes get along.

Aidan gives Alexander a grin for the offer, which probably looks a good deal more natural than the smile it answers. "Thanks," he says, "and yeah, they are. I'm down for social things generally, if you want." He looks a little bit surprised by the offer of Lex's hand, and glances over his shoulder, where some ducks are still eating the last of Alexander's crumbs, but those at the outskirts are becoming restless. Oh. He drops what bread was in the fingers of the closer hand into the palm of the other, and accepts the offered hand, stepping toward the woman. At the same time, he closes the other hand lightly, draws it back, and then opens it quickly toward the water, scattering the small handful of crumbs out into the knot of ducks. Quick, look over there, ducks!

He does not fall in the pond. Granted, the night is still young, but at least he's a couple steps away from the water now, closer to the others again. "Maybe the town's drawing us here to fight the-- shadows, instead?" he suggests, and adds to Lex, "...but yeah, it kinda seemed like one of them talking to us. And it wasn't... I mean, I think we all heard the same thing." Unlike most in-your-head-fucker situations.

"You're being sarcastic," Alexander says, with a frown at Lex. He sighs. "I /am/ trying," he adds, in a barely audible mutter. His hands come back up to rub wearily at his face. "In-your-head fuckers. And judas goats to lead people to the slaughter. Just, be careful, Miss Falco." He says it like he does not expect her to follow the advice. There's a skeptical look in Aidan's direction. "Nothing with these things is ever good," he mutters. "It's never 'come, be a hero, drive back the dark'. It's always 'now your teddy bear wants to remove your innards and replace them with stuffing', or something. Safer to assume we're being corralled. Safer to prepare to resist." He shuffles his feet for a moment, before turning away. "I have to go. I'm glad you're both alive." And then he's walking away - apparently his attempts to be social don't include proper partings.

"He's..." Lex begins, her 'brows furrowing a bit as she watches Alexander retreat. "I actually /wasn't/ be sarcastic. He wasn't so much with the... 'trying' thing last time we hung out." Yes, because they're such likely bosom-buddies. She's nodding toward his departure, even smiling a bit in that /specific/ way that doesn't look like mockery, before looking toward the stranger she's been left with. Then again, 'strange' is relative. "I got /no/ idea what you're talking about, doll... but if you want to grab somethin' to eat sometime... or drink... we can compare X-Files notes. " That's one way to put it.

Aidan blinks. "Oh, shit, sorry," he says, "Aidan." A glance the way Alexander disappeared, and he adds, "Aidan Kinney. And I didn't think you were being sarcastic, actually." A small shrug, with that. "He reminds me of some guys I used to know. And if you want to grab a something and compare notes? I'm up for that. Though if sometime's not now, probably I should give you my number." A slight pause, and the grin's back, a little cheekier, along with another shrug, "Or if it is. I like your art, by the way." He doesn't seem to have any himself, though on the other hand, not that much of his skin is actually visible right now.

Behind him, the ducks have just about finished swarming on the last of the bread. Bills and beady eyes are turning to fix in their direction. Humans had the bread. Do humans have more bread? Are humans maybe... made of bread?

Lex watches Alexander shuffle out of hearing distance before turning her gaze back to Aiden. The taller man earns a grin much as Alexander had, though the socially conscious may be more prone to considering it 'cheekily friendly' than 'suspicious' or 'sarcastic'. "Aidan. I like it. I'm Lex." The hand that's still within her own -- for who said anything about letting go? -- tightens slightly around his palm before moving up and down just a bit. Shaking. Sort of. "Alexandra, if you wanna get technical, but I usually injure people who call me that."

She tips her chin upwards, just a bit, to keep track of his features in the dimness, and there's a glimmer of amusement in too-light eyes as he tumbles around the topic of numbers. "Now's fine, but how 'bout we meet both ways and we do the whole number things anyway? And... thanks." She tips a glance toward the bold coloring that trails from chest to half-hidden shoulder, before an irate sound from The Ducks has her turning a mildly alarmed look in their direction.

"If those fuckers are anything like seagulls, we should probably get out've here. Anything tolerable pop up in the last seven years?"

Aidan can claim at the least that level of social consciousness, plus enough to mock-solemnly return the sort-of-handshake as though it were a proper one. The hold lightens again afterward, but hey, if she's not inclined to let go of his hand, he's perfectly willing to go along with that. Not like he needs it for anything else right now! "I'll stick to Lex, I think I hit enough injuries since I got here without gunning for more," he says, "Plus, I think I like it better too. So, deal, and also, deal." As far as tolerable options, he starts to say as he looks over his shoulder, "Well, there's--"

--a whole mess of ducks watching them. Wings lifting and beating, ominously, as the front ranks start to approach. None taking off, just looking... bigger. It probably isn't a Dream, because none of them have fangs, and they're not spitting acid or creating a battle formation. No, they're pushing past and over each other as the idea of trying to come demand more bread actively, maybe test that little theory in their fowl minds, starts spreading among them. "...uh." Aidan's hand tightens on hers as he turns forward again. "I'm voting get out of here, yeah," he says, already starting to. He's got long legs and some idea where he's going, and fully intends to bring her along.

Death by Duck. Of all the ways to die in Gray Harbor, that might be the most epic. Unfortunately, neither of them seem keen on dying this particular day... and so Lex is transitioning the initial tug on her hand to something more akin to following. And, should he slow down once the winged devils are out of site, she might stand a chance of keeping up. Much as her new acquaintance, the tattooist doesn't seem to have any prompt of her own to let go of his hand. He did, after all, just save them from certain death.

"You need to stop feeding the wildlife," she muses once they're out of said wild life's hearing distance, snorting softly to herself. "And when I say wildlife, you should probably count at least dozen of your neighbors. Just... take my word on that, mm?" Then, clearly not one for drawn-out silences, "Where we going? That place with all the bears is kinda creepy, like... on principle, but I haven't eaten there."

Aidan glances back as they go, managing not to trip -- though admittedly there's a close moment involving a loose rock -- and does slow down once the ducks' indignant cries dim to a low quacking murmur in the distance. And as they near the parking lot, where there's an old van parked, not made to look a lot better by being in the glow of the lights there than it probably would be lurking in the dark. "I didn't know they were evil!" he protests, though it's not much of a self-defense, really. "Though, Alexander was already feeding them when I got there. Maybe it's just me. In which case... maybe you should make me a list of the neighbours you've got in mind." It is the van he's heading toward, though now at a more comfortable stroll. "I was gonna suggest it as a maybe. The food's pretty good, and some of the staff are cool. Also the music is," let's consider this, "never boring. But it doesn't do alcohol, so if you were thinking drink drinks, I think there's the Pourhouse and a place by the Boardwalk I didn't actually go to yet?"

"No, see... Alexander's struck up some sort of peace bargain with the evil wildlife. Poor bastard's got enough things that /ain't/ real pecking at him..." That would be putting it lightly. "Never play 'monkey see, monkey do' with that one..." Her tone suggests that she's learned this the hard way, though there's still a hint of humor in the words. "Hey... if you're drivin', I can't really complain." Yes. Yes, she can. "Though this late at night, we may be safest with take-out. ... hell, I think you're always safest with take-out around here. I didn't think it was possible, but it's actually /worse/ than it was seven years ago..." Some places renovate. Other deteriorate.

"So, you been here three years, but you're looking for a birth record? We either got a Benjamin Button thing goin' on, or you got some 'splaining to do."

"Not-real things do a lot more pecking than people expect," Aidan says, which isn't a mutter, but does sound as if it could have decided to be. "Honestly, I kinda like the places I've been here, so far. But where would you aim for take-out? And where'd you take it to?" A moment's consideration. "Beach, maybe? Though... seagulls." Maybe not.

He unlocks the van, now letting go of her hand so that he can open the door and make a playful 'welcome in' gesture toward it. He does, though, add, "Unless there's somewhere nearby you'd rather walk to." He's flexible! Barring a suggestion to that effect, though, he heads around to the other side. It's tidy inside the van, at least, fairly well taken care of for a vehicle of its considerable age. And then he gets to 'splaining. "I was born here, and adopted, and I lived here until I was three and our house burnt down." Matter-of-fact. That's what happened. "And now I'm back. Benjamin Button'd be more interesting but kind of depressingly short if it this was three years in. Where've you been for seven years?"

She's laughing by the time he reaches 'seagulls', and simply shaking her head. It's enough to send a few overlong strands of silver over one shoulder, but not so overt as to seem negatory. "Take-out classic is Chinese, but fuck if I know where they got one around here." As for where? That earns him another sideways look, a bit dubious, before she sweeps a deliberate look round the cabin of the van. "Believe me, I've 'dined' in worse. But really, if you got somewhere you know and like, go for it. If I find myself... overwhelmed, we can take advantage of those phone things and meet up later someplace with alcohol. It's stupid expensive, but it does the job." /What/ job...? He is left to wonder.

"So've I," Aidan allows, glancing around the van, "and I guess even this time of night, if we're talkin' X-files shit, it's maybe not the worst idea." A pause. "Grizzly Den does to-go," he says, with another quick grin, and starts them up, heading that direction. The radio's on, and if there's much pause in the conversation, there's a strong danger of him ending up singing along with it. He's not terrible, at least. He's just not really good, either. But he clearly doesn't care.