2019-07-11 - Welcome to Gray Harbor

Despite the caution tape still up around the pizza place, which is more like a pile of rubble now, and the big chunk the explosion took out of the street, Downtown is still bustling. Or, let's face it, as bustling as Gray Harbor gets. People are out, enjoying the fine weather. Shop windows are lit up, encouraging everyone to sample their wares, and Alexander is bringing down property values by...existing, really. He's making his way around the caution tape, dressed a bit like a homeless person, looking just a bit like either an addict or an insomniac, but his eyes are sharp as he sizes up the rebuilding that's going on to try and put the street back in order. Pedestrians generally give him a wide berth, as if concerned he might start asking for money. Townies, of course, may recognize him as the crazy guy with the crime obsession.

Lyric recognizes Alexander of course. Like knows like and all that. This townie wasn't exactly on everyone's sane list but she wasn't dangerous. Walking along, she takes note of the properly taped off pizza place with a frown and kicks a rock that tings off the side of the building and rolls over to rest beside Alexanders foot. "Hi." The greeting leaves a lot to be desired, but it's familiar enough, nothing formal about it. "I'm glad it's finally summer." Because weather is always a good topic here.

"... man. Google needs to update its maps," Tyrone says to no one in particular as he looks from his phone, up at the rubble of the pizze place, and back down at his phone. He's rolled most of the way to the spot where the pizza place used to be, which is farther from the bus stop than he'd thought, and now he's stuck with no dinner. Frowning, he begins to look around for other food places. He's probably behind Lyric and Alex, which is why he wouldn't recognize the blonde just yet.

Alexander turns as that rock goes ping. He stares at Lyric for a long moment, before returning the greeting. "Miss Bates. The lack of rain is nice." It's as far as he's willing to concede, when it comes to the weather. He scans the area periodically, twitchy and watchful, almost paranoid. His eyes light on Tyrone. He stares at him, eyes narrowed. "I don't know him. Do you know him?" It's defensive, almost reflexively suspicious.

Lyric tucks her hands in her front pockets and grins, shrugging her shoulders. "Sometimes the rain is nice too, but it's summer. I want to go swimming soon. Really soon. Do you like to swim? Does Izzy?" His roomie. Turning, she checks to see who he is speaking of and laughs a little. "Kinda. I met him last night. His name is Tyrone. He was a Marine. Is a Marine?" Waving him over if he notices her looking at him, she'll even make the introductions. "This is Alexander, Tyrone. Alexander, this is Tyrone." Careful to use complete first names.

Staring down at his phone at first, when he feels people looking at him, Tyrone looks up. And oh, hey there. Smiling, Tyrone tucks his phone back into its holster and pushes forward, moving the rest of the way to the pair. "Hey, Lyric. Good to see you. ... Alexander, nice to meet you, too," he says, offering a handshake to Alexander as well.

"Isolde." Alexander's correction is abrupt. "Yes. We were thinking of going swimming soon." He studies Lyric with narrowed eyes at her explanation, then turns to study Tyrone as he approaches. "Tyrone. That's only half a name." A pause. "Alexander Clayton," he provides, in turn. He stares at the hand. He doesn't take it, his gaze skittering to the side to stare at the wreckage instead, for a moment, before his eyes return to study Tyrone with impolite frankness. "You stand out. You're new in town?" It sounds almost like an accusation.

"But I don't know his whole name, just Tyrone. I didn't tell him my whole name either." Though Lyric looks appropriately chastised at the mishap in names. "Isolde. She told me to call her Izzy." It's just a little defensive but not too bad. She lets Alexander inquire about Tyrone and his newness in town.

"Actually, I can't stand. Not up, not out, sometimes not even under. But yeah, I'm new," Tyrone quips in response to Alexander's statement, smirking up at the man as he lowers his hand. "And, since I'm new, my last name ain't go'n do you no better than my first name, so Tyrone'll do just fine." Smiling up at Lyric, Tyrone gestures at the pile of rubble. "Google maps still had this listed as the most popular pizza place in town. You got any other suggestions for dinner?" he asks.

Alexander reaches up and pinches his nose, taking a breath. "Call her what she likes. Sorry." His attention turns to Tyrone. The lack of last name causes him visible agitation, his hand rubbing at his other arm while he narrows his eyes. Like he might PRY that last name out of his brain. His brow furrows. "Tyrone, then." It's grudging. "I'll remember that." His head jerks to one side to look down the street. "What kind of food do you like? The diner is popular. Don't have the omelettes. A barbecue place. Coffee. Not food, but popular." It's a toneless recitation.

Since it's the downtown area there's a host of other places, but only the one pizza place until you get on a different road. That's where the one they went to last night was. "Yeah there's a burger and barbecue place and it's in the old fire department. It's got a ghost that lives there." Lyric cuts a look to Alexander as if he can confirm the ghost there. With the name issues being settled, she looks more comfortable.

"Diner, huh?" Tyrone asks, turning his chair to look in the direction Alexander pointed. And then he turns back to look at Lyric as she offers suggestions. But, the ghost comment makes him chuckle. "A ghost, huh? We talkin' Casper the friendly? Stay Puft Marshmallow Man? Or Paranormal Activity, stuff fallin' off the shelves all night?" he asks, CLEARLY not taking her seriously. Then, an idea hits him. "You know if any of them give veterans discounts?" No reason not to take advantage of that, now that he is!

"That's what they say. The ghost. I haven't seen it," Alexander admits, with a shrug of his shoulders. But he looks intrigued. "Tonight could be the night." He studies Tyrone, thoughtfully. "Probably not Casper or Stay Puft," he tells the man, with every appearance of seriousness. "The barbecue place might. Doesn't hurt to ask."

"I haven't seen it either, but I hear it's there. I know it's probably more like Lizzy than Casper or anything. I don't know who Stay Puft is though." Curious, she looks between them before shrugging. "I don't know who gives discounts. I've got sandwiches at home I'm going to eat though. I haven't been back to work very long." Thus, money is an issue, apparently.

Tyrone hmms a little, lookin in the direction of the barbecue place. "Barbecue might not be bad. ... then again, it might not be good. I think I'll try the diner. I haven't figured out how to get groceries back to my apartment yet," he admits. Which means no sandwiches waiting for him. "It's this way?" he asks, gesturing in the direction Alexander had previously gestured in.

"Where are you working now, Miss Bates?" Alexander asks, tonelessly. "The diner is that way," he nods in the right direction. "It has a lot of bears. If that's an issue. Two-dimensional. Mostly. I can show you the way." Which may be just a way to keep an eye on the newcomer, if his closed, defensive expression is anything to go by. His lips twist, as he thinks about something. Eventually, he says, "Saint Mary's may have volunteers. For groceries. Until you work out a permanent method."

"I got a part time job at The Waffle Shoppe. I'm a server there." Lyric offers to Alexander. There's a glance towards the Grizzly Den Diner location and she crinkles her nose. "Lots of bears. And don't eat the omelets. Hank was also out drinking late last night so maybe ignore him if he's there too." Referencing the town drunk. "You could probably order groceries online and have them delivered. And I think they have meals on wheels from the Senior Citizens dinner. I see them taking some to some of the folks in the trailer park once a day."

"Bears. Gotcha," Tyrone says. And, when Alex offers to show him the way, Tyrone smirks. "I can find my way alright on my own. Got myself here, didn't I?" And then Lyric mentions the omelettes again, and Tyrone's brow furrows. "... okay. So. What's with the omelettes? I mean, I'll take your guys' word for it, but ... I gotta ask why?" And then, something else dons on him. "Oh, man! Do y'all get drone deliveries from Amazon out here?"

Alexander makes a frustrated noise. "He was? He just got out of the hospital, then? And drinking again." A quick shake of his head. "Miss Winslow does not deserve to have that person as a parent." He wrinkles his nose at the suggestion of grocery delivery. "Costs too damn much," is his quiet but emphatic opinion. A glance back to Tyrone. "You followed Google. Sometimes the roads don't lead to the same place," because that makes sense, "but you're less likely to get lost if someone goes with you." Other than that, he doesn't press, though, just shrugs at the question of drone delivery. His attention flicks back to Lyric. "Good luck. With the job."

"Thank you. And yeah he was drinking a lot at the Pourhouse. That's where I spent my money. There was a shot contest. I didn't win, but I did get a shot glass." Lyric laughs a little, not that she has her little trophy with her. "Cole bought the sandwich stuff and said I was welcome to any of it." There's a little shrug and she smiles. "Even the owner will tell you the omelets aren't so good. They just don't make good ones. And customer service isn't so good." Truth. "But the rest of the food is really, really good. I can come with you and sit. I'll drink a coffee." Including Alexander also, so they could transfer it somewhere inside.

Well, Alex wasn't wrong about Google. It had just brought him to a blow'd up building. Tyrone frowns for a second. But, then Lyric suggests tagging along, which is much more amenable company, so he shrugs and relents. "Fine. We'll make it a party. And yeah, Lyric, good luck with the job." Which brings up a pertinent question: "So, what do you do, sir?"

"Alexander. Not sir." It's curt. Although, then, Alexander blinks, rubs at his tired face. "Sorry." It's softer. "Just Alexander is fine. Coffee at the diner it is, then." He shoves his hands in his pockets, and starts walking. He doesn't check to make sure anyone's walking with him, but the pace is slow enough that it's easy to keep up. "I do a lot of things. I get paid for fewer of them," he admits. "And you? What do you do? And why are you in Gray Harbor, Tyrone?" He probably doesn't mean that to sound as accusatory as it does. Probably. He walks with shoulders slouched, head bowed, but eyes constantly flicking from side to side, like he expects someone to jump them on the well-lit, pleasant street.

Oddly enough Lyric had never even stopped to wonder what it is that Alexander actually did for work and it takes her aback a moment as she ponders. She doesn't have to ponder long before he responds and she makes a soft sound of acknowledgement, since she'd been curious too after the asking. When he walks, she does too, but she makes sure Tyrone is coming also, then contemplates. "Want me to push you?" Looking excited at the idea to get to push a wheel chair.

"Right now, not much. Just checking things out, deciding if I like it here or not," Tyrone responds as he tags along behind everyone- because it's VERY hard to roll right next to someone on an average-width sidewalk. Just not enough space. At Lyric's offer, he frowns and is about to say something back right away, but doesn't. Instead, he takes a breath and shakes his head. "Thanks, but no thanks. I don't like having other people push me. That's why I didn't have them put the handles on the back of my chair. I appreciate the sentiment, though," he replies.

"You won't," Alexander predicts, to Tyrone. It sounds resigned. "But you probably won't leave, either." He doesn't look around at the offer to push, or the response. Instead, he adds, "But the park is nice. Wide paths, and occasionally the peacock gets loose. It is a very pretty bird." A hint of wry humor there, for some reason. "We almost have a zoo. If you like animals. And a statistically higher than average rate of violent crime and suicides. If you like those." You know. Just in case he does!

Lyric just looks crestfallen at the fun he had just robbed her of but she brightens up pretty soon after. "No worries." They probably look like a train going down the sidewalk with Alexander leading the way followed up by Lyric and Tyrone bringing up the rear. "If you don't know yet, I hope you didn't sign a long lease on your apartment." A solemn nod at what Alexander has to say. You know, those glowing recommendations of the town that the mayor loves.

"... man ... y'all don't sound nothing like the brochures they got up at the VA hospital in Seattle," Tyrone quips as no one encourages him to stick around. "And sure, I signed a year lease. But I can get out of it if I hate it here in the first couple months. You get all kinds of perks through the VA," he explains. "But ... crimes actually pretty bad here? That seems ... backwards. I mean, there's no major transportation hubs and it's not really 'on the way' anywhere, so no reason to traffic a lotta drugs through here. Minority population seems pretty low, so gangs wouldn't make sense. What are y'all fighting over?"

"Statistically significant deviation," Alexander says, with a roll of his shoulders. "Chronic and acute. The first version of the Ferris Wheel on the boardwalk collapsed, injuring more than forty children, killing over twenty. The park is named Addington Park because a few of them got killed there. Witch burnings in the eighteen hundreds." It's recited in a staccato tone that sounds, perhaps, more excited about all the murder than it should be. Then the voice becomes toneless. "It's a fun place, Tyrone. You'll see." He studies the windows as they pass. "But aside from all the murder and horror, it's a nice, quiet town. Are you looking for a place to recover, or...?"

The witch burnings was new to Lyric but she doesn't bring it up more or anything. What she does say she offers with a shrug. "My mother was murdered but that was a long time ago, back when I was a kid." Lyric continues walking along, peering around Alexander up ahead to see how much further. "Like I said yesterday. People come to town looking for something, and most who come never leave. Hotel California."

"... well ... now ... disasters ain't really ... murders. ... but damn, y'all got it rough," Tyrone replies, grimacing as he follows everyone to the diner. "But ... things are better /now/, right?" he asks.

"I've counted about ten murders or mysterious deaths so far this year," Alexander says. Kindly, even. "Maybe eleven, if it turns out that the overdose was deliberately induced." He stops, abruptly, as Lyric looks past him, and pivots to study them both. "Diner's just down there. Lyric will be with you. You'll be fine. Probably. I'm going to leave. Miss Bates, nice to see you again. Tyrone," he gives the man a thoughtful once over, "nice to meet you. Try not to die." And then he walks out into the street while the traffic is quiet, and leaves.