2019-07-29 - Whiskey with a Lighter Chaser

A free round is a good enough excuse some nights. Justin settles in at the bar and motions for a pint, giving a nod to Mariah in greeting. "Taking a break?" he asks her, having been in a few times since his return to Gray Harbor. A regular summer resident -- it wasn't unusual to see him around this time of year.

Seated by himself, Everett's already enjoying a beer in front of him at the stool he occupies. Drink handle in one hand, and phone in the other, the gorilla bows over his electrical device, using a meaty thumb to scroll whatever he's reading. At the call of a free round, he lifts his head, brushes his long hair absentmindedly over his shoulder with the hand that had held the beer, and acknowledges the way beasts do.
With a grunt.

"Done for the night." Mariah tells Justin with a dip of her head and a bit of a smile. "I'm just tired and waiting for my ride. Think he might have gotten lost." she chuckles. "I'm Mariah." she offers in greeting to Justin and whoever else wants to eavesdrop.

"Sorry I'm late." Stefano says as he takes the spot next to Justin. Not that he's very late. "I must have hit every red light on the way here. Even the one in front of the fire station except there was no fire; it just got stuck on and everyone was waiting for the engines to come out. There must be some horrible astrological conjunction or something, not that I believe in that junk."

"Hopefully not," Justin says, regarding the status of her ride. "But the way that things have been going this week -- it seems like the order of business." He grins when Stefano arrives and says, "You aren't that late. And hey, just in time for a free round, so there's that." He then says to Mariah, "I'm Justin, this is Stefano." He glances over toward Everett, but doesn't recognize him, giving a friendly nod in that direction as well, though.

Watching, rather than participating, Everett darts his army green eyes from speaker to speaker. Day drinker, he pauses to take a large gulp from his beer before putting it back down. A glance is given to his phone while he wipes the back of his arm and hand with his mouth. The screen goes dark, and as he slides his phone into his leather jacket, he returns the nod of acknowledgement to Justin. Picking up his beer, he slides over a couple of stools, leaving an empty one between himself and others. "Everett," the thug offers with a deep cadence.

"It's nice to meet you, Justin. Stefano." Mariah gives a cheery smile. "You enjoying the time in Gray Harbor so far?" she asks them. But mention of the astrological conjunction makes her chuckle, "Seems like bad luck is going around." she admits to that. Then her phone beeps with a text and she checks it, "Yep, bad luck." she sighs. Then there's a look to Everett and a wave, "Hello, Everett."

"A free round makes up for bad traffic. I'll have a strong, dark beer that's not stout." Stefano tells the bartender. "Not in a stout mood." he adds to Justin and nods a greeting to the others. "Take some getting used to but it's a nice little town."

"Evening," Justin says to Everett, and then chuckles when Stefano says he's not in a stout mood. "What is a stout mood, exactly? Brooding? Contemplative? Celebratory?" He glances at Mariah's phone and frowns a little when it seems her bad luck is continuing, "Still lost?" He then says, "Well, I've been coming out here every year since I was a kid so.. it's pretty much as I remember it from last year. There are a couple of new places around, though." His own drink is a Pyramid apricot ale.

The brief nod of his head is extended on to Mariah. So verbose. He leans back in his stool, eyeing the conversation while opening his left breast zipper of his jacket. From which he withdraws an open pack of Malboro and a chrome lighter. The pack is left on the bar between his large arms that return to resting on the bar edge. With flick of his wrist, he meant to tap the mug.
'Plurop.'
Staring, Everett watches the light sink to the bottom of his mug, tinking against the glass on the way down. He simply stares like he's been betrayed, unmoving.

"English." Stefano answers with a grin. "I'm not in an English mood. Though it's come a long way since they first brewed it. And now I'm sort of in the mood for a chocolate stout. I wonder if they have any." Seeing Everett's lighter drop into the glass, he shakes his head. "So some good luck is mixed in. Those things will kill you."

"Ah," Justin says and then shakes his head, "Never had one. Does it actually taste like chocolate? Or does it just smell like chocolate and taste like disappointment?" He smiles over the edge of his own pint. He watches the lighter plink into the glass and sink to the bottom. "I don't think that one's going to make it," he observes.

After a withering glance to his side about the toxicity of his cancer sticks, Everett pulls his mug near and looks down into the amber liquid. A long contemplation occurs without the usual tell-tale signs: the sounds of gears grinding, or the smell of smoke. A glance towards the Mistress of the bar, before Everett takes a drink from his mug and then judges how much beer is in there is deeper than his fingers by holding the meat sticks against the glass. The brooder doesn't look satisfied.

Stefano is given a dark drink, that is definitely not stout! But the tender doesn't have a name for it. This place wasn't fancy really. There's a look to Everett and a wince, "We've got matches if you need some." she offers. "I don't smoke, so no lighter to loan." she adds. Then there's a look to the others and a shake of her head, "Nope, probably died from drowning."

Stefano considers for a moment how to describe chocolate stout then shakes his head. "I can't describe it. You have to taste it for yourself. Thanks." he says when his beer is set down. Lifting the glass, he takes a good sized drink. "Hmm, not bad."

Justin watches this slow process of attempting lighter retrieval out of the corner of his eye, only slightly curious whether the man's going to drink the beer with the lighter in there and all. "Then I'll have to steal some of yours sometime, when you find a good one," Justin says before glancing over toward Mariah. "Have you ever had one?"

With an upnod again towards Mariah, he adds "Napkins?" while holding out one hand, swirling the mug around with the other. The vintage of draft and lighter still in his mouth. Again, he takes another large quaff from the mug, lowering it with an unrefreshed sounding "Ugh." Once more, measurement is taken from what little remains at the bottom of the container.

Mariah gives a look to Justin, "One of the beers or a cigarette, yes to the former, no to the latter." she smiles to that. Then she realizes that Everett is talking to her and she leans over the bar to grab a stack of napkins for the guy. She walks them over to him and there's a smile, "Sorry about that." she tells him.

Stefano nods his argeement. "Sure, you can have a taste. I knew of an easy dozen places to get great beer in the city. Out here, I have no idea. Maybe I can find it for sale online and have it shipped. Probably be too expensive though." He's idly watching the attempted retrieval of the lighter and notes "You could just use a fork."

"A chocolate stout," Justin clarifies, shaking his head at the cigarette. He really looks like he wants to advise Everett against drinking that with the lighter still in, but he manages to contain it, barely. "Maybe, or if we can't find it here, we could always just go in to Seattle and see if there's someplace there that has it."

Glancing over his shoulder rather than turning, Everett's not shy about looking Mariah over while he accepts the napkins from her. "Thanks, darling," he murmurs, and thus armed, turns back to his beer. With a pause at Stefano. This apparently didn't occur to the brute, and rather than admit that, he glances sideways and mutters a greeting, "Fuck off."
Face saved, Everett tilts his head back and drains the last of the beer, to have the lighter slide forward and smack him in the mouth. He gives a grunt, and brings up the napkins, with which to catch the lighter. Mug is put down loudly, so he can pay more attention to the Cracker Jack prize and polishing it with the napkins, making sure the finish is glossy, and the script written on it.

"Oooh. That, we have some bottled. A lot of people don't drink it so it's not something we keep a lot of on hand at a time." Mariah tells them. "But if people drank it regularly we'd keep it in the cooler." she grins to that. When she is called 'darling' there's a bit of an amused look, "No problem." she tells Everett. There's another chime on her phone and an 'ah' as she looks to it, "Well, looks like my ride is going to be a bit late due to grading. He loves the kids." she chuckles as she reseats herself. "So you guys hear about the murders? That's not ruining the summer for you guys is it?" she frowns.

Stefano grins broadly at the 'greeting' but is distracted by Mariah. "You do? I'll have one after this then. Hopefully it's a good one." he asides to Justin. "Murders? I haven't been paying attention to the news yet. Too busy just getting settled and used to the place. What about t hem?"

"There've been a number of deaths in Hyacinth's family," Justin says to Stefano. The Addingtons. "And a couple of the murders took place in the Bayside apartments, which are supposed to be the higher end apartments in town, and pretty secure." He then glances over toward Mariah and says, "I mean, having members of a friend's family get murdered is never really a mood lightener, you know?"

"Murders?" echos Everett, in the middle of polishing his lighter. He gives it a one handed test flick. Nothing. Closing the cap, he tries again. Still nothing. Not until it dries out at least. With a grimace, he returns the lighter back to his jacket pocket. The napkins get crumpled into a ball and stuffed into the mug that's caused him so much consternation, before the lot is pushed away. A single cigarette is withdrawn from his pack before the pack is stuffed to join the lighter. A double tap on the bar top then, to get Mariah's attention, and when he has it, the cigarette is put between his lips and he waits until Justin finishes. His contribution then is, "I have an alibi," delivered deadpan.

"She said someone's parents had been killed. I assumed in a car accident or something. And a couple of them in the same apartments? How many are there?" Stefano asks. "Are they all connected somehow?" And here he thought there'd be less violent crime in a smaller town.

"Yeah, don't know if they all are or not." Mariah frowns to that. "Anyways, you guys stay safe, I need to get some things done in the back before my other half picks me up." she smiles to that. "It was nice to meet you guys. If you need anything Gracie and them will help out." she states as she stands up and heads for the back.

Justin nods to Stefano and says, "There was the car accident. There were also two murders at the apartments, though I'm not sure how much of everything is connected. I was just listening to a little bit of news on the way over, so I didn't catch all of the updates. "Erin's parents were the ones that died in the car crash." He lifts his pint in Mariah's direction as she goes off to take care of things. "You too," he tells her, then glances over toward Everett, raising a brow. "Good to know."

Watching Mariah leave, better half or not, Everett's head cants to his left, the cigarette dangles low from his lips. When the view is cut off, he gives his head a shake and then lifts it again before he starts looking for those matches she'd mentioned. He sounds as distracted as it is, "They figure who done it?" he asks, before he leans forward on his stool and snatches a matchbook. Turning to face the duo, Everett's attention is square on the matchbook, reading what it has to say before striking a match and lighting his cigarette. Perhaps this is why he picked a seat away from everybody else. Deep, deep.. So deep in his core, thinking about other people. Prolly not, though.

"Oh, so she did say it was a car accident." Explains why Stefano thought so, though he doesn't really remember her saying so. "Since Mariah was saying to be careful, I'm guessing they haven't caught whoever it is. Do they have a motive or anything? Drugs? Robbery? Something?"

Late is better than not at all! Lyric does come in and as usual there's a bounce in her step and she looks generally happy with the world as she knows it. The bar is the attraction and it's there she goes, sliding into one of the bar stools and propping up her feet on the lower parts of the stool instead of letting them dangle there. Her forearms find purchase on the edge of the bar and she leans on it, telling whatever bartender is present, "Just a beer on tap." Then she spins her chair a little, sitting up more and looks around, curious.

Justin shakes his head when Everett asks if they knew who did it. "No, I don't think that they've got any suspects yet. I know that the police have been out investigating the apartments a couple of times." He then says to Stefano, "Other than that the Addingtons are rich, no. I mean, I've heard of family feuds in small towns before, but pretty sure the only family that would be pissed at them would be the Baxters and they've been gone a lont time. Your guess is as good as mine." When Lyric joins them at the bar, he gives her a friendly nod in greeting.

Stefano idly glances over at Lyric when she takes a seat at the bar. "Wait, they've all been Addingtons?" he asks Justin. "Then yeah, I'd say it's pretty much guaranteed they're all connected. And the car accident probably wasn't. Can't possibly be a coincidence."

His eyes narrow while he takes a drag. Holding the death smoke in his lungs, he coughs upon seeing the new entree bound her way and belly up to the bar. A smirk of disbelief populates the right side of his lips, and then Everett looks at the other two guys. Back and back again, his long, dark hair whipping around his shoulders. Are they seeing this? "Are you guys seeing this?" Everett asks, pointing with the two beefy fingers holding the cigarette from his mouth. "Aren't there age restrictions to this place?" he asks looking back just to make sure Lyric is real. So amused is he.

"Did you hear about Irene Reede? She was killed too and I don't think she's an Addington." Lyric just waltzes right into the conversation. The drink she ordered is delivered and she pays for it with a bill from the pocket of her jeans. Again, she swivels her chair a little and looks bemused at Everett, head tilted, a curiousness. "Aren't you old enough to be in here?"

"I think so," Justin says to Stefano, finishing off the remainder of his pint and setting it off to one side. He nods and says, "It seems too strange to be a coincidence, but I don't know what the cops found." He glances over toward Everett when the man seems to be addressing them. "Seeing what?" He then looks over toward Lyric, a brow arching, though his expression shifts to one of curiosity, "Irene Reede? No.. so what does that make? Four murders? Five?"

"Aren't there smoking restrictions to this place?" Stefano asks in return, eyeing the cigarette. Having no idea who Irene Reede is, he looks at Justin then shrugs. "Could be someone else killed her, hoping it'll be blamed on the same guy who did the others. Think I saw that on a TV show once."

Her come back to him has Everett smiling momentarily. But he puts the cigarette in his mouth and shakes his head briefly. Pulling an ashtray nearer to his seat, he thumb flicks the ash into it, and murmurs, "You're precious, sweetheart." The rest of the conversation, however, the names in particular, pass over his head, albeit getting his attention. The lungful of smoke, while it had been exhaled upwards, is blown towards Stefano. In a place that has is own matchbooks, smells of smoke and the owner didn't prevent him, that question isn't answered.

Lyric can tick them off, one by one. "Susan Lewis, she's an Addington, Isabel and Robert Addington, Gregory Addington. Those are all since the first of the month till the twenty-second. And just Addingtons. Then there was Derek Henderson who was killed and someone tried to kill Penny his sister. And Irene Reede was just killed. Oh and Kelly Carr, she was visiting her sister Rebecca who is Erin Addingtons neighbor and someone broke in there and killed her." Looking between them she looks for any sign of knowing what she's talking about. "They referenced the Billy the Ghoul in the paper. A guy named William Gohl who was a serial killer around here in the early 1900s." The townie keeps track of the pulse of the town, that's for sure. By now, she looks very animated as she relays the story, or facts as she knows them.

Stefano reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone. Looking at the screen, he stands up. "I'll be back." Downing the last of his beer quick, he heads for the door to take the call.

Justin frowns a bit as Everett blows smoke at Stefano, and by proxy, at him. He watches as Stefano goes out to take his call, eyes following the man for a moment before he turns back to Lyric and says, "Okay, so more than five. I really did pick a bad time to move out here. I thought LA was bad."

With an amused smirk, Everett follows Stefano long enough to be certain he's leaving. And with a a grunt, he agrees with Justin, nodding his head slightly. The gorilla takes the cigarette from his mouth and murmurs, "Ain't seen a death toll like that in awhile." He looks over at Lyric, "Nothing in common t'ween 'em? Like, not family, but people around 'em?" He pauses a moment to tap ash and then offers, "Sometimes people die for a message for others."

"It only seems bad because there are less people here than in LA." Lyric, trying to be practical. "But I do think that weird things happen here. Things people can't control." A roll of her shoulders, she shrugs before taking a drink of her beer. "Oh I don't know who or why someone would do it. But I do wonder why they left one alive out of everyone, to be a witness. The coroner."

"Still, that's a pretty high rate for a small population in a really short amount of time," Justin says. He considers getting another beer, but then decides against it. He takes out his wallet and tucks a few bills under the empty glass on the bar for a tip. Then he slides off of his own stool and nods to Lyric, "Things that are weird /do/ happen here, really weird. And leaving someone alive to tell the tale is kind of a trope. Guess whoever is doing it likes the idea of someone passing on their story." He then gives a tip of his head to both of them, before making his way out after Stefano.

"'Weird things'!" Everett exclaims, animated, loud. "Fuck me, I haven't been here long and I had the weirdest thing happen." Suddenly in the mood for another drink, he wiggles a thick finger at the bartender and orders another from the tap. Pulling his wallet out, he pays for the drink, then returns his wallet. "It's probably who the cops are going to look into first. Not that I would know or nothing."

"It seems like it, but I guess weird things have always happened here, so there's never really a good time. I mean even when I was really young there was weird." Lyric watches as Justin gets to his feet and she smiles at him. "Just don't let the weird drive you away. There's good here too. Good people. Good things. Just have to stick it out and be one of us." A wave as he heads off. "It was nice kind of meeting you. I'm Lyric, so at least next time you'll know my name." Her attention goes to Everett then and she laughs softly. "What kind of weird things?"

"Oh, I know," Justin says to Lyric with a smile. "I've been coming here every summer for most of my life. I have good friends here, reasons to stay. It's why I decided to buy a house and stay. I'm not going anywhere any time soon. Justin, by the way. Nice to meet you." He then heads toward the door.

He gives a look towards the fleeing man and when she asks, Everett turns his head back. His attention his briefly distracted when his beer arrives and he takes a drink from it like he needs the liquid crutch to recall the event. "Not things," he thug replies. "Just thing. I was with this girl," Everett starts, and then glances over towards Lyric. He taps the cigarette over the ashtray and the long silence gives him time to think about how to best, how to diplomatically answer the question from there. "And after her eighth toe curling orgasm, all of a sudden we were in my bedroom, we were, like. In this weird hospital thing. And there was a very pregnant chick being held down by faceless hospital creatures and shit seemed real real, if you know what I mean."

There'sa moment where Lyric has her suspicions where his story is going to lead when he mentions being with this girl. A slight roll of her eyes that only turns into a head shake when orgasms come into play. It's only when he continues that she realizes he was actually going somewhere with the story. "So a dream that was real? What did you do? Did you save her?"

Was it real? "Fff," Everett spits out and then takes a long drag from his cigarette. After he's exhaled the smoke upwards, he turns his attention back to her and shrugs a shoulder. "It seemed really real to me. I thought maybe LSD or mold or something. But she and now you are saying weird shit happen in this city. I'm getting the idea you're both right." Taping ash again, he leaves the cancer stick in the ashtray and replaces it with a long pull from his beer, because that'll make everything better. "Did I save her, though?" he doesn't look up, staring down into the swirling amber drink. "I think so. I did in the immediate future but for the rest of it? You know, from more of them, from me? Maybe. Hopefully."

"I'm pretty sure it was real." Lyric has been ignoring her beer and continues to do so. "It was a dream, I imagine. Though that doesn't make it less real. There are so many dreams that are real. More often than not. I hope you were able to save her for the long run." Exhaling a breath, she stifles a yawn before finally reaching for her drink and taking a big swallow of it. "You're not very shiny though."

With a shake of his head, Everett declines, "Naw. T'weren't no dream. She and I were perfectly awake when it happened, so I'm PRETTY sure it wasn't a dream. Whatever it was, though, I hope I'm able to save her too." The lingo, though, he squints an eye and shakes his head, "Shiny. Yeah, totally." and by his tone, he has no idea what she means. Instead he takes his cigarette for another drag and puts it back. Tilting his head back, he exhales the smoke upwards, "Anyhow, when you said weird things, that strokes me about the weirdest thing that ever happened."

"Dreams are real. Reality is a dream. It all intertwines, depending. There's another side and we can travel back and forth where it's thinnest." Lyric laughs a little to herself. "And even though I sound certifiable, what if it's true?" Neglecting her beer again, she muses over him a moment. "Did weird things happen before you got here? Were you compelled to come?"

The look he gives her makes the comment about her sanity simply appropriate. But rather than say it, the gorilla occupies his mouth with another pull from his beer. Concerning the source for a moment, he purses his lips and shakes his head a little, "You do sound nuts. Even if it were true. But it would explain a little of what happened to me." Making a face, Everett shakes his head softly, "Nyah, nothing like this. I mean, I've seen sh--" he pauses and looks down, "Sorry. Stuff," and looks back up, "but nothing like this. And coming here, it wasn't my idea. It was, um. Someone else's. But she's not around anymore."

"You're afraid to curse in front of me after talking about going at it with a girl after her eighth toe curling orgasm?" Lyric shakes her head. Something he says has her jumping right on it. With both feet. "What do you mean? It was someone else's idea to come here? But she didn't come?"

"I'm a complicated creature," is his reply. And when she pries a little more, Everett begins to look uncomfortable and the atmosphere changes. A moment of thought passes before he pushes away his drink and then picks up his cigarette to stub it out in the ash tray. "Stuff happens," he mutters darkly after the introspective thought. With a heavy sigh, Everett slips backwards and onto his feet. "Hey, look," he starts, swiftly changing the topic, "It was really nice meeting you, Jailbait. But I just realized I gotta go." He points down at the bar and swrls his finger to indicate everything that just happened, "Thanks for this. I don't think you're a kook at all."

Lyric knows she'd been pushing and his rapid withdrawal only serves to reinforce the notion with her. There's no apology though, she just watches him a moment before responding in a soft spoken voice. "One thing. If you ever wanted to talk about it, haven't you heard an unbiased stranger is the best place to start? Second, I'm old enough to legaly drink, I work as a DJ in a strip club. Third, you're more than welcome to come by there sometime and hang out at the booth with me. Weird or not, the shinies have to stick together. And shiny is that part of you that can cross over into the dream world and bring you those dreams and memories. There's strength in numbers, just remember that."

Pausing long enough to get spoken too, Everett smirks softly and then scoffs. "Strip club. Here?" He snorts once before adding with a tone of disbelief, "Ok. Not Jailbird then." He pauses, and points. "I know, I'll see you around, Sparkles." With that, he turns around and stuffs his palms into the back of his black jeans and heads out.

"Prooobably not." Lyric says more to herself, laughing softly. She goes back to her drink having effectively ran off three men all in a row. Welcome to her life.