2019-08-01 - It's 3am, I Must Be Hungry

A warm Sunday evening and a thunderstorm rumbles outside as the wind blows gusts; just another summer night in Grey Harbor. With all the bad luck that has been going around, Jessica has decided not to try and get home from work and, instead, have her dinner in the jovial delights of the Grizzly Den. No sign of Gina, the rude owner, so it is up to the staff to make the customers feel unwelcome. Jessica is used to it. Not even stirring as a plate of enchiladas is dropped on the table next to her by a waitress who is also on her phone. "Thanks" Jessica offers, her laptop open at one side so she can read and eat. "Could I get..." The waitress is gone.

One might say that Dante Taylor is not well-suited to a place like this. But then, the whole town doesn't suit him. A plaid shirt would look as ridiculous on him as a tutu. It's pure curiosity that has him entering the diner. He's in a three-piece suit, pale wine in colour, and of breathable material that makes it bearable in the summer weather. No tie, though, but he does have a smart pocket square in complimentary white and deep blue. He enters and peers around, a smile spreading on his face. "...wonderful," he murmurs to himself, then looks around for staff or a sign that says whether he should wait or be seated. After a moment of not spotting anyone, he takes a seat at the bar, smoothly undoing the button of his jacket before he sits.

Ignacio is well suited to be anywhere. Some people have it easy and just stopped caring. There's the Dantes of the world and then there's the Ignacios of the world. A distinct limp turned pronounced strut carries his tired ass into the diner. He may be newer in town but it doesn't stop the fast-talking Spaniard from greeting the waitress like they went to high school together, "Paula, need coffee. I may just perish. A lot." The half-grin suggests he doesn't expect any of that to be taken seriously. Dante has a seat and he pauses giving the guy a curious look as he perches on the stool.

Jessica rises from her booth and wanders over to the bar to order a drink. She wears jeans and a t-shirt with 'I Drink and I Write Things' on it; her jacket back at her booth. A polite nod to the two gentlemen already at the bar but she won't butt in the queue. Though at the Grizzly Den, the polite rarely get service.

Dante is figuring that out. He sits there, sort of perched on the stool, not saying anything but trying to catch the eye of a server. He opens his mouth as if to say something once or twice, but then decides not to. He glances sidelong to Jessica, then Ignacio. "Is this a speakeasy? Do I need a special password to get coffee?" He sounds amused. And British. So very British. "Do I need to order in grizzly bear? I'm afraid that's not one of my secondary languages."

Ignacio warms a lopsided grin to the Brit asking in the most native of New York accents, "One must pay a tithe in flattery to get the attention one seeks." He watches Paula over there, indeed, get the coffee. An eyebrow arches murmuring, "If you kiss ass, they will come..." The smile turns up, "Paula, you're a wonder in this rainy little miserable town. Seriously, I will adore you for all of... the rest of the next hour if you can hook my pals here up with a cup too." He gets a look with some amusement humoring him and off she goes to get a cup. He smiles to Dante and Jess so damn pleased with himself. "Just gotta know how to ask, man." Looking to Jessica he asks, "Hope you wanted coffee."

"The speaking is easy, the service less so" Jessica smirks to Dante; he looks a bit familiar...and overdressed. "Please, allow me." She's all set to tear Paula a new asshole when Ignacio goes and gets all charming. At being ordered coffee, she opens her mouth to say something but Paula is gone once more. "Damn that girl can move" she mumbles before shrugging at Ignacio. "Coffee it is. They come just from kissing ass? Easy date." Her brow furrows. "Umm...that was probably a bit too rude for complete strangers." A laugh at herself before adding, "Jessica Flores. Nice to meet you both."

Dante folds his hands and sets them on the countertop. He sidelong-glances at Ignacio, then at the waitress. When the cup does materialize, he says, "Thank you, darling." It's to the waitress, but then he upnods at Ignacio. "You too, darling." He smiles toothily and cheekily. "It seems I've got to learn how to be the small town whisperer. You should have seen me trying to buy gas the other day. Apparently there's an unspoken routine at certain small pumps that one just sort of has to know." He looks around for a menu, but then there are introductions. "Dante Taylor. Hello."

Ignacio curls a wry half grin to Jessica with a shrug, "If you're really good at something anything is possible." He even manages to say that without snickering. Mostly. The gratitude from Dante is received with a waggle of eyebrows. "Cheers." Then the name and both eyebrows arch, "Noooooo shit?! That's why you look fekkin familiar. Really diggin on your last series man. So you in doin research or are you just cursed and wind the fuck up here?" He offers a hand. "Ignacio. deSantos. Jessica Flores, nice t'meet you."

So many darlings flying around...though none at Jessica. "Dante Taylor? That name sounds familiar. You're not an author, are you?" He can't be the same guy; writers don't dress this well. "I think you have to learn how America works generally before you get to the small towns" she teases the Britisher. Since Ignacio is asking the right questions, she will keep her own for later. "deSantos? I expect you at the upcoming Hispanic festival then. Maybe that is why Mr. Taylor is here?"

"And here I thought I didn't quite look like myself on those jacket photos," says Dante. And indeed, he's not quite so polished in said photos. They tried to make him look more rumpled and mysterious, but it didn't entirely work. Then to Jessica, "I am. Glad to see that the people of Gray Harbor have some taste in their leisure reading. You're too kind," he inclines his head to Ignacio. As for why he's here? "Perhaps a bit of both? I've got a series of nonfiction titles on local lore and legends. I find it quite fascinating, and it gives me the most dark and twisted ideas for new books. I've got a New England book, so a Pacific Northwest book seems like it would make a good companion."

Ignacio adds three creamers to his coffee to take the burnt taste off of it. "Sí. Tu tambien vas? Julia hooked me up with the deets on it. Dunno if you know her. Has the fish place on the boardwalk." The eyebrow goes up and while his Spanish is distinctly European, he comes by it honestly. He looks to Dante curiously, "Eh I guess that makes a lot of sense. Shit, there's a lot to work with and I've only been here two damn months."

"I know Julia" Jessica nods. "Not really well but well enough to go on girls' nights with her and make dubious life decisions." When her coffee arrives, there will be cream and sugar added; she has Grizzly Den experience too. "You're not local either, Ignacio?" A sweet smile for them both. "THere are strange stories no matter where you go in the world, but Gray Harbor is nothing special. I should know, I'm a reporter with the local newspaper."

Dante tries to drink his coffee black. That's obviously a mistake. He pulls a face, then reaches for the creamer to follow Ignacio's example. "Oh really?" he says to Ignacio's comment about lots of material. "I'd love some hints to point me in the right direction. I've only just arrived and started my research." And then his smile brightens at Jessica's profession. "Oh and I bet you've got some juicy tidbits as well. Mysterious unsolved cases and the like."

Ignacio shakes his head to the negatory sipping his coffee. "Queens." Ah, well it explains a but. When Jess outs herself as a reporter a small, half-grin forms, "A reporter and two authors enter a not-a-bar..." Dark eyes flick between them in amusement "Anyone else feel like this is one of them clandestine meetings in Chapter Three... or some cosmic joke?" When Dante asks about leads he points to Jessica.

"Nah, nothing happens in this town" Jessica lies to the pair. Hopefully, they won't have heard about the serial killer or the explosions. "You're welcome to come and have a look at the newspaper records if you like, but you'll be disapointed." Her casual manner an obvious indication she is right and they should be on their way. "Have you tried Carter's Knot? Town about a hundred miles north. Lots of strange stuff there." A smirk about what chapter in the book this meeting is. "Sorry to have pointed out it was a false subplot."

"Oh you're a writer as well?" asks Dante to Ignacio. "Of what sort?" Then, as he compares their conversation to a chapter in a novel, he says, "Cosmic joke. As a plot beat it might feel a little contrived." He grins and raises his now-doctored cup of coffee to his mouth. Still not great, but palatable. He raises eyebrows at Jessica. "I haven't been disappointed in my initial research. It's what brought me here. Perhaps these things just seem strange to an outsider."

Ignacio dips his head. "Yeah six books worth of satirical self-help books and me losing my goddamn mind. Apparently salt sells." He grabs a menu and says, "So this is ignoring a family having four funerals in one week and 2 to four of them being murdered and no one having a clue what's up? If that's quiet I fear what busy is."

"And what have you found out so far, Mister Taylor?" Jessica smiles sweetly, trying to look as if she is amusing him rather than worried about what he may have found out. And then Ignacio pops up with that and the reporter sighs. "Okay...that's not normal but it's also not supernatural or, in deference to your writings, Mr deSantos, humorous." She wants to say more but something is holding her back. Besides, these two could be working for...THEM.

"Ah yes. If writing makes you lose your mind, then you truly are a writer," says Dante wryly. "And it is my experience that surprising things sell. Human beings are interesting creatures." He sips his coffee again. His eyebrows go up on the question of murders. "Interesting." And then his gaze flicks to Jessica. "Oh, nothing so far. Just a general pattern of oddness that's intriguing. Whether or not it leads to something is really beside the point. The story itself is the good stuff. I..." and then his jacket pocket starts to vrrrt and gently ring like an old British telephone. "Pardon me." He pulls it out, sees the call display, then, "So sorry. I've got to take this." He brushes his thumb up over the screen to accept the call, "Yes, Barry, one moment." He drops the cash down on the counter - enough for his coffee three times over, then stands. "Lovely to meet you both. I'm sure I'll see you around." And with that, the well-dressed man strides with long legs towards the exit.

Ignacio shrugs to Jessica with a wry grin, "Naaaah maybe not but it is weird." Eyebrows arch at the phone and he offers, "If you order now you might only have five minutes to wait for it but he time you get back... take a call... maybe a nap..." The service is not commendable. He follows the guy out with a look and back to Jessica, "So you live here all your life, Flores or you move here because it's the 'least weird' place possible... or you lose a bet?"

"Nice to meet you, Mister Taylor. Good luck with your research. And if you need my assistance, the paper isn't hard to find." Jessica gives the novelist a wave - he could be dangerous - before looking back to Ignacio with a polite smile. "Born and raised here, sorry. So I guess you could say I lost a bet" she smirks before an instantly regretted sip of her coffee. "Thank goodness the food is better than the coffee. You write humor books. Why come here to do that?"

Ignacio chuckles with that warmth of amusement in his answer to her, "Lost a bet. Well," he squints, "Specifically I lost a restaurant. Was supposed to be in New York, but I didn't like how my pops handled some things so I thought i'd come out here and help mi hermano out. Why he picked here? Whooooo the hell knows. Honestly?" He gestures with the cup in hand, "It's not New York. It's really too quiet and you can't walk to anything here, but... it's got a thing that kinda makes you like it, ya know?"

"I've always liked it. I had the chance to go other places...and there was college...but this is my home. New York? Walk in the park" Jessica grins before gesturing to her booth. "I'm over there if you wish to join me. Who is your brother? Do I know him? He has a restaurant?" She gestures at the place around them. "How could it compete with this? Other than having staff who smile of course."

Ignacio gives the rebuttal and local endorcement a lopsided grin. He looks to the booth and grabs his coffee and his menu, "Eh sure, I'll join you." He takes another drink of his coffee before he takes that almost cowboy uneven gait of his over to her table and slides in the side unoccupied by stuff. "Raf? Nah Rafael es musico. Teaches. Pops and I used to have a restaurant. He and Raf had a falling out and eh, short story is I'm here to make sure he's okay. You might know him. We're trying to get him to play for the festival." He looks around with a squint at teh restaurant, "I dunno. Hard to tell if I cook better wheeeeen the food never comes out. I mean apparently it's so good the cook ate it himself... or herself. Themselves."

"He's the shy type? I hope he plays." A shake of Jessica's head. "Don't know him by name, sorry, but I look forward to meeting him. Actually quite excited by the whole festival. Should be a lot of fun. Teach these white guys how to party" she grins. Her food is still here, getting cold, but she will offer to share with Ignacio. "You should meet the owner of this place. Gina. Quite the gal. She might even let your brother play here for practice. Or not. Hard to tell from day to day with her."

Ignacio laughs and shrugs easy enough like the world is some joyride and isn't swallowing everyone's luck wholesale, "Is he shy? Eh Hard to say when his brother is un payaso. The comparison ain't fair that I'm always up in teh middle of everything, but he is, sometimes. It's a nasty habit and I promise you he will play if I have to find him a cursed guitar and make it so." He does pick at her fries with a smile and a nod "Gracias. Eeh yeah? I dunno I met Gina yet. Sounds like a total character though. I mean these diners ain't easy to run around the clock that's for sure. I'll have to hop in in daylight hours and ask. So you always wanna be a journalist or this just happen by accident?"

"You write funny books, shouldn't you be miserable rather than a clown? All the funny people are sad, right?" Jessica closes her laptop rather than let it distract them...or let him see what is on it. "I'm sure it's very hard to run a twenty-four hour place. Probably why she's not here." She nibbles on her food. "I wanted to be a journalist or a cop and then decided that truth was most important to me." A little jab at the local police? "I was on the school paper and all that stuff. Hung out in the library like a true nerd. My best friend is the town librarian...we went to school together. It's not like she's ninety or anything. So, you think this town is full of funny stories?"

Ignacio shrugs and offers to her, "Eh, I never claimed to the contrary. Everyone's got baggage. Don't make mine special just because I vent in amusing fashion I suppose." He is, for as matter-of-fact as he takes things, listening attentivly. "No shit you know Harper?" Does he know everyone but Gina!? "Yeah she's a character. I can see why you get on. Not a bad thing. , but I mean sure. You can tell the truth or follow policy based on popular opinion of the people who have been bought and sold so many fuckin times they don't relize law enforcement's its own shiny commercial racket." He looks up from her fries pointing one at her, "And yes, I absolutely believe it is. The town."

"I mean funny ha-ha, not funny strange" Jessica notes with a smile. "And you know Harper? Of course you do. I can't believe that the library here is the most happening place there is. Though, with Harper there, how could it not be?" She purses her lips while studying him intently. "You have a girlfriend, Ignacio? Boyfriend? Because, you know, Harper is a pretty cool woman. Smart. Kind. Beautiful." A beat. "Single. Not that I'm matchmaking at all..."

Ignacio arches an eyebrow and laughs, "I think you have a pen to paper Harper can and will find you. I have a feeling that's just how she is. But yeah I promised to trade her answers for answers and she lets me into the library early sometimes." He takes a drink of his coffee and an eyebrow slowly arches but he answers honestly, "Formally? Not recently and not recently. My current status is: unknown." He looks into his coffee and shakes his head slowly, "I'm, um, I'm working on figuring that out so maybe my dating status is screaming dumpster fire to pending?" He considers that and glances ceiling-ward with a new nod of slow approval. "That might be my next title. But! Yeah, Harper seems pretty terrific and also pretty in touch with just what she wants. I respect the hell outta that."

"Well, you can't blame a girl for trying to look out for her BFF. When you figure out your dating status, keep Harper in mind. I mean, she's not miserable or anything, but she deserves some additional happiness with someone who respects her." Jessica rolls her eyes. "Sorry, not really the best way to meet someone - 'Nice to meet you, want to date my friend?'. Had some tough times with relationships? Hey, at least you've had times. As the song says, owner of a broken heart much better than an owner of a lonely heart. Though I am curious as to why you need to research jokes? Or did you say you were moving on to non-fiction now?"

Ignacio tilts his head and nods slowly, "She seems a pretty great person, and hey, it's not a bad thing. Says a lot about someone's character that they look out of r and have someone to look out for them like that. Speaks volumes." Both eyebrows arch considering the parable and he munches another fry, "That saying might not factor in a body count." He pauses and shakes his head, "Aaand that got weird and dark fast. And, ya know, it's not jokes ha ha, more like so let's talk about some bullshit in another light and call it for what it is. Satire is not the same as comedy, not really. I couldn't do stand up. Dios mio I'd hobble over there and punch someone more than likely but, eh." Looking up he watches her face offering a faint half-smile, "Was in an accident. Lot of PT and like support shit they put you through, rah rah and all that. not really my bag. Someone said hey, maybe write about the things you're mad about and six books later? Eh, I dunno if I feel any better about shit but lunch gets paid for so there's that. Truth is? There's a lot of people who can't figure out teh writing part and I think it weirdly helps people going through some shit not feel like a total alien about it so to that point? So I guess I'm researching how to not be a gloriously good-looking train wreck... like 43.8% of the populace."

"A friend vouches for you. A good friend helps you hide the body" Jessica suggests with a wink. She listens intently to his tale; that's what reporters do. "Sorry to hear about the accident but it sounds like you made it work for you. Nothing wrong with getting your anger out in words. Much better than getting it out in violence or bigotry." Though she has to snigger at the good-looking comment. "At least your ego is in check" she teases. "Let me know what secrets you discover, could be of use to a hundred per cent of us."

Ignacio grins like the very picture of innocence. Yes, he's practiced it, but also doesn't seem to take himself seriously either. There's that mercy. "Best friends help you write the alibi." She gets a wink for the reference. "Well," he finishes his coffee. That cup is going to be lonely for a while. "You can either make it work for you or die waiting cause situations don't tend to be self correcting." The half-grin warms, "I'll do that. You got a card or a website or twitter or somethin to reach you at Jess?"

The pair of them are sitting at one of the booths in the diner well known for its lack of service. Jessica forced to share her meal with Ignacio since his food hasn't shown up yet. She rummages around in her bag on the seat to find a business card before handing it over. "That's my direct number at the Gazette. Call any time. Literally, any time. You never know when youhave something newsworthy that the people need to know. Ever thought about writing a satirical column? Not that we can afford you or anything... Please, have the rest of the fries."

The door opens, admitting another: tall, pale, and currently clad in a slate-gray button-down shirt beneath a black vest, with subtly pinstriped trousers and pointy black shoes. Edison ends up at a table not too far from the pair, back to the wall, and doesn’t even glance at the menu. When the server comes over, he orders: “Coffee, black. That will be all, thank you.” There’s a glance to the pair in the booth, his gaze lingering over them for a moment. A small smile comes to his face before he allows his gaze to wander again, taking in the various patrons.

Ignacio takes the card and really considers it for a long moment offering a genuinely(?) sober nod. "Well, you did but my this very facy potato dinner. I dunno that there's a lot of harm in giving people a grin on monday morning. There's enough making people feel like hell... why not. Not like I really write for money anyways. And honestly?" He gives Edison a sidelong glanc- sharp suit- and looks back, "I'd be concerned about any author that does write for the paycheck. Like politicians once they pay you for the opinion you're only gonna sell them what they want to hear and what the fuck good is that? Journalism withstanding."

"Plenty of journalists are happy to be bought too. I'm not one of them." Jessica seems quite adamant about that. "And if you want to do a weekly satire column...awesome. I'll talk to the boss but I can't see him saying 'no'. Got some samples I can show him?" She follows Igancio's glance at Edison. Another perons in the Grizzly Den with a fancy suit - when did the dress requirements go up? "You can have one of my enchiladas too. You shouldn't just eat carbs."

Hey, just because the air is thick with grease and the grub is cheap doesn’t mean one shouldn’t look their best, right? Edison arches an eyebrow at the pair, but he doesn’t interrupt them. No reason to, not yet, anyway. Instead, he takes a small black notebook out from an inside pocket, as well as a black pen that appears to be a fountain pen. Uncapping it, he scribbles something down in its pages.

Ignacio chuckles and says "Yeah. Look me up o Amazon. all six should be there somewhere in the mess of groceries and pop vinyls and all else they got going on there." At the offer of the enchilada a wry, dimpled half grin forms reaching his eyes, "Aaaaah'm afraid I'm gonna have to pass for now. Back to screaming dumpster fire. Right now I have to clear up enough without explaining why I was biting a woman's enchilada." And with that he winks and stands. "I'll give you a call like tomorrow." He does put a ten on the table. "For the coffee, aaaand the fries..." He looks to the door and back, "And we'll keep our new pal honest in case that phone call ate him. "Tell Harper hi if you talk to her before I do, and at the very least I'll see you at the festival. I'll introduce you to mi hermano." There is a pause and he stops, invading Edison's business, "Hey, Loved you in Kingsmen. Killer suit, dude." It's entirely possible he might be a little stoned, or just very social. hey there's approval though.

"At least I didn't offer you a suck on my cherry" Jessica smirks at Ignacio before giving him a wave. "We'll talk soon. I'll let Harper know you're interested." Her eyes follow him as he stops at Edison. Is that guy writing about them? He was in Kingsman? He doesn't look anything like Colin Firth. But she will offer Edison an apologetic shrug at her dining companion's behavior. She doesn't understand what it was about either.

Edison simply looks up, blinks at Ignacio with a half-lidded, bored sort of expression, and then smirks as he watches him leave the diner. He looks to Jessica, still smirking. “Marijuana is legal in this state, I hear.” The tall fellow has an odd accent -- some sort of British, maybe? Difficult to place.

Oh God. Another British guy. The British are coming! "Marijuana is indeed legal here" Jessica nods with a smile. "There's a store that sells it that is owned by an absolute angel called Eve. If that's your thing of course. I'm Jessica, Jessica Flores. I only met Ignacio tonight, so I'm not sure if that is normal behavior." She indicates the seat he was in. "Care to join me? Service here is pretty poor. They react better to groups of people than individuals."

“I think I’ve met her,” Edison says airily. He leans over with a wry look and an outstretched hand, all pale and bony. “Edison Baxter. How do you do.” Whether or not she shakes the offered hand, he does indeed take up Ignacio’s seat, just in time for the server to come back with his coffee, looking mildly confused. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from a diner, Ms. Flores. Are you a lifelong local, then?"

Jessica is happy to take the offered hand with a firm grip and a shake. Sounds like a British name; she's still convinced. She is about to ask for another drink but the server is gone; she delivered Edison's order, what more is expected of her? "Yep, lifelong local" she admits. "From the moment I was conceived to now...with a slight gap for college. I take it you are not local. You sound British...there's been a few of them around here lately."

Despite his thinness, Edison’s hand is both calloused and strong. He leans back in the booth, sipping his coffee. “Interesting. I’ve met a number of those who can’t quite seem to shake this town.” A beat and a smirk. “Are there? Who else? I’m familiar with Vyvyan Vydal.”

"If you're happy somewhere, why move?" Jessica shrugs. "I haven't met Vyvyan Vydal. He's the pattissiere guy? I've eaten his wares though. Very nice. There was a writer in here just before you arrived, Dante Tyler. He's British. The other British guy I met, I don't know the name of. He didn't give it to me. Probably because I met him in the woods where he had been spying on teenagers making out at an abandoned mill."

“The ‘patisserie guy,’ yes.” Edison seems amused again. “Why do you suppose so many Brits come here? Does the gray weather just make them all feel at home?” His eyes, also gray, seem to gleam a little in the diner’s light. “Are you happy, then, Ms. Flores?"

"I guess they come here for the same reasons as everyone else. The weather. The natural beauty. The ability to ogle teenagers making out. Some of them even come here to 'find the weird'. Trust me, as someone who has lived here all her life...there is no weird" Jessica lies. "Am I happy? Gosh, you go straight in with the big questions. Sure I am. Why not? Are you?"