2019-08-04 - Welcome To Town, Now RUN!

Seated at one of the booth tables is Nicholas, his EMT jacket slung over the back of the booth seat and a cup of hot coffee to wrap his hands around. He looks, if you know him, strung out and exhausted, a gaunt wight trudging day to day to get the job done, lives saved. Lifting the cup, it suddenly falls from his hands and hits the table top, splashing hot brown liquid everywhere and causing him to snap out of his half-sleep to start swearing and cursing. Standing up, he is fumbling for the napkin dispenser to gather up enough of a wad of paper product to staunch the table's bleeding onto him and the seat and the floor.

Cole comes in, hair still a bit damp from his shower, in a pair of comfortable jeans and a t-shirt, looking to grab some breakfast before he gets the rest of his day underway. He happens to be passing by Nicholas' booth when the coffee cup suddenly lands. While Nicholas fumbles for the dispenser, he grabs the cup before it rolls off the table and sets it to the side. "Here," he says, leaning across the breakfast counter and making a grabby-hand at the waitress who already has a rag in her hand but has to walk all the way around the counter to get it to the other side. He nabs it and helps to soak up the liquid in the paper towels and wipe down the spray. "I hope you have some time to sleep before your next shift," he says sympathetically, seeing the EMT jacket.

Nicholas' mad scramble to try to soak up the hot lake spreading on the table is aided, and he looks up, "Oh... hey, thanks." It is congenial greeting and thankfulness, all rolled into one bland, lifeless murmur, which seems to fit his colorless face and eyes as he slides back into the booth (after ensuring that it isn't coffee-soaked, first). "Yeah," he notes. Anyone who has ties to the Fire Department might know that Nicholas commonly takes on double shifts, lives on Red Bull and 5Hour Energies, but he never messes up. It's the only reason that the supervisors allow it. Using more napkins, now with the help of the waitress, "Yeah, more coffee, please?" With a hand, if idly offers a seat to Cole if he wants it.

Cole makes sure that the seats are in sit-able condition before he hands over the wad of wet paper napkins and towels, and the dishrag to the waitress who comes to help out and then collect them. "Thanks," he tells her with a grin. "Looks like we contained the flood for now. Could I get a cup of coffee and a blueberry muffin?" She nods to both of them and tells Nicholas she will bring him a warm up. Cole slides into the seat on the opposite side of the booth and says, "Thanks" for the offer of a seat. It's pretty crowded with the morning crowd and he seems grateful to be able to slip into the booth and sprawl in the corner comfortably. "Busy morning," he says as he looks around for a moment. "But I'm guessing it gets a little less so when the tourist season is over," he says, pegging himself as either new in town or a tourist.

Looking up as Cole takes the seat opposite him, Nicholas yawns and sits back in the booth seat, rubbing his eyes with a balled fist for a moment before replying, "If you can call it Tourist Season. This is no Key West, and the way that things are going around here, we'll be lucky if people come back. I've seen so many calls lately for cuts and accidents in garages, people slicing themselves from broken glasses, small car accidents... it's horrible." Seeming to remember his manners a moment too late, Nicholas sticks out his hand, "Granholm. Nice to meet ya, and thanks for the help."

"Yeah, things have been kind of weird lately. I locked myself out of the studio twice this week, dropped my keys in a puddle, and the sound equipment blew up .. twice," Cole says with a shake of his head. "I thought it was just me, at first, but it seems like everyone's been dealing with this bout of bad luck." He grins though, and takes the offered hand, giving it a brief but friendly shake. "Cole," he says. "Hey, no problem. That lake was looking to become a waterfall without some quick intervention from more than one set of hands." He grins easily.

Shaking the offered hand, he nods "We had two flats on the rig, last night, and changing a rig tire in the rain is not something that is a fun time, I tell you that," Nicholas notes. Thanking the waitress as new coffee is brought to the table, he waits until the blueberry muffin is also placed before Cole and the waitress moves away before he adds, "Yeah, well." A bit of embarrassment, "Thanks, again. You from around here? What studio? I'm not sure that we've met before."

"Yeah, I'd imagine not," Cole says, getting a mental image of changing not one but two flats in the middle of a storm, a bit of a grimace touching his expression. He does smile gratefully to the waitress when his muffin and coffee are delivered, and he thanks her before turning his attention back toward Nicholas. "Just moved out here, actually. I took over the Dance Evolution studio from the owner who retired and teach ballet there." He shakes his head a little bit, "No, we haven't met before." He almost says something else, then seems to catch himself, and reaches for his muffin, tearing off a piece and popping it into his mouth instead.

"So you're a dancer?" Nicholas just sort of blurts, so tired and presented with news that he wasn't expecting to hear, "A ballet dancer?" Not that Cole probably looks the type, the type being what Nicholas might've seen depicted as a male ballet dancer on some show some years back. Not that he is plugged into modern culture and arts... at all. Just then, his own breakfast is delivered by the waitress, the whole spread of everything that one might imagine. "So, new to town. How're you liking it then?" recovering himself, he tries the polite way out of his awkwardness.

Cole definitely has a dancer's build, lean, athletic, strong but not bulky. But whatever Nicholas imagines a ballet dancer to be, he has no idea. He grins a little bit at the blurting and says, "Yeah. Well, I was a ballet dancer. Now, I teach." He tears off another bit of muffin with a big bit of blueberry and chews on it, nodding regarding being new to town. If there is any awkwardness, Cole doesn't seem to notice it. "It's been .. interesting. Have met some cool people, helped find that little girl that disappeared in the Murray House, got randomly invited to a barbecue by some strangers at a laundromat, and found a new friend under a bridge." He laughs when he says it outloud. "So, I'm going to say that my life has gotten considerably more weird since moving here."

"What's that like?" comes the most bland question that a boring person might be able to ask of an artisan such as a ballet dancer, and that's what falls out of Nicholas' mouth just before he takes a bite of waffles from his fork. Nodding as Cole talks about weird, Nicholas has the presence of mind to swallow and take a sip of coffee before he speaks, "Well, that's Gray Harbor for you. Weird, good word in a nutshell. Wait till you're here for a while, you'll find things less and less weird and more 'normal'."

"Dancing?" Cole asks, "Or dancing professionally?" He doesn't really wait for an answer, kind of answering both questions at once. "Dancing is like letting emotion flow through you in a release of kinetic energy, being in tune with the music and movement. It's freeing. Dancing professionally is a pretty rigorous schedule of working out, yoga, running, practice and rehearsal before the live performances. Don't get me wrong, performing on stage in front of an audience is an amazing dizzying experience -- it's also a lot of time and work." Which he doesn't seem to have minded at all, the way he talks about it, with that faint hint of wistfulness that might mean that he misses it. He toys a bit with his coffee mug and then takes a sip, nodding about Gray Harbor. "I kind of felt like I needed to be here. Something drew me here. I'm hoping maybe at some point I'll figure it out."

Nicholas stops chewing and rather stares at Cole for a long minute before finishing his bite, working it down his throat with a slow swallow. Reaching again for his coffee, his eyes narrow at Cole, "It... drew you here, you say?" Like this is an interesting thing to hear, around here, and Nicholas goes on to even put that thought into words, "Most people cannot wait to move out. I wouldn't have thought that Gray Harbor would be a drawing point of a ballet troupe."

Cole watches as Nicholas stares at him, looking back without wavering at all. He pauses in the consumption of his muffin, and then nods again. "It's hard to explain," he says, after a moment with a slight shrug of his shoulders, as though there's a story there that he doesn't feel like burdening a stranger with. But at the mention of a ballet troupe, he grimaces slightly and shakes his head, "It's not. I left all that behind in Boston." He wraps his hands around his mug, "I just teach little kids now, mostly, and high school students."

"Oh!" Nicholas says with a bit more understanding, seeing how /that/ could fit very well into the small, rural community of Gray Harbor. Relaxing, he takes a few more bites, nodding to his understanding now, "This place is like that. Hard to explain, so, don't worry about trying. I get it probably more than most. Being an EMT, I get the privilege of pulling people from car wrecks, attending domestic fights, seeing the occasional fire. Sometimes, the unexplained is just lost in the mix."

Cole grins a little lopsidedly when he realizes that Nicholas thought that there was a whole troupe in town. "Just me, teaching a few classes to local kids. Half the space is rented out to the local gymnastics team. Have a couple of other instructors that teach tap and modern dance, and do adult ballroom dancing classes. It's a small place, kind of manages to stay afloat though." Just barely. But then, he didn't come to Gray Harbor to get rich, either, just to pay rent. He nods slowly then and says, "I'd guess you do get to see the more.. destructive side of things. It's fortunate that folks like you are there to help, though. Seems like it would be long hard hours, though."

Giving a nod to the assumptions, Nicholas works on his hashbrowns and eggs as he talks over them, "It keeps me busy, keeps my mind focused on... well, other people's problems, helping them manage that." Without going into detail, he just continues on, "I tend to pull doubles and the occasional hat-trick shift, as stretched thin as we are. Others have families to go home to, take care of. I'm a single guy, it can pretty much be my thing, I guess."

"My ex used to do that," Cole says with a nod. "He'd take all the holiday shifts and stuff so folks with kids and stuff could spend the time with their families. I always thought that was a really generous thing to do." He smiles a little bit and lifts his cup of coffee to take another sip. He studies Nicholas and tilts his head, "Focusing on other people's problems, helping them out, can kind of free us from getting too wrapped up in our own, I guess."

Nicholas gives a nod, "That it does, at least, most of the time. Even with pulling a double, you still have hours in between where they expect you to sleep and bathe and eat, those are times when the mind is left idle." As if he could wipe those hours away, too. Maybe he does. "What did your ex do?" he asks as he chews the tip of a piece of bacon.

"Boston Harbor Patrol," Cole says when Nicholas inquires as to what his ex did for work. Then he chuckles a little bit and says, "Sleeping, breathing, and eating are still required for continued existance, I've heard." He continues to make his way through his muffin until there is just the wrapper left sitting on the plate. He tilts ihs head and looks curious. "Sounds like you don't like being alone in your own head." It's a kind of idle observation.

"Ah, interesting. Harbor patrol. I do some diving out in the Harbor, myself, but that's more recreational than professional. Not often that we're called for boat accidents where it's not a dock that we're racing to meet them at," Nicholas says as he leans back in the booth seat with a continuing, approving nod at Cole, "You'd be right. It's a dark place, full of terrors. But it has cake." He isn't the best at trying to make badly-chained jokes. Instead, he reaches for the coffee and takes a few sips, pumping more caffiene into his system to counteract the food coma impending.

"Yeah? I never learned to dive. Maybe someday," Cole muses. "Is there good diving out in the harbor?" He leans back comfortably, no longer needing to be over the table due to potential muffin crumbs, and cradles his mug of coffee in both hands. His lips tick upward in amusement at the oddly chained joke, but curiosity remains. "Well, as long as there is cake. Devil's food?" Two can make bad jokes.

A laugh, a nod, a heft of the coffee cup, "Devil's food." Giving that a grin, Nicholas then follows with a shrug, "There is an old fishing boat a few hundred meters out, about 45 meters down. It's mostly submerged in mud and greatly overgrown with kelp most of the year, but usually early in the spring I check it out again, see what's changed. It's too cold for coral up here, so we mostly just get fishing traps and the like. But it's silent, you can focus just on your breathing and float."

Cole grins in return as he sets his mostly empty mug near the end of the table so that it will get a refill on the next pass. He then pulls one knee up and rests his elbow on it, sitting sideways in the corner of the booth. "That actually sounds really cool. Is there a place that gives lessons around here? Now that I've actually got free time, I could probably learn." He pauses then and says, "Though, for someone who doesn't like to be in his own head, just floating along breathing in the silence doesn't sound like something that you'd be into."

"I don't know of a place, I had to go to Seattle for classes and certification, myself," Nicholas says with a shrug, "But maybe there's a qualified instructor around somewhere near. You'd just need the wet suit, the BCD and the tank, obviously." Something of that gives Nicholas' brain something to suck the marrow out of, at least for a while. Opening his own dive training thing would be a good dump of his time and effort, getting all the certifications.

"Hmm, I'll have to look into what renting that sort of equipment would cost, and the cost of lessons," Cole says as he considers, somewhat lost in his own thoughts at the possibilities. "It's funny, I could have learned in Boston -- just never had the time. It'd be kind of ironic if I did out here and got all the certifications now." He smiles a little bit wryly, and then thanks the waitress as more coffee is added to his mug, before stirring in a bit more cream.

Nicholas is lost in thought for a minute, "Do you miss him?" he suddenly asks, looking at Cole and tilting his head in blank curiousity. "Your ex," he adds on, just to be very clear who he might be referring to, "You might find that he's better off where you left him, for whatever your reasons. Gray Harbor is not the place for a good, solid relationship. The Gray creeps in and steals all the colors, and you find yourself... in your own head a lot more than you want."

Cole shakes his head when Nicholas asks if he misses him, and then pauses, and says, "I miss what I thought we had, before we split. But he showed me his true colors when stuff got hard, and I'd rather find somebody who won't only stick around when things are neat and easy." He smiles a little bit and studies his coffee. "Sounds like the voice of experience," he says when Nicholas shares his opinions of relationships in Gray Harbor.

Just giving a quiet nod, Nicholas reaches for another piece of bacon, "One can never tell the depth of someone until that bucket reaches the bottom of the proverbial well, right? Mine left me. That simple," and it is, really. Well, that, too, is a lie. At least to himself. It wasn't that simple, nothing ever is. "Then, here in Gray Harbor, some people find hope. Something to gaze at in a shop window. That way, nothing gets hurt," he says quietly.

Cole lofts his mug of coffee in Nicholas' direction, for their similar tale, regardless of how simple or complicated it may have been for either of them with their respective exes. "I don't know about that," Cole says when Nicholas says nothing gets hurt. "Something gets hurt, just sometimes it's the quiet inside sort of hurt that only you really know. And sometimes that's more bearable than other sorts."

Nicholas stares at his nearly empty plate for a long, long moment. He lets that wisdom hang above the table between them as the cafe bustles around them. The clinking of silverware, the clack of plates, the communications murmur fog of the room. "Hey now, this is a kid's show. No one gets hurt, right? There's always a happy ending," lifting his coffee mug again, he toasts, "Here's to bearable, I guess."

Cole's gaze drifts toward the other people that come and go around the waffle shoppe as he takes a sip from his coffee, seemingly comfortable in that long silence, not feeling any need to fill it up with anything. Though when Nicholas speaks, his attention swings back in that direction. His lips twitch a little bit, "Sure. We can go with that." He lifts his mug and returns the toast in kind. "To bearable, with the hope of something more than that."

Nicholas mutters something about Cole keeping the hope all for himself, adding a blank smile in the effort to make it even sound like a nice offering, like it might be selfless of him to give up his share to the new-to-town stranger named Cole. Well, at least he has a name and a likeable demeanor. So far.

Cole studies Nicholas, and that smile fades just slightly for a moment, and he seems about to say something, but once more lets it fall by the wayside. Instead, he just nods his head once and takes another sip of his coffee. He sits in the corner of the booth across from Nicholas, the paper from a muffin on the plate in front of him, a mug wrapped in his hands. The two of them are in a booth not far from the counter where some folks sit having breakfast. It's pretty busy this morning. Nicholas has his breakfast in front of him, and the two seem to be talking quietly, well, they were.. now they've fallen quiet.

Quiet is always sort of Nicholas' MO, one might come to realize. He's one of those shadows amongst even the quieter ones. He leans into the corner of the booth seat, much like Cole is in his own respective booth seat across from him, but Nicholas has a real breakfast. One with the remnants of pancakes, egg yolks, some ketchup from his hashbrowns, and not a speck of breakfast meat left.

Over at the cash wrap, the busy hostess greets a customer who just walked in. "No, it's okay," Isra says to the hostess, who says she can sit at the counter. "I can wait for a booth to open up. It's no problem, really." The young woman is in an green, asymmetrical hem tunic over jeans, and she leans back against the wall to wait.

Minerva's a regular here and she manages not to trip on anything this time when she comes in. The woman has went back to her black wardrobe, but the dress she wears is summer weight, so she's not dying of the heat. Her hair is half down, the rest plaited back into a braid that hangs to her waist. She's wearing her eye patch today underneath her sunglasses. Hearing the exchange with Isra and the hostess, "I'm just sitting at the counter." she tells the hostess. She gives a smile to those she passes on her way to take a seat down the way at the counter. She gives a nod of greeting to Cole, but doesn't interrupt anything.

Cole notices Minerva's arrival and the nod that she gives and he gives her a bit of a smile and a loft of his coffee mug in greeting. "You can join us if you want," he says, both to Minerva, and Isra who is waiting for a booth. The booths are spacious enough that there's plenty of room. He glances over toward Nicholas after the fact, having made the offer without thinking, checking, perhaps a little too late, to see if the other guy minds.

More people flow in to the waffle shoppe, and Nicholas really only knows people by appearances alone. It is rare that the quiet EMT meets and greets for real, coming away with names that he will invariably forget if there isn't much of a conversation to seal them into his memory. Sipping at the coffee in his cup, he leans his head back against the wall, listening in part to the hubbub around the shoppe. About that time, something falls in the back with a crash and clatter, "So it's not just me with the dropsies, today. Good to know," he murmurs to Cole.

Isra looks up from her phone when Cole invites her over. "Are you sure?" she asks, walking over to the booth. "Thank you. I'm Isra," she says nodding her head and slipping into the booth next to Cole. "Just moved to town, so thank you." A waitress swings by and she orders cream chipped beef over home fries. "Small towns really are friendlier."

Minerva gives a nod to Cole and there's a look around, "No, I'll be fine at the counter, not that far to talk as it is. Thank you though, Cole." the one eyed woman smiles to that. There's a nod of greeting to Nicholas and then a smile to Isra, "Welcome to town, Isra. I'm Doctor Irvriya Kosimar." she offers in greeting as she takes her seat at the counter. "Can I get a water for now? Thank you." she smiles to the waitress. "And the bad luck is just annoying at this point. I keep hitting my head." she sighs.

Sliding his leg out of the booth when Cole surprisingly offers their two chairs to the new entrants, Nicholas gives a Look to the man then just chuckles in disbelief. Sitting back up to the table properly, he manages a smile when Isra slips in, "Yeah, they really are, and welcome to Gray Harbor." Part of him wants to be polite and nice, another part of him wants to warn people the screaming hell away. Thankfully, there is coffee to focus on, to keep himself shut up.

Cole smiles a little bit at the Look with a capital L that he gets from Nicholas and actually gives his foot a nudge with his sneaker under the table, grinning. He then turns his attention to Isra and says "Heya, Isra. I'm actually new, too. But I'm taking a cue from the natives, since folks were nice to me when I first got here, too." He then says to Minerva, "No worries. How are you doing?"

"I hate sitting at counters. It makes me feel like an animal at a feeding trough," Isra admits, pushing some dark hair behind her ear. "Oh! Good to meet you, Doctor. General practice, or...?" Cole gets an earnest smile. "Well, I appreciate it. Still getting everything set up at home and my kitchen is a disaster."

The Town banner should read: Thanks for visiting, now run! Minerva believed that wholeheartedly. She gives a smile to Cole, "I'm doing alright. Just taking a bit of a vacation from work. Debating heading up the coast for a few days. A cabin with no internet access and shitty signal." she muses. "And you? How are you guys doing?" she asks. Then there's a smile to Isra, "I understand that." she nods to that. "I specialize in Child Psychology. I have an office and apartment down the way." she motions vaguely. "So what brought you to our quiet little town?" she asks her with a smile.

"My roommate and I don't exactly.. cook," Cole laughs. "We went to this cooking class, and I totally caught a knife that was falling.. by the blade, sliced my hand open. And that was /before/ all this bad luck started happening. Kind of glad that we didn't take that class this week. Probably would have lit my eyebrows on fire." He then says to Minerva, "That sounds like a nice break. Doing well. No classes to teach today, so enjoying just running around doing whatever I feel like." Like apparently invading poor Nicholas' peace and quiet and inviting more to do so.

Nicholas just sits and sips at his coffee as people talk, letting his eyes wander from person to person curiously as each speaks. Finally, after a few greeting smiles and a bob of his head, letting everyone focus on poor little Isra. He does manage to make eye contact with her and headbob encouragingly toward the door, wide-eyed. A silent, "Make a break for it," sort of look.

"Me? This is probably going to sound dumb, but I spent most of college listening to podcasts by Pacific Northwest Stories and it got me intrigued and I visited Seattle after I graduated and fell in love. Couldn't afford to /live/ in Seattle, but I applied to jobs in the general vicinity, and here I am," Isra explains, hands wide, though not wide enough to smack Cole. "I'm the new history teacher at the high school." She furrows her brow at the talk of bad luck, and when Nicholas makes his headbob, she frowns. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your meal," she says, misinterpreting the gesture. "I can get my meal to go, it's not a problem," she says, trying to flag down the harried waitress.

"If I had someone to cook for I'd probably cook more often. Last time I cooked it was lasagna..." Minerva trails off and shakes her head. Don't thin about it. Things would be fine. "I don't think losing your eyebrows is a good thing though." she chuckles to Cole. Then to Isra, "Well welcome. I hope the school treats you well. I know that we've got a few other locals that teach. So you'll be in good hands." she smiles to that.

Cole can take a smacking, but he seems grateful that Isra doesn't whack him in her gesturing, grinning a bit. "Cool," he says to her. "I teach ballet." He glances over and sees Nicholas' look and how Isra reads it, shaking his head at her. "He was more warning you to flee town. It's kind of a weird place. He didn't mean you should leave the table. You're not really interrupting much. We were lapsing into the morose, anyway." He gives a little sidelong grin over to Nicholas. Then Minerva mentions lasagna and he says, "You may feel free to cook lasagna for Lyric and I any time that you like. We'll gladly have you over and buy the drinks, or something else that we don't make ourselves, because we like you."

Nicholas's meal is mostly eat-ed. Eatenated? Et? He looks from Isra to his plate and gives a dismissive wave of her trying to flag down the waitress, "Gods, relax. Hi, I'm Nicholas, and I'm an angstoholic. At least, that is what my friend Harper tells me when she's rolling her eyes. Welcome to Gray Harbor." With a nod toward Cole, he repeats, "Morose. Good word."

"Weird? Weird how? Keep in mind that I'm from Jersey, so I've got a pretty high tolerance for weird," Isra says as the waitress delivers her five billion calorie meal. "Do you guys like Lebanese or Persian food? My parents taught me how to cook, and I mean /cook/. Kifta, kofta, fesanjan, babaghanoush, fried cauliflower salad, tabbouleh, hummus, homemade pita..." She looks at her creamy breakfast disaster, suddenly craving the things she's talking about.

Minerva gives a smile to Cole, but her eyes are sad, "I can see about swinging by when I'm back." she tells him. "I'm trying to make the non Kosher version for more people. So it's a good thing." she nods. Then she gives a smile to Nicholas, "I think some of us might be stressed or angsty. So it's alright." she muses. Then there's a look to Isra, "Oh, that's a bit hard to explain...did you have things trying to murder you that come out of nowhere in Jersey?" she asks her.

Nicholas frowns a little bit at all of the words Isra introduces into his consciousness, then shifts that glare to Minerva. Finally, that glare is glared at Cole, "I just finished a full meal and I'm hungry again. What /IS/ it with you people and your brain-games!" Must be all the food talk.

"Ohman, homemade pita is the best thing ever.. with lamb sautee with mushrooms," Cole says, as though the memory of that particular dish warms the very cockles of his heart. "There was a place not far from school that we'd go to that made the /best/ lamb sautee." He grins at Minerva and says "Make whatever version you can eat with us." He then glances between Isra and Minerva and says, "She lived in Jersey. Pretty sure things coming out of nowhere trying to murder you is a regular occurrance if you get anywhere near Newark." He then asks Isra, "What exit?" Poor Nicholas and all the food talk. He catches the glare and says, "Admit it.. you're not thinking about sad things anymore!"

...down in the subcockle area...

"I would smash your kosher lasagna. Or the non-kosher one, as long as there's no pork. As you can see from my meal, I don't keep /strictly/ halal, but I try to keep to the basic shape of it." When the doctor asks about things trying to kill her, Isra retorts, "Sounds like you've been to New--" she begins to retort when Cole steals her joke. "Excuse me, that was /my/ punchline," she says, waving her fork at Cole. "I actually have a home shawarma rotisserie, because of /course/ I do. Could do a lamb shawarma easy, if folks chip in for groceries."

Minerva laughs, "Alright, I'll bring the lasagna, maybe I just need to do a lasagna dinner, invite everyone." she muses. "Oh yeah, I forgot it was Jersey." she muses. "It's...a complicated thing to explain. But I put something through my office door yesterday that was trying to get to one of my patients. It's another reason I'm taking a break from work." she admits. Then there's a text that hits her phone, "Speaking of work, I need to get one appointment out of the way before I head off. It was nice to meet you, Isra." she smiles. "Oh, my parents own Kosimar Bakery if you get homesick for some babka or something." she offers as she stands.

Nicholas puts his head in his hands, giving out a wistful and overly-angsty deep sigh as a result. With wide eyes at Minerva for her 'incident' description, he decides to not press that particular conversation thread any further. "I don't even think that half of those foods are available in Gray Harbor, let alone could we get them regularly." Leaning his cheek into the palm of one elbow-propped hand, he half-turns in his booth seat to stretch a leg back out, since Minerva is refraining from cootie-proximity seating. "I should learn to cook," he mutters to himself, purely out of thought.

Cole laughs when he gets a fork-wave from Isra. At this point, he only has Minerva left to get to give him a Look or a threatening silverware-waggle. "Lamb shawarma sounds fantastic, too." He grins. "I think Lyric and I just need to start hosting dinners. We'll do all the hosting, set up, clean up, and provide drinks and whatnot.. someone else just has to cook -- because we're terrible at it." He glances over toward Nicholas and says, "And you should come eat, too." When Minerva moves to go, he lifts his coffee in her direction. "Good luck with that appointment, may nothing try to eat your patients." He doesn't even bat an eyelash at the incident that she describes -- he wasn't kidding when he told Nicholas that life had gotten pretty weird since moving to Gray Harbor.

"Some/thing/ was trying to break through? Don't you mean someone?" And then Minerva is leaving, so Isra bids her farewell. "I'm locked into a lease, so it's not like I can just leave," she explains softly to no one in particular. She looks over at Nicholas. "If you want to learn to cook, I'm happy to try and teach you," she says, trying to lighten her doubts.

Oh, if Nicholas could give a /look/ of '......really? really, Cole?' right now. Nicholas is the resulting product after many years of the Veil in Gray Harbor. The anguish that it brings, that it feeds off of. Stick a martyr trying to save everyone in a town that loves sucking the lives out of everything within reach? You'll have a Nicholas. Giving a wave to Minerva, Nicholas picks up his coffee.

"No, she means some/thing/," Cole says to Isra with a little glance after Minerva whens he heads out before looking back to Isra. "It'll be okay," he tells her. "Aside from a few weeks of rotten luck, I've survived the town relatively unscathed thus far." His smile is a bit reassuring to her before he looks over at Nicholas and catches that stare. He gives Nicholas a little bit of a smile, and looks down into his own coffee.

"What kind of thing?" Isra is skeptical. "Is this some kind of, you know, hazing thing?"

Nicholas looks from Isra to Cole, as if expecting /him/ to answer that.

"Don't know, you'd have to ask her," Cole says, nodding toward Minerva. "But I had some fucked-up ghost like thing go /through/ me in that creepy Murray House, so could be anything." He glances over at Isra, and doesn't look like he's kidding, either. "Oh, no, just probably easier if you get used to hearing about it early on."

"Had some guy at the library ask me if shadows follow me. I just thought he was, you know, one of those schizophrenic library guys." Apparently that's a thing in Jersey. Isra frowns again, though she's not put out enough to be put off of her meal. "So apparently the Pacific Northwest actually is as spooky as the podcasts make it out to be. I mean, South Jersey has the Jersey Devil, which apparently haunts the Pine Barrens. We talking like that, or like..."

Nicholas kicks Cole under the table, giving a neutral smile the whole time that he does so, just before he sips his coffee. "Let's not spread rumors, Mr. Dancer," Nicholas whispers, "Last thing this town needs is someone trucking in a Television show to documentary our asses to death over ghost sightings, thankyouverymuch." Waving a hand, he signals for his bill.

"All I'm going to say," Cole says to Isra, "Is that you ever find yourself near the Murray House, an old abandoned house over on the other side of town? Don't go in there by yourself. If not beacuse of the creepy stories and shit, but also because there's a giant hole in the floor and you don't want to fall into the basement and break a leg." Which is a perfectly practical reason. Nicholas kicking him in the shin makes Cole jump slightly because he wasn't expecting it, and a flicker of a frown crosses his expression, "Hey, you weren't there. It was scary as shit in there. I'm not alerting the presses or anything, just you know.. warning someone not to get hurt."

"Hey, easy there. I'm not a journalist, and I'm not dumb enough to go breaking into haunted houses for no good reason. I grew up with stories about the djinn. I don't mess with that." Isra snags the bill. "I've got this. You guys were kind enough to let me share your table, it's the least I can do."

Nicholas arches a brow, hand still outstretched at the waitress, staring now at Isra, "Excuse me, little Miss Can't Be Wrong... that's my responsibility!" He shoots a face at Cole, "Can you believe the audacity of this person? Being /nice/? HERE?" It's all just Nicholas with his dark humor, in his way thanking Isra with a back-handed but well-meaning compliment.

"I know," Cole says to Nicholas dryly, "You'd almost think it were contagious." He does smile over to Isra though and says, "That's very nice of you." His own bill, however, comes separately, because he had come in later and had his own tab. This, he snags from the waitress before Isra can, because he's quick like that.

Isra rolls her eyes at both of them. "Fine, be asses," she says, good-naturedly. "Wait, did I catch either of your names? That might be a good thing."

Nicholas says, "It /might/ be a good thing," Nicholas says with sudden agreement, sliding out of the booth to draw himself up and stand, reaching for his EMT emergency services windbreaker. Clearly, he is implying that you NOT knowing names might be more beneficial to self-esteem and safety, in these parts."

Cole grins over at Isra and says, "At least we're charming asses?" He watches as Nicholas gets up to go, studying the EMT for a moment or two and then says, "Nice to meet you. Hope you can get some sleep."

Cole then says to Isra, "Oh, sorry. I'm Cole," realizing he still didn't give her his name.

Isra's gaze follows Nicholas as he gets up. "If you say so," she says, eyeing the emotastic EMT. "And very nice to meet you, Cole the ballet teacher."

Nicholas meets Isra's gaze for a moment, and takes a slow breath, "Fine. You're right." His eyes slide to Cole, "Nice to meet you, Cole." Sliding one arm into his jacket, he starts to put it on, and in the process takes out his wallet, fishes out a ten dollar bill and tosses it to the middle of the table, "I get the tip."

Cole's lips tick upward in amusement at the exchange between Isra and Nicholas, watching the EMT toss the cash on the table for the tip. He adds a few bills of his own for his own coffee and muffin, and doesn't argue at all. He does watch the other man go, though, for a few moments, before turning back to Isra. "Have you been over to the high school yet?" he asks, in a total topic switch.

"Mmhmm," Isra says around a mouthful of her meal, swallowing before saying, "I went in yesterday to set up my classroom. It's a really old building. I'm mildly afraid of asbestos."

"I don't think it has asbestos," Cole says. "I think that's against environmental laws, and pretty sure that people would have been up in arms if it still had it at this point." He grins a little. "But, could always ask."

"I was just whining, don't mind me," Isra says as she finishes up her meal. "So what brought you here? I didn't think there was a bustling arts scene here, though I would be happy to be proven wrong."

"I needed a fresh start," Cole says with a slight shake of his head. "There really isn't. There's just the small dance school. I mostly teach little kids and high schoolers now."

"Have you thought about offering adult classes?" Isra asks, ordering a glass of orange juice. "I would absolutely be interested in that."

"For ballet?" Cole asks. "I haven't, no. There are some teachers who do adult classes for modern dance, and tap, as well as ballroom dancing. I suppose that I could if there was interest."

"If I were to take a dance class, I'd want to take ballet, honestly. The others don't interest me. I sometimes do these ballet class videos I find on Youtube and I'd love to try it with a teacher I can't rewind," Isra says, thanking the waitress as she brings her orange juice.

"Well, then perhaps I'll have to consider running some classes," Cole says, and gets out a card from his wallet. He sets it on the table for her, with the information for the studio. "Stop by, if you like." But then he says, "Unfortunately, though, I have to get going for now. But, it was very nice to meet you, Isra."