2019-08-07 - It's Real. All Of It

Declan walks down the boardwalk, strolling at a slow pace. He eventually finds the entrance to the right shop, pulls out his phone, and scrolls down to find... Hot Redhead. Shaking his head once, Declan leans against the building and types out a text with his thumb. The drink in his hand gets slurped as he does, and his fingers grasp a paper sack with some grease stains on the bottom.

Declan puts his phone back in his pocket, goes to the door, and opens it. His sunglasses are pushed back before he steps inside and looks around.

Inside the shop is dim, but well within legal brightness, covered in occult symbols and selling trinkets on shelves. Love potions and money potions, crystals and other odds and ends. Frankie is sitting in the back behind a counter, her phone next to her, but she seems to be reading a book until the door opens and she glances up, "Welcome to Shadows of Tomorrow."

"Thanks." Declan takes a few steps forward while... taking it in. He's lived in Gray Harbor for thirty years, but never made it inside the store. Well, it's a sight. "Had someone cancel on me and got the afternoon off. I figured even hot redhead psychics need calories from time to time." He sets the bag down on the desk.

"You brought me free food?" Because free is clearly the most important part in all this. Frankie reaches for the bag, starting to open it and dig around to see what exactly he brought her.

It's two donuts, both filled and iced. "Yeah." He leans up against the counter, left arm resting casually on top. "I thought about liquor. I'm really not sure which is healthier. But wait..." he digs into his pocket, searching. "Shit, maybe I left it at home."

"This early?" Is it early? Frankie has been paying no attention to what time of the day or night it is, he could tell her it was midnight and she might buy it. "What'd you leave at home?" She wonders, tilting the bag on the side to start pulling the donuts out, setting them on the paper before she starts to eat one of them.

"It's morning," Declan says while looking. He eventually finds what he's looking for. It's a small flask, which he sets down next to the bag. "Guess I didn't forget. Have a drink if you want, but fair warning: it might ruin that cheap vodka for you." He rips free a small piece of donut and takes a bite.

"I'm sure that it'll be fine." Not that Frankie reaches for the flask just yet, instead she picks off pieces of the donut, "So, while I'm wonderfully grateful for free donuts. I do wonder why you thought about bringing them out to me, and not just eating them yourself."

"Buttering you up," Declan says with a small smile. He finishes chewing, tilting his head back and forth as he does, and finally adds, "I'm kidding. I came out to see if I'd bumped business any, check out your place. I don't know, you seemed cool. Cool people usually like donuts." He shrugs. "There's no real agenda. Why? Did my aura say that I come bearing gifts and honeyed words or something?"

"Nope." Frankie replies with a smile, tossing a bite of donut into her mouth before she straightens, dusting her hands off, "All I know is that it's a very quiet week. Probably because tourist season is rapidly declining, and then..." She spreads her hands, "It'll be quiet like this all the time."

"Not a lot of locals, huh?" Declan says, tearing off another piece. "That sucks. What do you do in the off-season?" He glances at the book.

"Locals drop in sometimes, and a few from the surrounding area come in...but slow times really pretty much off-season." Frankie lifts her shoulders in a shrug, "Mostly I do what I can, I keep working. Since I don't pay myself it's not like I'm losing money on overhead or anything."

Declan nods, chewing. "You know, as the weather turns, I start working indoors a lot more. If you ever want some extra hours behind a paint roller or brush," he shrugs. "I get lots of that in the fall and winter. It's not bad money."

"Like house painting?" Frankie wonders, her brows lifting upwards a moment before she laughs, "Sure, maybe if I find myself needing extra cash...It's happened before, sure it'll happen again."

"Yep. There's some other stuff you might like to do, too that's all indoors. It'd make my work a lot faster, and like I said. Not really bad cash." Declan finishes one of the donuts. "And it's not hard. Mostly in and out. Anyway, you have my number."

"Yeah, and I'll keep that in mind if I find myself in any need of fast, extra cash during the off season." Frankie finishes the donut and starts to collect and crumbs to dump into the trash can.

Declan pushes a few crumbs her way, helping, and tosses the sack in, too. After, he gives her a small grin. "So tell me something." He gestures to the room. "When we talked at the bar, you mentioned a name. Totally blanked on it, sorry." His jaw tightens. "Why'd you say that?"

"Because it's my job." Frankie points out, making sure all the crumbs are gone before she leans forward, head tilting to the side, noting the tensing of the jaw. Once she's sure she won't be getting ants she leans forward, resting her arms on the counter, head tilting, "How long was it going on?"

Declan studies her for a moment, expression settling. "It wasn't like that." His finger begins to tap regardless, and then it stops. "It wasn't some creeper when I was a kid." He stands up straight, lowers his head a little, and says, "What tells made you think that?"

"Well..." Frankie tilts her head, thinking, "Working through the process you started getting tense with the conversation about parents and growing up, I threw out a comment that could have been about anything. A blanket, a person, and an age...you said their name wasn't that. So....It's really just about guess work and piecing things together."

"I see." Declan nods a few times. "Yeah, I see." He wipes his forehead and clears his throat. "Sorry. I'm not used to getting read like that. It's normally what I do. Feels weird. But yeah. That makes a lot of sense." He looks back over. "Anyway. It wasn't a pervert. My dad was killed when I was seven. Mysterious circumstances. The kind of shit that brings tourists to your door, and no one wants to talk about half the time." Declan shrugs.

"Sorry to hear about your dad." Frankie shakes her head a bit, "I actually learned my dad just died...Like, here in town the entire time. Pretty screwed up, right?"

"Yeah, thanks." Declan quiets when she talks about her father. "Yeah, that's..." he shakes his head. "Yeah. I'm really sorry to hear that, too." He begins to say more, closes his mouth, and unscrews the lid of the flask. "Here."

Frankie reaches for the flask when offered, "You ever figure out what happened? I've heard a few around town talking about missing people, mysterious circumstances." She lifts the flask up in a sort of salute before she takes a swallow from it.

It's bold, but a seventy-five dollar bottle of bourbon ought to be. It also hits like a prize fighter, at least on the back end. He waits until the flask lowers to answer. "Not really, but I'll tell you what I know. If you're ready for a doozy. You've probably heard it before, but this is fair warning. It's not good." Declan waits.

Frankie coughs faintly, then waves at hit, "Come on. Hit me with whatever it is you've got." She slides the flask back over, only taking that first sip, before resting her forearms on her counter again.

Declan takes a small sip and screws the lid back on. But it gets stuck out between them again. "He was torn apart. Not long after, I started to hear him. I mean really hear him, not like stuff I invented. A voice in my head. Maybe not in my head. I don't know." He shrugs again. "My aunt sent me to someone. I lied and said it helped. It didn't."

If he was expecting shock he is probably disappointed. "Probably a ghost...although someone insists that ghosts aren't exactly what we think they are. I'm not sold on that. Were you there when it happened?"

Declan blinks once. "What?" It takes him a moment to rally. "I was in the house. It was late at night, and I was just a kid. I don't remember much. What do you mean ghosts aren't what we think they are?"

Frankie shakes her head, "Some one said once that they are more....memories than the actual soul. But I'm not entirely sure on that one, like I said."

It takes Declan a little while to reply again. "So you really belie-" There's another period of quiet. "So you really believe all this?" he gestures to her shop.

Frankie's brows lift upwards, glancing around the parlor, then back towards him, "You've lived here how long and you don't?" She laughs at that, shaking her head, "Come on..."

"I believe what I can see. I think a lot of what a psychic does is reading between the lines. Tells, like I said. But sure. I believe in voices in the dark, and there's something out there that isn't right." Declan looks around the shop again, then back. "I guess I just didn't think I'd ever meet a real one."

"I mean, I do a lot of that as well. But I can also read objects..." Frankie reaches out towards him, giving her fingers a bit of a wiggle, "Go ahead and give me something. I'll tell you about it."

Declan looks down at her hand. He tilts his head back and forth, then finally hands her his keys. There aren't a lot. A truck, house, container, and one other. Maybe another house. "Sure."

"Thank you." Frankie accepts the keys, looking through them for a moment before she curls her hand around them, eyes closing. There's not a great big show involved with it, which might be disappointing.

The keys feel calm and collected. Every so often, there's a spike of excitement. When he's calm, Declan is thinking about work, flattering people, and doing his best for someone else, whether that's making drinks or the handyman stuff. He's not a visual person, so most of the glimpses into memory are piece of conversation and ambient sounds, which he remembers extremely well. It's his zen. He loves to please. When he's excited, there are flashes of a woman with black hair, pale skin, and bright green eyes. She's usually grinning in the glimpses, but most of the memories are of her speaking. She says some pretty raunchy things.

Declan watches Frankie's study, expression neutral. As the moments pass, he doesn't comment or seem to notice what's happening.

"She's pretty, but she's got a dirty ass mouth." Frankie sets the keys back down in front of him, "Anyways, yes, I fully believe in all of this, and I'll always believe in all of this."

Declan raises an eyebrow. "Should I get checked out by a doctor?" he asks with a small grin. He takes the keys back, glances at them, and puts them in his pocket. "That's wild."

"I mean....sure. But that's just smart these days, not something about her." Frankie rests her elbows on the counter, her chin settling in her hands, "But yeah, so. It's all real, all of it. Shit is dark and crazy out there, too."

"I was kidding. Because you said- yeah." Declan lifts his eyes and chuckles for a moment. He's soon brought back down to earth. "So, what. There's some organization of you guys that in communication or something? How'd you learn," he gestures a few times vaguely at her hands. "I'm guessing your mom or grandma?"

"My mom. I never knew my grandma." Frankie glances around, smiling faintly, "Mom taught me everything I know, well, everything she knew. Some stuff I worked out on my own."

"Must've been one talented lady," Declan admits. He takes the flask back and just has one more sip. It's offered over. If she doesn't take it, he screws the cap back on. "So no secret organization, huh. Good. It'd be a shame if that hair was covered by a cowl."

Frankie waves off the offer of the flask, "Not that I know of, at least of that nature. I've got plent other ones, though. Most we just dance around under the moonlight naked."

Declan pockets the flask. "Sounds about right. I doubt there's much moonlight, though. Too cloudy." He leans back against the counter. "Tell me something else, then. How do you... I don't know. Contact a ghost?"

Frankie shakes her head, "No idea, honestly. I'm not a medium." She smiles very faintly, "I imagine there are a bunch of methods in books though, just not sure if any of them would work."

"Not much of a book guy. I learn by watching and doing," Declan admits. His jaw shifts. "Is it too much to ask you to ask around? Do I need to pay for that?" Or any of this, really. His expression speaks volumes.

"I might know a few people to ask, and I don't mind asking around." Frankie shrugs her shoulders a fraction, "I can't promise that I'll get any answers, but if I do you can pay me a two hundred dollar finder's fee."

"Dang, two hundred?" Declan asks with a grin. "You find me someone who can talk to a ghost, really talk to a ghost, I'll make that look like chump change. Who knows, maybe I'll offer to fix up the outside of this place on my own dime, too."

"Yeah...two hundred." Frankie replies, her eyes narrowing just a fraction, then she nods, "Sure, I'll take more if you really want to give me more money. But like I said, there's no promises."

"Sure. No promises." Declan shrugs. "I get it's no exact science, or people are hiding. Whatever, I get it. But I'm good on my word. If it's real, I'll pay." Declan extends a hand.

Frankie reaches out to take the hand, giving it a shake, "Deal, then."

"Cool." Declan releases after the one shake. "I think it's closer to noon, now. Do you take a lunch break? I'm kind of feeling a hotdog."

"I take lunch breaks, I take whatever breaks I want unless I've got someone scheduled in." Frankie hooks a thumb back towards herself, "I'm my own boss."

"Yeah? You feel like joining me, then? I'll buy again. I know one of the guys who sells ice cream, too. Pretty sure he's still loitering around here somewhere." Declan grins and tilts his head towards the door. "You can tell him he's going to meet a tall dark handsome one day. He'll love that. Probably give you a scoop for free."

"Sure, if you're really wanting to feed me twice in one day." Frankie replies, reaching below the counter to grab her own set of keys before moving from around behind the counter.

"Wanting? It'd be a privilege." Declan's hand goes to his heart. "You're the first person who didn't seriously side-eye all the shit I just told you. Plus, you seem cool. Who wouldn't want a hotdog and ice cream with someone like that?" Declan shrugs. He prepares to follow.

"I'm sure someone, somewhere." Frankie replies before she heads towards the door, waiting for him to step outside before locking the door behind them.

"Yeah. He's looking at a hot redhead right now, I bet," Declan says with a chuckle. He steps out, crosses his arms, and waits for her to lock up. Once she has, he gestures to the first food stall. It's less than fifty yards away, and it isn't raining. "Come on. I can't wait to see if you're a mustard or ketchup person. No way you're mayo. Hope to god you aren't."

He buys her that hotdog, even if it is with mayo. If it is, he probably regrets saying that and blushes a bit. After, it's ice cream. The guy at the stall is friendly towards Declan, and he has... stories. He tries to tell them, but Declan shuts the guy up. Tall dark and handsome goes over really well, if Frankie bothers. If not, it's paid for anyway. He says his goodbyes after the scoop, flirts one more time, and becomes just another face on the boardwalk traveling... somewhere.