2019-08-13 - Desperately Seeking Roommate

Coffee shops are the kind of wholly neutral sort of place that lends itself to the perfect environment to meeting people you don't know. Especially people you've only met on the internet. Harvey sent an email Hailey's way about two nights ago, sending off an inquiry about her roommate situation and a quick introduction (early-30s, new in town, no pets to speak of, likes long walks on the beach - wait a second). Anyway, they agreed to meet here at this point in time or else this would be for naught. So Harvey sits at a table by the window, wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of dark khaki pants, nicely fitted, along with his trusty glasses. He's currently thumbing through his phone, though he most certainly tabs away from his 'researching' of Hailey's Friendzone page when the appointed hour was close.

He's got a coffee and a danish on the table. Neither look touched. He was too busy stalking.

Hailey's Friendzone page has been sorely neglected the past two+ years - or else maybe all her posts are private, but what kind of monster does that?! - so hope he likes looking at pictures of her med-school friends.

She deja-vus her way into this coffee shop, giving the sign over the door an accusing look before she ducks in, stuffing car keys and sunglasses into her purse as she goes. One quick look sweeps the patrons - guy in his 50s could be trying to pass as early-30s online, but she's hoping not; trio of high school students because summer break is a million years long and these kids still aren't back in school; a guy that just coughed up a lung and spit it into his coffee cup who is the right age but omg ew; and that brings her around to Harvey.

Going out on a limb, she heads to his table and says, "Please tell me you're looking for a roommate? Otherwise, I'm gonna have to take another iced tea to go." She smiles worriedly. "And then the straw will wind up choking a sea turtle, and I'll have that on my conscience, and..." Can he see where she's going with this?

Harvey did like looking at her med-school friends. In fact, he's now got an entire list of med-school friends to look into, just in case he could find any other links to this mysterious hospital. The list is on his phone though, not like .. out in the open or anything. He's a stalker, not a stupid.

Still, the clock strikes whenever and he looks up from his screen, setting the phone down beside the untouched Danish. He glances to the man in his 50s, speeds past the trio of high schoolers, and gets a little green in the gills at the man hacking up his lung into his coffee cup. There may be a subtle showing of relief when he spies Hailey, although he feigns being as uncertain as she is as he gets to his feet with a chuckle.

"I'd hate to be single-handedly responsible for the further melting of the ice-caps. So yes," he sticks out a hand. "That'd be me. Desperately seeking roommate," he grins, and there's a dimpling to his cheeks. "You're.. Hannah, right?"

Hailey, not a good actress, asks halfway through the obligatory handshake, "No? I thought you were Hannah? Well, shoot. This is awkward." Finishing the handshake, she clarifies almost like she's sorry to have to correct him or to end the haha-who-is-Hannah bit buuuuut, "It's Hailey, actually. I'm gonna get an iced tea." Already on her way to do that. "And then we can talk about this roommate situation?" All of the aforementioned NPCs - high school kids, old guy, lung-hacker - look dead at Harvey when she adds loud enough for the entire coffee shop to hear on account of she's halfway across the room now, "Assuming you're not the serial killer, anyway."

It's pretty unfair of her to start a bit and then immediately end said bit, but whatever. She gets another chuckle out of him, a duck of his head. "Well shit, maybe Hannah'll walk in any second now and we'll both find this roommate we're looking for," he smirks. "Harvey," he motions to himself, and then sits himself back down on the chair while she talks about getting an iced tea. In a coffee shop. "I dunno, I mean you're the one getting an iced tea at a coffee shop. Statistically speaking, you're more likely to be the serial killer than me," he grins. "But you should get a Danish. Or a coffee cake. It'll be reassuring."

Are we getting into what's fair? 'Cause intentionally calling someone by the wrong name...

"For whom?" Will the pastry be reassuring, she means. Hailey orders things. Things get made. We all know how coffee shops work. She gets to come back to the table that not-Hannah staked out after a couple minutes, now with one iced tea (which she wound up ordering to-go, he can interpret that however he wants to) and one coffee cake. But he already has an uneaten pastry on the table, which is why she winds up standing there, mouth open as if to speak, the unasked question written all over her face.

But instead she sits down. "So. Harvey. Tell me about yourself." No effort is made to make that question unawkward.

Hey now, Saucy Meta. It was meant to be a joke, because the alternative introduction was 'Hey Hailey, I'm Harvey, I've already spent the past two days stalking all your public information so let's quit with the pleasantries and get down to business'. Let's be glad he started with the pretendy name-forgetting thing. They both got a laugh out of it.

"I suppose we'll find out when you get back," he says of for whom the pastry will reassure. In the meantime, he slips his phone off the table and into his pocket, finally reaching for a packet of sugar that will eventually wind up in his coffee. He's in the process of tearing open the bag when she returns, tea and pastry and all, looking up at her as she has unasked questions all over her face. But he doesn't answer them, of course. Because they are unasked/.

"Oh, huh. I guess we're just jumping right into it," a few puffs of chuckles escape him as he overturns the sugar bag and dumps it into his coffee, the legs of the chair squeaking over the floor as he pushes himself in a bit better. "Well, uh, I'm Harvey," again, in case she forgot and started thinking he was Hannah, "I just got into town a few weeks ago. Came from San Francisco, you ever been?" he lifts a brow, but doesn't wait to hear the answer. She'll get to it eventually. "I started working up at the Gazette as their front page section editor. And, well, I'm looking for a roommate because print's dying and/or dead and it doesn't pay very well," he flashes another rueful grin there.

That plate of coffee cake goes to live next to the plate with the Danish on it. Hailey pushes it over there with the tip of her index finger, till the two plates clink together quietly, and there; she has no intentions of touching it again ever. So hopefully he finds it reassuring, or else she just wasted money she obviously doesn't have on a pastry no one is going to eat.

Then she's nodding pleasantly about jumping right in, yep, and fingernail-tapping her own packet of sugar while he paints his life-story in broad strokes. "They have a really cute website," she offers charitably re: the Gazette and the death or the printed paper. Other than that, she seems to be waiting for him to go on?

"If by 'cute' you actually mean 'hasn't been touched since Geocities was a thing' then yes. The website is very... cute," Harvey agrees with a sort of lopsided smile that digs the dimple on his right cheek in deep, a brief glance dropping to the coffee cake that she pushes his way. He clearly was expecting her to offer up her own broad-stroked life story, but her lack of give means that he'll have to give some more. And take, eventually.

"Uh, so my work hours can be pretty varied, particularly before print. Plus I got a couple of side projects that I'm working on, photography and the like," he shrugs, finally reaching to dig out a piece of Danish and pop it into his mouth, grinning around the mouthful. "I cook a mean ramen and just try to live my best life, yanno?" There was the give. Now, comes the take. "What about you, huh? Your ad said that you work pretty odd hours?" he tips his head, curious. "What is it you do?"

Hailey was, like, seven when Geocities was a thing, but she gets the gist. No courtesy-laugh, just a quick smile; it's the facial expression version of an A for effort. "But you're definitely not a serial killer." Quickly, before she can be accused of being hung-up on this, she tacks on, "Because it's a legitimate concern. I read it in," pointing at him, "your paper."

She's quiet for a second after that, ostensibly because she's dumping her own sugar into her own tea, but honestly...

...she's figuring out what's up with his powerz. It makes her brow twitch. Distracted with the psychic probing, she says dully, "I'm starting my third year of residency at Addington Memorial." ('Doctor' would be way less syllables, but she sticks to the technicalities.) "Do you have family here? In town?"

Harvey was only like 11 and now I feel old, thanks. "Ah, nope. Definitely not. I didn't even get into town before the murders started happening, so the timeline doesn't add up," Harvey points out. This is a guy with a rock solid alibi (rhyme), unlike some people at this table. He takes a gulp of his coffee while she grows all silent, popping another bite of pastry into his mouth after. "Third year of residency? But I thought you said in your ad that you were new in town," it's spoken with a subtle undertone of suspicion, as though maybe this was the first clue that she was the murderer. "Where'd you do your other two years?"

Then she has to go and ask about his family, and well, let's see here..

He remains successfully composed, not going into the tragic deaths of his parents. Instead, he just shakes his head. "Nope. I've got references though, if you want 'em. The landlord from my old place in San Fran, a couple of bosses, that sort of thing. You?" Family, probably. Not references.

You know what's the best answer ever? "Upstate." Hailey drank enough Kool-Aid while she was there that she drops that reply without missing a beat, just glances vaguely toward the window like that helps clarify the vaguest reply known to man. "But I promise," hand over her heart and everything, "that I'm not the serial killer." Beat. "Sorry. It would be one heckuva story to... break? Crack? Whatever the appropriate reporter-y term is." There's a nod about the references, something about emailing them to her, then hum? "No, my family's - " Summed up by a headshake.

"Oh, like Seattle?" Harvey remarks in response to her 'upstate' comment, just a touch of prying. "Why didn't you finish your residency up there? I imagine Seattle's hospitals have a lot more to offer than Gray Harbor's," he chuckles, then holds up a hand in surrender. "Granted, granted, you could probably say the same thing about me all things considered. I was just looking for a change of pace though," he grins, the expression widening when she talks about her not being a serial killer, laughing as he takes another drink of his coffee. "Good thing I'm not on the serial killer beat, so you haven't ruined my career."

The door opens and in walks Penelope Haven. One of Gray Harbor Police Departments finest: she's dressed in her uniform. Like many other rookies, her equipment looks brand new, hardly a scratch, dent or chip to be seen. Reflexively, she reaches down to lower the volume on her radio so as to not disturb the patrons, before she meanders towards the counter where the Most Blessed and Sacred Caffeinated Liquid is dispensed. From the dark circles around her eyes, she may need the jolt. There is a slim off-hand chance however that her face just looks like that. Not even talk of serial killers can distract her from her mission-- er, she looks in Harvey and Hailey's direction and stares. Okay and she also butts into the conversation with: "That's the sort of thing a serial killer would say. That they aren't a serial killer."

"No?" Not like Seattle, though why Hailey felt the need to put a question-mark on that is anyone's guess. Since she sure as shit doesn't go on to supply any better geographic details. What she offers, so as not to seem like that person that's full of secrets, is the tidbit, "My mentor at my old job passed away." She looks hard at the straw on her cup of tea while she says this, apologizing via tone for the bummer. "So it was time to move - oops, you totally caught me, officer." She holds up her hands away from the table, surrendering! "It was me the whole time, gasp." Yes, she says 'gasp.'

"No?" Harvey echoes Hailey's answer, though his question-mark at the end is more confused than anything else. He awaits her offering of more detail, which is provided - though, not necessarily about where 'upstate' she was. "Ah," he replies with a slim frown. "Well I'm sorry to hear that," it's mostly genuine. He brings his coffee cup to his lips to take a sip when Haven wanders in, the little actually spoken 'gasp' from Hailey causing him to laugh.. and snort coffee up through his nose, at the same time. "Shit," he half-chokes, half laughs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Went up the wrong pipe there." It takes a sec, but then he's looking back to Haven. "You're not gonna take her away, are you, Officer? There's not a whole lot of roommate potentials around here."

"I suspected as much. It's why they pay me the big bucks," Haven replies, hooking her thumbs in the pockets of her pants and rocking back on the heels of her boots just slightly. "I suppose I'll have to take you in." She pauses, looks significantly towards the counter, then back at Harvey and Hailey: "But first, I needses the preciousssssss." Yup. She full-on Gollums it up.

The whole idea that she's about to be arrested for serial killing means Hailey doesn't have to do anything with the whole 'sorry about the dead guy' subject. She keeps her hands up for another few seconds, while Harvey is snorting coffee (that's not how you use it~), then drops them when Haven makes for the coffee instead of her handcuffs. "I feel very safe in this town," she deadpans, passing her eyes across his momentarily. "Though maybe I should have been a cop. I only get paid with normal-sized bucks." Her sigh isn't very credible. Anyway, "I should - " She thumb-points to the door, meaning 'leave.' "Ahhhhm, I guess I'll be in touch?"

Harvey manages to not snort more coffee into his sinuses when he chuckles at Haven's Gollum impression, opting to drain the cup after the laughter has subsided. "I only get the fun-sized bucks," he holds his thumb and forefinger just a wee bit apart, enough space to fit a fun-sized Milky Way between them. "Then again, they call it fun sized, but can you really have fun with something so small?" The answer is no, no you can't. He looks back to Hailey when she makes 'got to go' noises, not looking particularly disappointed in it all. "Ah, yeah. I should probably get going too. Here, I'll send you a text," he takes out his phone from his pocket, making texting motions with his thumbs. "What's your number?"

When Haven finally gets to the counter, she regales the barista with a series of hand gestures that are either her ordering a really large drink or telling the story of her latest fishing expedition. Turning around after ordering, she settles her butt on the edge of the counter and looks back towards Harvey and Hailey, a smile settling on her features. "You guys should totally move in together. So adorbs. Sorry to interrupt again."

"No?" Hailey must like making that word into a question, she keeps doing it. This time, though, she sounds truly unsure: Can you really have fun with something so small? She looks Haven-wards for some kind of back-up, then just rattles off digits very fast at Harvey. "And please at least take those with you?" She means the pastries on the plates (unless they got eaten poses ago and I just forgot, sometimes that happens). "Starving children and what was the other thing? The ice-caps? And thank you," to Haven. "I'll take that under advisement. It was nice to meet you." She leaves like normal people leave, putting on her sunglasses and taking her cup with her and not serial killing anyone on the way out.