2019-08-22 - Mixed Signals

A warm summer day is winding down at the Two if by Sea. The decks are mostly empty as the bar transitions between the dinner crowd and the drinking crowd. The main bar inside still has plenty of people, lingering over late dinners. Out on the top deck a few people have gathered for drinks or snuck outside for a cigarette.

Down on the lower deck there is just a single person, Easton sits at one of the fire pits which isn't lit yet doing both of the above things. A bottle of beer sweats on the arm of his chair as he leans back in his chair, a cigarette that is put to his lips and taken away the only sign that he isn't dead asleep. Dressed in light pants and slide sandals, Easton's apparently gotten over having his prosthesis seen, at least partially. He has on a black tee-shirt with the logo of the bar on it. And apparently he's gotten a good amount of sun, red patches showing under his eyes and down his bare arms.

Itzhak has hassled and coaxed and outright harangued August until he agreed to come out on a super platonic bro date with him to the Twofer. "You're working too hard, come have a drink for Christ's sake, it won't kill ya." So here the two of them are, showing up together. The energy in the place is gentler than it has been, Itzhak's able to handle it with aplomb as he orders his drink, insisting on paying for August's. They come out to the deck, where it's much quieter, and the view is spectacular. He sees Easton, jerks his head at him to August. "C'mon, we oughta talk to him."

The text earlier to Ruiz seemed like a good idea at the time. Geoff was right, there are plenty of other Marines who've dealt with the exact things. He could do that. But now the thought of actually talking about such things to someone with a company's worth of booze first has Easton's brow furrowed. To his credit he isn't downing double shots but nursing a beer. The quiet hum of conversations about activity from the bar is relaxing though and the breeze from the ocean feels good and so he's at least lulled into not actively running away from the not a man date that he setup. Okay, it's a bit of a man date.

The warm day has driven August into a pair of dark gray cargo shorts, deck shoes, and a simple black Henley t-shirt. The shorts allow the lower edge of a tattoo on his left leg to peek out at the knee, something with black feathers. "Yeah yeah yeah," August says in the manner of a workaholic called out and grudgingly allowing themselves to be taken out. He accepts his pint of stout from the bartender with a smile and a tip, nods when Itzhak indicates Easton and follows him out onto the deck.

Easton's had plenty of opportunity to stew by the time Ruiz turns up. He's answering some sort of message on his phone as he shoulders his way into the bar, eyes obscured beneath the brim of that damned ballcap he likes to wear. Ratty tee shirt, black military-style BDUs half shoved into combat boots, ink for days. He cocks a hip against the bar while he finishes up with his phone, and casts a quick look around for the owner. Or head bartender. Or whatever the hell he is. And happens to catch sight of Itzhak and August moseying on out to the deck. His brows knit slightly.

Itzhak jogs easily down the few steps to the lower deck, drink in hand (a Dark and Stormy). He upnods to Easton, without any apparent sense that maybe Easton doesn't want to be bothered. "Hey. How's by ya."

Being cheerful or at least happy to interact with people at the bar is a skill that Easton has finely honed. So having someone interrupt his near nap out on the deck doesn't draw any scowls. He just looks up with a pleasantly neutral face at first assuming it's someone from the bar who needs him for something. But the accent and the voice don't line up and then recognition slowly dawns on him. "Itzhak. Roen." He doesn't repeat their last drink orders, though he remembers them just fine, categorized mentally alongside their names.

He sits up and sticks the cigarette in his mouth and extends a hand, "Good to see you guys outside a haunted house or hellscape." What about Trivia Night...? Maybe he really hates trivia.

August, on the other hand, doesn't seem particularly unaware that Eaton's mood might not be, shall we say, not the most approachable. Well, he can relate. Thus he meanders in Itzhak's wake, giving Easton an upnod and a mild look of greeting. He takes a sip from his stout, awaits the outcome of their arrival ('get lost', 'hey', or a neutral grunt of acknowledgment that they exist). It's the second option, so he smiles. "Same," he says. "How's business?"

Ruiz slides his phone away and pushes off the bar finally. The 'tender gains a shake of his head when he asks if the man wants anything, and he abruptly prowls off for the stairs that lead to the lower deck. Ka-clunk, ka-clunk, ka-clunk as he heads down two at a time; he moves a bit stiffly still, but hides it fairly well. As he rounds toward the table in question, he's given momentary pause by the fact that Easton's got company. But after a look askance to a server who passes him by, and some kind of mutual checking out, he ambles on over. "Cap." Easton, that is. "Sorry I'm late."

Itzhak shakes Easton's hand. "No kidding, right? I'm gonna tell de Santos you thought his trivia was a hellscape, though." He's teasing, dryly. Ruiz shows up and Itzhak glances around, casual at first. Then he realizes who it is. And he very subtly steps to put himself between Ruiz and August. "De la Vega. You look like you got caught in a mangler."

"Business is great. Still not sure how Gray Harbor manages to find tourists, but I'm happy it does and happy they like to drink." Easton answers the question about business with an easy smile and a possibly practiced statement. It's hard to answer the same question genuinely and after a while, even if you try not to, you slip into a bit of a practiced patter. "I did not say that." He also doesn't refute anything about that statement though.

"Captain!" Easton replies in hearty greeting to Ruiz, with a smirk on his lips about them both addressing each other as such. But while Ruiz's greeting is subdued, Easton's is much more Easton-like in it's overly loud volume. Itzhak's comment just gets a "Nope, just had to endure a special event at my bar called let's dredge up ancient town history and try to shoot the fuck out of everyone in the bar. We're still tweaking that one. Turns out it's a shit business idea."

When Ruiz steps out into the deck August's face tightens for half a second, like he's tasted something odd in his beer. He very pointedly doesn't look in Ruiz's direction when Itzhak moves between them, giving himself a second to reorient, then glances at Ruiz and nods a hello. Only then does he realized Itzhak has moved between them, and for a second he just gives Itzhak a puzzled stare of 'what, precisely, are you doing'.

He nods in response to Easton's somewhat rote answer, one businessman to another, but frowns at the rest. "...what?" he asks, eyes narrowing.

Subdued, laconic or downright surly; take your pick. The off duty cop doesn't ever seem particularly thrilled about anything, unless it involves tequila. "Gunny's fine," he murmurs. He speaks to Easton, but has his eyes on Itzhak. "Or Javier." HAVE-ee-ay, for the uninitiated. This time, he flicks his eyes back to the bar owner, to make it clear whom he's speaking to. And after a noticeable pause, claims a seat. Maybe he didn't spot August's funny look.

Itzhak ignores August's 'wtf' look, focused solely and completely on Ruiz and more importantly keeping himself between Ruiz and August. Easton's loudness shakes him out of a little; he blinks, wincing, then abruptly sits down, like he suddenly realized he should. ...He still takes a chair to put August on his far side. Then he sniffs, looks back at Easton, faking relaxing in a not convincing manner at all. "Sure, you didn't say that," he says, and when he winces this time it's sympathetic. "Yeah. Friends of mine got shot up in that. Guess a lot of friends of people got shot up in that."

"Mostly Javier I think." Easton clarifies for Itzhak, though other people took their fair share of shots as well, Ruiz was wearing the bullet magnets apparently. He motions to the chairs around the pit and says, "Grab a seat." to all the guys now kind of awkwardly standing over him. He further explains for August, "We had a visit from an old timey serial killer and some trigger happy ghost cops." He keeps wanting to call them ghost cops, even though they were real enough. Ghost cops sounds better. He takes a swig of his beer and says, "Thankfully everyone survived and no one got actually dragged off to.. well, shit I don't know how this all works." He was going to say the veil, but apparently dreams and the veil are different things? His mind still can't wrap itself around the mechanics of all of it. He asides to Ruiz, "And thanks for coming down Gunny."

August arches an eyebrow at the offering of 'Gunny', nods. "Javier, then," he repeats. His pronunciation is familiar; not the first time he's said with that name. With another glance at Itzhak, this time in amused consternation, he takes the seat on the far side. He frowns, asides to Itzhak, "Is that why Isolde was in the hospital?"

A long look for Ruiz, but not really at him, then August is listening to Easton intently. "Ghost...bullets." He rubs a hand over his face. Well it's not that much stranger than the worms at the end of the day. He'd honestly have preferred bullets.

Ruiz might not be all that keen to discuss that little dust up, on account of what it took out of him. How the fuck he managed to survive being shot seven times in the chest, well. "De nada, Captain. So what did you want to talk about?" He sprawls more than sits in his chair, wincing slightly as he settles in. "Tequila, por favor," is his somewhat gruff request of the server who stops by to take orders. No, he doesn't bother to take his hat off. Yes, this means he doesn't make eye contact with her. Manners? None. "Yes," he tells August, somewhat belatedly. "Isolde, and Miss Reede as well."

"Turns out the Gunny's a lotta people's friend," Itzhak says, with a judicious kind of blandness, and takes a drink. He stretches long legs out in front of him, crossing his boots at the ankle. "Yeah," he says to August, "Izzy and Irvriya got caught up in it. That's when I played for Izzy in the hospital. Them ghost bullets tore 'em up, but they didn't come back across the border. I dunno who Miss Reede is." He quiets down, realizing Ruiz might actually talk. Like, with his words.

The line about Ruiz being a lot of people's friend gets an arched eyebrow from Easton at Itzhak. That's a curious phrase. Easton calls out "Traaaacy. Can I get a jack and coke, please?" To the waitress as she rolls her eyes at Ruiz, because if he's not going to look up he's not going to see it. Easton's call only causes her to roll her eyes further but give him a 'mm-hmm' of acknowlegement. "Yea, so if any of you know how to put up ghost traps, let me know." At Ruiz's question he winces a little, reticent to bring it up here in the company of others now. He manages a much more subdued, "Oh uh, just wanted to pick your brain about transitioning out of the corps. Just, ya know ..." Easton's usual loud brashness makes any quiet stumbling over words all the more noticeable. He's usually the guy shouting across the bar with an apparent ease about him.

August snorts at the first thing Itzhak says, but then blinks when he mentions Minerva getting wrapped up in the throwdown as well. He gives Easton and Ruiz sympathetic looks. "Well this place sure never fucking stops, does it. Unfortunately I don't know the first thing about ghosts." Or, at least, not how to catch them.

His jaw tightens at Ruiz's wince; he tries to mask his reaction with a drink of his stout. If his non-reaction is any indication, he too has no idea who 'Ms Reede' is. He politely glances away at the comment about readjusting to civilian life. "Ghosts with guns, fucking Christ," he mutters under his breath.

"Miss Reede. Isabella." That's all Ruiz seems inclined to offer on the matter. He studies Itzhak for a little while when he quiets down, teeth pressed against his lower lip, then a little flicker of amusement at the corners of his eyes. Oh, he's a lot of peoples' friend, all right. If by friend, one means wants to punch him in the mouth on a daily basis. The bit about transitioning out of the corps doesn't garner an immediate reply. Instead, he pulls out a pack of smokes and taps one free, along with a lighter. "Anything about that in particular you wanted my help with? Or is this something a few drinks would help." He tries to catch Easton's eye, if he can. "Joder, Cristo tiene razón," he mutters to August.

Itzhak's eyebrows go up. ...Isabella. Oh. He avoids Ruiz's gaze and drinks his drink. Mmm, rum and ginger beer. Very important. Very interesting, as this conversation has taken a turn for the awkward. He gets out his smokes, too, for something to do with his hands, glancing at August in a little concern.

Easton's glances over at Itzhak and August don't stop him from catching Ruiz's eyes and giving a barely perceptible squint of his own. He readily agrees. "Drinks. Tracy knows it's on me." He didn't ask Ruiz out here to pay for his own drinks after all. He feels the need to clarify, "And I don't mean ghost ghosts, it was a Dream or a slip or whatever." Easton has never discussed any of these things with these guys in particular so knowing what words they use is a guess. "Pretty sure ghosts can touch shit or hurt anyone." He frowns and then says, "Not directly at least." His eyes slide off to the side and as others light up he pulls out another to chain light it off his dying first.

August grunts a laugh at what Ruiz says, sighs. He trades glances with Itzhak, shakes his head in a, 'it's fine' kind of way. He sips from his stout, shrugs at Easton. "I mean, maybe what gets called ghosts traditionally is just stuff from over There. I imagine people not like," a pointed look between all three other men, "us wouldn't be inclined to make a distinction." He thinks of Minerva and Eleanor, adds, "Except for people who specifically study the occult."

He tilts his head. "A slip?" he asks, eyebrows going up. He flicks a glance at Ruiz, brows gathering, then he's back to looking at Easton.

Ruiz's shoulders ease a fraction once he's got his cigarette going, though a little of the stiffness remains. He'd never admit that just sitting here hurts, so he suffers through the wait for his drink, instead, with aplomb. "Not ghosts, no. It was a.. well, I'd guess you could call it a dream." He ashes his smoke, watches Itzhak a moment or two, then looks out to the water instead as the conversation lingers on the topic of terminology.

"I dunno, I never met a ghost. If I met one I could tell you." Itzhak is the self-appointed Veil expert here. "Probably hard to tell the difference if you don't know no better." He tips his head at August. "A slip. Like what happened to you, with the worms, maybe."

Did you hear the one about the red head that walked into the bar? Something something.. Pretty sure there's a creative punchline beyond 'You think she would have seen it'. Since she'd been hired here, she'd only worked a few days but she was coming by to clear something with the boss man. When she finds people on the lower deck area, she approaches down there and finds him otherwise engaged, she takes a seat at the bar and glances over the patrons, eyes narrowing slightly at a particular face in the small crowd. Decidedly, Bianca doesn't give him the pleasure of catching her looking at him so she looks away and towards the others, curious about their business with the lawman.

Out on the lower second deck, drinks show up at the firepit courtesy of Tracy who drops of Ruiz's with a curt "Tequila." and then Easton's. "Jack and coke, light on the coke." Because the head bartender being a heavy drinker is something that everyone at the bar knows by half-way through their first shift and Tracy's been dealing with him for months at this point. She takes the time to also light the firepit itself before moving on.

"I.. uh. I don't think it's hard." Easton takes a drink before continuing, "I mean I guess both are weird shit happening, but ghosts don't have a solid form." He flicks a look over at Ruiz wondering if he's met Sutton's ghost, unaware of his own connection to him. "But they can fuck with glimmer." He doesn't announce that so much as tell his drink, right before taking another drink. He frowns slightly at his drink after, as if the taste was off, but doesn't belie the actual cause of Ruiz's glimmering.

"Wait, worms?"

Ruiz seems disinclined to discuss ghosts and murderous ghost cops any further, though does appear somewhat cheered by his drink arriving. "Gracias," is murmured low to Tracy, along with a rather devastating smile that transforms his face and dimples his cheek. See? He can be charismatic when he wants to. Sort of. Or maybe just to people who give him tequila. "I'm going to stop you right fucking there," he tells Easton when worms are brought up. He's about to say more, when a familiar face seems to catch his eye. He squints a little at Bianca, then turns back to his glass for a long drink, chased with a pull of his smoke.

"So. You wanted to talk about the service. You're having trouble adjusting to not being shot at?" Yep, he just puts it right out there.

August makes a low sound, turns his glass around in his hands. "Mmm, yeah, that'd be a good name for it. Dream sounds a little too positive for that carousel business, or," he gestures with his glass, "what happened here. That's more like...a nightmare."

He grimaces at the question about the worms, takes a drink of his stout. Ruiz puts the kibosh on that topic, and August isn't inclined to override him. At least not right now. He's about to give some sort of tolerable rundown, but then an unfamiliar face arrives. He clearly notices her when Ruiz does (how could he not, she's as bright as Itzhak), stops. She plainly has Glimmer, but he doesn't know her. "We took care of it," he says, cryptically. "Just don't go near that fucking carousel. I can tell you about it," a sideways look for Ruiz, "later."

Itzhak holds up one hand in surrender, mimes zipping his lip. He drags off the smoke and pops his eyebrows up lazily at August. When Bianca comes over, he squints over at her. Not checking her out or looking her over, just looking. Then he jerks his chin in an upnod at her, one song-bearer to another.

While Tracy was around Bianca shoots out a drink order, scotch on the rocks, something simple at least. There's another glance at Ruiz at his interaction with Tracy also. Dimpled cheeks? Pressing her lips together to keep herself from showing any sort of reaction, she crosses a leg over the other and glances again at the others. When she notes to herself that things had turned more cryptic since her arrival she gives an innocent as can be look. "Don't mind me, I'm just here for the drinks. And I work here." Which most everyone knows what that means.

A furrowed brow is leveled at Ruiz at being stopped form asking about worms. Easton has no idea why that topic would be off limits, mostly because he's usually the type to talk about any and all things. Granted he also didn't ask Ruiz down here to talk about worms, he just didn't plan on asking certain questions with an audience. When Ruiz gets right back to it his face only darkens farther. He gives the older man a look that effectively communicates 'Really?' without needing to resort to mentally sending the word.

"Yes. Among other things." He is maybe about to elaborate when he catches sight of Bianca. He nods up at her with a questioning look, wondering if she needs him for something. Fine, hoping that he has a legitimate excuse to worm his way (pun intended) out of this conversation that he asked for. "You need anything B.." But he doesn't even get the question out before she's clearing that up. Helpfully. Thanks. He does his best to not look disappointed at missing the out.

Any talk of worms and carousels gets confused nod from Easton as he files that way under screwed up Gray Harbor miscellany.

Ruiz stares at Easton for a moment like, what? when he gets that look from him. Not the most skilled at social nuance, the cop continues to give his fellow ex-Marine some quizzical sideeye when he makes it clear he doesn't want to discuss.. the thing he asked him here to talk about. People are fucking weird. Instead, he slides a look the redheaded server's way. And if he manages to catch her eye, crooks his finger as if to say, come here.

August shrugs a little helplessly at Easton. His expression turns opaque at Ruiz's blunt question and Easton's evasive reply. He rolls his eyes at Ruiz's gesture to Bianca, cuts a look at Itzhak.

Even Itzhak picks up on the awkwardness between Easton and Ruiz. He hitches one eyebrow over it. "Youse guys want we should," he says to them, and jerks a thumb over his shoulder, demonstratively.

"Actually, yes. Though I'm in no hurry, please carry on we can talk about it when you have the time." Bianca is quick to reassure Easton. She's not known him long enough to read him yet or she would rescue him. Besides, she was learning more by listening anyway. OH RIGHT! She's sporting a lovely bruise in a shade of purple on her jaw. It completely fucks up her profile. How could she forget that? It's there though! She happens to look at Ruiz about the time he crooks a finger in her direction and she gives him an ever-so-sweet smile. "Oh honey, I don't always come when I'm fingered." Just then her drink is conveniently delivered and she takes it, tilting it to the lawman in a silent toast before taking a drink.

Looking back at Ruiz with not quite a scowl, but an odd look of concentration Easton tries to make things clearer. But then Bianca is actually giving him an out and he says, "No, it's fine, come on over." He then sees the bruise and realizes this might be also conversation that needs to happen outside of a group setting. He just says, "I'll find you after this if you're hanging around. Otherwise you got my number."

"No, I'm not nearly drunk enough to need alone time with him." Yes, Easton realizes exactly how that sounds when he declines Itzhak's offer to give them shuffle off. He looks up at Bianca and helpfully says, "Bianca, these are couple friends of mine, Roen, Itzhak and Javier." He looks to the men, "This is Bianca, our newest waitress. Be nice." He adds to Bianca, "We were just talking about the general town fuckery, including the shoot up here." Yes, he has told his staff exactly what actually happened, some literally quit thinking he was insane. Happens.

Ruiz doesn't return Bianca's toast, though a bit of tension crawls through his big shoulders, like he half wonders if she might just dump her drink atop his head. Probably wouldn't be the first time. He pauses at that little quip from her, and brings his smoke to his lips for a long pull. There's a reply just waiting to slip out. Probably filthy, and probably in Spanish. But he bites his tongue and nods instead to Easton. "You work for him?" Which is promptly answered by the bartender, and causes him to frown ever so slightly.

August coughs on a laugh at Bianca. He clears his throat, has some stout. Easton clears her to know about Things, or at least some Things, so August gives Bianca a nod of greeting. He notes the bruise as well, shifts in his chair. Like Ruiz there'sa sense he wants to say something and is holding it back.

With her drink in her hand Bianca gets up and approaches the others. This time she remains standing for a moment before finding a seat in the midst of things and taking it, careful not to spill her drink. "I do work for him, yes. And in essence, for my father." She nods to those being introduced, but stops at the name Javier. "Javier Ruiz. J.R. de la Vega. We've met, though I know him as Ruiz." Her gaze rests on Easton. "It's not about this, no. I fell down the stairs." A smirk accompanies the words. "It's about a karaoke night here. People have been asking me."

The 'in essence for my father' gets an arched brow out of Easton. That's something to follow up on is clearly written on his face though he doesn't say a word. He lets his eyes slide over to Ruiz without comment about her knowing him. Again, things to ask about later. At her explanation about the bruise, he ohs, "Yea. Stairs, they can be real dangerous. Especially when they've been drinking." It's the less crude of the remarks that he could make equating stairs with a presumed bad relationship.

"Karaoke night?" Easton looks wary, "That sounds like something drunk me agreed to. Stupid drunk me. Oookay. Put it on the schedule, maybe bump the next trivia night?" He could not endure both of those in a given week.

He stands up and stretches a little, "Actually I'll go take care of that. Sorry to bail on you gents." He then nods to Bianca, with a friendly "B." and then heads off to find out what else he's agreed to.

Fell down the stairs. Ruiz works his jaw slightly, but it's subtle. There's no other visible response to this little explanation of how Bianca managed to bang up her face. He does, however, nudge his chair over slightly to make room for her at the table. "Si." They have met. "Miss Ortega." He downs a gulp of tequila, adam's apple working with the swallow. He arches a brow slightly as he's ditched by the guy who asked him out on this little date in the first place. Weirdo. "Your friend, Rosencrantz, you know him pretty well?" This is posed to August, whom he turns finally to study eye-to-eye for perhaps the first time since they've met. His gaze is intent, like he's searching for something.

August flicks a glance at Bianca's bruise again when she mentioned falling down some stairs, eyes going unfocused for a half second. His mouth flattens and he refocuses on his stout; he bobs his eyebrows in silent agreement with Easton. "Not a problem," he says, raising his mostly empty pint glass in a farewell to the bar owner.

He leans back in his chair, studies Ruiz across the gulf made by Itzhak's departure. "Well enough," he says, shrugging. If Ruiz's expression is intent, August's is bland.

"Gracias." Bianca offers to Ruiz as he moves over to make the room for her. "Captain." Her scotch still has some left but she makes quick work of it. "I only came to speak with Easton. If you gentlemen would like a private conversation, I have no issue in finishing my Scotch and finding my way out. I understand business is business." A glance between the two, but August is more the unknown here to her, even if only by a bit.

Given what practically amounts to dismissal by August, and the reminder that Bianca came here looking for Easton, the tattooed Mexican finishes off his smoke and tosses back the remainder of his tequila in preparation to leave. "Not at all. I should be going, myself. Fue bueno verte de nuevo a los dos," seems intended for both of his companions. And then he adjusts the brim of his cap, flicks his smoke into his empty glass and eases to his feet with a soft, barely audible hiss of discomfort.

August squints at Bianca, now at Ruiz. The look of a man going over puzzle pieces, trying to find the edges that match. "Business?" He almost sounds amused; he's on the verge of smiling. "No business on my end." He nods at Ruiz as he gets up to go, sets his teeth when Ruiz makes that sound and looks away. "Be careful with those, huh?" he says into a drink of his beer.

"Likewise, Ruiz." Bianca uses his name this time but her eyes follow his movements. "I may go find somewhere to get a real cup of coffee." Her Scotch left on the table. "Something that doesn't end in latte or some other weird name." Getting to her feet, she steps away from Ruiz to leave him space too. "A pleasure meeting you, Sir." This relayed to August. "Do have a good evening."