2019-08-24 - Experiments and Hot Scotch

It's a good day in Gray Harbor. There are only a few puffy clouds in the sky, but the weather isn't scorching hot, but rather a pleasant warmth that may be a bit humid, but isn't unbearable. The windows of the house are open, although there are screens to keep insects out, and the interior is cooled slightly by a warm breeze. The cage for the bird is open, and Luigi is sitting on the back of the couch, eating Alexander's hair as the man reads through a thick stack of photocopied reports of some sort. More are spread out on the table, and he's taking notes with a pen and paper pad. Investigation old school style, perhaps. Despite the work, he's glancing towards the door periodically, clearly expecting someone.

Having only been to the house once when drunk Easton takes his time looking at the houses and finally settles on one as Alexander's. He rearranges the bag of baked goods and tray of coffee's to knock on the door and call out "Clayton?" He is dressed for the warm weather in a loose pair of black joggers and light gray tee shirt, with a pair of running shoes on. He doesn't go past the door yet, but does consider trying to pull out his phone to text and make sure he's at the right place.

No need to look any further. At the knock on the door, there's a shrill bird cry from inside the house, and a flutter of wings as Luigi takes off, makes a couple of circles of the living room, then skids to a landing on a window sill. Alexander stands and goes to open the door, smiling as he sees Easton. "Hey. Come on in." He moves aside for the other man, one hand extended to take a bag or tray as Easton prefers. He's dressed in a University of Oregon t-shirt and faded black jeans, no shoes or socks for the moment. The house is neat and tidy, although the couch has folded pillows and blankets, and a large stuffed frog stacked up on it. "Are you well?"

Easton looks a little rougher than usual, darker circles under his eyes, the Boston Red Sox hat jammed on his head helps cover some of that up though. He hands off the tray of coffee and says, "They're both black, hope you have something to go in it if you want it." He puts down the bag and pulls out a cup. He glances around, re-familiarizing himself with the house. "Yea. I'm good. Nothing major since the bar got shot up. You?"

"I usually take mine black," Alexander says, closing the door behind Easton, locking it (it is Elm, after all), and waving the man to the couch. "Thank you for bringing them. Take a seat." It's really the only sitting area there is - no kitchen table, and the space where one would go is taken up by indoor plant boxes with aromatic herbs and flowers that give the air a subtle, herbal fragrance. The bird on the window sill gives Easton a dubious sort of look, then pecks at dust on the window sill. Alexander's eyebrow goes up at the 'I'm good', and he doesn't bother keeping the skepticism off his face. "You look like you haven't been sleeping, Easton." A smile. "I'm actually pretty good, though. Nothing's tried to kill me in at least a week?" He chuckles under his breath.

Nodding in agreement at the drinking of black coffee, as if that was a test and he passed Easton takes a tentative sip of his. He gently sits on the couch, still working on making sitting and standing movements natural and smooth. Easton notices the look of skepticism and gives a half-shrug, "Yea. Not great." He laughs at the comment about nothing trying to kill him in a week. "I need to get you a white boards, It's been eight days since something tried to kill me"

"Are you hurt?" Alexander asks, taking a seat beside him on the couch. A tentative sip of his own coffee follows, and he makes a pleased sound. There's a flash of a smile, though, at the next. "I'd say that'd be useful. But mostly it'd just be kind of depressing." He's giving Easton that stare, the flat, calculating one. "I guess I could celebrate when we reached double digits, though." He settles back into the threadbare upholstery so that he can stare more easily.

"No." Easton assures Alexander that he's not injured, not in the way he means, there's a wry smile about it on his face though. "Yea well so long as you get to keep updating it." It's morbid sure, but his humor has always slanted that way. He takes a big sip of his coffee and asks, "Any luck with the map? Or word from Dr. Glass? I haven't been to see her." He sounds oddly guilty at the last part. Conflicted on wanting to follow up on the trip to the veil, not wanting to talk about why he cancelled his appointments.

"You do have a good point," Alexander says, thoughtfully. He eyes the cruller bag, then leans forward to go ahead and get one. Yum, sugar and pastry. "I haven't spoken to Dr. Glass lately, although I should schedule an appointment with her. It's not that I don't have things to talk about. I just don't know what I'm ready to talk about." All of that delivered tonelessly. He takes a bite of cruller, chews, swallows. "I became distracted with the Ghoul situation and everyone being injured. I should reach out to Miss Whitehouse and see when she wants to go to the Facility." A flick of his eyes to Easton. "I guess it would be you, Miss Whitehouse, myself, Dr. Glass and," a long pause, "your dead uncle."

Easton for his part sticks with the coffee, ignoring the sugary treats. "Yea. I saw her once." He seems content to leave it there for now, but at least he admitted that much. Then he seems to give into some guilty thought, "Not that she wasn't good. Or helpful. I just... what you said." Except with far more emotion in it, a bit of frustration underlying a desire to be clear in his communication. "Yea. The captain, Isabella and Isolde were all banged up pretty good. I'm glad there were people with that kind of spark around." That kind. He's noticed that he's started to understand a bit more about different types. Grouping Geoff and Bennie into a certain mental group of body manipulators for lack of a better term.

"I don't know if I ever asked what you can do?"

Alexander studies Easton for a long moment, then gives a nod. "It's hard. To talk about things." Another bite of cruller. Luigi eyes Alexander eating, and makes a curious tweet from the window. Alexander's eyes flick in that direction. "Not for you." The bird pecks at the window sill, as if in resentment, and Alexander smiles before he turns his attention back to Easton. "Yeah, healers are very useful. Dangerous, but...we all have our own special ways of fucking people up, if we want to." The question doesn't seem to cause him any distress, although he takes a swallow of coffee before answering it. "Mostly, I read things. People. Objects. I can push people, if I want. Animals are easier. I can manipulate electrical...things. Sort of a human taser if I want to be, but it's useful for other things, too. I have a little bit of what Bennie does, but nowhere near as strong as she does."

"Yea. About anything that matters." Easton's never struggled to find his voice and is often the loudest in the room. But that's very different. He glances up at the bird and considers making a crack about it being a pigeon again, but decides against it. "Next time I'll bring one for you too Weeg." It's amazing considering Easton's preference for nicknames that he has managed to call Alexander by his proper first or last name thus far, the bird isn't so lucky.

"Huh." Easton thinks about it and says, "I can do a little head stuff, just very, very basic. Mostly I can move things around." At the mention of Bennie he nods, "Yea she's uh.. Cap's probably alive because she was at the bar."

It is perhaps a mark of how much Alexander does like Easton that he doesn't immediately snap Luigi's actual name. He just gives Easton a Look, and his foot starts tapping nervously with the effort of holding the correction in. For his part, Luigi just turns his head to give Easton a beady-eyed appraisal, then whistles a bit tentatively before going back to staring out the window. Alexander takes a breath, lets it out, and sounds almost normal (for him) when he says, "I'm glad she was there. The Captain," an emphasis on the full title, "is exceptionally tough, but that many bullet holes is a bit much to ask anyone to tank." His expression lights up a little at the information. "You move things? I can't do that at all, but it's rather fascinating." A pause. "So...you can also find ways Over There, right? The Veil?"

Easton realizes a bit late that he didn't properly address the bird and has to suppress a smile at just how much of a reaction that garners from Alexander. However he would have no idea about 'Cap' considering abbreviations, acronyms and backronyms like that are the lingua franca of all armed services. "God, you'd hate the Corps." He can't help but chuckle at the thought of how long it would take Alexander to take a swing at someone over an an abbreviated title or pronounced acronym versus actual name.

"He is. Former Marine." As if that status explains the toughness. Yes, he's still quite biased. "Yup. Not huge stuff. Yet." At the last question he gives a half shrug, "It's weird. I just started noticing things. Doors, alleys, places I knew I could get to the other side. Ran into some girl though who thankfully warned me about getting back. Turns out that might always involve a test? Like a trial?" His brow is furrowed and he leans forward seeking confirmation. Though he knows at least from his one trip that it did involve playing an abbreviate Let's Make A Deal with doors to get back.

"Yes, I would. I don't like guns or ranks," Alexander points out, blandly. Although not without a quick smile in Easton's direction. "I don't mind soldiers, though. Or former soldiers. Just wouldn't work out well for me." A lift of his shoulders, then lets them fall.

His brow furrows with thought. "How...odd. Some girl? The bartender at the Pourhouse? Teresa, I think her name is. She can also go over. She found the map." A pause. "A test. Hm. I wonder why. There's still so much that we don't know about that place. I don't like that we're attempting to make a raid on the asylum when we barely know what it is, Easton." A grimace. "But Miss Whitehouse's time might be limited, so I can't justify putting it off until some nebulous future moment when I feel better about the situation. Because that will take a long time."

Then, out of nowhere, he asks, "You mentioned before that there was a ghost, attached to you, didn't you?"

Easton can't suppress a smile that creeps across his lips as clears his throat and corrects "Marines. Soldiers are in the Army." His tone is severe, but he's nearly cracking up at being able to turn the 'precise language' card back on Alexander.

"Oh? Huh. I know Teresa." By which he means he has gotten ridiculously drunk at her hand on more than one occasion, which is likely true of all bartenders in town except at the Firefly (he's only been the once). "I agree, we have no op int-" He looks at Alexander, painfully aware of how often he's going to abbreviate things and just continues on, "And who knows if any rules we learn are constants?" He nods in agreement that they can't afford to wait.

The question about the ghost catches him off guard; his head flicks to the side and his eyes narrow. "Yeaa. A marine who died." In his surprise he resorts to basic facts. Undeniably true. Unhelpfully non-informative.

Alexander huffs out a breath. "I'm not sure I understand the distinction, but fine. Marines - and others who have pursued the various paths available to the armed forces - are fine." HMPH. He adds, after a moment, "And I know what op int means, Easton. It's not...abbreviations. It's names. Words don't have an identity to protect. People do. When you just go changing people's names, who knows what you're doing to them." His teeth click shut, and he winces, as if realizing how very crazy that sounds. Time to finish off that cruller and not look at Easton for a bit.

When it's gone, though, he says, "Teresa is looking for ways to explore the Veil. And to help out with things. Purpose, I think. If we explore, maybe we should have more than one person who opens doors." It's offered offhand. "I know someone else, too." He ducks his head again as Easton gives him that narrow-eyed look, but persists, "Have you ever tried to read it? Does it have a mind? We're going to try and contact William Gohl, and I don't know a lot about ghosts."

"Marines are in the Corps. Airmen in the air force. Soldiers in the army." Easton states, and it's clear that as much as names mean something to Alexander, there's similar importance to the titles. "Oh good." Easton is relieved to no have to un-acronym things, a task he could never hope to accomplish.

"I like to think you're staking a claim, a connection. Declaring that you know more about that person and owe that person something in return for knowing it by using a nickname." Huh. Apparently Easton's given this some thought. And he has, it's something he had to decide in leading his men whether to remain stand off-ish and use their proper last names and rank only, or to address them by their accepted nicknames. "It can be a good thing."

"Interesting. I agree we need to know more." He isn't thrilled by the idea of people undertaking dangerous missions without training, support and order, but he tries to will himself not to try and assert that control.

"Read him? I don't know what you mean. I can't read people's minds?" He thinks about it and says, "I can send a thought to him? So there's something there to receive. And-" He stops short and says the next part carefully, "I think he can use my glimmer? He can move shit, but it's me powering it. I can feel it."

Alexander blinks a couple of times, taking in the information. He reaches out for his notebook and pen, and actually writes it down: marines - corps, airmen - air force, soldiers - army. "Okay. I won't get it wrong again." A brief smile for him as the notebook is returned to its place on the table. He thinks about the other response, turning it over in his mind. "An additional level of asserted emotional intimacy, beyond that implied by the use of a first name. I can understand why that would be important to you." It sounds a bit reluctant, but he's at least willing to concede the point. Theoretically.

"I'm not certain how to go about it," Alexander admits. "August, Itzhak, and I tried an experiment not even involving the other - the Veil, and we apparently accidentally exploded the medicine cabinets in your apartment complex." A grimace. "Sorry about that."

The information about the ghost, though, brings his head up and he stares with rapt attention at Easton. "You can read emotions, though. Yes? Not thoughts, but I can feel people's presences, pick up on what they're feeling. But if there's something there...wait, what? How does it do that? Can you stop it from doing that?" Because he clearly finds that idea deeply alarming.

Easton against has to stifle laughter as Alexander takes notes about how to address various military members. He shakes his head and says, "I'm not offended Clayton." Somehow Clayton feels better when he says it outloud, maybe that will suffice. He seems amused also at the processing of why he would prefer nicknames but is genuinely glad it makes sense.

"That was you? I thought I blew it open.." in a drunken attempt to get pain meds is not said out loud. He's just recently learned Itzhak and August's names so he is distracted by that as well. "No worries. Did you succeed otherwise? What did you try?"

"I've never needed glimmer to know what Tom was thinkin." That's a much closer approximation of who the 'dead marine' is. "I don't know if I can stop him. Maybe? I haven't tried." It never occurred to him to try and stop it. "It's almost like he can touch things again." Easton knows it's screwing with his head to have Tom's ghost around he still catches himself making statements like that. As if it were actually Tom.

"I'm glad. I'd rather not offend you." Another of those quick, sidelong smiles towards Easton. Although there's a moment of wary, watchful silence at the stifled laughter, as if waiting to see if it's mockery or not. He seems to assume not, after another breath or two, and relaxes again. "It was us. Sort of?" There's a brightness to him at the question. "We did. We wanted to see if someone could...direct one of the movers or healers across a distance, where they couldn't see anyone, if someone with my abilities could find a mind to target and get data from. Sort of like," he pauses, "using a satellite targeting system to guide missiles. Although in this case, just to take a bottle of aspirin out of my bathroom cabinet. It works!" Then a sheepish cough. "But apparently there are side effects, so until we understand more, we'll have to be very careful with further experimentation."

The rest gets a thoughtful hum. "Would it...he be willing to have you try? One day? A spirit using our powers may be fine, when it's, uh, a friend. But when it's a serial killer, suddenly there are a lot of people with throats cut who didn't even see their murderer coming."

The wary look from Alexander gets a small confused momentarily flash across Easton's face but they move on. "That's smart." Easton immediately sees the usefulness in being able to cooperate and extend the range of abilities. He adds, "I'd love to try something like that sometime." The fact that they exploded all of the medicine cabinets in his building doesn't seem to deter him much.

"Banks would do anything if it helped keep people safe." Easton's chest tightens and his jaw flexes at the end of that statement as he swallows some emotion back down. "It didn't even occur to me, but yea. If Banks can chuck a beer bottle, I don't want to think about Billy with something like what Bennie's capable of." Even if he's only seen it in a Dream, he knows that 'healer' isn't always an apt name for her abilities. "He doesn't leave my place tho, so we'll need to do it there." Yes, there are exceptions but Easton's not sure how or why those work.

"It's definitely something to be explored. Just," Alexander coughs, "carefully. And maybe finding a place out in the woods a mile or two from town. I hate to think of what might have happened if we'd tried to move a knife or electronics or something. But it's good to know. There are things that other people can do that I'm still not sure how they pulled off. Like pulling other people into a lost place against our wills. The actors did that. It doesn't seem to be the same as what you can do. I don't remember going through a door or a thin point. It was just the same as getting lost." He shakes his head.

Then moves on, because that mystery can't be solved at the moment. He cocks his head towards Easton at that hastily smothered emotion. "That's exactly how he's been killing people, I think. He's...attached? To someone. I thought he was possessing them, forcing them to commit the murders. But from what you say, he might just be taking their powers and using them directly. We should definitely see if you can block it. And," this a bit tentative, "has...Banks? Ever been able to use anyone else's powers? Bennie's? Or tried? If not, then we could see if he can use mine. That would be useful information."

"Precautions are good. And we should work only on non-attack patterns to start, like you said." Easton's mind's turning on this, getting excited at the thought of practice and working towards something. "Yea. One of the actors I think, cursed Geoff? Like for months he was under something heavy, in his head." That's also something he hasn't seen or heard anyone else talk about.

Easton nods, as he puts together what Alexander's talking about. A ghost using Glimmer makes a lot of sense. A faint twinge of a smile crosses Easton's lips as Alexander uses the nickname, perhaps unwittingly. "We haven't tried. But we should. Now we need to know."

Alexander nods. "Agreed. No one gets hurt. And it...really can't hit Bayside again." His tone is dry. There's a grunt at the new information. "I remember either him or you saying something about that, back then. But I didn't realize it lasted so long. I don't think I could do that. Even if I were creating hallucinations, they only last a few minutes at most. And that requires concentration." Another thing to go in the Shit We Don't Know column, apparently. He finishes off his coffee so that his hands can be free, tapping against his knees.

"We should. If he's willing. I don't know what might hurt him. If he can be hurt." A pause. "No. I think they can be hurt, or impacted, in some fashion. Apparently one got...lost? Or damaged? In the Veil. So if you want to keep him around, we should be careful." He gives Easton a quick, assessing look, like he's wondering if Easton DOES want to keep the ghost around.

Easton nods in agreement at the rules, though he's unsure of why Bayside was hit or why it can't be affected again. He shrugs and says "Geoff's not going to complain, he'll just get one with it. But it was a thing."

Easton's face falls to completely neutral when talk about hurting Tom comes up. He knows it's just a ghost. It's not even him. He also knows how tied up he is about him already. He doesn't say anything immediately. Finally he answers evenly, "We should be careful." Its implication is clear. He breaks eye contact to ostensibly take a sip of his coffee, though his inner conflict about the thought of losing Tom again isn't exactly hard to pick up on.

Alexander leans, after taking a breath and visibly bracing himself, just enough to bump his shoulder lightly against Easton's, unless the other man leans away. "We'll be careful. And he has to agree to it. Before we begin, you should probably ask him if, uh, anything has ever caused him difficulty in his current state. So we know if something should be avoided." If he thinks it's weird or dangerous to get attached to the ghost haunting someone, it doesn't really show. Just a bit of concern as he watches the other man, that he does not ask about.

He straightens up. "I haven't spoken to Geoff in a while. But he seems like a good guy." A pause. "Still not getting a tattoo, though. No microtrackers for me - no tattoos, no hospital pudding."

The shoulder bump causes a small smile on Easton's face, but after a second he cocks his head towards Alexander gives him a curious look. He doesn't comment on it, but just nods back. "He's a ghost. It's not even fucking Tom." Easton 'explains' this to Alexander, but he's obviously reminding himself at the same time. "It'll be fine. We'll see if he can provide some insight, but then we do it. People are dying, it's not a question."

"Nicknames, tattoos and hospital pudding, out. Sex cults and wild college orgies, in." Easton makes note of this, "Good to know."

Alexander hesitates, then nods. "All right." Hey, it's not HIS ghost that they might accidentally break into protoplasmic goo - or teach how to hijack people's brains in a town full of superpowers. He smiles. "This'll be very educational, Easton." Nothing could possibly go wrong.

Then, at the list, he laughs. A real, if low, laugh. "Don't knock a sex cult until you've tried it. Or an orgy. Although these days," he looks a little sheepish, "apparently it is all I can manage to do to keep up with one person. Multiple partners might actually cause cardiac arrest."

Glad to put talk of Tom and what might happen to him behind him Easton is all too eager to get into bawdy jokes about sex cults. "Knocking them? I was hoping for an invitation. I love a good orgy." He notices the small smile though and crows, "You got laid!" He laughs good naturedly but resist the urge to slap him on the back. "Anyone I know?" Easton thinks of Alexander as a fairly private person, with well constructed boundaries. Easton's not much for boundaries, "Better than the sex cult? Worse?"

"I dunno," Alexander pretends to give Easton a dubious look. "You seem like the kinda guy who might draw up a battle plan and try and direct the action. It's more fun when it's spontaneous, and there are limbs flailing every where and no one really cares." A pause. "Although that might have been the drugs, too." He shrugs, then sputters a quick burst of laughter. He doesn't blush often, and even now, it's just a red stain over the arch of his cheekbones. "Yeah." A pause, then he adds, "Since she felt the need to announce it on a loudspeaker, I don't think she'd mind. I'm seeing Isabella." A pause. "I don't know how to date anyone. But...it's good. Different than the sex cult. She hasn't thrown anything at my head, yet, so that's definitely an improvement?"

Easton laughs at being deemed unfit for a proper orgy. "I do love a good battle plan." He admits easily. "I'm sure." The part about the drugs is agreed to with a smile. Yeesh, sober orgy, no thanks. "Hot scotch Isabella?" His eyebrows raise a little, and then he unabashedly looks Alexander up and down as if sizing him up and admits, "I, have underestimated you." He makes a small blowing out noise before adding, "Good for you two though."

Alexander raises his eyebrows. "...hot scotch?" He frowns. "She does like spicy food. And she is very attractive. And she drinks scotch." Tip tap go his fingers. "I suppose it makes sense. As a descriptor. On multiple levels." Then he snorts with amusement at the sizing and the admission. "She could do infinitely better, Easton. I know that. You know that. She'll know that sooner or later." He offers a shrug, and his expression turns wistful. "But...I like her. So. I'm hoping for later? Maybe not until she's finished her research project and leaves anyway." He shakes himself, clears his throat. "Anyway. Yes. Well." And then he just fidgets for a bit.

Eastion laughs as he parses it. He points with one finger, "Yea hot." Then points to another place, "Scotch" separating those two descriptors. "Hey, like I've told many people I'm very grateful that Bennie has terrible taste in men. I'm not gonna try and fix that anytime soon, I recommend you just accept it." He then stands, again with some effort (low couches and chairs are still hard for him to get in and out of with the leg). "But anyway, I need to get ready for work. Text me a time and we'll see what Tom can do."

Alexander rises with him, a lingering smile coming to his face. "Look, I'm not gonna try to talk her out of it. Not even I'm that self-sabotaging, and I'm sure as hell not that selfless. And Bennie doesn't have terrible taste in men, from what I've seen. You're a good guy. Don't say otherwise." He'll follow Easton to the door, and open it for him. It's important to control the portal. "Thank you for the coffee, and the crullers. And the conversation. You're welcome anytime. We'll get together for experimentation. Don't die in the meantime." The last thing could be playful, from another person. From Alexander, it's clearly not.