2019-08-29 - House Warming Party

Here in the dingy, dimly-lit trailer of Greg, the place has been prepped for a celebration -- woot! On the counter between the rooms, a variety of liquors and mixers wait on the countertop, above shelves holding the necessary glasses. A huge cooler full of ice, beer, wine coolers, and malt beverages has been shoved unceremoniously in front of the fridge. Over in the living room, things are ready for those who like a harder kind of party. Of particular note, a large mirror in the middle of the low coffee table holds an absolutely obscene amount of coke, most of it gathered in an untidy pile beside a few haphazardly-carded lines. A mug nearby holds a colorful array of disposable straws. Several jars of weed in different strains are also here, if that's your thing, along with all the paraphernalia one might desire to enjoy it. On the huge TV, Pandora treats the guests to a mix of 90's hip hop with moodily-scrolling album covers. Amid all this, Greg himself can be found. Ensconced in an oversized blue-and-gray knit sweater, he has the hood up on his drug rug and his sunglasses on at night. Every step he takes as he makes his way through the trailer is punctuated by a suspicious plasticky rattle, and he has a Corona with a lime floating in it clutched in one fist. Presently he can be found rapping along with the soothing sounds of Eminem drifting from the set -- 'Kill You', is that? Anyway, he's really not good.

Zoiya needs a party, it's about to be a long weekend for her. She nipped next door to her place, grabbed her landlord and introduced him to riding in the rain on a motorcycle. She is wearing a long leather coat, underneath a pair of hip-slung tight dark denim jeans and a long-sleeved cropped black lace shirt. Her hair is wild, slightly damp, and curled around her face.

"So, did you think I was gonna wreck, or lose you on the turns?" She asks Poe, grinning up at him as they walk up to the trailer. She reaches out, considers briefly, and then simply pulls the door open. It's a party, isn't it? "Blake might show, but he was feeling a little iffy about going out in public, for whatever reason." She shifts her eyes up to the taller man and smirks.

She is already shrugging her way out of her coat, upnodding to Greg. "Hey." She greets, draping her coat somewhere she can keep an eye on it. "Mae. This is Poe. We've come to take advantage of your hospitality."

"I've been on crazier rides than that, Mae. I think you were taking it easy on me." Poe is saying to Zoiya as they make their way inside. He hadn't thought to grab any sort of jacket before they left, so his muscle shirt is wet aside from the front that had been protected by Mae's body. He doesn't seem terribly bothered by it. He pushes a hand up through damp hair to try to convince it to sit in place. "Hey." Poe says when she's introduced by the presumed host of the gathering by Mae. He just accepted the offer to come along without asking a whole lot of questions. Party? Yes. The answer is easy.

Greg gives an audible, happy little laugh when the first guests start to show up, practically hopping with excitement -- and probably other things -- as he hastens to greet first Zoiya then Poe. His smile is surprisingly warm and inviting as he hefts his beer to fist-bump each one in turn. "Welcome to my dump!" he greets with glee. "I'm Greg," he announces with a deep, theatrical bow that dislodges the blunt behind his ear and causes it to tumble to the grayish shag carpet. He snags it back up and sticks it between his lips as he gestures expansively to the room at large. "Come on in, please! What can I get you folks?" His free hand reaches up to tip those dark shades down, and his impossibly deep, dark brown eyes study Poe and Mae both for a moment. "You're not fuckin' narcs, right?"

"Honey, do I look like a narc?" Zoiya flicks her fingers toward the cooler with a beer, moving to find a seat somewhere, crossing her legs as she settles in. "I'll take a beer, for now. I'd hate to get drunk as fuck and have to walk that motorcycle home." She eyes the powder on the coffee table, clearing her throat delicately before she speaks again. "Hopefully you're quick about hiding shit if any narcs do stop by, which.. I doubt they will." She gives Greg a once over, grinning at his exuberance. "You been down here in the trailers for very long?" She asks, pulling her phone out to tap on the face of it. "I'm checking to see if my roommate is still coming, he mentioned wanting to."

Where did Mae even hear about this party? Poe watches the excited man spring up and he returns the fist bump with a grin. "Nice to meet you, Greg." Poe says after the bump, voice strong and friendly - the type of voice he has used to meet hundreds of other near strangers in weird circumstances. "You won't catch me going anywhere that narcs are going to show up. They likely take more interest in me than they do your powder and I'm not really looking to draw much attention. Sounds like this town has enough fucking murder going on that they should be busy doing things other than getting in our face." He goes to find a seat that's not far from Mae, but distinctly not sitting in her space. "Mae, if you want to drink I can take it easy and ride us back. Most of my experience on a bike is as a stunt man - but I think I could get it across town without playing out any explosion scenes."

Moving deftly, Greg snags another Corona out of the cooler and blesses it with a lime wedge from a waiting plate. He pauses in the kitchen to grin towards Zoiya. "No... you don't look like a narc at all. But I guess that's the thing... I don't really know what's what in this town yet. I'm sort of a newcomer." Now juggling two beers, he advances into the living room with his rattling pockets to hold one of them out toward Mae. He grins over at the pile of coke. "I work for Felix. I shouldn't be bothered." He gives an expansive shrug as he produces a lighter and lights his blunt. "I just bought this place," he coughs, offering the smokeable towards the gentleman first. "Good to meet you man," he coughs over the offered blunt. "See, that's a good fuckin' dude right there -- a goddamn enabler of good times. That's just like me, bro." He flashes his most charming grin.

"Well, welcome to Gray Harbor, this town is fucking weird. I'm from out east, originally." Zoiya takes the beer, pulling the lime from it so she can lick the bottle opening before she takes a sip. She sucks on the lime before she takes another drink, sticking the bottle between her thighs so she can peel the skin off of the lime to nibble on it. "Dunno who that is, but if you're not bothered, I'm not bothered." She tilts her head to the side, watching Greg and Poe speak to each other before she speaks up. "Poe is okay. As long as he isn't trying to get me in trouble, I'll keep taking him to parties." She gives Poe a look, smiles and then takes another drink of her beer. "So you rolled into town and decided to make friends by having a party? Smart move, really."

"Still doesn't hurt to have some caution, Greg. Even under his watch if you fuck up too much and cause noise you just get cut loose or end up taking the fall for something. Loyalty only goes so far if you're a pain in the ass." Poe suggests, clearly having some idea what Greg is talking about. He's happy to blunt and take a healthy draw from it before offering it in Mae's direction and slowly exhaling. "That's really nice." He says with an appreciative nod, wetting his lips. "All I've had lately is Lex's vape and that's very different." He crosses his legs at his ankles and shifts his eyes between Mae and Greg. "Yeah. Great idea. Glad Mae dragged me over here. Any parties at your side of the duplex yet?" He asks of Mae, perhaps wondering if they'd done something similar before Poe returned to town.

Blake looks around, not even sure if he's in the right area. He stands off in a position that allows him to watch his environs. He's dressed in his usual fair, just some dark tshirt with charcoal colored jeans, and some old all black chucks. He doesn't seem to want to keep his eyes glued to the screen.

Greg sets his untouched beer down in front of Poe before retreating quickly to grab another. He skips the lime this time, but does bend down to rail a line off the mirror on his way by the table -- I mean, it was there. "Fuck," he observes appreciatively, teetering on his feet for a moment, ineffable behind his shades. But the stupid grin that slowly spreads across his face says it all. "You could say I was given an entrepreneurial opportunity I couldn't pass up," he comments wryly, lifting the beer for a sip. The TV now plays some deep track from Cypress Hill as Greg stuffs his free hand in his pocket. "Maybe you could say I'm trying to make the best of a weird situation." He nods to Poe's words, his face briefly registering a sober expression. The mention of vaping snaps him out of it. "I'm always saying fam, distillate is a supplemental smoke. You still need flower to get the full experience." His beshaded gaze slides over towards the quiet guy, Blake, and he watches him for a heavy moment. "Yo bro!" he calls across the room. "You having a good time, family?"

Zoiya looks a little groused because Poe obviously knows what the word means, she'll just ask him later. She nearly finishes her beer with the next swallow, her crossed legs bumping against Poe as he asks about parties. "I haven't had one yet, not sure if it's a good idea. Can you imagine if Lexie or Blake freak out?" Speak of the devil and he shall appear. "Blake, c'mon in." She gestures toward Blake, smiling over at Greg. "This is one of my roommates, he's cool." She takes the blunt from Poe and sniffs it before she takes a hit, wincing as she holds it in her lungs for a few beats. She exhales, doesn't cough and holds it toward Greg so when he approaches, he can snag it out of her fingers. "Well, if this is what your opportunity entails, might as well ride the pony for as long as you can."

"Hey Blake." Poe says, his posture easy and loose while he leans back in his seat with his legs stretched out far ahead of him. "Did not see you there. Glad you made it over. Would you believe I got that entire desk together without any pieces left over? I almost came to bang on your door a couple times to see if you could help me figure out the pictographs. Struggled through on my own." He gestures in vague agreement to Greg's statement. "Full experience, yeah. The vape is nice in its way though. Don't always need more than that." Blue eyes swing to Mae and he shrugs, but nods to her words. "Fair. Blake might not be in a good place if a mud wrestling ring were to break out in the basement. Likely best to keep the place quiet."

Blake's phone buzzes and he glances down at the text. Blue eyes scan the area. Totally in the wrong spot. It doesn't take him but two minutes to find trailer 48 though. He slips inside as quietly as possible, opening the door only wide enough to let his wiry form slip through. His brow creases as he presses his lips together. When Greg spots him. "Huh?" The shades throw him off. "I don't know. I just got here." He moves in closer at Zoiya's bidding, offering a small smile that doesn't last long when the moment passes, falling back into a neutral mien. He takes a seat near Zoiya, but isn't going to put anyone out of their seat if there isn't anything next to her. He glances over Greg's shoulder and then takes a deep breath at Poe's greeting. He looks to the man. "Hi. Hard to see me when I'm not here," he explains, sort of. There's no ire in his tone. "That's impossible. They include extra parts. Where did you put them?" Eyebrows arch. "Wait, why would there be a mud wrestling ring in my room?" It's a dungeon really, or a habitat for trafficked people.

Greg accepts Blake as he enters and approaches if the other guests do, so the shade-wearing, hoodie-draped host swoops down to scoop up that blunt and take a deep reef on it. Coughing, he offers it to Blake. "Beer? Something stronger...." He gives a gesture that points out first the countertop full of liquor and next the table full of coke. "I have pharmaceuticals also," he says with a sly grin, "if that's more your pace. Or like... just a beer." His tone makes it clear just how boring that would be. As the algorithm moves on to some WuTang Clan (it's for the children) Greg finally slouches down into a seat near the others. "So what the fuck do people do for fun in this town? I mean, other than my shit."

"People eat, sleep, work and come to the strip club. Less on the latter that I'd like, but I'm still making decent money. Oh, and they drink, a lot." Zoiya gets to her feet, gesturing toward the drinks on the counter. "Mind if I mix myself something?" She glances at Blake, eyebrow quirked. "You want a drink, Boyfriend?" She isn't going to ask Poe, he'll speak up for himself, surely. She grins at Greg and leans in toward him a bit. "What did you do for fun.. where did you come from, actually?" She heads toward the counter. "Last place I was at before Gray Harbor was Seattle. I didn't mind it there so much."

"Mae has the right of it. A lot of drinking. You're in a good business it seems. This shit has always sold like candy. This place has a way of making people seek out distraction. Honestly surprised that strip club isn't busier - something to be said for a bit of escapism that won't potentially kill you." Poe squints, taking a good look at Mae while she gets up to make a drink. "Well, won't kill you if you keep your hands to yourself at least. All bets are off otherwise." He rolls his shoulders and takes up the beer that had been delivered to him, having a long pull from it and searching to see where that blunt had landed. "Blake. Man. You need to give me this one. Sure, had screws and shit left over - but no actual pieces. I shook it a bit and it stayed together. If no one fucks on top of it I think it will hold. If they do? I mean - at your own risk." He seems to be warning Blake specifically, as though he expects the other man to be using it for such recreational reasons.

"What kind of pharmaceuticals?" Blake squints softly at Greg, pensive. "Beer is...just a beverage." Blake makes it clear just where beer is on the totem pole. It's fact. But, he's still thirsty. "Yes," he replies to Zoiya. Even so, he pushes himself up to do a line of coke with all the apparent ease of someone who's done it before, rubbing his nose a little with the back of his knuckle. "I do what she tells me to do," he replies to the question dryly. "And drugs." He does one more line and stands there, listening to the stream-o-Poe while the drug rushes in. "No loose pieces noises?" He nods slowly, an impressed downward tug to his lips. "I will tell Dominic then." Then he's on his way back to sit down and watches the host of the party with a heightened gaze, like some scientist who has spotted a new specimen in the wild. What's this one like?

"Help yourself," Greg answers Mae congenially, but not congenitally. "I'm from Seattle -- maybe we ran into each other and didn't even know it, right? I usually go to a lot of parties and concerts and festivals, shit like that to uh..." His eyes shift behind his shades. "For business. Uh... what else. Oh yeah, I usually spend a lot of time at the skate park, but if there's one in Gray Harbor I haven't found it. Fucking blows." He grins as he watches Blake hoover lines like a pro. "Well damn. Welcome to the party family." He reaches into the voluminous pocket of his drug rug to produce a little orange bottle which he rattles proudly. "Like what do you like, my friend, that's what kind. These ones are oxy...." he trails off doubtfully here as he squints at the bottle. "15s? Or 30s. Definitely one of the two. I'll tell you in a minute." With practiced and machine-like deft precision he digs out one of the pills, crushes it with the bottle on the table, swiftly cards it up and snorts it away. He settles back in his seat, fairly melting into it for a minute. "For sure 30s," he eventually offers somewhat placidly.

"If you frequented strip clubs, maybe you saw me." Zoiya gets out two glasses, fetches some ice and makes two quick dark and stormy's swirling them with her finger before she brings them back over to the couch, settling between Poe and Blake again. She gets comfortable, holding out a cup for Blake before she takes a drink. "Skate park? Haven't found one myself, then again after work I end up crashing out during what might be prime time skating hours." She glances at Poe, he's the one who is from this place, he'd have better answers than she would. "So you planning on getting into any work or is this.." She trails off, gesturing toward the coke before she looks back at Greg. ".. what you do for work?" She finally gives up waiting, getting to her feet to snort a line of the white powder, blinking a few times when she stands up straight again. She stays on her feet , turning to look out of the window.

"I guess I'd better behave if we're going to get your bike home tonight." Poe says with a lazy smile when he watches Mae take the line. He'd been eyeing the table, but doesn't seem all that put out to stay with the beer and the blunt which is mostly his own to enjoy as everyone focuses on harder things. That'll do. He takes a swig from that beer, shaking his head toward Blake. "Didn't shake Dominic. I expect he'd have some pieces loose if I shook him hard enough. Just waiting for Mae to say she's done with him." He also shakes his head while looking between the other two - "No skate park when I was here. Been gone for a decade though and while most of the place looks like I just left last week a few things have changed. Mostly the same though. Fuck - went by my old gym today and I'm pretty sure they hadn't touched the place with a mop since last time I was there. Beautiful place. Come work out sometime, Blake?" He says, suddenly turning his focus over toward Blake again. "Shoulder is going to need some work once it's healed."

"30s? What did I take that one night?" Blake looks to Zoiya for insight. His eyes are a touch more open, his expressions less muted, making them noticeable. "I think everyone in this town has lived in Seattle at some point," he remarks nearly out of the blue in the slew of conversation. Then he looks to Poe with a contentment. It doesn't even change when Poe starts talking about sweat-caked gyms. "Hmm? I think my ability to build bulk might be a..disappointment. From what I've read," online of course, because, reasons, "it'll just be exercises without any weights at all, then light ones, and so on." He looks over to Greg, looks at the pill bottle pointedly, then nods.

Greg laughs softly. "I mean, this is pretty much what I do. On paper I work at the Firefly. As uh..." He lowers his voice and mumbles, "janitor. Fuck that though. I'm not cleaning shit." You can take that both ways! He slides a crooked grin towards Blake and leans forward to go through the motions once more, but this time he leaves the line for his new friend. Settling back into his seat, he produces another blunt from within the drug rug and lights it. "Seattle is where the fuck it's at," he notes sagely. He pauses collectively while he sips on the blunt before offering it to whomstever wants to take it from him. "I have some ideas, business ideas. We'll see what happens." He glances around the room in a shifty, squirrely way before continuing in a conspiratorial tone. "I'm hoping to talk my Boss into putting up the dough for a medical marijuana dispensary. It's like a license to print money."

"Don't be ashamed of whatever you do." Zoiya says quietly, taking a deep draw from her drink. She nods absently at Blake, watching the interaction between him and Greg. with a slight smile on her face. "Seattle was nice, this place hasn't been bad for money, I thought it would be worse." She gestures to Greg and smirks. "That's probably a good path to business, you'd likely make a lot of money because people around here seem really stuck on getting away from their problems." She glances outside, gesturing to the trailer park at large. "What's it like living here? I haven't been down here yet, seems pretty quiet and chill. You meet any of your neighbors yet?"

Poe's gaze narrows and settles intently on Blake, lips finally twisting and giving a quick shake of his head. "You'd be surprised. Easier for some than others. Still, not just about putting on bulk. Feels good. Sure you can find some science that backs it up. Like free drugs for your brain." Not really free, costs something to go to the gym. Likely cheaper than whatever Greg is peddling, but both not nearly as satisfying and a lot more work. "Besides, it's a good excuse to get out." Read: You need to get out Blake. His attention goes back to the blunt in his fingers, drawing it in and leaning back in his seat to close his eyes. "Pot shop over on Elm. It's new. Never been in, but I keep walking by it." He adds to the other conversation.

There's a quick couple knocks at the door - knock-knock - or is this more the 'come on in' kinda thing? If it is, Graham still knocks. He also tells them he's knocking: "Knock knock."

Greg's title as a janitor earns a small, yet broader grin from Blake. He scoots forward to snort the offered line and his expression gets softly dopey, too much so to even contemplate reaching for that blunt. "Why just medical? No rec?" His gaze swings to Zoiya, "I don't think he actually does the janitor work, so..." He leaves the implication in the air, but mostly because his attention is snagged abruptly by Poe's intent look. So serious. About gym. "There is science for that. It releases endorphins. Brain drugs," he simplifies drastically. Though when Poe mentions a good excuse to get out, Blake's brow knits. "I went there. Owner kicked my chair over. They are very nice. Let me stay on their couch." Belatedly, he leans back and looks at the door.

"Shit, I'll sell it to whoever," Greg tells Blake with a smirk. "And whatever. Just gives me a place to do the thing, and then I'm an entrepreneur, not a fucking custodial services specialist." His gaze drifts slowly towards Zoiya. "I haven't really met anyone in here yet myself. I was hoping some of the neighbors would show up... maybe they're not on Friendzone." The knocking on the door draws immediate and paranoid attention from Greg, who takes his feet with alacrity and crosses the room to whip the door open -- loose weathering plastic on what should be the storm window flutters fitfully. "Oh shit! Graham!" he says with happy recognition. "What the fuck it do, fam? Get in here and do some drugs, you dick!"

The look that Zoiya gives Blake is just probably just as harsh a whack upside the head would be. She settles back on the couch and quietly contemplates the mental image of Poe and Blake heading to the gym. "I think I'll come with you guys when you go, I've been meaning to see about getting a membership there." Her eyes track to the door when the knock sounds, and since the person is unfamiliar, she lets the host handle the greetings and such. "Might be more people will be stopping over, people who work probably have to be responsible and shit like that." She offers Graham a smile and an upnod in greeting.

"Yes! Endolphins. That's what I was thinking about." Poe agrees readily. Brain drugs! How needs the shit in the bottles when you can both punch things and feel good at the same time. "And, yes, Mae. You have to come. I met my old friend Joey today and he still lives on Elm. I mean, I met him over at the gym. He's about six feet wide. Great guy. The entire place is really the best gym I've ever been to. Doesn't think much of itself - got some space to do your work and no one fucks with you. It's really a gem in this fuck hole." Stretch. Poe looks far too comfortable half way off of his seat, eyes partly closed. They blink open again when the door is swung open and focus on the man entering.

"Man, you guys're lucky I'm not the cops." Graham sticks his head in, sweeping the room with a quick lift of his brows when he passes his eyes over everybody, maybe a flash or two of recognition but nothing that hangs him up, though 'endolphins' gets a quick smirk. Do drugs! "Nah, but thanks, I gotta pick Elise in a half-hour. 'Arrive alive,'" with one-handed air-quotes and a half-mocking tone. The other hand has a bottle in it, which becomes apparent when he steps into the doorway and holds it out toward Greg. It's some kind of pretty nice but not too nice booze, gin or something. "Happy housewarming."

Blake stares back at the newly entered man for a few moments and then suddenly gets hit with some delayed confusion. "What did I do?" he asks Zoiya, leaning closer to try and get her attention with that air of earnestness about him. The confusion gets more acute at 'endolphins.' "What's wrong with elm street?" other than it being the shittiest place in this 'fuck hole.'

Greg rattles loudly as he bounces happily, taking the bottle to inspect. "Oh hell! you didn't have to do that, man... thanks!" He rattles his way over to put the bottle on the bar. Over his shoulder, he fires, "Don't let in all the fucking bugs in the forest homie." He pauses to draw deeply from the blunt he still has because nobody wanted to share. "What do you think of my new estate? Everything a young lad could dream for in the world, right?" He slouches his way back over to his seat, melting into sloppily, and pushes back his hood to free a riot of red-brown curls. The shades he keeps on.

"You didn't do anything, it's fine, Boyfriend." Zoiya pats Blake gently on the shoulder, snickering as he leans in. "Stop." She murmurs, and then glances toward Poe. "You can answer that since you brought it up." She actually takes a slower look around the trailer, her eyes moving over the kitchen, the bean bag chairs, the television and a few other things. She is quiet and watchful, letting the two men talk. "If you want, we can let you two chat and get out of your hair."

Poe blinks lazily toward Zoiya and Blake. He'd not had anything too hard, but he's feeling pretty damn relaxed. "What did I bring up? What's his problem? Just thought he could lift some weights, throw a couple punches." He draws a deep breath and declares the next as though it's something he has thought long and hard about: "He looks like he might break in two if the wind blows wrong. I don't want him to find himself in a situation where his body doesn't hold up, right?" No doubt Blake wasn't talking about the gym at all any more, but that's really all Poe has on his mind tonight. He tosses up a wave into the air toward Graham. "Hey man."

"What's up, how you been." Graham tosses that back Poe's way. Not that he was being asked, but he is happy to supply for Blake, "Elm Street fucking sucks." Seconds after he handed over a house-warming guest to a dude that just moved here. "No offense, but it does. Place is nice though. Love what you did with the drapes," with a head-tip toward the plastic that flutters with the door. "You're living the dream. I'm not gonna stay." He throws that out there to inform the offer of people bailing. "Just wanted to drop off the bottle, check out the pad, say that I got a thing you might be into. I'll text you later." He flashes a smile all around, equal parts 'nice to see you all' and 'sorry to interrupt + let in the bugs.'

"Too late," Blake informs Poe, pointing to the shoulder of the arm he hasn't been using all night, even when it would have been convenient to do so. His head lifts sharply as he looks behind at the source of Elm Street ire, Graham. "Rent is fucking cheap, no one bothers me," yet. This guys just looks like prey for the streets. He doesn't even sound defensive, just more like a 'huh.'

"Don't play games with my heart, sexy," Greg tells Graham with a smirk. "I'm not a three-a-m booty call, I'm a classy bitch. You gotta buy me dinners and shit. I'm high maintenance." He reaches up to fluff his curls fetchingly. "Anyway man, hit me up. I'll get into that thing for you." He puffs the blunt again, devolving for a moment into a fit of coughing. Outrageous coughing, that leaves him hacking and out of breath at the end. "Shit! I think I'm going to step outside for a cigarette folks... don't mind me." And with that and without further ado the host vanishes out the front door to recomport himself over a fine tobacco product.

Zoiya tilts her head toward the door, grinning. "All this shit going on in here and he draws the line at cigarettes." She takes a deep breath, grimaces and gets to her feet. "I have to get to work anyway. Poe, think you can get Boyfriend here home on the motorcycle without killing him? I can walk to work, I'll need the air anyway." She searches for her purse, picking it up to sling it over her shoulder. She fishes the keys out of her purse, holding them out to Poe before she goes for her jacket. "Text me once you're home, so I know you're not pavement pizza."

Okay, THAT'S how rumors get started.

"Hold up, I'll have a smoke with you." Graham never really came into the trailer to begin with, follows Greg out.