2019-09-01 - Scooby Doo, Where Are You?

Hailey dunno the horrible history of this place. She's just one of the many happily oblivious people that think walking by a pond is a great idea, even if it's about a thousand degrees out and sticky as shit. Also, since she works weird hours, that whole exchange took place at around six in the evening, so it's coming on sunset, and the mosquitos are out in force. That's why she's stopped on the bridge, spraying a huge cloud of Off! all over herself (and an area about five feet around her, just really going full-force with the stuff).

A jogger passes through her cloud, coughs pointedly, and she shoots a jet of the stuff at his back before capping it and stuffing it in her bag.

It's a good thing Harvey thought to take the bridge rather than come to the pond through the park, else he would've missed this incredible opportunity to watch Hailey mace a jogger with mosquito spray from afar. Harvey, the man (the myth & the legend), leads Harvey, the dog (no further titles necessary) with one of those automatically retracting leashes, though Harvey (the dog) seems rather well behaved. He's a big lug, a brindle colored mastiff-mix that drools as he walks. The dog, that is. Harvey the human doesn't drool when he walks (only when he sleeps).

"You know that stuff's bad for the environment, right?" Harvey says once he's close, shooting a pointed look at the can of spray before he flashes a dimpled smile up to Hailey. Harvey the dog ... flops onto the bridge and lays there like a lump, having clearly had enough of this 'walk'.

Without missing a beat, "You know that four-hundred thousand people die from malaria each year?" Just before Hailey closes up the bag completely, she holds the open space toward Harvey, just in case he wants to re-think his anti-Off! policy. Then she takes stock of the leashed Harvey, and her eyes goggle. "Wow, so your roommate - "

" - sells guns for a living and has the biggest dog possible?" She is clearly drawing conclusions about this roommate. Specifically about what parts of his anatomy he's compensating for with the guns and the big dogs. Her brows climb curiously while she lets this slobber-monster sniff the back of her hand with mushy noises at him, hi big guy~

"And how many people die every year from overdosing on Off?" Harvey asks curiously - but he does, apparently, subscribe to the notion that when a pretty girl offers you a can of bug spray, you Off yourself. He snags the spray can, shakes it vigorously, and spritzes a line down either arm while she makes googly-eyes at his - err, Noah's - dog. There may be a grin, but he hides it well, dropping the can of spray back into her bag whilst Harvey the dog drools all over Hailey's open hand. "Uh-huh. And he apparently doesn't even use the dog to pick up chicks. Which.." he motions to the leash, and then to the dog.. and then to Hailey.. with a bit of a humorous sparkle in his eyes. "Seems to working accordingly. Missed opportunity," he shakes his head, sighing for his poor lame roommate.

Again, no beats are missed when Hailey replies, "I'm not prepared to speak to that statistic." She'll be here, crouching next to the flopped dog for a minute, looking duly impacted by his very lazy, slobbery, and oversized charm while she scratches his ears and other non-slimy parts of his head. With a look up, then around, then finally back to person-Harvey, she asks, "Does it?" Seem to be working. She straightens back up, smacking her palms on her jeans to get dog-dirt off them. "Does he walk or just lay there?"

There are no beats missed by Harvey, either. "I bet that jogger'd speak to it, assuming he doesn't keel over before he hits the pond. Secondhand Off-ing is real, and deadly." It was probably a lame joke. Blame it on the fact that he's focusing on her focusing on the dog, in the kind of way that guys look at cute girls while they are making eyes at animals. As for whether or not the dog worked? He shrugs. "Ask me again in thirty minutes," he decides, hooking a thumb into his pocket and chuckling as he looks over to the mutt. "Mostly just lays there. But I got him to walk all the way here, which is a win. Unless he makes me carry him all the way back." He considers this before he looks back to Hailey, brows climbing. "How's Chickpea? I started following that damn cat on Instagram, believe it or not."

Hailey glances at her watch, just so she can know when it's thirty minutes from now. "I'm pretty sure the LD-50 on DEET is more than a half-second spritz. So he'll probably be fine. Worst case scenario, he has long-term liver damage." She shades her eyes for a second, in case the jogger in question has already collapsed - but that guy's waaaay outta sight now, so she drops her hand with a big smile. "Did you?" The idea of more followers for her roommate's cat obviously tickles this one. "Then you should already know how she's doing. Very photogenic." Since apparently Harvey the dog (who is not so photogenic) put the kibosh on actually walking anywhere, she just loiters around here, leaning on the railing.

You know, the one people normally tie the ropes to when they hang themselves from the bridge. Excellent segue: "Are you ready to hear something weird?"

"The LD-50 on DEET? I didn't know doctor-speak could sound so sexy," Harvey jokes. Okay, actually, he's halfway serious, but he punctuates that statement with a laugh to suggest that he's joking. His eyes remain bright and his dimples deep, following her attention down the bridge towards the jogger that has well and truly disappeared, before he leans himself against the bridge railing. The end of the leash is held limp there at his hip, mostly forgotten. Harvey the dog isn't going anywhere, although he does turn up those huge brown dog-eyes up to Hailey, thump his tail once... and then lay his head on her sneaker while she, too, settles against the death railing.

As for Harvey the human? He's attention is wholly on Hailey now. "I didn't move to the weird capital of the USA to hear something normal. So yes, I'm all ears and well and truly braced. Hit me." He even leans in a little towards her, so that he can hear her best.

"If that got your blood pumping, just wait till we start talking about formication." Hailey pretends to fan herself with her fingers, lays the backs of her fingers against her forehead, feigns a swoon. Thankfully, the dog's head on her foot keeps her from taking it too far and falling right off the suicide-bridge. She holds on with her fingers curled around the railing, just to be safe, and looks intently back at person-Harvey, eyes bright. "The serial killer is a ghost."

Dun dun DUN!

"He was actually a patient at the hospital where I used to work - years before I worked there, but." She unclasps one hand from the rail, showing her arm to Harvey, where the hairs stand on end and goosebumps raise her skin. "Piloerection." More doctor-words that sound dirty but aren't.

"My heart's already a'flutter at the thought," Harvey pats his hand just over his heart with a quickness, before that same hand is extended to 'catch' her as she swoons back. "Careful now," he tut-tuts. "Don't want you becoming another statistic. You've heard the stories about this bridge, right?" He lets his hand drop back down to his side once he's certain she's not going to pitch herself over the rail - aren't they good boys, Harvey and Harvey-dog? They just saved a life! Then he leans back against the rail himself, giving her his full and complete attention.

It is the journalist in him that comes out in a skeptical squint when she makes her reveal. "The serial killer is... a ghost?" he repeats, one brow arching up as the other slumps in a furrow, considering her for a long moment as she continues on. And when she holds out her arm to show off her goosebumps, well, he can't help but brush his fingertips along her forearm, just a quick swipe along the raised hairs. "I've never seen such a massive piloerection before in my whole life," he whistles appreciatively - it's just a joke. You know, to lighten the moment before he gets serious.

"I knew this town was fucked up, but not.. ghost of a former mental patient serial killer fucked up. Where'd you hear all this from anyway?"

The jokes landed, so Hailey is happy, and takes her arm back to rub it more briskly. She gave herself goosebumps, he made it worse, she's ready for them to be over now. "That's pretty bad, when you distill it down to the simplest terms like that. Ghost of a former mental patient serial killer." She repeats the summary carefully, then gives Harvey the daunted look that deserves, one last chill up her spine that she has to shake off with some unpretty twitching.

"A patient of mine. Apparently, William Gohl - that's his name, the serial killer. He attacked my patient, opened his throat from about here to here." She shows where, pointing with her finger from below her ear to below her jaw. "He's fine now, though."

"It also sounds highly implausible when you say it aloud. Or, well, highly implausible anywhere else except Gray Harbor," that last point ends with just a bit of a sigh, and all joking aside? Harvey notices that twitching, unpretty as it is. And he might be a bit of a liar but he's not a terrible person - the shift that he takes towards her and the hand that comes to weigh down upon her shoulder is far less flirtatious than he's been, one meant to be a source of comfort rather than simply an attempt to touch her. But her words - or, well, the show of them - bring a shudder up his own spine, and now he's piloerect too.

"I know that name," Harvey remarks with a frown twitching at the corners of his lips, brows furrowing. "William Gohl. I did a lot of research, before I came. You kinda gotta, you don't move anywhere blind." He wets his lips, letting his hand slide off her shoulder as he looks back to her. "Do you trust him? Your patient, I mean. Your gut says he's being honest? 'Cause if so.." He trails off, considering this for a long moment. "How do you even stop something like that?"

The attempt at comfort works, and Hailey acknowledges it with a quick nod and a smile that, while still borderline creeped out, is at least moderately heartened. "Next time, we should probably have this conversation somewhere well-lit. Like a hardware store." Instead of out by the suicide bridge with the killer mosquitos buzzing around by the swampy pond-water below them.

The fact that she blinks several times at the question about trusting her patient should make it clear that the thought of not trusting him never even crossed her mind till right now, this exact second. "Yes?" She thinks about it for a second, then solidifies the answer with a nod. As for stopping this problem, she ahhhms. "I'm guessing just hiding out and jumping on him to pull his mask off and reveal he was just the crochety old carnival-worker the whole time isn't going to work." By which she means: she has no clue.

"I don't think a change in lighting will make this conversation any less creepy," Harvey remarks, a slow chuckle rolling out of him as he shifts. The lump that is his dog seems unbothered by the conversation - Dog Harvey briefly lifts his head off Hailey's foot, sniffs her ankle, and leaves a line of drool on her pant leg before he settles and turns onto his side with a groan that would make an old man jealous. Human Harvey turns to hang his arms over the rail, considering the swamp that is the pond below for a long moment while she considers his question on trust.

The answer - even the question mark at the end of it - leaves him nodding his head. "First rule of journalism. Always trust your gut. If your source is bullshitting you? You'll know. Even if you believe 'em at first. Deep down? You'll know," Harvey's going to have to learn some sexy journalism terms, but this works for now. He laughs at her latter comment, looking back at her with a small grin. "I dunno, it might. We got the dog, we just need to pull together a few more meddling kids. I bet I'd look great in an ascot."

Hailey mouths 'thank you' to the dog, shifting to try to scrape some of the new slime off her jeans and onto the post of the railing. It's not working, but she keeps at it, mostly just transferring dirt off the post onto her pants. In the midst of this, she looks at Harvey while he's delivering advice and nods seriously, those large and trusting eyes of hers evincing total and complete buy-in: okay, she'll totally know if someone is bullshitting her from now on, she's on-board! "Wait, why an ascot?"

A half-second later, "Oh. You think you'd be Fred." Like this is very awkward, she chews her lip and asks quietly, carefully, really trying not to offend him here, "You don't think, perhaps, Velma would be more your style?" She stops trying to scrape funk off her pants and makes a pair of loops out of her thumbs-and-forefingers, holding them up to her eyes, a la spectacles. The thing that Velma and Harvey have in common.

Harvey would say 'you're welcome' back, but he is a dog. Instead, he just smears more drool on the bridge, while Hailey makes big eyes at Harvey-the-human and he does that staring thing that would be awkward if he wasn't totally aware that he was doing it and looks back out at the pond again. "Whaddya mean, why an ascot? You know.." he starts, about to launch into an explanation that he would be Fred when she totally gets there herself, his brows lifting in question when she starts chewing on her lip. He looks there too, but he knows better than to stare. Besides, she's just called him a Velma and he makes all those snorting scoffing noises.

"Me? A Velma? Really?" he laughs as she makes spectacles out of her fingers, and pushes his back up the bridge of his nose before he leans into her to bump his shoulder into her own. "First off, the glasses are like the only thing we have in common. And second off? I don't have the right skirt-and-sweater combo in my wardrobe. But," he holds up a finger. "Since I know you're wondering. Yes, I do have great legs."

There's a watch-glance. Followed by a dog-glance. While the dog is busy wiping his nasty face on things that are pant-leg adjacent. Hailey decides to skip following up on the 'how is the dog/chick-thing working out' question, but just know that she remembered she was supposed to ask in a half-hour. This during the shoulder-bump.

"No, that's not all. You're also both brunettes." Her nod is firm, so there, and then she quickly closes her mouth because he's holding up a finger. She respects this gesture. Eyeing his legs a second afterward, she shakes her head and decides, "I'm sorry, but until I've seen them in orange knee-highs, I'm just not willing to take your word for that. But please wait until after they catch the ghost serial killer thing, since you'll never be able to run for your life in Mary Janes."

Harvey totally notices that watch-glance followed by the dog-glance, he notices it so hard. But he's a little too busy laughing over here about the similarities he shares with Velma. When she mentions the brown hair? "Jinkies! You're right!" he touches his head, swiping his fingers through those brunette locks, as his grin broadens. "And I could make that happen for you, you know. The orange knee-highs. But I'd be worried about your piloerection problem," he looks pointedly down at her arm, and then back up into her eyes. "You know you have to go to the hospital if that lasts longer than four hours right? And me in knee highs," he fans his hand in front of her face, as though he's cooling her down. "You're probably gonna need to take a cold shower tonight. Don't worry, I completely understand. I might need one, too."

He drops his hand back down to the rail afterward, eyes alight with a mischievous glint. "You knooow.." he trails off, considering her as he leans his hip into the rail. "I don't think we've met once where our conversations haven't gotten all.. doom and gloom darkness? But we do pretty good with the funny light stuff, all things considered," he lifts a brow. "Whaddya think about you and me going out one of these days here soon and make it a point to talk only about lighter things, hm?"

"Hold on, I just thought about the pleated skirt. It's too much for me." Hailey teeters, back of her hand to her forehead again, doing a terrible job of pretend-swooning. Acting is not her thing. "A thousand cold showers or this priapism," look it up later, Harvey, "will be the death of me for sure," while she plucks on the front of her t-shirt, letting in some cool air. Not only is she busy flirting her ass off, but also it's muggy as shit and she was like 'oh i know, the pond will be awesome.'

Not her wisest choice.

She probably knows what he's driving at, being that she's not stupid, but she points FYI's, "We're out right now." With a look around the vicinity. Yep, definitely out. Really, though; "I really like to try the waffles at the Waffle Shoppe. Twice, I've been there and they're out of whatever it is they make waffles out of."

"Think of your grandma and try and do algebra in your head!" Harvey offers up helpfully, understanding in those wide hazel eyes of his. He gets it, Hailey, thinking about him in a pleated skirt and knee-highs would set anybody off. "It always works for me." There's that grin again, the deepening of his dimples, while she tries to let in some cool air. At least he doesn't try to help, though the thought does occur to him.

Besides! There were more important things to think about (although thinking about him in a pleated skirt was pretty damn important). "We are out right now, true," he bobs his head in a nod. "But we already ventured down that dark and spooky road. And besides, a bridge nicknamed the HANGING BRIDGE isn't exactly the best place to go on a date, unless you're a goth," he chuckles, leaning into that rail while he watches her. The talk of the Waffle Shoppe has him popping his brows upward, and he pretends that he's considering it even if he's already totally made up his mind. "How in the hell do you run out of waffle stuff when you're the waffle shoppe?" he ponders this, then shakes his head. "But all right. The Waffle Shoppe." A beat. You know this is coming. "It's a date."

At least the HANGING BRIDGE is a good way to cool right off. Hailey jumps up from leaning against that railing, skitters a few steps away from it, and leans as if she needs a little extra physical distance from the thing. "Is that what it's called? The hanging bridge?" Though why that should give her pause in a town plagued by the ghost of a dead serial killer... "And here I thought it was just a nice view to the pond." She risks pitching forward on her toes, glimpsing the pond. Or the shadows all around the pond, since it's getting toward proper dark now.

How in the hell do you run out of waffle stuff? She holds up two fingers to remind Harvey that this happened not once, but twice, while she shakes her head, as mystified as he is. "I'll call ahead and make sure they actually have waffles, then." For this date. "But for now, I'm going that way," toward the park, probably where she left her car. "Before the mosquitos eat me alive. Can I trust that one Harvey will look after another, and you two will be okay? Or do you want to walk that way with me? Safety in numbers?"

"Does it really surprise you, considering?" Harvey turns as she skitters back, leaning his back against the rail. He watches her as she pitches forward to look down at the pond, head tipping slightly as he takes in the sight of her. He doesn't stare too long at least, chuckling as she puts up her two fingers about the waffle shoppe and makes noises about going. He looks down to the mutt and considers him, before he shrugs. "We'll walk that way with you. I think Harvey'd be worried if we didn't," he smirks, tugging on the leash to try and get the big lug up to his feet. Harvey begrudgingly gets up, but not without making a whole lot of groaning noises as though it were literally killing him to get back onto his paws.

"I'm pretty sure that's his way of saying he had a good time. You know, in spite of the whole ghost serial killer thing," he chuckles, falling in step beside her. "Let's go huh? You should tell me what 'priapism' is while we're walking."

Hailey takes a deep breath and begins, "Corporeal relaxation causes external pressure on the emissary veins exiting the tunica albuginea..." She proceeds to medical-dictionary this walk back to the park, telling Harvey all about priapism. And the timing works out so that she's opening the door of her car in due time to conclude the lecture with how the primary treatment involves draining blood out of the penis with a syringe. At the end, she dumps herself into her car and concludes, "Sometimes, you have to flush the whole thing with saline solution. Good night, Harveys."

(At least she wasn't like 'the cure is just to beat off furiously'?)

And yet that'll be Harvey's cure tonight!