2019-09-04 - That Work Grind

This afternoon, there is a slow but steady business going on at Green Harbor. Every few people or so will want something from the back room, and Generic Cashier #1 is left to watch over the storefront while Greg sorts out his clients. The place hasn't been open long but already it's building a reputation in line with its owner's: more than weed can be had here. During a lull in people wanting any of the stronger dope(s), Greg stands behind the counter doing stupid foot tricks with his skateboard -- ollying in place, doing truck stands, dumb shit like that. The place reeks of weed, both smoked and unsmoked, and joint the thickness of a pinkie finger burns away in cheap red plastic ashtray on the counter.

Harvey doesn't have his ear on the right kind of streets to hear the other reputation this place has, but apparently opening a store in Gray Harbor generates at least some kinda buzz. Which is why he's here today, having just made his pass through security and coming into the shop proper, wearing a pair of dark jeans and a fitted cotton t-shirt along with his trusty ol' glasses. He's got a hand in his pocket as he takes a second to gain his bearings, and then his attention sweeps right over to Greg. He's not hard to miss, what with the skateboard and all of that, and it looks like he's the man Harvey is here to see. "Greg.. Sumpter, right? Harvey O'Donnell, with the Gazette," he extends a hand to shake once he's made his way over to the man 'o' the hour.

Hailey holds on to the door-handle from the outside for a solid ten seconds before she pulls it open. She's peering at every visual clue about the dispensary from the outside, wearing a frown that deepens the longer she stands there, till she finally gets around to actually opening the door. She sticks her head in, looks around, and has a moment where she very obviously thinks about just closing the door and leaving. But instead of doing that (which would not make for the most interactive scene), she steps in carefully, staying close enough to the door that it clips her heels. She'll just wait a round here, looking... doubtful.

Greg pauses mid-truckstand to reach out and shake Harvey's hand. "You got me," Greg admits, with his trademark playful smirk blossoming on his lips. He runs a weighing gaze over Harvey. "With the Gazette, huh? You gonna write about the store?" His tone leaves room for interpretation as to whether this would be considered a positive outcome. Those impossibly brown eyes drift over to the exit, the bell over the door ringing in a weirdly muted fashion as Hailey's heels interfere with the closing door. "Come on in!" he fires her way with an encouraging smile. "Don't be shy. We've got something for everybody here."

Harvey's got a good grip, but he makes the handshake quick, shoving said hand back into his pocket once the formalities were over. "Yeah, well, we'd like to. A store opening makes good front page news all things considered, we can do a bit of highlighting on the business in general and the overall effect of the industry on the Washington economy," yadda yadda yadda, it's your standard fluff piece. He's got his own patented grin - a 'this makes great news' sort of smile, dimples and all. "We could get a few quotes, take a few pics. You'd be in the news by Sunday." There might be more to this, but his attention drifts to the door and the person who comes through it. Up goes his brows, face a picture of surprise.

Abby pops up by the door, right behind Hailey, barely a minute after the other woman. She stops there, leaning forward to peek in briefly before backing out, hands on her hips. "Ohhhh. Well, that's convenient," she says with a cheerful smile. "I just told someone the other day about the pot leaf tattoo on my lower back." Pause. "I don't actually have one, but I think they believed me for about twenty seconds or so."

"I don't think they're going to have that soap," is Hailey's quick-aside to Abby, put while she continues hanging out by the door like a quick getaway might still be in order. She bumps a few steps aside to make room, answers Harvey's surprised look with a brow-knit that doesn't argue with that surprise but also lobs it back his way, and then she's clearing her throat to cover a laugh. "Do you have temporary pot tattoos?" Since Greg says he has something for everyone, she'll try that. Back to Abby, "So you could give it a test-run. Maybe it's exactly what's been missing from your life," a pot leaf tattoo.

Greg squints at Harvey for a heavy moment, slowly nodding. "Yeah. I can see how that would be a good thing... good for business." He looks over towards the duo by the door and hops off his skateboard, coming around the counter. The spare cashier moves in to takes his place as Greg peers over towards a corner of the store. "There's a display of stickers and temp tattoos over there by the hacky-sacks," he supplies, pointing helpfully. "If you can't find something you want, let me know and I'll order it for you." He walks over to Harvey and makes a broad gesture indicative of the business as a whole. "So this is it, Green Harbor Organics. I sell kitsch, bongs, and weak weed out here. Card holders go in the back room for the strong stuff." He indicates a closed door secured with an RFID pad. "Out back, I put together a little skate park." He shrugs. "I thought maybe people would like it. There isn't much to do around here, so... skate."

Harvey's brows climb higher, threatening to disappear into his hairline, when Hailey mentions soap. It brings out a mild laugh - more of a quick huff rather than a full-on chuckle - but the amusement's loud and clear. "I bet he's got soap. CBD stuff's all the rage right now, it's getting all sorts of press." Sure, most of that 'press' is how CBD-infused items are a bunch of hokey BS, but press is press is press. This is all mentioned to Hailey with a dimpled grin thrown her way, before he looks to back to Greg, assuming he could confirm the existence of CBD soap in his own store. "A skate park, huh? Interesting. I can get a photographer to snap a couple of pics out there, can't promise we'll print any but I'll put in a mention," he shrugs, floating a look around before his attention resettles on Greg. "You think this little town has enough demand for two pot shops?"

"They might have other soaps, though," Abby comments as she moves further in, stepping alongside Hailey. She looks from the other woman to Greg, who receives a bright friendly smile. "Hello! Good afternoon." Her attention gets pulled back to Hailey at the question, eyes darting briefly to the stickers by the hacky-sacks. She rolls her eyes, amused. "It's the real thing or nothing for me, thank you! And I'd worry a pot leaf tramp stamp might get the wrong message across. I'm not sure what message that is, but I'm pretty darn sure it would be the wrong one." Then she gestures to Harvey. "See? They might have soap," she says to Hailey, before flashing the man a smile, "Hello."

Hailey's eyes brighten with amusement when she comments, "Soap from the hacky-sack store," in a low, entertained little mumble. Dutifully, she side-steps on over to this section of the store, the opposite of blending in. "I know where a tattoo parlor is," for no reason, "should we make this dream a reality?" She waves a sticker at Abby; it's a cartoon pot-leaf smoking a big ol' joint and looking heavily stoned. "Oh. This is Abby, she's my roommate. Or I'm hers? And Harvey, he works for the newspaper." Her duty discharged, she finds an EVEN BETTER sticker: it's a green cartoon Care Bear with a pot leaf on its stomach and 'Don't Care Bear' in puffy-cloud font to match the puffy cloud upon which it sits. Now the trip is worth it.

Clickity-clack, clickity-clack. That's the sound of Clarissa's very expensive heels as she moves down the aisles, pushing her oversized and over-expensive sunglasses up on her head as she approaches a worker (or someone that looks like a worker which honestly could be anyone that's not also carrying a vintage Hermes bag) holding out her card between two fingers, "Picking up for Robbins," she states matter of factly.

"That would be cool," is Greg's response to the talk of photographing the skate lurk. He lets his attention drift over towards the customers for a moment, and he flashes a charming smile. "Hey girls! I'm Greg... this is my shop. Like I said, if there's anything I don't have, I'll order it for you." He turns back to Harvey, and his bottomless eyes lock onto the journalist's. "Oh abso-fucking-lutely," he laughs. "People in this place love to get high. Not only that, I'm running different strains. Buds and Buds has good weed, that's no lie, but so do I. Different stuff that I bring in from a coop of caretakers up in Seattle. I'm committed to matching prices and promotions across the board... I want my customers to feel comfortable shopping both of us. And they will." He dimples brightly at Harvey before his attention wanders over to Clarissa. "I've got this one," he flags down the cashier, and walks over to a computer behind the counter to check her order. "I'll have that right out for you, Miss Robbins," he tells her in his best, I'm-a-grown-up-and-a-professional tone, before showing the RFID his badge to disappear into the back room. Generic cashier blinks owlishly as he finds himself left alone in the storefront. "Hi, I'm Karl," he offers with a lame wave. "First day."

"Hey," Harvey offers back to Abby with a full-on dimpled smile attached to the words, just prior to Hailey dutifully introducing the pair of them. It puts Abby in a whole new light for Harvey apparently, since he takes a better look at her, squinting through his thick framed glasses. "Oh, so you're the roommate. Nice to meet you, Abby. I heard a lot of good things about you," he says that sincerely, "Like the fact that you're not a serial killer. I follow your cat on Instagram," you know, as you do. Then it's back to Greg, focusing on the man for another moment before he nods his head. "Cool. Well I'll send by a reporter, they'll do the write-up. Maybe around closing? I think it'll be a good piece. It was nice to meet you, man," it's spoken sincerely, letting Greg off to go take care of Clarissa, who gets a look from Harvey before he wanders over to the stickers that Hailey's currently plowing through. He shifts through some of them and holds up his own find - a smiley face with pot leaves for eyes, sticking out a green tongue that has a pot leaf on it. "I mean if you're gonna go full on tramp stamp.." he shifts the sticker to put it on his low back, turning to show it to Hailey and Abby, "Whaddya think?"

Abby eyes Hailey curiously. "Oh, is it Pens and Needles? The person I was talking to about my tattoos is the owner. Well, he was trying to guess my tattoo, anyway," she says with a tiny smirk, then leans back to strike a pose: she tucks one arm across her chest, the other raised, fingers stroking her jaw, face set in a thoughtful frown. Like she's stereotypically contemplating art at a museum. Except with pot-themed stickers. "Sublime. Truly! That would look great on my... tush." She points a finger at the Care Bear. Harvey gets a wider smile again, "Oh, nice to meet you! I'm definitely not a serial killer. And I'll let Chickpea know she has another fan. And that... looks amazing. Very classy." And while she's at it:"Hi, Karl!" Clarissa gets an amiable smile too, and a curious glance from bag to heels.

Hailey tips the ends of her fingers Harvey-wards and tells Abby, "You're welcome for the follower. Or I guess Chickpea is?" Anyway. "Hi Greg, thank you. I just mistook your store for a different kind of specialty shop. Really great stickers, though." She smiles an encouraging smile at him, tossing that out there about the time Clarissa comes in, and telling Abby cheerfully, "Sure!" Pens and Needles, she has no clue. "I am going to buy this one," the Don't Care Bear. Not the one Harvey is showing off, which she eyes for a second and goes with, "What she said?" Point to Abby. "Very, ahm, classy and amazing. I'll buy that one, too." Give.

"Carl." Somehow, Clarissa manages to mispronounce the name in a way that is entirely on purpose, barely giving the poor kid a look before she's thumbing through her phone to return what is certainly a very important email and not to forward a hilarious cartoon about a dog trying on a dress. Though people talking about tramp stamps get her to look up and over. "...I'm sorry, I thought this was a medicinal shop. Do they also do tattoos here?" She asks with a sniff of distaste.

"Why, do you think we should?" Greg asks, exiting the back room with a little paper baggie just in time to hear Clarissa's question. He pats Karl on the shoulder encouragingly as he passes him by, heading over to a bin of preroll joints to grab two and drop them into the bag. "Gratis," he tells Clarissa with a smile. "Did you want to charge that to the card on your account, ma'am?" he asks as he rings up the damages. For his part, Karl looks like he's not so sure about all this, looking around with a startled and wide-eyed mien. "Hey man, why don't you go fold those new shirts and put them on the shelves. The ones with the Grateful Dead bears, family." Karl wanders off looking confused, shooting one last hopeless look towards Greg before disappearing out into the back alley, where there would be no reason for there ever to be shirts.

"That's a relief," Harvey says to Abby about her definitely not being a serial killer. "But if you were, I'd tell you to rethink the whole stoned Carebear on the tush thing. Distinguishing marks, yanno? Makes you easier to find," he chuckles. Jokes about serial killers are hilarious! He turns back around to the women after, holding the smiley-face sticker between his thumb and forefinger, considering Hailey with a squint. "How do you know I don't collect pot stickers and need this one to complete my epic collection?" he asks of her. But of course he doesn't, which is why he holds it out to her afterward. "So what do you do, Abby? You work at the hospital like Hailey does?"

"You should," Abby says to Hailey with an encouraging look at the stickers and a firm nod. "That'll really spruce up the place! Wherever that place is, really. All kinds of places." She glances over in Clarissa's direction again. "Oh, we weren't talking about real tattoos. They have temporary ones, though. And stickers," she explains with a friendly smile. Turning back to Harvey, she raises an eyebrow. "That would mean witnesses would have to look at my tush first, which seems really unlikely in this whole scenario. I do! I'm a nurse there."

"How do you know," while she takes the sticker from Harvey, "that I don't know that, and I'm not just buying it to ransom it back to you at a higher price later?" Hailey, clearly a master of negotiations, puts her two stickers down on the counter and waits for Greg to not be doing actual business with Clarissa. "And hacky-sacks," she tacks on helpfully for Clarissa (tattoos and hacky-sacks!), playing with whatever happens to be available to play with by the register - keychains or lighters or whatever, she fiddles with the lot of it. While she waits, she'll just be entertaining herself by repeating, "Spruce up the place." It's only funny if you know their shared abode is on Spruce Street.

Clarissa nods to the question of charging it to her account and then gives Greg a thin smile, "It'd certainly mean you were catering to a particular clientele. More-so then you already are." When Abby explains that she doesn't mean real tattoos that gets a bit of a blank look, "I suppose that's one way to keep people from making a the horrible mistake of marking their skin permanently. Does marketing like this actually help sales?" She turns back to Greg, gesturing vaguely at all the t-shirts and things. "Don't you think it undercuts the seriousness of the service that you're offering?"

Greg shakes his head seriously to Clarissa while he works the computer with half of his attention. "Not at all. It gets casual shoppers in the door, and then they're in here. It's a real place, it's not scary, the pot isn't hurting anyone in here -- we're dispelling the myth, ma'am." He flashes that bright and chipper smile. "People come in here to look at the bright and colorful things, and next thing you know, they're thinking about some CBD oil or something stronger for their bad knee or Aunt Suzie's arthritis, and boom -- I just helped a patient I wouldn't have had access to." The cash register spits out a receipt as the computer does its thing, and Greg staples this to the paper bag and jams the whole thing into a little woven-hemp satchel with 'Green Harbor Organics' embroidered on it in green cursive. "Here you are," he offers brightly. "And if you need any papers, pipes, bongs, grinders, or anything else to go with that, we have a fine selection." He spares a quick scowl towards the back door, after Karl. "Fucking dipshit," he mumbles under his breath.

"You never know what could happen when you're murdering somebody. Like, your pants could fall down in the tussle and there's your tush on display, Carebear tattoo and all," Harvey points out, though he can't keep a straight face - thus the chuckling that follows, while he fans out the remaining available stickers. To Hailey, he grins a dimpled grin. "If you did, then you'd know the only one I'm missing is a stoned My Little Pony. You could hold me over the barrel with one of those." Alas! There are no MLP stickers in this stack that Harvey puts back. There's a lift of his brows in Clarissa's direction before he shakes his head and looks back to Abby. "How long've you been working up at the hospital? I bet you see all sorts of crazy shit there."

Abby browses through the stickers, then looks around the rest of the shop, wandering about. She even pauses to look over assorted paraphernalia, head tilting as she tries to figure out the exact workings of a particularly elaborate hand blown glass bong. "How do you... oh." She looks back to Harvey and thinks. "I started early this year, so around... eight months or so? It gets pretty wild some days, sure. Hospitals are always a bit like that, I think, but we've had a few really rough weeks. Some days it's pretty quiet, though, just the usual background level of... interesting patients. Real characters."

Hailey sooooo wants to contribute something to all Greg's talk about myths and arthritis and patients. It's right there, in the way her eyes bounce between Greg and Clarissa and the way she folds her lips into each other, smothering her commentary. She continues to wait to pay for her stickers, pushing them around on the counter-top since she's already touched, like, everything there is to touch by the register. "You should probably check with the expert," she suggests for the unfinished 'how do you bong' question. That's all she has to contribute right now, other than some wide eyes and an agreeably bouncy nod at the terms 'interesting patients' and 'real characters.'

Clarissa shoots Harvey a particularly poisonous look when he mentions murdering people. Maybe she's just a little sensitive to the plight of murder victims or something. She snatches the bag away from Greg, offering a curt, "Yes. I can see the quality sorts of casual shoppers you're attracting already." The nice bag with the marketing is shoved into the larger bag that is apparently bottomless. "I hope you're not going to wear any of this at the hospital," that's more towards Hailey and Abby, "While I think the medicinal purposes should be more accepted, it's still not so mainstream that it would be welcome by your employers."

Greg's grin only amplifies, and he shrugs. "I'm just here to take the medicine to the people -- all the people." He holds his hands up helplessly before sliding over to take Hailey's stickers. He grins over at the bong in question. "That right there is a dab rig. You take a torch-" he points towards some dangerous-looking little blue acetylene torches on a nearby shelf, "-and you heat the fuck up out of that bowl piece right there, then drop your dabs right in." He shakes his head with a devilish grin. "That shit hits like Mike Tyson, drive your lungs right out your asshole." His tone suggests this should be received as an optimal outcome. He pauses on the point of ringing up the stickers, grinning with appreciation for a moment at their clever art. "You know what? Here you go." He hands the stickers back over with a smile.

Harvey returns Clarissa's particularly poisonous look with a broad, dimple-cheek smile. "You know what they say, right? 'Judge not' yadda yadda yadda," he lifts a shoulder in a quick shrug. "Seems a little out of place to be looking down on a couple of ladies buying stickers from your .. high horse," emphasis on the high as he directs a rather pointed look to Clarissa's bag. The one that she just stuck her pot in. It makes him laugh, the sound deepening as Abby checks out a bong. "That sounds painful," the driving lungs into the asshole thing. "You might wanna stick with a vape. Or just some joints." Helpful Harvey is helpful.

"I don't think I'm buying a bong, don't worry," Abby says as an aside to Hailey, with a flick of her eyes to encompass Harvey as well, grinning, then looks to Greg and listens intently to his explanation. The friendly smile remains, though the description of the rig's effects put a concerned frown on her face. "That sounds very... intense," she comments. Neutrally. And takes a small step away from the thing in case it explodes and drives her lungs... well, wherever. Clarissa gets a look, confused for a moment. Then Abby gets very, very polite. "Oh. I don't think anyone could see them under the scrubs. Maybe if it was on my arm, not... the other places we were talking about. But thank you."

Hailey mouths the term 'dab rig' silently and, in a pause during the explanation, has to ask, "Did you just make that up?" It's very obviously on her mind to insist about paying for the stickers, so says the big eyes that look vaguely troubled about this sudden act of charity that leaves her eventually coming up with a smile when she picks up the stickers again. "Thank you. Do you have some kind of, ahm - if I left you my card, would you order some Stoned Little Pony stickers and message me when they came in?" Since Harvey and Abby seem to have addressed the matter of acceptable hospital attire, she stays outta that conversation, just shrugging as if apologetically in Clarissa's direction.

Oh, and there's another throat-clear-hiding-laughter sound at the high horse joke. If no one else thought it was funny, at least she did~

Clarissa clicks her tongue disapprovingly at Greg's display of charity and seems about to comment on it when Harvey makes that joke. Her cheeks flush and she glares, snapping, "It's medicinal!" Before putting her chin in the air and turning on her (expensive) heel to flounce towards the exit. There's even a "Hmph!" for emphasis.

Greg chuckles softly. "Hang on a tick." He ducks quickly back into the secured room and emerges moments later with what looks like a little rubber bouncy ball. This he cracks open; the top half comes away completely like a plastic Easter egg to reveal an evil, dark, resinous substance. He pulls the dab rig up onto the countertop and grabs one of the aforementioned torches, firing it up with an alarming WHOOSH! of wild flame that recedes to a small blue knife of fire as he tunes the torch. While he holds the torch to the rig's bowl, he says, "Sure, leave a card! I'll put in an order and let you know when it's in. I'm aiming for a kind of Spencer's Gifts vibe up front, ya know?" Judging the violent orange glow of the glass bowlpiece sufficiently lung-incinerating, he sets the torch on the countertop to hiss flamily on while he takes out a little metal tool and scoops out a (huge) portion of the stuff in the egg. "This is dab," he narrates helpfully, before using the tool to drop the evil mess right onto the glowing glass. He then hauls off the mouth piece, aaaaaaalmost managing to clear the rig before falling away in a red-faced, spluttering coughing fit. One could almost make out the word 'fuck' amid the spasms of his wounded lungs.

Harvey keeps that pleasant be-dimpled smile on display through Clarissa's snap and hasty heel-click out, before he looks to Abby with a glint of amusement in his eyes. "I think you should totally go for the Care Bear on the tush now. Just to make a statement. I'll even pony up half the cost," he chuckles, roaming over to look into one of the display cases where the edibles are while Greg goes and fires up the bong. In the moment, it's like watching a train wreck - Harvey's captivated, he doesn't even blink until Greg starts to hack up his lung. "I don't know whether I should clap or have one of these hospital types make sure you're okay, man," he admits. At least they don't have to call 911; if Greg keels over, surely Abby or Hailey could save him. Probably. "I don't think I've done a bong hit like that since high school," it's said in a faintly reminiscent sort of way. Ahh, memories.

Abby offers the departing Clarissa a wide smile, followed by a tiny shrug for the benefit of everyone else in the shop. Then she leans on the counter by Hailey's side, listening to the Stoned Little Pony order. "Wait, are you starting a collection?" She asks, lifting a brow, the corner of her mouth twitching to hint at amusement. Then she watches Greg, looking concerned while he busies himself with the rig and the torch. The latter causes her to take a small step back when it fires up. "Oh, that's - that's definitely a bit much for me. I'd probably end up setting myself on fire. Or I'd be so worried about setting myself on fire I'd ruin the whole experience, probably. I haven't even had a joint in forever."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, but okay!" Hailey agrees enthusiastically with Greg's whole thing about Spencer's Gifts, even if most of it sailed right over her head, whoosh~! Here, she puts a business card on the counter for Greg, then turns to try to explain the whole thing about the stickers for Abby, when Greg coughs up all his lungs. It leaves her torn: she leans away from the smoke, of course, but the kid is dying right in front of them! So fine, she'll be the one to clap him on the back, fanning the smoke away with her stickers before she gives him a solid, flat-handed smack - they probably teach that at medical school: How to Whack People On the Back When They Don't Really Need to Be Whacked 101. She shoots a look to Harvey and Abby, just gauging if they think the kid is about to die; no? Good. "Thank you for the demonstration?" She guesses?

Greg carries on coughing and hacking for really an alarming amount of time, the sweat beginning to run visibly down his beet-red face. Just when it looks as though he might be starting to catch his breath, the highly precise medical whacks come and set him off coughing all over again. "Fuck!" This one is quite clearly audible, ringing through the storefront. He bends over to prop a hand on one knee, coughing less violently now, as he reaches up to cut off the torch. COUGH WHEEZE *COUGH "So..." WHEEZE "You ladies want to try one?"

Harvey gives Hailey two thumbs up - and one huge grin - for rescuing Greg from certain death, though there's a wary look given Greg's way as though he still was uncertain that the guy would make it. "Fuck indeed," he agrees, propping his elbows up on one of the display cases when Greg offers the bong to Abby and Hailey. Eyes bright, he chin props, brows lifting expectantly. "Go on," he encourages both of the ladies. "I want to watch."

Abby lets the doctor take point on the patient exhibiting worrisome respiratory woes, while she just hangs back and out of the way of the fire and the smoke and the coughing. She squints between Greg and Harvey, holding her hands up in front of herself. "Oh, I'm fine, thank you," she replies to the offer of a dab with a shake of her head and a small worried smile.

Seriously - no, seriously, she means this right down in her heart - Hailey suggests, "Maybe you're not very good at this?" Greg gets one last pat-pat, then she'll just ease herself on away from him with an equally serious, "Goodness no." She definitely does not want to try one, tyvm. Harvey gets a look, a brow-lift, a quick, "Duly noted," and then she's unpeeling a sticker and slapping it in place on Abby's shoulder. It's the one with the pot leaf smoking the joint. "We should probably get out of here." Before they get contact high.

Greg chokes and splutters as he continues to try to master himself. He does have the presence of mind to fumble a few business cards from a waiting tray, offering them shakily towards the others. "Take a card with my number, folks. Any time you have pharmacological concerns that I can address... hit me up."

Laaaame. Harvey doesn't voice it aloud, but the look he passes to Hailey says it all. "Maybe next time," he smirks, making sure to take a business card and tuck it into his pocket. "Was nice to meet you, Greg. I'll have a reporter swing by after closing." A beat, a thought. "Tomorrow, probably." Then, he cocks his head to Abby and Hailey, scooting towards the door to open it up for the both of them. "It was great to finally meet you, Abby. We should all grab coffee sometime." Cuz making friends is great~

Abby yelps mildly at the smack to her shoulder, "Wha - thank you?" She glances down at her shoulder, then gives Hailey a squinty look. Reluctantly, she does reach out to accept one of the cards. "I'll probably stick to the hospital pharmacy. I mean, for medicinal purposes, not for fun! That would be very illegal, of course. You know, I wonder if they screen for cannabis in our drug tests." She's rambling, and then stops herself with a small apologetic grimace. "Sorry." Is she high? Maybe she got high just from walking in here. "Oh, it was very nice to meet you, too!" She tells Harvey with a friendly smile, then pauses on the way out the door. "Wait, does this count as cannibalism?" She points to her shoulder, where the pot leaf is smoking a joint.

Still so seriously, though this time it's more ironic than authentic, Hailey takes a card and looks at it. "If I have any pharmacological concerns that you can address," then something. She heads out the door with a bright nod at Harvey's whole coffee-suggestion; "Or tea! It was nice to run into you, Harvey." And she strolls on out, musing over cannabis cannibalism when her feet hit the sidewalk. Also, she still needs whatever hippy-bullshit soap she was trying to buy at the outset, so that's a whole new quest.

With a heavy sigh, Greg watches the customers go. He pauses only a moment or two before tensing his shoulders, scooping up his board, and going out back to skate for a while (and probably fire Karl, wherever the hell he is).