2019-09-06 - Coffee Breaks

Bennie is really one of those people that should have their picture behind the counter with big bold red letters underneath that says 'Do not give caffeine'. But either the recently new establishment hasn't caught wind of that yet, or she bribes the staff, because Bennie is sitting at a table with an overly large cup of cappuccino, currently marveling at the foam fern pattern the barista has managed to float on top while she waits for her date, Erin.

Erin arrives only a little late but she's there. She's not in a dress and heels like she had been in the past, but wearing fitness clothing. Black pants with a narrow white stripe down the leg. A tank top of black over a black sports bra and a matching hoodie over it. White tennis shoes are on her feet. "Hi," she greets, looking better than she has the past week. She does go get an order she'd placed online before arriving, so it was ready already. It's in a large to-go cup not because she is in a hurry, but because she wanted a large!

Walking back over, she has a seat and a smile is given to Bennie. "Cappuccino and hot chocolate. Equal parts. Good stuff." It's left on the table to cool though, the lid opened. "How are you?" she asks warmly.

"How do they do this?" Bennie is still enthralled by the pattern floating in her drink, and thus that's how she greets Erin. "I don't have an artistic bone in my body. Not like that anyway. Maybe with fabric." The blonde glances up, rolling things back a bit. "Hi. I meant, hi. I'm great. Well, good. Better that midline. How are you! You look great."

"Oh it depends on the time of day and whether or not Easton is artistic." Erin teases, laughing. "I feel great, really. It took me awhile to realize that you know, I really was going to be fine." She smiles as she swirls her cup around and watches the liquid slosh a little, making a mini tornado inside. "You look great too!"

It's been a bit since she's left the gym - now showered and slowly getting over her hangover, Isabella Reede looks less a sweaty mess as she had been earlier, stepping into the coffeehouse with her satchel and portfolio bursting with paper, and once again caught in one of those strange days where the hours can't seem to decide whether it wants to be summer or something else. The heat has propelled her to wear shorts today, a tanktop, sandals and a light jacket pulled over it, but it is drizzling and drops of water cling to her form in fits and starts when she manages to duck into the coffeehouse. Her hair is still damp from her recent shower, pulled in a haphazard knot at her nape, her skin touched by ocean-safe sunscreen and clear gloss on her lips.

The two ladies within get a quick wave, but she strides to the counter to get something to drink first. Coffee, she needs it.

Bennie's just in a denim mini skirt and a t-shirt with a giant sunflower on it, but she takes the compliment with a beaming smile. "Thanks! And what do you mean about Easton..." It takes her a second, "Oh! Oh. Hah! Sorry, I'm a little..fuzzy headed." Clearly cappuccino is the answer. The EMT and the heiress are sitting at a table, having casual conversation. "Of course you're going to be fine. Are fine."

"I didn't think so at first." Erin drops the truth there, "But I got a job and everything. I'm going to school, I'm not being so closed about that. I've always been going to school, I was just afraid my gram would find out. I'll have a nursing degree soon. And I'm training in a boxing ring. Can you believe that? Me!?" Erin laughs, still not taking a drink from her cup. "Is everything ok? You said you were fuzzy?" At Isabella's entrance she waves at her, "Hi, fancy meeting you here."

Erin's remark earns her a laugh, and a broad grin as she slips some bills towards the barrista, mischief in her eyes. "Between you and me, Miss Addington, you'll always be the fancy one," Isabella tells her, each syllable brimming with unabashed and dramatic exaggeration. Once she's able to retrieve her Cafe Americano, though, she gravitates to that direction - a quick stop, perhaps, before she has to flit off again. Her green-and-gold stare falls on Bennie. "Miss Oakes," she greets. "I feel like I ought to send you a fruit basket or something, I heard I would've been in worse shape if it hadn't been for you. Thanks so much."

Bennie gives a merry wave to Isabella before she looks back to Erin and while gripping the edge of the table, leans forward and declares. "That. Is. Great. You go, girl." And Bennie can say that with a straight face and mean it. To the question about being fuzzy, she just waves it away with the flap of her hand. "New medication, that's all. Hi Isabella! I'd call you Izzy, but you're dating Alexander, and nicknames are like such a no-no with him aren't they? And bah, I'm an EMT. It's what I do. And here I thought you were going to scold me for sleeping with your man! I mean, napping. It was totally just napping."

It comes to Erin just then. "Oh god, it was us. Us three. That stormy night at the hospital. Didn't we all try and go down to the basement together?" Thinking.. she didn't know them so much, "And Sutton was there. That's the night I first heard of Billy. His name was being called, or .. who else was there? Who was calling his name?" Erin realizes she sounds weird, but everything just suddenly comes back to her from that night. Everything she'd pushed away. "Who is Mark?"

"Sure, that doesn't mean your efforts shouldn't go unappreciated. And I really appreciate it," Isabella tells Bennie with a smile, taking a sip of her coffee - up until the issue of nicknames comes up. Amusement simmers in her expression. "He's a man who is absolutely dedicated in doing things properly if he's going to do them at all, and I suppose that extends to calling people by their given names. I don't have that hang up, though - I don't mind them," she tells the blonde, teeth clipping lightly against her cup. "I mean, your Easton calls me Hot Scotch and I'll rock that until the day I die. It-- "

And here I thought you were going to scold me for sleeping with your man!

There's a pause. Wide, green-gold eyes stare at Bennie from on top of her cup. Fingers start to curl a little tighter upon it - it doesn't matter if it's paper or ceramic, it's on the verge of being crushed without her even being conscious of it, everything she's about to say completely derailed.

I mean, napping. It was totally just napping.

"....OH. Ah hah. Hah hah hah." Don't mind the dents in her cup! Nothing to see here! "I'm sure you needed it, and he's always been obliging."

When Erin brings up the dark and stormy night almost three months ago, though, the comical look of near-apoplexy fades. "Mark must've been the other guy," she murmurs. "The one who pulled the zombie off me."

"Hot Scotch! Yes! Though I never really heard the story behind that one. And Alexander totally is." Obliging like that. "He's like a big fluffy teddy bear. That doesn't like to be cuddled. Unless you're you, I'm sure!" Bennie's grin flicks back to Erin. "Hey, don't ask me, I was totally out cold after the whole ZZZzzzZZt."

"Just thought about that. It's hard to resign my memories to that being you guys now that I've gotten to know you better. That was a rough night." Erin shakes her head, trying to shake it off, like a feeling of pending doom or something. Or maybe just the memory of it. "Alexander is a great guy. I like the way he is with Isabella. A great couple, like you and Easton."

"Honestly I have absolutely no idea what the story behind that is either," Isabella confesses. "I mean, Easton seems like a creative guy, it's not like he just put two words together and called it a nickname. Right?" Oh, sweet summer child.

Reaching out with long fingers, she slowly pulls out a chair, turning it around so she could straddle it backwards, the irrepressible tomboy in her unable to help it. She sets aside her satchel and portfolio, and takes a sip of her coffee. "The other paramedic was very skilled. I think Captain de la Vega's girlfriend?" She has never caught her name. "I saw the two of them together in the paintball game, which was a lot of fun, by the way. Erin, if they hold it again next year, you should definitely come. It's for a good cause and the shit-talking that happens across the field is incredible."

Talk of Alexander has green-and-gold eyes looking down at her cup, smiling ruefully, her usual brassy confidence hiccuping slightly - the entire thing is still new to her. "If the teddy bear is a grizzly, sure," she says with a laugh, donning humor for armor relatively quickly, as usual. But try as she might to sound casual, unmitigated affection is in her voice even while she's grousing, and she can't quite hide the look in her eyes. She might not even realize this herself. "Easton's hilarious, he and I got drunk together the other night after last call. If Two If By Sea ends up with a mechanical bull by the end of this month, I had absolutely nothing to do with that, by the way. Unless everyone loves it, in which case, I'm totally taking all the credit."

August strolls in for an afternoon in the coffee shop, aka 'I need to work on my book and everything else at the shop is covered and my employees are driving me crazy'. It was one of those days, in which a tree took exception to being trimmed, and now he's got a nice scrape on one arm that's bandaged with gauze and, because Ignacio lives to torment him, fuscia colored athletic tape. He's in a dark gray slub tee, denim jeans, and his work boots, with his leather workbag slung over one shoulder. As soon as he comes in the barista starts in his drink, and he just puts his cash in the tip jar. "Butter scone, please, thanks Willa."

"Easton isn't just creative, he's artistic." Bennie laughs about something into her overly large mug as she takes a sip of her cappuccino. "Mm, Sutton!" Bennie licks a bit of foam off her upper lip as she fills in the blank for Isabella. "My partner on the rig. Super great gal. Terrible influence." The blonde EMT flicks a strand of hair over her shoulder, getting distracted for a moment as August walks in. More specifically, the fascia tape, and it's like she just completely blanks out for a moment.

With a shake of her head, she says a quick, "Sorry, what?" Even though Bennie's brain realizes that Erin complimented her and Easton. "Easton is perfect because his broken compliments mine." There is a bit of a sheepish shrug.

"I'll have to learn something of firearms before then. But it did sounds fun. I saw some of the pictures in the paper." Erin smiles, "I hope you all did have fun. I should have come even to just watch or donate to charity." Looking up at the new arrival she gives him a nod in greeting then goes back to her drink.

"Terrible influence equals fun in my world. Life's too short, we're still young, no reason not to embrace it now and then," Isabella tells Bennie unabashedly, lips pulling at her coffee, but before she can inquire further about Sutton, eyes lift to follow the paramedic's line of sight, ultimately falling on August's familiar figure by the counter. Whenever he looks up, she'll flash him an open smile. "Hey, August."

To Erin, she laughs. "If it's just shooting, you can come with me, sometime. I mean, training at a boxing gym, going to nursing school, taking control of your life away from the prying eyes of Gray Harbor's grande dame, why not learn to round it all out? There's a firing range I go to, sometimes."

"Hey," August says once he spies Isabella. He includes Erin and Bennie with a glance, though he doesn't immediately recognize the former.

Spying Bennie's brief interest in his bandage, he shrugs and says, "This is what I get when I let someone else do the first aid ordering." Teach him to get a work injury. His cappuccino is ready in short order, and he moves to settle at a nearby table. "Hope you're all doing okay," he says, has a sip to gauge the temperature. Too hot; he sets it aside and gets out his tablet.

A text chimes on her phone and Erin frowns as she reads it. "I would like to go, I just don't own a gun to shoot, but I would like that." Another text comes in immediately after and she gives an apologetic look to the others. "Bennie can I take a rain check. Something just came up. Tomorrow?"

"He has the best hair." Bennie tells the other two ladies before she leans to where August has taken a seat. "You have the best hair." Despite the fact that she was staring at his bandage earlier and he even commented on why it's the color it is, now she's focusing on his hair. "We're great! Aren't we girls? Erin's got her groove back and Isabella here is instituting Tube Top Tuesdays at Two if by Sea as soon as the Mechanical Bull gets installed."

The best hair. Isabella tilts her head August-ward, eyes lidding in intense and absolutely academic scrutiny as she regards the older man when he takes up a nearby table. But by the way her lips twitch in the corners, she is trying to suppress her mirth - not that she disagrees with Bennie, in the end. "He kind of does have that going for him," she says, in solidarity with the woman she is sitting with, though when Erin takes her leave, she lifts up her coffee cup in a silent toast. Her eyes, though, take on a more serious cast, watching the Addington heiress leave the coffeehouse with her drink.

It's a look that fades, in the end, though Bennie manages to catch her mid-drink and the archaeologist nearly chokes on her coffee. "Look, it was either that or Trippin' Texan Tuesdays. He was going to institute line dancing, Bennie. I did what I had to in order to save us all!"

Erin smiles to the others. "Thank you for understanding, I just have to check on this thing." Taking her drink with her, she hurries out to her Maserati and after a few moments takes off towards Bay Road.

August gives Erin an upnod as she goes, watches with curiosity as she departs. His eyes shift back to Bennie at the hair comment, and his mouth twitches in a wry smile. "You're just trying to make me not mind all the white," he says, taking a bite of scone. "I'm on to you."

He arches an eyebrow about Tube Top Tuesdays (can he talk Eleanor into that? maybe...), coughs a laugh about...the mechanical bull. "Is he planning on starting up a bull riding circuit?" He directs the question between Isabella and Bennie both, unsure who will have the real answer.

Oh wait, Erin was asking her for a raincheck. This is what Bennie gets for hyper focusing on the exact shade of August's hair and just what the ratio of salt is to pepper. "So distinguished!" Wait, Erin, "Oh, yup! Totally!" She calls to the retreating woman's back. Then Bennie suddenly slaps a hand on the table and looks to Izzy. "Wait, just how drunk was my beau? Because he'd rather get fucked gently with a chainsaw than have karaoke night, but he's okay if not promoting line dancing." She gives a little unsure laugh, settling back with a gnaw of her thumb nail as she contemplates this with a shrug to August. Maybe the blonde doesn't have a clear line to Easton's thought process as she thought.

"August, as the resident silver fox," Isabella tells him, with a palpable air of scholarly gravitas - and all she's really missing is a bun and a pair of eyeglasses when she says this: "Just own it. It works for you." She hides a grin behind her coffee cup, unwilling as of yet to drop the look, but she's unable to resist it in the end. Unbridled mirth dances on her lightly-tanned mien.

To Bennie, that expressive face shifts to something especially sober - or would be, if she doesn't look like she's about to burst out laughing at any moment. "It was a dark and stormy night, and I came upon a very desperate man," she tells the paramedic. "I don't know what he was trying to figure out, but I guess he had his back against the wall by the time I found him trying to come up with theme nights for every day of the week and that happened to be on his list for a Tuesday."

Mention of the potential bull riding circuit has her grinning faintly. "I have no idea, but he seemed really keen on the idea, but we were also well into a bottle of Glenlivet when we started talking about it, so he might've forgotten about it already. If he does mean it, though, he better name that bull 'Thunder'." As in Thunder From Down Under, because come on. "He can start a running pool as to who gets to get thrown out through the window first trying to ride the thing in the highest setting."

August chuckles, shakes his head. "So you're saying don't dye it?" he asks. A teasing light reaches his eyes. "Here I was thinking of going back to my glory days of all black..." He scratches at his beard, looks contemplative. He can't hold it for more than a second; he smirks, has some cappuccino. As if a guy like him can be bothered for the hair care involved in dying. There's a reason it looks like it does, has since he was forty. "But I'm flattered," he adds with a solemn nod.

He gives Bennie a sympathetic look. "Well, from the sound of it, might have just been the scotch talking." Might have. "And if not you can bet you'll be on-call any time you're there to deal with," he nods at Isabella's comment about people going through the window, "that."

"Mmm, yeah, probably." Bennie says as bright as she can manage before she downs what's left of her coffee. Bennie on caffeine is bad enough. Bennie down right shooting it might have disastrous fallout. "Anyways! I should really get going. I'm probably late to ...one of my jobs, right?" She leaves her empty cup on the table and reaches to swing her bag back onto her shoulder. She's about to breeze by the tables when she pauses by Augusts, and says, "Sorry, can I just...?" She's totally going to 'just' which includes reaching out a hand to try and feel his 'do.

So you're saying don't dye it?

"Absolutely not," Isabella tells him, ever decisive once prompted for her opinion, and in spite of the smile playing on her lips, the green-eyed archaeologist means every word. She even makes a big show of setting her coffee cup down, lifting and spreading her index fingers and thumbs, as if attempting to capture August in the viewfinder of an imaginary camera. "What do you think, Bennie? Does it work? I think it does."

Not that it's needed because the blonde stands right up and moves to August to get up close and personal with his hair. She does give the other woman a wave, though, now that she's leaving.

This was not the way August envisioned this interaction going. He blinks at Bennie, casts a surreptitious look at the baristas, and oh yes--they're watching. He smiles, awkward and apologetic. He's not a blusher, but boy howdy, would he be right now. "It's sensitive, you know, only certain hands can properly handle it," he says, leaning away a little. "But I'm flattered." He raises his eyebrows as if to say, 'sorry this hair's virtue is spoken for'. He looks askance at Isabella, a hint of 'you're not helping right now' flitting through his eyes.

He clears his throat, adds, "See you around, maybe at the open mic night," since Bennie's heading out.

She's a helper by nature. She's definitely helping. But there's absolutely no apology in her when Isabella takes a sip of her coffee and watches the two interact, though there's a curious look to how August leans away in an effort to keep his hair's virtue intact. If nothing else, there's something else in her eyes - a hint of subsumed approval that doesn't make it to the line of her mouth.

With the coffeehouse emptied out and a glance cast to the growing dark, she rolls her head back and closes her eyes. "I should probably do the same," she murmurs. "My head still feels like a watermelon about to burst."

August relaxes a fraction when his gambit works. The baristas leave off their watch. Honor intact, he has a drink of cappuccino, raises an eyebrow at Isabella. "Were you trying to drink him under the table, or getting him drunk enough to agree to the mechanical bull?"

"Oh, he was sober enough when the mechanical bull was first proposed," Isabella replies with a laugh. "But the alcoholic lubrication for other things was absolutely necessary." There's a light tap of a fingernail on the top of her cup, her smile twisting into a look that's a touch more wry. "I was teaching something I thought I forgot." Or rather, tried to forget. The words leave her in a low, almost absent murmur.

With that, she slowly starts to unfold her body from the chair and gathers up her belongings, satchel slung on her shoulder and portfolio tucked under her arm. "But I'll leave you to your coffee, and your tablet, and your amazing hair. I should be getting back to work anyway. Goodnight, August. I'm sure I'll see you."

August studies Isabella for a second, curious but not so much that he'll ask. He knows a lot about forgetting things--huge gaps in his childhood he's sure were related to Portland having places like Gray Harbor--so it's the first thing he thinks of. She could mean anything, and yet, wasn't Glimmer what ruled their lives around here?

He huffs a laugh, raises his cappuccino in a departing toast. "Take care," he says, and sets to working on his book. With any luck he'll finish it before he turns fifty.