2019-09-11 - Donuts are a Health Food

It was late morning, Wednesday September 11th. A handful of businesses had up 'Never Forget' related posters as a remembrance of that terrible day in 2001 but otherwise it was business as usual. The weather wasn't terrible and the crowd wasn't either since the majority of people were working. Though, some days it felt like no one worked and everyone was just out doing whatever they wanted.

Dahlia had decided she needed some kind of distraction that wasn't illegal and also didn't involve working. So, of course, doing some shopping seemed like a good alternative. She needed more things for her craft room anyhow. She had just left the Michael's with a bag of stuff and was now walking her way down towards the Fabric store. Her attire is simple -a pair of black jeans and a dark purple t-shirt, hair left down. She looked like she hadn't been sleeping too well, but otherwise was in good spirits.

Believe it or not, even police officers have time they spend not doing police officer-y things! A silver Mercedes swings into the parking lot of the strip mall, at speeds that should make every mother clutch their small children in fear and give the blonde driving the drop-top a dirty glare. It's one of the prime benefits of being a cop in a small town. Immunity to traffic tickets! Ha!

Sarah Stevens, aka Detective Hollywood, kills the engine and hits the button that causes the top of the convertible to begin ascending once more. She exits before it's done, sweeping long blond hair out of her way as she places over her nose a pair of sunglasses.

There is no sign of cop-phanalia today. No badge, no gun, no tactical baton.

Instead, Sarah wears a pink sports bra and black yoga pants, both of which look like they were grafted into place. Even the bluetooth headphones she has around her neck, the earbuds dangling into her cleavage, match the top, while the sneakers on her feet are a pristine, blinding white.

No sooner does her car beep a little honk to indicate it's locked than Sarah, clutch purse in hand, steps up onto the sidewalk and catches an eye full of her former 'co-worker'.

"Well, fancy meeting you here, 'Lia. A little light shopping for your..." She eyesballs the bag. "Local home project needs?"

Dahlia wasn't paying too much attention to the parking lot - though she heard the sounds of a speeding car. But, hey - it's not like she had to worry about it hitting her own. The rusty red pick up she had inherited from her mother was a piece of crap and the only reason she even drove it here today instead of taking an Uber was because she just wanted to be able to leave as soon as she was ready.

Blinking a bit when Sarah approached, those green eyes gave her a slow look over and then settled on her face, giving her a smile. "Hey Sarah. You're looking good this morning, gonna do a run around the mall or something?" Quirking a brow, curious. Then she chuckled and lifted her bag a bit with a shrug. "Something like that. Working on stocking my craft room properly. Then have a couple projects I'm going to start on. How've you been?"

The green and lightly dinged Subaru Forester, of an antique 2002 vintage, slides into a parking space at the mall, right next to the Mercedes. It's a pretty tight space, since the other car over is wildly overstepping the lines, but it's a perfect fit! That is, until the driver actually has to get out. The door opens carefully, very carefully, and Abby slowly extricates herself from the vehicle, grunting and huffing and going, "Sorry, sorry..." while ensuring her door doesn't make the Mercedes look more like her own car.

It's a struggle. Eventually, she makes it, slamming the door shut behind her. The she opens the back door, just as carefully, to retrieve a canvas bag that goes over one shoulder. She's wearing, of all things, a wolf-and-moon t-shirt. Sure, there's jeans and a light plaid purple shirt on top, plus dingy pink sneakers, but really, the wolf and moon are the centerpiece of the ensemble. "Sorry! That looked... roomier than it was," she adds with a friendly, apologetic smile.

"Thanks, but... Preeeetty sure I'm always looking good." The L.A.-born blonde flashes a sunny smile and gives a waggle of her eyebrows. Then she lifts her chin towards the car she drove in on.

"Did the run already. Did the gym thing." Sarah says, pointing off in the direction of... somewhere. As if she could indicate that said run and/or gym-ing took place over yonder somewhere. "Now I'm going to get a protein shake and a powdered bearclaw to make up the difference. Because what's the point in living healthy if it isn't to balance out the bullshit you shove into your face later?"

Her eyes fall to the bag again from behind those sunglasses. "Oh my God, honey." Sarah sounds dismayed in the extreme. "You are turning into a little old lady right in front of my eyes! Next you'll be sewing portraits of your cats." Is she joking? She might be. Cop humor, it's hard to tell. "I've been... y'know. Alive. Which is more than I can say for the dead body I just got slapped with last night. Ha! Ah, you don't wanna hear about that. Some drifter passing through town. We haven't even ID'd him yet."

Her eyes catch the SUV pulling in next to her own. She turns, backing up a step, to stand next to Dahlia and watch events unfold. "This should be good." Sarah murmurs out of the side of her mouth, folding her arms, making zero effort to be helpful at all. Surprisingly, there is no green-on-silver crime going on! Bravo, Abby!

"Yeah, no problem. Someone should teach the asshole that drives this thing how to park." The blonde points directly at her own convertible. "Some people have no respect or decency."

"That's clearly the best way to do things." Dahlia chuckled as Sarah spoke about her bearclaw and balances. "I need to hit the gym later today." An idle musing before she was laughing against. "If anything, I'll be sewing doll pictures. Totally no pets for me. Not happening." Not any time soon at least. "But, hey - I have to have some kind of hobby to keep myself out of trouble, yeah?"

Dahlia turned a touch to focus on the Subaru and snickered a bit at Sarah's comment. Watching curiously. She wished someone would demolish the pick up...then maybe she'd get a new car and try actually driving consistently instead of throwing her money at other people to drive her places. Mildly impressed at Abby managing to not scratch or scrape anything!

"Driving is a bitch. S'why I let other people drive for me usually." Flashing a grin.

Abby wipes a hand across her brow, possibly exaggerating the amount of effort this took. Then her smile brightens, looking from Sarah to the convertible, head tilting as she examines the parking job. "It's not /that/ bad. Compared to that one..." She gestures to the car on the other side from her sturdy but scruffy ride. "My theory is some people are never taught how to paint inside the lines as children, and here we are! That's why early education is so important," she says in a deadpan voice.

She shoulders the bag and swings it behind herself, then repeats herself. "Sorry." The warm smile extends to Dahlia too. "I kind of like it. As long as there isn't traffic or, well, jerks." She gives her SUV a light pat. It's got cat-themed stickers on it.

"You should come surfing with me. Or at least come out on the boat. The water is the best hobby one can have! It doesn't whine about how long you've been gone or need constant attention. All it cares about is making sure you get wet. And occasionally drowning people." Sarah holds up a hand, waggling it back and forth and shaking her head slightly. "But other than that it's the best."

There's a side-eye given to the brunette next to her. "I doubt just about anything keeps you out of trouble, anyway. I just have this feeling about it. My Police Officer Sense is tingling."

But Detective Stevens' eyes roll back towards the oh-so-tragic SUV once more. Dear lord, it has cat decals. She gives Dahlia a look. A. Look. The one that says 'we are dealing with a crazy person'. But could mistaken for 'I really want that bearclaw now.' Looks are funny that way.

Sarah takes a step towards Abby, gesturing at the Mercedes. "You can spit on it. We won't tell the owner. They probably had terrible mothers. I'm Sarah, terrible fucking parker, apparently." She gestures back towards Craftswoman. "That's Dahlia. Sewer of dolls. It's creepier than you think."

The blonde looks between the two women. "I'm getting that damned donut." She points her purse at Dahlia. "You are joining me." Then she points at one of the cat stickers. "You are getting rid of those. It's a law. City Council decided they were too tragic to be allowed on the streets. Then you can have a donut, too."

"Surfing? Maybe. Could be fun! Or being out on a boat could be fun too. I don't think I've ever been out on a boat before...now that I think about it." Dahlia admitted, running a hand through her hair. Then gave Sarah a deceptively sweet and innocent smile. "I'm a perfect angel, always staying out of trouble." She promised before she dissolved into laughter one more time.

"Drawing inside the lines is so overrated...but also no one really wants me driving on the regular. I have some insane road rage." She offers to Abby. "Always have. Dunno why. Maybe I get t from my dad. Anywayyyyy..." Giving Sarah a playful little nudge. "I don't sew dolls. Yet. Just clothes, and gonna try pillows. Maybe a quilt? Dear lord I am growing old." She pressed her hand to her chest like she was wounded. "Just off me now."

"I think the decals look cute." Winking to Abby. "Do you want a bearclaw?"

When you can't get to any swanky malls in the city, a strip mall will have to do. Not that Clarissa would look out of place in a more swanky place, with her black pencil skirt dress, patent leather heels, tasteful little American flag pin, and her big vintage Hermes bag dangling from her arm. Which is a long winded way to say she looks kind of out of place here, where a lot of people are in gym clothes this early in the morning. She gives the trio of ladies chatting in the parking lot a look as she gets out of her white SUV, clicking the locking feature so her car chirps rudely. "Ladies," she greets, then gives Sarah a far cooler, "Detective."

Abby flinches slightly at Sarah, "No, no, your parking isn't that bad!" That's her attempt at reassurance. Then she looks from Sarah to Dahlia and pipes up, "Sewing is fun! It doesn't mean you're old at all, I was just going to look at fabrics myself," she says with an encouraging smile. Of course, maybe her support in this scenario is of questionable merit, what with the cat decals on her car and everything. "Oh. I'm Abby," she introduces herself, then after a small pause adds, voice lowered as if what's to follow is a terrible secret, "I sewed a Halloween costume for my cat once. Okay, twice."

A gasp follows. "They're cute," she says, and gestures to Dahlia. "Right? Thank you!" In spite of the frown she aims in Sarah's direction (which really isn't entirely serious), she seems to ponder the offer. "I did go to the gym yesterday, so I feel like I could. But on the other hand, if I have one, I'm not getting back in my car."

Clarissa's arrival earns a quick glance over, a smile and a double-take, then a cheerful, "Hi."

"Mmhmm." Sarah quite sadly agrees with Dahlia's reference to growing old. She looks comically morose about it. "We're going to have to put you down soon. I'm afraid the Old Lady Syndrome, or O-L-S as it's known medically," She asides that last bit to Abby. "Has taken root and there's no saving her."

"But!" A snap of her fingers and the fake sadness is dispelled. "Come on the boat, maybe bring your toy-boy, and learn how to fish, surf, and maybe we'll see dolphins. Everyone loves dolphins. Except... fish, I guess."

The cop glances between the decals, then the woman who declared them cute. A scowl lines her face. "Et tu, Evergreen?"

As a white SUV pulls up, the blonde examines it from behind her sunglasses. Despite her demeanor, and foul mouth, the Big City Girl has a way of keeping tabs on almost everything that goes on around her. Maybe it's training. Maybe she's paranoid. She's caught sight of Clarissa before the woman is even approaching from across the lot.

"Lady." Respondes the Detective in an equally-cool, flat tone. Before she leans towards Dahlia. "Do I not qualify as a 'lady'? Do I need bigger boobs, or...?"

A pair of crossed fingers comes up, as if the blonde were trying to ward off a vampire, aimed right in Abby's direction. "F-Fabrics? Sweet Jesus preserve me, I am so far off the reservation. Okay. Okay. You can all have donuts. But only if there is zero talk of sewing anything for the rest of my life."

"I was heading towards the fabrics too! But then this lovely woman in pink acosted me." Dahlia wrapped her free arm around Sarah and gave her a little squeeze, teasing of course. "Maybe we can check it out together. Are you planning the next cat halloween costume?" A little wiggle of her brows towards Abby.

"Alright, alright. You get me one of those donuts with the boston creme filling inside, I won't talk anymore about sewing. After I have the donut in hand." Dahlia promised Sarah, another look to Abby. "What were the last two kitty halloween outfits?"

When Clarissa approaches, Dahlia doesn't seem to really even register who she is. She has better things to do than keep up with the local politics scene. Though, maybe she's seen her at the few events Justin's dragged her to. Either way, she offers a polite smile. "Mornin'." Is given to the woman as she leans in to Sarah to listen to the whisper and smirked.

"Definitely need bigger boobs." She stage whispered.

At first it looks like Clarissa is just going to keep walking rather than talking to the locals, but then she slows the click-clacking of her heels on the concrete and turns towards them again, "Tell me, would you three be more inclined to contribute to a fund for rebuilding historical landmarks in this town if your donation was in the form of buying a ticket to some kind of event? You're all from here, right?" She makes it sound like that might be a bad thing to say yes to.

"Oh, no. This year Chickpea is going as the cat in Captain Marvel, so... well I haven't figured out how to do the..." Abby wiggles her fingers in front of her mouth to illustrate what she means for Dahlia. Looking back at Sarah, she pauses for a second and adds. "Do sutures count? I might end up talking about sutures," she admits, voice lowered again, but she seems to be on board with the idea of donuts for now.

Her interest turns back to Clarissa, polite and amiable and frowning ever so slightly as she listens. "Ohh, what kind of event?" She sounds genuinely interested. Then immediately adds. "Oh, no, I'm from Elma." Elma being twenty minutes away, along the Olympic Highway, with a population of around 3000.

"That's me. Professional accoster. Says so on my license plate." (A/N: License plate actually reads BIM 677.) When the arm goes around her, she reaches behind and around her own back, alllll the way around to pinch Dahlia in the lower hip from behind. Then comes the comment about needing a boob job. Instantly, Sarah gapes in outrage, leaning back and clutching her chest with both hands, as if physically, perhaps mortally, wounded.

Mortally wounded in the boobs.

"Well there goes my self esteem for the year."

Then Clarissa happens. One turn of those expensive heels and they are getting full-on Clarissa'd. It distracts her from the tug of war over bodily insecurity with Dahlia long enough for the Detective to return eyes and attention onto the striking dark-haired woman who looks like she'd be more at home in a Nordstroms.

"Um. I guess. If spending all that time with druggies has taught me anything, it's that people like to be physically, tangibly rewarded for their good deeds. Charity's good and all, but once you've hit up all the Church-goers, it becomes slim pickings without some kind of kick-back. I'm from Los Angelese, but, uh, people don't really change, no matter where you go."

"Okay, now I'll buy the donuts, but if you attach things to your cat's face, I'm arresting you for animal cruelty. Dressing them in costumes is already... borderline." She glances from woman to woman to woman present. "Also, dogs are better. Everyone inside!"

"Hmm...maybe repurpose some kind of octopus stuffed animal thing?" Dahlia suggested to Abby. Jumping a little at Sarah's pinch and giving her a squeeze. "Hey - they're big enough to me." Giving the blonde a wink.

Then her gaze settled back on Clarissa. "Born and raised." And the look in those green eyes dared the Councilwoman to say a damn thing about it. Yeah, Dahlia hated Gray Harbor - had hated growing up in it. All that good stuff, but she'd be damned if she was going to let someone say otherwise. Especially someone who wasn't from around here.

"Like Sarah said, most people are more inclined to throw money around when they get something out of it." Not saying she personally would - because Dahlia was selfish and really never donated to anything unless it personally impacted her. And those were few and far between. "Okay, okay!" At the Detective's ushering. "Into the donut shop!"

Clarissa gives Abby the sort of smile one does when someone mentions a place they've never heard of, "Since it's the historical society it will be a themed event where everyone has to arrive in period costume. Probably the 1920s. We'll have rentals for a discount of course. The location hasn't been solidified, but Addington House has been mentioned as a possibility. We'd have a sliding scale of ticket prices, with the ticket you get telling you how you should dress, you know, whether you're wealthy, or a maid, or a lounge singer, or a gangster, something like that." She waves a hand like these fun things are just trivial details. Sarah and Dahlia get a nod and a bit more of a genuine smile since they're agreeing that it's a good idea, "I thought as much. It seemed a better idea than a raffle of some sort. Though maybe we'll throw in one of those as well." When Dahlia mentions donuts they all get a slightly confused look, "...haven't you just been to the gym?"

"The problem is how to attach it," Abby might even be inclined to start going on at length about possible methods, but brings a finger to her lips and goes quiet, eyes darting from Dahlia to Sarah and back. And then again, this time with a slight arch to her eyebrows at something they say. Possibly on the subject of boobs.

That's gone as she quickly turns back to Clarissa. "A costume thing would be fun! You should definitely do that. I don't know about the ticket pricing scheme, though. That's a bit..." She doesn't say it. Her nose just gets a tiny wrinkle and she shrugs, without ellaborating further on the subject. "Right! Donuts. Not me, no. I went to the gym yesterday, so that's my monthly quota fulfilled."

"Don't pity-compliment my boobs. It hurts them. It hurts them when you do that, 'Lia." Sarah presses her lips together and focuses very hard on looking very serious about the subject. "Someday I'll get the last laugh when you're tucking yours into your shoes so you don't step on them."

The blonde moves to open the door into the most nearby pastry-infected store. The one she happened to park right in front of, because this bearclaw is her goddamned mission right now. "Miss Robbins, never underestimate the power of gambling. The PowerBall makes how many gazillions of dollars a year, people buying tickets, knowing they're never going to win. You know, I read an article that said stores put all the cheap things up front, because once you spend a little money, people become open to spending more. So get 'em with a one-two punch, tickets and raffles."

She lifts a mostly-bare shoulder. "Or do a 1920s-themed gangster casino night. House always wins."

The sports-bra and yoga-pants-wearing Detective points at herself energeticly as she holds the door open. "I did. I came from the gym. Now I have to restore all the calories I've lost. It's part of the process. Now come get a donut, courtesy of your local G-H-P-D chapter."

Sarah ushers Dahlia inwards, then reeeeaches out to poke-poke-poke at Abby until she, too, has entered the place of sweet confections. The blonde holds the door open, waggling it a little too and fro, as if tempting Clarissa with the wafting smell of freshly baked goods.

"Come on, who else you got to bounce ticket sale ideas off of?"

"One day, darling. But that day - is not today." Dahlia winked to Sarah with a smirk.

Then to Clarissa, "You could do it like 'Donate what you want' tickets to attend . And then have a raffle with a set ticket price once inside. Or a silent auction or something." Dahlia suggested, releasing Sarah and taking out her phone as if this talk of donations and stuff made her think of something. Quickly navigating through until she was sending a text. Then repocketed her phone.

"Nah, I haven't been to the gym yet. So I totally can eat a donut. Or three." Dahlia nodded matter-of-factly. Though she looked like she didn't eat much at all really.

"A casino night sounds fun too." Dahlia added as she let Sarah usher her into the bakery. Getting them a place in line.

Clarissa makes a bit of a face at the mention of a casino, "We're already about to protest that upcoming casino, so I think doing something like that might be seen as some sort of endorsement of that terrible idea," she sniffs and seems about to turn down Sarah's invitation, glancing around to see if there are any other people she can accost. Sadly, this group appears to be the largest gathering about, so with something of a grimace as if they were asking her to come to some sort of cult indoctrination she follows along, "Do they have gluten free donuts here?" Her tone does not sound hopeful. Instead she continues chattering about the event, "Perhaps a raffle then. What would people in this town enjoy? Dinner at a restaurant in Olympia, perhaps?"

"You want to charge more to come dressed as a gangster. Everyone wants to be a gangster!" Abby comments enthusiastically with only a little side-eye in the cop's direction. Then, halfway to the donut shop, a thoughtful look descends upon her face. "Did gangsters actually dress any different from regular people, anyway? You'd have the party full of people looking like gangsters even if they only paid to show up as accountants or something." She's apparently decided to be helpful, so Clarissa gets to hear her stream of consciousness rambling.

Fortunately, she is distracted by the donuts once she steps inside into the smell of baked goods, getting in line, eyes riveted to the menu. The thoughtful expression remains, however. This is an important decision to make.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, I make 'cop money' and not 'L.A. cop money'," says the woman who drives a Mercedes and owns a boat. "You get one. One donut. If you beg real nice, you can get two and bring one home to Dillon. Donlen. Donnie? Deckard?" The Detective keeps reaching for 'D' names, searching her memory for such things as she slides her sunglasses off of her nose and up into her hair. It reveals the Squint of Thoughtfulness, where she narrows her eyes and scrunches up her brow when trying to recall something.

The blonde-haired policewoman can't help but tuck her chin down to her chest and snort in an attempt not to laugh as Clarissa very visibly grimaces at having to mingle with The Plebes. Leave to the bleeding heart Cali-born Detective to be unable to leave any stray she finds alone and cast off!

Once they're all inside, Sarah is making a face of her own at the mention of gluten-free. "God, I hope not. Gluten is what makes it taste so good. And the sugar. Some of it's the sugar." A beat. "This ain't hard. People aren't complex. They want free shit. Put up a cheap-ass, fifty-inch Ryoko 4-K television for raffle, and maybe a second place prize of an off-brand iPad and people will turn up for it. Making money is all about appealing to the lowest common denominator. Selling to rich folks is fine and all, if you have a big enough net."

"Gray Harbor is not a big enough net." Sarah looks around. "What? I've seen enough drug empires and human smuggling rings to know how it's done."

"Okay, so no casino night. Could do a date auction. For some reason, those are always stupidly popular. I think it's the inner reality-TV-lover in all of us. Or the chance to go out with someone way out of their league. Pretend like their life is the beginning of a quirky Rom-Com for a few hours."

Now with everyone inside, Sarah lifts up her very much not-vintage, very-much-bought-from-JC-Penny clutch and opens the snap, reaching inside for her wallet. This, too, is not vintage, nor expensive, nor real leather. It does, however, have Starsky & Hutch printed on the side of it.

"Okay, one boston creme thingy, one bear claw, one Abby boring holes with her eyes into the menu, and one glob of gluten with extra gluten. That sound about right to everyone?"

Donuts appear to be The Thing to do this morning. Dylan's already present and accounted for, a half eaten boston creme on the napkin at the table he's settled at right by the windows looking out of the store. It also looks like, at some point, the fellow had a run in with a paint can that he lost, for that white t-shirt he wears has faded stains of green and yellow splotches despite the washings the thing has been put through. Faded blue jeans have rips at the knees, and his pair of black tennis shoes completes the artists outfit.

He's leaning forward over a sketchpad, the pencil in his hand flipped around a few times on his thumb as he stares out of the window, now and then returning to whatever it is he's currently working on. When the mob of donut hunters arrives, it's a brief glance to them all, though only Clarissa garners a hint of recognition as he hears her voice talking about a certain historical event, and this? Is surely why he sinks a little bit lower in his chair, head tucking back down to stare at his work.

"It would more be something they could play up for the evening," Clarissa clarifies to Abby as she looks up at the menu. It seems Sarah is right and there's just a lot of things with extra sugar gluten animal fat on there. "I think if we do a raffle we'd offer better prices than an off-brand anything," she sniffs. "Do they have fruit cups here? Preferably without any melon in them. Honeydew is fine, but regular melon makes me break out in hives." She lifts a hand to make sure her hair is still meticulous and doesn't seem to notice Dylan sinking down in his seat, so his gambit works! At least for now.

"Ah! I'll have the - no, the double chocolate. That's twice as much chocolate," Abby decides after a thorough examination of the menu and far too much time spent pretending to consider healthier choices. And while she's at it, she offers the staff behind the counter a friendly smile and a, "Hi, there. How are you?" Like it's her mission to greet absolutely everyone. Look, even Dylan gets a "Hi." and a smile. She's on a roll.

She glances back at Clarissa, "I like the dinner idea! I'd probably pick a local restaurant though, just in case someone gets a bit touchy about that sort of thing..." Her voice gradually lowers to something just above a whisper as she leans in towards Clarissa to lend the whole thing an air of political conspiracy. "But maybe not as the first prize, maybe. I'm not sure. I don't really go to very expensive restaurants." None of her anything looks particularly expensive. Especially not the wolf moon t-shirt. The wolf looks like his face is partly melting off.

"Well the idea is to make money, isn't it? You start offering rich-people things, you cut into the profits made for the Historical society, which kind of defeats the purpose of charity in the first place." Sarah points out, facing Clarissa and walking backwards up to the counter as she gestures around with purse in one hand, wallet in the other. "You seem worried about projecting image and a certain brand than you are in maximizing money for the thing you're raising money for. Maybe I'm way off base, but, honey, stay on target."

The blonde turns around to place orders. She tries to get a fruit cup. She really does, but when she's looked at like she just asked for veal, Sarah quickly moves on and orders the least offensive thing she can, a powdered cake donut. And a double-chocolate (that's a chocolate donut with chocolate icing!). A creme-filled one with glaze. And, of course, her goddamned bearclaw.

The bargain is struck, payment made, and her wallet put away. This leaves her juggling a few donuts, with napkins wrapped around them. So no one gets sick from eating where her fingers have touched! Dahlia is handed her leaky creme donut, and then the Chocolate-on-Chocolate is given to Abby. "I guess dinner isn't so bad, but no singles are gonna try for it. Kind of thing you need a date for, right? I sure wouldn't go alone."

And then the powdered is placed directly into Clarissa's hand, as Sarah breaks the no-no touch barrier. She wants to see the woman take a bit of gluten so bad it hurts, flashing a large, Hollywood-ready smile as she touches the tip of her finger to the back of Clarissa's hand and starts to gently push the hand and the donut towards her mouth.

"Shhhhh, it's delicious." Her voice is a sibilant whisper. "I'd never lie to you. Take a taste, just a teensy one. It'll be okay. Shhhh, shhh, shh... Do it. Do it do it do it do it."

The flurry of greetings comes in, and Dylan's head can't help but poke back up. A broad, toothy white smile is flashed towards Abby, the fingers with the pencil lifting to give waggle her way. "Hello," His voice is bright and cheerful, and it leaves his attention on the group long enough to truly steady them for a few long moments, unable to help but catch more of that conversation at hand. It tugs at the back of his mind that, yes, donuts were why he was here in the first place, fingers hefting up his own half eaten thing to take a big bite out of it, almost managing to not make a mess.

A bit of it dribbles down to his chin, and the fellows features scrunch up into a comical look as he tries to peer down and catch sight of it. It takes a few long, almost painful to watch seconds, but he finally scoops it all up, sucking the last of it off of the fingers who managed to sweep up the offending sugary goodness. He seems about ready to return to his work when he hears what Sarah says to Clarissa, a soft little choking laugh that he quickly manages to get under control, and the page of his pad is flipped to something new and blank, that pencil plucked up to start drawing whatever it was that occurred to him out.

Clarissa looks downright scandalized when Abby suggests a local restaurant, "Where? Peach's Pizzaria? I'm not sure I could really sell that as Italian foo--" and then Sarah is putting a powdered confection in her hand before she knows what's happening and her expression suggests she might as well be holding a dead rat. In fact she shakes off Sarah's finger of temptation and holds the donut out with two fingers, not quite turning up her nose but it's not a stretch to guess that she'd like to, "Thank you, but I don't eat messy things. Your comment about singles not being into a dinner is noted, but I believe I have more experience staying on target than the Gray Harbor Police Department does. The right target, any way." That last bit is a liiiittle on the icy side.

"Declan." Dahlia offers to Sarah with a grin as she accepts her creme filled donut. Mmm sugar. "I'll ask him about the boat thing - I'm sure he'd be into it." But after the last time, she wasn't just going to volunteer them both for something. Taking a bite of the donut, Dylan gets a little wave. She has no idea who he is - but it seems like he might know one of the girls or something? So whatever, better to be nice!

Listening to the talk of charity ideas and prize possibilities. "Maybe you could have some kind of...two night getaway somewhere as a big prize? Or some kind of fancy electronic device? "Dahlia suggested idly as she claimed a seat. There's a grin on her features as she watches Sarah and Clarissa.

Then to Clarissa she adds, "Live a little, lady. Getting some sugar on your fingers ain't gonna kill you." It seems like she might say more. Like, say, this Councilwoman might have a stick up her rear. BUT...Dahlia is very good and bites her tongue.

"I don't know. If the food was good, I might just go by myself," Abby replies to Sarah with a broad smile, but she does hesitate for a second or two first. "And probably not all the way to Olympia. But you could always have it be two dinners. It doesn't have to be a real date, you can take a friend! Maybe not the first prize, though. I suppose a big fancy TV will get more interest," she reluctantly acknowledges.

She carefully picks up the donut offered her way with a big smile. "Thank you!" And almost immediately takes a bite, though it's a small one, just for a taste of the extra chocolatey goodness, humming as she savors it. She does wince slightly when Clarissa says she doesn't eat messy things, and immediately licks her lips and grabs a napkin.

"Ooooooo," Sarah slides back a few feet as her Finger of Temptation is thwarted, her mouth forming an 'O' as she holds one hand up in surrender. "Sick burn. But I'm okay with my solve rate, Princess. I'm a solid B-Plus, at least. And that's... well, that's awwwwwright."

Taking a bite of her bearclaw, Sarah turns around, leaning towards Abby and Dahlia to mutter, "She'd be so much hotter and more likeable if she toned it down just a tad."

"Declan, right! See? I remembered. I said it first." She did not say it first. "Well, if he doesn't come out, it'll be Girls Night on the ocean. I've never known a guy to resist surf, sun, suds, and... ssssfishing."

As Dahlia plants herself somewhere, Detective Hollywood does as well, wrapping an arm about herself as she nibbles on her treat/breakfast. It's a little chilly indoors when you're basically wearing underwear, and the seat she chooses is right next to Dahlia, but behind her, at the table Dylan sits at. She sits sideways in the chair, leaning a shoulder against the back of it. The sketchpad catches her eye.

Soon Dylan has the pleasure of the blonde policewoman introducing herself by inserting her finger into his field of vision and tapping on the paper repeatedly. "What's this? What's going on over here? What's happening on that page?" Because personal space and boundaries are for people not licensed to carry guns.

"Mm, no." A finger comes up as Sarah digs into her pastry, waggling it in Abby's direction in a no-no sort of fashion. "Dinner is a date. Lunch is just friends. Dinner implies intimacy. I found this out the hard way."

Dahlia's wave gets another finger waggle from the artist, though now she and Abby both are getting a quizzical look, as if trying to figure out where he might know them from. He errs on the side of, 'excessive friendliness caused by donuts', but just when he thinks he might have escaped, over the blonde woman comes with all of those inquisitive accusations. At the moment, that brand new page has nothing but a few perspective lines on it, not forming anything that can be picked out in the least.

Up his hands come, both palms held out in a show of mock surrender towards the woman. "Shady business," He says in a far too serious tone, before slowly, like they do in the movies, his hand lowers towards the sketchpad. He flips it back one page, and then the second, all to reveal a comic book like poster of a character called, 'Inquisitor' in gray scale. The woman has a confident, cocky cast to her, her hands curled around a book titled, 'Book of Questions'. The only splash of color is her red lips, and the golden halo that hangs above her head... propped up by a wire, thats slightly bent, to give it a crooked lay atop her hair. "Very shady," He confides towards Sarah, the pun revealed given the in depth detail that his shading has allowed for this particular drawing. One more page is flipped, and this time she can see the half drawn view out the window, but his own attention has drifted towards the larger conversation at hand.

"Dinner, date." He concurs with the thought of what that means, and up the last bite of his donut is brought, hovering just before his mouth before manners occur to him. "Dylan," A beat of a pause, before he adds on, "Rink," As if either are appropriate means to address him by that he'll answer to.

Is no one going to save her from this powdered disaster?! Clarissa is wearing a black dress and she would rather die than get a fleck of white powder on it. People already gossip enough about her. Glancing around quickly, she spies a mother coming in with a little girl and quickly flashes a charming smile, "I bought one too many, would she like this one?" She asks, holding the donut out to the mom. Making a cop's generosity look like her own, how devious. Once the donut has been rehomed, she flicks out her fingers to rid herself of any extra powder and then nods to the group, "I'll take your suggestions under advisement. Expect to hear some solidified plans in the near future." And with that she turns on those expensive heels to get away from the smell of fried food before she breaks!

Dahlia watched the Councilwoman leave and then turned to look over at Sarah. "So, did you shoot her in the foot or something? Because she totally doesn't like you." Taking another bite of donut. "Abby, right?' She asks looking over to Abby after swallowing her bite. "What kind of cat do you have?"

Abby's eyebrows set off on a steady northward journey as she takes in the interaction between Sarah and Clarissa. One eyebrow shoots up particularly high at the mention of the latter's hotness and likeability, and Abby just takes a bite of donut. When you're feasting on double chocolate, you don't have to say anything. You can get away with a noncommital, "Oh?" And then more donut, tilting her head at the interaction between Sarah and Dylan too. She'll just nibble and watch, for now.

Clarissa's departure does get a wave. "I look forward to it!" She says, and genuinely sounds like she means it. Or she's a great liar.

As the pages are flipped rearward, the policewoman in gym clothes leans over to explore them with her baby blues, noting the excellent craftsmanship on display. She analytically pulls it apart in her brain, a brain far too used to searching for clues, connections, and motives to see art purely for what art is. Mere expressions of creativity. Everything needs to MEAN something, dammit!

"Hey, she's hot. You like a professional or something?"

When Dylan agrees with her Dinner = Date assessment, she snaps her fingers and points at him. "I like this kid." About this time, Councilwoman of Evil and professional Donut-Hater Extraordinaire makes her departure and flees before Sarah can try and force anything else on her. It leaves the blonde just staring at the doorway she just vanished through, before she slowwwwwwwly turns her head to face Dahlia to silently mouth a single word at her.

'Wow.'

But at the question, she shakes her head. "She hates cops. Clarissa Robbins, husband shot himself, officially ruled as a suicide." She lists it off like it's a grocery list rather than someone's life-altering tragedy. "For a while, she was treated as a suspect. Don't think she's ever gotten over it. Too bad, cuz... I kind of like hot and rich."

A shoulder lifts in a half shrug, before she cracks a smile and rests her hand on Dahlia's upper arm. "Hey. Wanna take bets on whether or not she actually raises any money?" Then she swings her eyes towards Abby. "Oh honey, you are far too easy to please."

What Dylan lacks in words, his face more than makes up for in expression. It's a large grimace of mortified terror at the interaction between Clarissa and Sarah, and the side long glance he offers to Dahlia as she speaks shows he thinks that might be a very probably thing given what he's witnessed so far. He follows Abby's method of avoidance, popping in that last bite of his donut into his mouth to chew on, big, exaggerated bites to show, 'Sorry, can't talk right now!' while still being polite enough to chew with that mouth closed.

Only once Clarissa is gone does his hand lift up as he swallows, giving a conspiratorial, 'shhhh' to Sarah as he starts to flip further into that sketchpad, closer to the front before finally he finds what he is looking for. Up it's held to show off to the blonde cop. It's another well done sketch, of a woman that is quite meticulously dressed and put together holding her cellphone. A whip like electric energy comes out of it as she points that device at a poor hapless person on the street. And if it just happens to look like the councilwoman that just left? Surely that's all a coincidence! It certainly has a vibe of hot woman in charge.

"Art student," He coos out in explanation if he's a professional or not, and that smile is flashed towards Sarah, his own bright blue eyes matching hers easily. "Sell online," Back he flips to that first page that she'd admired, tapping it in a further offering of insight into just what he might do, always with that clipped, no more than two words series of responses. "Starting comic."

Seeing as how Dahlia is behind Sarah, she gets a glimpse of the drawings! "You're pretty damn good." She offers to Dylan with a smile. "She looks like somehow that would kill her husband." She offers to Sarah then, without remorse. Dahlia just called it how she saw it! "She is pretty good looking though." Was conceded. Dahlia could at least give credit where credit was due!

"Anyway." She finished off her donut. "You tell me what we're gonna bet and I'll take you up in it. But, I need to finish this shopping stuff before it gets too late. Thanks for the donut hun." Giving Sarah a little squeeze in return. "It was nice meeting you guys." Is given to Abby and Dylan.

"That's terrible," Abby remarks on Clarissa's history, and glances out the door again after the councilwoman. Her lips press into a tight line, then part with a soft click of her tongue. She shakes her head then, has another bite, and takes a seat. She might as well finish her treat, unhurried. Still pointedly avoiding the subject of anyone's hotness for the time being. Sarah gets a wide smile and a shrug. "I'm an optimist! Maybe it'll be great."

With everyone seeming to shuffle out, Dylan's hands lift to give a waggle of farewell to Dahlia as she makes her own way out, a beaming, "Thank you," for the compliments as he starts to flip back towards that nearly blank page he'd been on before Sarah had approached. It's the cop that is given a good hard look, as if memorizing certain details, and no doubt there might soon be a 'donut powder pusher' concept sketched out before the day is done. It's Abby's remarks about being an optimist that has him smiling, head dipping into a nod of agreement. "It will," is where he hedges his own bet upon the whole thing.

"It might be a disaster, too," Abby admits after a few bites of donut, but barely a second goes by before she adds. "I hope not. For the sake of the..." she trails off, and has to scrunch up in concentration before she's able to finish that. "I think it was for preservation of historical landmarks? Something like that." And then she's silent and pensive, trying to figure out exactly what might count as a historical landmark that might benefit from this raffle. She munches her donut. "I should go too! I just came here to buy fabrics before I got roped into the..." Abby gestures vaguely in the direction of the door. All that. And she gives Dylan a sympathetic look before standing, wiping chocolatey fingers before pointing, "That did look really good!"

"Yes," Dylan concludes about what it was for, his head bobbing in agreement to what Abby had thought she heard. "Good cause," He speaks out, despite whatever he might feel about the person overseeing it, especially after Powdergate. A warm smile is flashed towards the woman as he starts to gather his own stuff up, the sketchpad flipped shut, "Thanks. Bye!" He offers up in those two word thoughts, grabbing a messenger bag before he too starts to head on out to continue his day.