2019-09-13 - Too Much Coffee, Or Too Little?

The coffee shop is bustling this morning with people in the rush to get their coffee before they have to be to work. Clarissa has already gotten hers and is sitting at a table talking on speaker phone much to the annoyance of absolutely everyone around her, "No--no. Michael. In what century was orange ever a thing? I said elegant. Black lace. White. Minor shimmer if any. This is not a high school prom we're planning."

Today is not Beach Day, nor is it Day Off Day. The gym was hit at 5 am, so there is no sparkling pink sports bra to distract from the badge that hangs at Sarah Stevens' belt. A gun is also slung at her hip, though it's somewhat covered up by the blue, button-up shirt she wears as she pulls open the door and strides in. The button-up shirt is, however, not buttoned up, giving a view of the white tank-top she wears just beneath it, a necklace on a dogtag chain of some sort vanishing into her cleavage. A belt, blue jeans, and a pair of, let's say, 'well loved' sneakers complete the Detective's outfit of the day.

She's a walking Target ad, anathema to everything polite society deems good taste!

But the detour from her duties to get coffee (because right now coffee IS her duty!) is derailed when she spies on Clarissa Robbins. Bothering everyone, squawking about elegant laces loudly on her cellphone like she's in her car and not a public space. Detective Hollywood doesn't even try to suppress the grin of joy that spreads across her lips and carves dimples into her cheeks as she pushes her sunglasses off of her nose and into her hair.

With a saunter to her swagger, Sarah approaches, leaning over to place her hands on the back of the chair sitting opposite Clarissa. "So," She speaks up, not seeming to notice or care that the woman is on the phone. "You're afraid of donuts, but coffee. Coffee you like? That is very good information to have Miss Robbins. Though for you, I'd suggest you go with the white lace. It'll match your skin tone better. Unless you want to look goth."

There's a pause as Clarissa looks up from her little notepad and phone to see that it's Sarah that's talking to her. She purses her lips into a thin line, "Michael, I'm going to have to call you back." Then she ends the call and a couple people breathe a sigh of relief and send Sarah some grateful looks. "Detective. I'm not afraid of donuts, I'd just rather not eat something so unhealthy. But I suppose we all have our vices," she picks up her cup and gives a little mock salute to Sarah as she has a sip. "I hear it's going to be a busy day for you."

"Oh, don't end it on my account." Sarah replies with that movie-star-quality smile still planted on her face, holding up a hand as if to forestall the hangup. "I'm happy to hear you talk about laces and elegance at the prom. Who's taking you, anyway?"

The Detective notices the relief on a few of those close by, flashing a wink at an elderly gentleman twice her age, before returning her gaze to the high maintenance brunette before her. "What's the point of going to the gym if you can't indulge a little bit? You should learn to let go, live a little. All those fancy clothes and soirees aren't going to do you any good if you don't make any memories in them. And isn't that what good food really is? An experience to remember?"

The blonde releases her hands from the chair, leaning back, shifting weight to one cocked hip as she folds her arms under her chest. "What isn't a busy day for me? This town's got crime like Chicago and the population of a farming village. But what is it you think I'll be doing today, explicitly?"

Poe has been known to draw a lot of attention to himself in ways that he'd rather avoid. But, he can keep his head down when he just wants to take care of business and not get into too much trouble. This morning he seems to be leaning toward the former - causing problems at the coffee shop is a sure way to make sure you're brewing your own for the rest of time. He steps into the shop with his phone palmed in one hand, his eyes casually unfocused in that 'totally on autopilot' way. He's wearing close fit black jeans and a black muscle shirt - hair still damp from the shower, freshly arrived from the gym.

The man drops into the short queue and brings himself back to the present to swing his eyes around the room. "Medium. Black. Thanks." He gives his order when he reaches the counter, digging a crumpled bill out of his pocket to pay.

"I believe the Gray Harbor police department has already had their noses in enough of my business for a lifetime," Clarissa replies, setting her cup down and refusing to give in to Sarah's effusive friendliness. She doesn't even crack a smile, "We're finalizing plans for that fundraiser I was asking you and your friends about. Plenty of memories will be made there and while I'm pushing for some healthier finger foods, you'll be delighted to know there will be chocolate swans for dessert. With raspberry sauce. As to what you'll be busy with, I heard people talking about someone being found in the harbor this morning?" She grimaces briefly. Death isn't really a great subject for her. "Maybe if you all focused your efforts where they'd be more beneficial crime would go down."

Poe enters looking like a zombie, which is... pretty usual for morning customers of a coffee shop who haven't had their caffeine fix. Not all of them are on the GHPD officer's ridiculous schedule of rising before the sun for a morning workout before she starts a day chock full of prying into other people's affairs. She's paid to be nosey.

"You're still taking that way too personally, Miss Robbins." Sarah says with a short scoff that's almost a laugh and a large roll of her eyes that has her looking away and back again. It's a wonder they didn't go flying out of their sockets. "The spouse is always the first suspect, because ten times out of ten, the drunk husband or the jealous wife did it or the cheating boyfriend did it. I wasn't even assigned to that case, but I can't make you take the chip off your shoulder."

"Chocolate swans- Wow. No bearclaws? I don't know if I can make it to the soiree if there's not going to be any bearclaws. I might be too busy."

The sudden talk of corpses has Sarah opening her mouth, glancing away, and holding her tongue out like she might barf. It's less being bothered by the idea of dead people and more 'Geez, not this again.' "There's too many damned bodies in that harbor. And the lakes. And... everywhere. Look, there's some common ground for us. If I investigate one more obvious homicide and have it closed in my face as an 'accident' or an 'animal attack', I'm going to go bald from pulling my hair out." She shakes her head. "The whole fucking town's got blinders on. I'm not the Chief of Police and I'm not the Mayor. I'm just a small town girl doing what she can."

Coffee is soon in Poe's hand and he's turning away from the counter to find himself a seat to drop into so that he can get the caffeine properly into his system. His strides take him near enough to where the two women are chatting to catch at least the last bit of the conversation - what Sarah was saying. It's also enough to draw his eyes and catch sight of the badge with a small twist of his lips. It's soon hidden by a sip from the too hot cup of coffee. He sighs and sets it back down so that it will cool.

"Heard a couple of them had throats slit before they ended up floating. Not much of an expert, but going to be hard for anyone to pencil that in as accidental. Just happened to draw that knife across their neck before tipping into the harbor. If someone can get away with that shit and have a blind eye turned we'd better all be ready to be next on the list." Poe's voice is kept low, but enough to carry to the other two since he sat pretty close by. The tone is casual and familiar, even though he doesn't know either of the other two.

Clarissa bristles at that, "Too personally? Too personally?! I was mourning my dead husband and you people--" she stops, realizing that she's raised her voice enough to cause a person or two to look over. She immediately presses a hand to the table and takes a breath to compose herself, "Perhaps that's one mystery you can actually get to the bottom of, then. It'd be far easier for me to raise money to make this town less..." She glances around. There are so many townies in here. "...more charming," she amends instead, although her expression makes it very clear she does not mean it. "If this sort of thing weren't driving people with money away. Charming harbor towns that are down on their luck who are trying to turn things around by drawing attention to their fabulous historical buildings is one thing, small harbor towns where things explode and people keep turning up dead? Well," she sniffs, "It only worked out for Maine because of Stephen King." When Poe adds in his two cents she nods, even though she was not aware of the throat slitting facts, "Maybe spend less time with bear claws and more time on the case, Detective?"

"You would be REALLY fucking surprised." Sarah snaps with a turn of her head in Poe's direction. The blonde's jaw tightens momentarily, averting her eyes and looking above him, past him, out of the window. She returns her gaze to the man with an easy smile tugging at her lips. "Sorry. I didn't catch your name, Mister...? Look, bottom line, the GHPD have this well in hand and you have nothing to worry about. Detective Stevens. This is the illustrious Miss Robbins."

"If you run away now, you might get away before she eats you."

The blonde unfolds her arms and leans back onto the chair in front of her again, raising her eyebrows as Claire has her near-explosion. "Yeah? So why are you even here, Miss Robbins? Don't you have 'fuck off to Bora-Bora forever' money now? If you all you got are bad memories and the illusion that everyone with a badge in the county is out to get you, and no one of your caliber is around... the fuck you sticking around for, girl?" She shoots a glance to one side to indicate the window, and the world outside it. "Go enjoy Monte Carlo or something."

"I work every case that's assigned to me. If you want me assigned to one in particular, start a petition and give it to the city council. You can spend all the time in the world shitting on me that you want, it's not going to make a damned bit of difference. When you have a problem with Office Max's policies, do you walk into the store and berate the first cashier you see? Or do you call their corporate office? You see what I'm getting at here?"

"I've had far worse guilt heaped on me than you got, ma'am. But if it makes you feel better, and helps with your grief, keep brow-beating the peons."

"Detective. Miss Robbins. Little. Poe Little." While Poe may have had a reputation here a decade ago, it would likely only stretch to townies who were living here at the time. "And I'm not sure I'd be surprised by much these days. See enough shit that you don't always figure what's on the surface is the truth of things - still, few people with their necks hacked open really does lean in a particular direction. I'm sure the GHPD have thins well under control - but doesn't mean I won't keep my eyes open a bit wider until they can determine what is happening."

He falls quiet when the pair exchange words about a situation her clearly doesn't know anything about. The pieces are all there to put together what had happened, but he takes up his coffee and takes another sip of it. Entirely not his business.

"Missus," Clarissa corrects instantly, tone turning icy as she bristles yet again at the incorrectly title. "And I'm here because my husband loved this town, for whatever reason, and it would be disrespectful to his memory if I just flitted off. So I'm going to stay here and I'm going to make this place better. And that includes taking the police department to task when I see things like crime getting worse." She has an angry sip of her coffee and looks over to Poe, giving him a curt nod. "Mister Little. You seem to have caught me on an off day. Clarissa Robbins, chairwoman of the Gray Harbor historical society."

"Little Poe Little." Sarah gives a nod to the hapless man unfortunate enough to step into the middle of this particular debacle between the Historical Society Chairwoman and the Detective. "When we know what's happened, we'll let everyone else know. I'm certain the Chief will release a press statement as soon as we have all the facts. Until then, lock your doors at night."

'Until then.' And possibly forever after.

Then back to the spat at hand. If they aren't politely asked to leave soon for their overly-loud, angry conversation, it will be a miracle. And possibly a failure on the part of the coffee shop's shift manager. Sarah sighs, lifting a hand to rub at her eyes. Civilians really never understood cop life, and explaining it was both painful and pointless.

"Misses Robbins." Sarah acknowledges with a tilt of her head as she drops her hand. "We're responders. We respond. We show up after a crime has been reported. Believe it or not, we're not precognitive, nor are we predisposed to instilling martial law. If you want crime to decrease, you're going to have to vote for lawmakers who can make it happen, and maybe invest of some of that money to reforming the criminal justice system and setting up after school functions for underprivileged kids."

"Bitching at me is kind of like yelling at a firefighter for not preventing the fire in the first place. We have uniforms out on patrol wherever we can have them. But they can't be at all places at all times. Maybe convince the City Council to give us increased funding and we can put one on every street corner."

The smile Poe gives is a very much in the tune that he's heard the joke before.

"It's not like me to agree with a cop, Missus Robbins - but she's not wrong. They're outnumbered and the bad guys hardly ever call ahead to let them know when they're going to be doing something terrible. I think a whole lot of eyes are spent looking at the wrong things - but that's not the fault of the feet on the street." It almost sounds like some respect for the cops, but the words are offered grudgingly. They're at odds more often than not.

"And nice to meet you, Missus Robbins." He raises his coffee in a brief toast toward her. "Not every day can be a great day."

"Well," Clarissa sniffs again, lifting her cup, "I do know the mayor. Maybe I'll ask him about all of this." Is that a threat or is she actually offering to maybe help? It's really hard to say. She's sitting at a table talking to Sarah who is standing nearby. From the way people are glancing their way it's pretty clear some heated words have been exchanged. Poe is also sitting nearby with a coffee. "But trust me, I always lock my door in this city. Car and home. You may want to put in a word with your supervisor about that. I thought small towns were supposed to be safe." When Poe offers his opinion she wrinkles her nose a bit, "It seems to be a problem with the people at the top if the bad guys as you say out number the police. One would think a united force that had good numbers behind them would produce a place where criminals didn't feel the need to stick around."

Alexander is enough of a regular at the Espresso Yourself, and on decent enough terms with the owner, that the staff don't really bat an eye when he comes in, despite the fact that he looks like a homeless person at best, and - with the nervous, intense air of paranoia and oversized army jacket he's wearing when it's too warm for it - a potential robber at worst, the counterstaff don't blink a hair. For that matter, most of the townies just give him a wary look and then do their best to ignore that he exists. He slouches his way up to the counter, a small leather document satchel tucked under one arm (it's the nicest thing he's currently wearing, which is saying something considering that it's an antique thing that looks like it's been through three kinds of hell) as he orders a large black coffee and a couple of pastries. His gaze sweeps the room, fixing on the table with the cop and the councilwoman.

It may surprise no one that when he goes to sit down, he sits at a small table close enough to eavesdrop on the conversation, alternating staring fixedly in their direction with taking some folders out of his satchel and working on...something. Right now it seems to be local paper clippings about the Friday the 13th murders.

"That's just not true, Little Poe." The blonde with the badge offers off-handedly. "It's just a matter of your outlook and perspective. You're the only one who can make your day a bad one." Maybe Detective Stevens reads those New Age holistic books about the power of positive thinking. Or maybe she's one of those 'high on life' weirdos. Could even be just spouting bullshit. The way she wiggles her eyebrows at the man leaves a lot of room for interpretation.

Her half-smile dims when she looks back at Clarissa. Not the first time she's had her bosses called on her. Veeeeery doubtful it's gonna be the last. At least this time she didn't fly off the handle or try to punch anyone. Apparently the bosses frown on that sort of thing. "I'll get right on informing him." Nevermind that her supervisors are the ones closing cases she thinks are premature. She's already probably said waaaaaaay too much of that sort of thing to this woman.

"Hey, speaking of criminal profiling..."

Sarah slides away from the table then, swaggering a bit to ghost behind Alexander and wait for her turn to finally order something. Totally not to stand behind him menacingly as an agent of The Man and total oppressor who's judging a book by its cover.

"I hope you know my opinion on this socializing New Era hocus pocus, doctor. I don't have time for going around kumbayaing with anyone I meet o- Yes, I know. I know. It is part of the program. Look, I need to go."

Tessa Chen stops in front of Espresso Yourself with a narrowing of eyes and thinning of her mouth that would make Clint Eastwood proud. She just eyes the place as if it is saying something nasty right back at her, but in she goes, eyeing the smiling and helpful staff and imagining what sort of human sewage they are behind this veneer of friendly helpfulness. Nobody is innocent, that is what the detective has learned. Odds are one of these people in this room have already cracked a skull with a corkscrew and liked the sound it made.

"Gary," she repeats the name of the attendant who takes her order. Gary is probably the worst of them. That is, until she spots Alexander, who looks like he is on all sorts of PcP-infused paranoia trips. She arches a brow, eyeing the man quite blatantly, before familiar faces draw her attention. A familiar face.

Again, she narrows her eyes, repeating under her breath, "Hollywood." She rolls her eyes, thinking of her doctor's orders of trying to be nice and less angry, and gets her drink to approach Sarah. "Do you know him?" The perfect in to poke at the weirdo who is up to something. Maybe Sarah is useful after all!

Not the mayor but another of the Addington family walks in after parking a rather expensive looking car outside a short distance from the door in an available slot. To the counter she goes and places an order for a large half cappuccino, half hot chocolate drink. While it's being made, Erin takes a moment to look around at those gathered. While most may be recognized, Alexander is the one she knows the best. She offers a nod to him and then those around him in the same vicinity. "Are you doing alright?" The question offered over.

Poe sips at his coffee and turns his eyes to watch new people coming in, letting the conversation continue around him.

Sarah's head turns at the sound of her nickname, slowly facing Tessa. Her eyes narrow to match the other woman, scowl meeting scowl. One is serious, the other is very clearly not. The blonde has a face far more suited to smiling than scowling. "Texas." She slides her eyes to Alexander. "Only as a potential suspect. You want to arrest him for me?"

As more people enter the coffee shop and Clarissa is distracted from her anti-police escapades by text messages or something, the blonde is left to ponder the mystery of Alexander with her foul-mooded partner in Law Enforcement. Or oppression, depending on what side of the aisle the particular viewpoint-holder sits on.

Finally having ordered herself a coffee, one of those too-sweet-to-drink cappuccinos, because she is not a goddamned barbarian, Detective Hollywood plucks the made-from-recycled-products cup off of the counter and lifts it up to take a sip from it. She immediately regrets it, jerking her face away from the lid as a pair of fingers goes to her lips. Then she pokes out her tongue and tugs at it with a forefinger and thumb, eyes turning downwards as if trying to check it for burn damage.

"Shit!" Although the word comes out a little funny because the Californian is still holding her tongue. "What are you up to, Alamo?" She finally lets go of her oral muscle to turn her attention towards facing her fellow officer. "Something about the bodies fished out of the harbor? I swear to God, sometimes I miss Vice. All I had to deal with then was hookers and blow. Maybe I should move back to L.A. What's that? Black coffee? Seriously? That's gross. Wake up to the wonderful world of sugar, honey."

Alexander does notice that he's being ghosted and profiled, and then poked by an additional detective. He doesn't respond, though, until he has coffee, pastries, and seat. Then he turns his attention to both Sarah and Tessa, staring back at them with a frank, rude appraisal. "Detectives," he says. His voice is toneless. He focuses on Sarah. "Is there something in particular I'm a suspect in, Detective Stevens?" Yes, he recognizes them, even if they haven't yet been warned about Alexander. A nervous twitch of his stare towards the door when Erin comes in - there's a flicker of a smile as Erin approaches. "Miss Addington. I'm fine. There are more dead people. Are you okay?" The words are rapid, like bullets. Although his voice does soften after a moment as he says, "Would you like to join me? Or," a glance towards Clarissa, "are you meeting the councilwoman?"

Dark eyes flicker over the woman in question before giving her attention back to Alexander, "I would be delighted to join you, thank you." Slipping gracefully to the seat on offer. "I heard about the murders, I figured here was as good a place as any to pick up on any gossip about them, if there is any." She places her drink on the table and opens the tab so it can cool off. "I'm doing well and I'm glad to see you are too. Just need to hear from a few more. Has anyone decided on a day yet?" Being intentionally vague.

Maybe too many cops - or perhaps it's just time to move on with the rest of his day - but Poe climbs out of his seat and takes the rest of his coffee in his hand. "Something to be said for LA. Was a lot easier to just turn a blind eye to all the ugly so long as the nice areas remained clean. Nice to meet you, Detective." He offers to Sarah and then inclines his head toward Clarissa as well. "Missus Robbins." He steps away from the table, catching sight of Erin as well and giving a quick smile of recognition, but doesn't burst into that conversation either. Quietly he came in and much the same in his exit, pushing through the front door and back out onto the street.

"Yes. Yes, there is. It's..." Sarah levels a finger limp-wristedly in Alexander's direction, swirling it around to indicate all of him. "...being a walking fashion disaster in public. Recent law, probably haven't heard of it yet. I'm going to need you to go home and change or you'll get a ticket. You're not even goth, man. Loosen the jacket a little."

Blue eyes flick between the interplay of Alexander and Erin, before she leans to the side, invading Tess' space to whisper to her fellow cop. "Did he just ask if that lady was dead? If felt like he was asking if she was one of the dead people. Maybe I misheard that."

As Poe Little makes his grand escape, Detective Stevens gives a little mock salute with her own beverage. "L.A. ain't all bad, kid. You should pop on down next time you get a vacay. Hang with the stars. See ya, Little Poe!

There's a glance given to where Claire Robbins sits, and she can just see the storm heading upwards now. It's a powder keg waiting to happen. Two brunettes with tempers, each just waiting for one another to say the wrong word and blow this place up. For a long, long moment, the Cali-born policewoman seriously considers bringing Tess Chen and Claire Robbins together. Just to watch the fireworks show, and make someone else the Councilwoman's Public Enemy Number One. In the end, she decides she doesn't like the idea of losing all of her skin trying to break up the ensuing catfight.

Or write the police report explaining why a fellow Detective was bludgeoning a civilian with her tactical baton.

Still leaning into Chen's space, Stevens keeps her voice low, glancing at Claire. "And Miss/es/ Robbins is on the holy fucking warpath today. I'd advise not approaching within ten feet of her if you don't want to hear about how everything in this shithole is your fault."

Clarissa can certainly text AND still have anti-police sentiment! She finishes angrily punching whatever diatribe she had into her phone and looks up to find even more cops in here. But also the sight of Erin perks her right up. An Addington! "Miss Addington," she calls out, giving the rich person finger wave, "I wondered if I could speak with you a moment once you're settled." Alexander gets eyed a bit, then she sniffs and flips through a few pages in her notebook which is definitely not full of conspiracy theories, but instead some tastefully written lists of things one might need for a large gathering.

Tessa eyes Sarah pinching her tongue and arches a brow. The discomfort of another, however, does put her dark soul at ease, and the Chinese-American's scowl softens slightly. She finds this bit of karmic justice to be acceptable, and takes a sip from her drink, eyeing Sarah, Alexander and the newcoming Erin, to whom she gives a nod.

As Alexander appraises rudely, Tessa relaxes some. That is more her speed. Her frown comes back, meanmugging the so-far-not-guilty man with her pretty face. "What do you happen to know about said dead people?" The question comes with that tone that says Tessa is very much not aware they are in Espresso Yourself and not an interrogation room.

She takes a sip of her coffee and leans away from Stevens, who is all too into invading personal spaces to her liking. "I have a thick skin, Hollywood. I can handle some yelling."

"Ask the detectives if you want gossip," Alexander says, with a shrug. "But only one of the murders is a mystery, really. Hands and feet in a garbage dumpster. It's probably boring, but worth looking into." He gives a sidelong look to the detectives, his lips thinning at the comment about his clothing. He sort of hunches in his seat, shoulders rounding inward like he's going to just disappear into the chair. "That's not a law at all, Detective." It sounds perfectly serious.

There's a flicker of a smile as Clarissa brightens upon seeing Erin. "Looks like you have an appointment now, if you didn't before," he tells Erin, a spark of humor lighting up in his dark eyes. Then a look back at Tessa, the humor draining away to be replaced by something with an almost reptile sense of focus. "Which ones, Detective Chen? There are a lot of dead people of late in Gray Harbor. If you mean the four related murders and the one unrelated murder that made the papers," he shrugs, "at this point, I imagine you have better access to the case files than I do. Unless you're going to let me take a look at them? I could give you my opinion then." This a) seems to be a genuine offer that has him giving her a hopeful look, and b) he seems oblivious about the fact that it's rude as fuck and kinda illegal. Or he doesn't care.

"How dead do they have to be before we all agree once declared so, they're no longer breathing?" Erin muses. It's not funny and she knows it's not. God knows she knows. Looking back to Alexander, she nods. "I don't want gossip. I've just been so alone in the house without even sounds from surrounding apartments and the silence was closing in on me."

Belatedly, Erin hears Clarissa, but mostly because Alexander pointed her out. "Of course, you're welcome to join us." Sorry Alexander, we're in this together. "A smile is even offered over.

Tessa's apparent acceptance of her physical discomfort, even enjoyment of it, nonwithstanding, the blonde presses her lips together and raises her eyebrows, looking away as the Asian-American woman goes full on Supercop right here in the coffee shop. And people thought Sarah was married to the job. She was like Police Academy to Chen's Robocop. Then the woman is taking offense to her lean-in-and-banter routine.

Sarah leans back out of the other woman's space, holding both of her hands up in surrender and backing off a step from the irate Detective. Stevens moves backwards a single step, before turning with her cappucino in hand and heading towards Alexander and Erin's table. She taps the male on the shoulder as she passes with a lopsided grin that shows the dimples in her cheeks.

"Yeah, ya got me. I made it up. Just trying to help out the fashionably-impaired." Uninvited as Hell, Sarah takes a seat at their table, swinging into a chair like they want her around. One hand is placed on her belt while the other holds her coffee, eyeballing the amount of steam coming out of the tiny sip hole in the lid to see if it's cool enough to drink yet. "Man." She glances away from the table, towards Clarissa, and then Tessa, then back at Alexander. "Bitches be runnin' wild with P-M-S today, amirite?"

She lifts her chin at the male after studying him for a moment. "You taking an interest in these deaths, are ya? What you got figured out? Maybe you can save me some time, yeah?"

Join the table with Alexander? Clarissa doesn't grimace. She doesn't. It doesn't stop her from looking like she wants to even as she picks up her notebook, her phone, her oversized vintage Hermes bag, and her coffee to move over to their table, "Clarissa Robbins, head of Gray Harbor's historical society," she gets right into it, "Do you know who I might speak to about renting out Addington House for a fundraiser? It's going to be amazing," she launches into her best 'give me money I am also rich' pitch, "To help rebuild those damaged historical buildings downtown. We'd like to redo them down to the last detail but of course that takes more money than we currently have in our funds, but we want to see it done right so I think a grand soiree event would be just the thing to get the whole town to turn out, especially if the Addington's are involved."

Tessa eyes Alexander with piercing eyes, judging the suspicious-looking-but-probs-innocent man at full speed in her head, "What sort of access do -you- have of said case files?" There is an arching of a brow as she stares at sarah, whom she is instantly assuming is in on this sheneniganry somehow. Eyes go back to Alexander, and the Chinese-American almost folds her arms with coffee in hand. Instead she takes a sip, frowning, of course.

"Wha- ... Did you just ask an officer to let you peek at case files? Is that something you do often? Do they let you?" Chen has like, so many questions, and always looks one or two moments from giving a 'Chinatown' speech. Names given to this one are surely going to end up in whatever Internal Affairs Gray Harbor has, no doubt.

"What could you help with anyway?" She eyes the man as she half-expects him to use the files to light a bonfire to warm himself at night in whatever alley he lives in. She approaches his table but doesn't take a seat. She is not on a first name basis with this people to be sharing a breakfast with them, after all.

She eyes Clarissa as the woman makes her pitch with a surprisingly neutral expression (still featuring a frown). Head of Gray Harbor's historical society is kind of a hippie job, but it is a job nonetheless. She won't hate (too much) on it for now.

There's a flicker of alarm and irritation when Sarah tries to tap him on the shoulder as she passes, and he leans to one side, avoiding the touch like there's something smelly and potentially contagious on her fingers. He keeps a wary eye on her as she takes a seat at the table. When Clarissa also comes over to sit down, he scoots his chair a little so that it's angled with the back near the wall - the harder to be snuck up on, and watches them all with narrowed eyes.

The comment about PMS is completely ignored. Like Alexander may be crazy, but he's not touching that one with a twenty foot pole. Instead, he reaches for his coffee and holds it up in front of him like it might be a shield. Taking a sip, he turns his attention to Tessa, instead. He just stares at her through the rapid fire questions, but only really addresses the last one. "You don't know Gray Harbor, Detective. I can be very helpful, and I'm very good at investigation. Better than most of the people you have." He is absolutely shameless in stating this. But he doesn't give any details, at least for the moment.

Instead, his eyes flick back to Erin and Clarissa. "Thorne has that festival he wants to run. Maybe a fundraising masquerade ball might be a good cap? There are some very nice old buildings in disrepair. It would be nice if they could be restored." And he actually sounds like a normal person while saying it.

"Your best bet is to speak with my cousin, Hyacinth Addington. Her and Byron Thorne were talking about a festival as well. Perhaps the three of you should get together and discuss it. I am certain it would benefit all involved." Erin offers a smile to Clarissa. "If there is anything further you need, please do not hesitate in asking." Erin glances at Tessa and her questioning before she supports the man across from her. "If you turn down his help, you're not doing it right." The words are given in a breezy manner, brushing them off the detective. And he backs her up as well. "I think you're right. I wasn't sure what the festival they wanted to do was but everyone loves a masquerade."

"See, that's why I'm asking for your help! Me. Over here." Sarah points at herself while looking at the lone man present. "The friendly blonde trying to get your attention, not the insanely-aggressive, hostile brunettes that have you surrounded. You can help save lives." But then comes Tess. Coming over. Tessing everything up.

"Aw, shit. You fucked up now." Sarah whispers to Alexander as her eyebrows go up in alarm, she brings her drink to her mouth to cover her murmuring, and looks pointedly awaaaaaay from the approach Tessa Chen. Priority One of avoiding police attention: Do not engage with Tess Chen. Abort! Abort! The blonde presses her lips together tightly and waits for violence to happen, looking like she might just slink under the table and crawl out the other side if it does.

It's not police brutality if she claims to not have seen it!

While Alexander and Tessa have their tete-a-tete, Clarissa and Erin having theirs, Sarah Stevens, the calm center of this particular shitstorm, silently reaches into her back pocket to pull out her wallet. From it she produces a card. On front it has the GHPD logo and 'Sarah Stevens, Detective' printed on it, along with a couple of phone numbers, a fax, and an email. Seriously, who uses faxes anymore? POLICE, THAT'S WHO!

A pen is produced from the pocket of her overshirt as she scribbles something or other on the back of it. "Okay, hate to interrupt here, but you're such a big stud muffin, you." Sarah says dryly with a wry smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. She slaps her card face up on the table and slides it in Alexander's direction with a wink and a flash of her California smile. "Call me, big fella." Her voice is husky, like a bad impression of a porn star. "Can't wait to hear from you!"

Getting up from her chair, Sarah takes her coffee with and steps away from the immediate fracas, pulling out her phone to respond to a few texts.

Should Alexander deign to touch the card, the back of it has, in neat little written script:

if u can really help ill show u the damned (insert tiny picture of a manila file folder)

Clarissa looks to Alexander like she's about to tell him his idea is the worst, but then Erin backs it up so she pauses, "Well," she says slowly, "I was going more with a 1920s theme, but there's no reason masks couldn't be involved." She's clearly not entirely sold on that idea as she gives a nod to Erin, "I'll try to catch up with her, she's always so busy..." She glances between Tessa/Sarah dynamic and smirks just a bit. There is a very 'no wonder nothing gets done at the police department' tone to her expression. But she doesn't outwardly comment because that would be totally rude. "I'll reach out to Mister Thorne as well. I definitely don't want any competing events happening here and if we can pool our resources that would be for the best."

Alexander's words give Tessa some pause, and her eyebrow twitches dangerously at the nerve of the man. She finishes her coffee and, with the hand freed by setting the coffee cup aside, she grips her own belt, that shiny and oversized belt buckle showing. Her other hand is set upon the table, into which she leans, so she can properly stare Alexander down.

"Stevens, people like him want to get caught. They want the attention," she says simply at the blonde's complaints she is not being addressed.

Problem for Tessa is that she is far less intimidating than she wishes she was, her wiry five foot six body not really raking up mad scores in the Bad Ass scale. still, the attitude is there, as well as the intensity of that stare.

"I don't know what sort of sideshow you have been running around town, but let me tell you... your maverick routine is not going to work on me, you hear me?" She isn't going to argue about how competent people in the PD are. Most of them are just slobs and could be seamlessly replaced by mildly-trained german shepherds in Tess' opinion. Erin gets an eyefull, profiled immediately, but gets a relatively less aggro answer.

Tessa doesn't need royalty biting on her ass right now. She is trying to lead a destressed life! Even if it doesn't look like it.

She eyes the card slipped from Sarah to Alexander, and her eyebrows just go way up. Eyes go from the card, and then to Alexander, from Alexander and to the card. Well, it is not like Sarah being their leak is -any- surprise. Fucking Hollywood!

But yeah. This police department is completely out of wack. There is a reason why Tessa is in 'not mandatory therapy' and their chief's blood pressure is possibly higher than hers.

While he may or may not be a good investigator, Alexander clearly finds understanding Sarah a little...difficult. His attention shifts back to her and he just...stares. "I feel like you use a lot of sarcasm, Detective," he says, at last, his voice soft and a little bewildered. But he takes the card! He shows no hesitation in touching it, even. As he studies both sides, his expression goes perfectly blank. He tucks it away into an interior pocket and watches her step away, brow furrowed thoughtfully.

Erin's support for his investigative skills clearly takes him by surprise, and he gives her a startled but sunny smile that takes about a decade (and at least two psychological diagnoses) off of his face. The smile doesn't last long, of course, but he does murmur, "Thank you, Miss Addington." Then a wary, sidelong glance to Clarissa, and he sort of shrinks away from the look she gives him. Suddenly, his coffee is fascinating.

And then Tessa is leaning on the table, getting her staredown on. Alexander hunches in on himself even more, and shrinks down like he might be about to ACTUALLY dive under the table to get away from her. The only thing that doesn't match the submissive body language are his eyes, which are fixed on her face, watching her as he listens. "I hear you, Detective." His voice is soft, and it's one of those delightful responses that sort of implies 'yes, I will comply' without actually saying that the person has any intention to comply.

"Twenties would also be suitable, but I leave that to the three of you. If you should need my assistance, I would be more than happy to help in any way I can. Do you have Hyacinth's number? I could give you that, otherwise she's most generally at the Addington House." Her eyes lift to the detective then rest on Alexander, the detective none too subtle. "How is Miss Isabella today, Alexander?" Tessa is mostly ignored after being judged, but Alexander is given an encouraging smile. "You know me, I would not say it were it not true."

Leak? There is no leak! There is only Sarah Stevens, Hutch'ing her way through life, and if that means cozying up to a few Huggybears to solve shit that no one else in this town seems to want solved, by God, that's what she'll do! And look damned fine doing it, if she does say so herself. She pretends not to see Tessa's incredulous stare, and just fervently hopes Alexander isn't dingus enough to proudly display the back of her police card to any eyes but his own.

She'd still deny it, even if caught red-handed.

The stakes are upped at the table and Sarah tucks her phone away, letting her head fall back with a grooooooooan. Slowly she turns back in the direction of the confrontation at the table. This is why no one lets Chen talk to people. Chen is not a people person. Stevens is the people person! Or so she styles herself.

The Californian remakes her appearance by sliding into frame, an arm going around Tess' tiny, tiny shoulders and not-so-gently steering her away from the table. "Okay, okay, cowgirl. Easy now. You roped him in and tied him up, the rodeo's over. It's time to go beat up bad guys now. Maybe I'll let you play in the gym a while until you're tuckered out and ready for your nappy-poo. Come on, there we go, time to say 'bye-bye' to the nice people. ...And to Misses Robbins."

The owner of the coffee shop comes out of a back room, looking tired. Eleanor was called in by opening shift because of the plethora of cop cars in the strip mall and the dead body in the dumpster. She has jeans and a long sleeved shirt on, her hair in a messy bun, and glasses perched on her nose. She is handed a latte by Russ as she walks past him, and takes it without even looking. She grabs herself a danish from the case as well and then glances around. Oh hey, there's Clayton, her fellow conspiracy nut. She heads over towards Alexander, bleary eyed and definitely not bushy-tailed. "Clayton," she greets, looking at the two detectives with a squint.

Clarissa shoots Sarah a look, chin in the air. Hmph. "Detectives," she dismisses crisply, taking a sip of her coffee that's only been kept warm this whole time since she got it in a to-go cup. When Eleanor comes over she gives her a little nod of acknowledgement, but seems to mostly just be interested in hearing what Erin has to say. Even if what Erin has to say seems to surprise her a lot, "Have you used the services of this, ah, man?" She asks curiously.

As Alexander sluuuuumps down into his chair, Tessa lowers her head in a Smaug-like, about-to-pounce way. Even if his eyes are still sort of weird, the Chinese-American woman just keeps staring, until Sarah comes to the rescue babbling a bunch of nonsense. To rescue Alexander from Tessa, or Tessa from ruining her already delicate career?

Unclear!

She is dragged away, still staring at Alexander for a good while, before she turns around to frown at the Californian, "He will comply." And then she arches a brow at Sarah. "And I saw the card, if you have anything to say in your defense you might want to say it." She is super serious when saying so, as she always is, at all times.

"...which does have me wondering... when do YOU work? Or is it always party time in LA?" Tessa asks things in a rispid manner, but she doesn't seem to ever expect people to find it rude. Case in point, how she actually awaits for an answer, after waving Clarissa, Erin and Eleanor goodbye.

Alexander gets a 'I'm watching you' pointing at her own eyes, and then a finger pointing at him.

"Isabella? I think she's fine. I'll call her soon." Alexander studies Erin's encouraging smile for a long moment, like he's looking for mockery, but in the end, he accepts it with a faint smile of his own. As Sarah comes in to guide (or drag) Tessa away, he watches them go with interest. "I like them," he says, at last, sliding back up in his chair. As much as he ever sits up, anyway. "I will have to speak with them more." Tessa's parting gesture gets a gesture in return: he waves, a bit tentatively, but friendly. Like they just had a nice chat and will surely be best of friends now.

And then another wave, and a warmer, more familiar smile, for Eleanor. "Miss Lake. Hello. How are you? You look tired."

Catching sight of the owner of the fine, local establishment, Sarah breaks off momentarily to sweep the side of her Navy Blue overshirt away from her belt and flash her badge. "Excuse me, ma'am." She intones in her Business Voice, sliding her sunglasses down from her hair onto her nose. "I'm going to have to confiscate two bearclaws. In a to-go box. Immediately. It's police business."

Providing a wad of crumpled bills, Sarah takes her bounty to go, once more slinging an arm around Tessa's shoulders so she has no choice but to be drug along towards the exit. "Yes, yes, honey. He will comply. You are a fucking supercop. You nailed him."

"Yep. I have cards. You should have cards, too. Do you not have cards? I'll get you some cards. All the cards. Just never talk to anyone who isn't a cop ever again. Agreed? Good."

Holding the door open, she ushers her fellow Detective OUT the door. "I work AFTER I get my bearclaw. Not before. Never before. It is my price. Hey, I got you one, too!"

Ellie sinks down into a seat at the table. "Yeah, got woken up at 5:30 by a panicked opening crew because of the police cars and crime scene tape around the dumpster. Been here since." She takes a deep drink of her latte and waves to her crew at Sarah's order. Sarah gets her bearclaws from Russ on her way out. She watches the cops depart then look at those at the table. "Making friends?" she ask.

"A man of many talents." While the boisterous detectives begin making their way out, Erin just settles down into her seat and reaches for her cup finally. "I think I am getting old. I used to do that, to be that. Now I just want.." What is it she wants that she could put a word to? An enigmatic smile. "Peace." A smile is given over to Alexander. "Tell her I said hello." Truly, honestly thinking the two make a good couple. Settling in, Eleanor is given a curious look. "Busy morning already?"

Clarissa seems about to ask another question, but then her phone starts buzzing. Unlike a normal person who would pick it up and talk quietly to the person on the other end, she hits speaker as she stands up, "Michael, if you're about to tell me there is something wrong with the florist--hold on one second," she looks to those still at the table, "Thanks for your insight," okay it's mostly to Erin, "I'll surely be in touch." And then she's heading for the door, "Carnations are not peonies, Michael!" She can be heard dressing him down long after she's stepped out the door.

Alexander's gaze flicks back to Clarissa, and he studies her for a long while. "Do you need my references? Are you looking for an investigator?" No, he can't help sounding a little hopeful about this - maybe she killed her husband, maybe she didn't, but she's got money and he - CLEARLY - does not. "My rates are reasonable." And then she's leaving, and his expression drops. Woe. There's a nod to Erin about saying hello to Isabella, but Eleanor's words catch his attention more firmly. They're about murder, after all. "Ah. I understand the remains found were hands and feet, yet to be identified. I'm looking into it, but on the bright side, it means that murder is likely not related to the others. Just a dump site."

Eleanor smile to Erin and nods. "As to be expected. It is Friday the 13th. I wouldn't be surprised if Jason Voorhees walked through the front door today, hockey mask and all." She nods to Alexander. "I'd agree on that. Dump site, and not the Ghoul." She bites into her cheese danish and washes it down with more latte. "Had to send Jia home though, she nearly had a breakdown. She is counting the minutes until she can leave this town."

"I honestly can't say I blame her. I'd have to say that everything bad that has happened to me has been in this town, though I would then have to clarify everything good has also been here." Erin lifts her cup and takes it into hand before getting to her feet. "I need to go check on Lilith, but it was good to see you both," A smile is offered over before she makes her way out, weaving between the tables.

Alexander nods in agreement with Erin. "Anyone who can leave, really should. Gray Harbor is a mess." He shakes his head, sadly. And takes a sip of his coffee. "Shame about your person, though. I hope she feels better after some time to process." A curious peek in that direction. "Did she see the body parts? Do you think she'd agree to be interviewed if she did?" Empathy only goes so far, apparently.

When Erin rises, his eyes go to her with surprise. "...check in? Why?" But she's gone, and he can only stare after her with a furrowed brow.

"Good to see you too, Miss Addington. Probably see you at the gym soon," Eleanor calls after Erin. She looks back to Alexander and shakes her head. "No, my people didn't find the parts, someone else did. They thankfully didn't even realize something was up until the police cars got there." She look around at the people drinking their coffee. "I'm sure if most of these people were awake enough to read the news before they came out today, they'd be creeped out being here right now."

"Why?" Alexander seems puzzled by the idea that people might be creeped out by just being within several yards of where bits of a murdered body were found. In fact, he points out quietly, "Chances are good that the murder wasn't committed here. Or anywhere near here, since you don't dump where you kill. So, if you think about it, it's safer here than it could be almost anywhere else in the city." A faint smile. Logic!

"The same reason they don't want to buy a house someone was murdered in. People are superstitious, and they get creeped out by association," Eleanor explains. "Most people aren't like us. They don't understand things like that."

Alexander grins, suddenly. "Which means I can afford my rent, most of the time. Because no one else wants to rent my house. So - here's to superstitions." He raises his coffee cup in an ironic little salute, then sort of hunches over to watch her, thoughtfully. "How are you doing? Outside of the unfortunate business of the morning."

Eleanor raises her cup as well. "To superstitions. As for me. I'm better than I've been in a while. Got dragged Over There with August. It was terrifying but I fought hard and won. And I think I'm a little less afraid in the wake of it." Her phone buzzes and she glances down at it. "Oh, well, I need to go take care of some delivery order issues. It was good to see you Alexander. Be well." She gets up and heads back into her office.