2019-09-17 - Introducing: Fish And Chips! And People.

So, maybe it's a little later than your 'standard' dinner-time. But, Tyrone has been cruising the boardwalk, sweating and getting some exercise in while it's so nice out. Crazy thing (or maybe not for people who are used to the traffic around here), the stand isn't completely deserted even though it's evening time. Probably has a lot to do with the weather. But Tyrone waits patiently in line for his turn to place an order in. His sleeveless-T shows off his somewhat impressive biceps- which probably have a lot to do with the wheelchair he's sitting in. He's wearing black track pants and sneakers, as well as some black, leather, fingerless gloves on his hands.

An odd sound, a sort of a grinding rumbling, precedes the appearance of one Greg mounted on a skateboard. In the late night air, he skates lazily down the boardwalk, puffing on a vape pen and people-watching. He soon arrives at the fish stand, kicking his board up into his hand as he steps over into the area of the stand. In a ratty red and black plaid coat, nondescript but baggy jeans, and equally basic black skate shoes, he strolls casually around in a manner that could only be characterized as lurking before fixing his attention onto Tyrone. "You sure they're open, man?" His impossibly deep, brown eyes scour the area for signs of a living employee.

"They are. They were, fifteen minutes ago." Love pipes up from a nearby bench. She wears skinny jeans, a gold bikini top, and a distressed, ripped up tank top over that, one that looks like it might have been a whole shirt at some point, but then someone ground it around under some rocks and sold it for $75. She sits at a bench beside the stand, one long leg drawn up, patent leather Chucks on her feet. She's covered in tattoos jaw down. She even has a couple at her temples.

Julia emerges from the fryer to lean against the front picture window area. She smells like the fryer. "Everybody good out here?" she asks. "Got everything you need?" She looks to and fro between the people in front of the shack with an expectant air.

Gesturing at the other people that he's in line with, Tyrone quirks an eyebrow at Greg. "If they're not, they're gonna have a lot of upset people," he quips. And Love adds to it. Seeing that she's already gotten food, Tyrone smiles at her and asks, "Any recommendations? First time I've eaten here." And then the person in front of him leaves, and Julia doesn't see him in line. With a bemused smirk, Tyrone raises himself up in his chair a little to get Julia's attention. "You got any new spinal cords back there?" he asks, smiling pleasantly.

Greg puffs on his vape, nodding to Love and then grinning at Julia when she appears. "I think this guy is waiting," he offers helpfully, pointing toward Tyrone with the pen. "I just came by to see if you wanted to chat." He flashes a full-wattage bright smile. "I hear the spinal cords are frozen at sea," he tells Tyrone. "I'd go with the fish."

"Only for someone the size of a crustacean." Julia replies blithely to Tyrone. "Everything's good here. It just depends on what you like. Though the chef special this week is a pair of crab cakes with roumalade and spicy avocado sauces." She beams at Greg. "I got it, querido."

Love looks up from her food and calls to Julia, "Do you have any frozen drinks on the menu?" She forgot to look of course, and she adds, "I don't know what's in this batter, but it's the perfect level of salty deliciousness." The grey-haired woman seems particularly happy with her purchase.

"Well, everything I put in my mouth so far has been good." Love says to Tyrone. "I like the little shrimps." That would be the popcorn shrimp.

"Sorry, nothing frozen, though we keep everything cold." Julia says to Love with a , thumbing in the direction of the posted menu for everyone's benefit. "Can I interest you in a horchata? They're great with rum, but we don't have a liquor license." Which makes her consider looking into being able to serve beer.

Greg's suggestion of 'the fish' gets another bemused grimace from Tyrone. "Gee. Thanks," he says, shaking his head. He listens to Julia's and Love's suggestions and then shrugs, looking back over the menu. "Well, if y'all don't have a sampler or something, then I think I'll just go with the salmon fish and chips. Do you guys do a veteran's discount?" he asks, reaching underneath him to get his wallet out of the bag that's slung beneath his seat.

"I never doubted it, mia reigna," Greg tells Julia with a cheeky grin. He settles into a nearby chair, apparently intent to haunt the establishment further, alas. "I haven't actually tried the food here," Greg admits to whoever might be listening. "The locals say good things though." He gives Julia an appraising look, what he can see of her through the window at least. "I bet my girl Julia cooks some tasty-ass shit, though." He offers this sincere and sober assessment irrespective of how his choice of wording might impact any late-night diners.

"We do. ID, please." She looks over her shoulder and calls out, "Salmon plate!" before looking back, she laughs. "Your girl Julia worked in a Michelin star retaurant before she came home to this palace of seafood glory. Which is why we have a chef's special. It's so I don't go crazy just doing the usual menu. But I'm lucky, what I do for work I also like doing for my friends."

Love nods to Julia's suggestion. "Yes. A thousand times yes. I haven't had a horchata in a long time. If you haven't run out, a two mango pastelitos." She pronounces the last like a native speaker, but with just one word, it's hard to pin down the origin. Her accent otherwise is mixed somewhere between Cali, Hawaii, and the tiniest hint of something else. She puts what's left of her food down to dig into her back pocket for some cash. "And mango pastelitos for both of these gentlemen." To Greg and Tyrone, she says, "You should try these."

"Here ya go," Tyrone says as he hands over his tan military ID at Julia's request. "And no, I haven't ever tried one of those, so ... thanks. I'm Tyrone, by the way," he offers to Love. After all, it's the least he could do for someone buying him a drink. Then he turns his attention back to Julia. "So ... if you were a big time chef, why come out here to fry fish?" He'll also provide his debit card when prompted, before returning both to his wallet and his wallet to the bag.

"No shit," Greg says, with an impressed look at Julia. "I can understand wanting to feel like you're doing something that helps your friends. That's pretty admirable." He smiles as Love buys him food, a sure way into a young scamp's heart. "Thanks," he tells her, and flashes a friendly and encouraging smile around between her and Tyrone. "I'm Greg -- Greg Sumpter. I own Green Harbor Organics down on Maple." He gives a vague wave with the hand holding his vape, dropping his skateboard down to the boardwalk to play around with it with his feet idly. He chews on his lip while he considers Tyrone's question, even though he didn't ask Greg. "This town is hard to get away from. Hard to stay away from if you do get away, I hear." His tone here is strange, thoughtful; not his usual flippant mien.

Julia has her cashier take care of Tyrone's payment, while she pours out the horchata and bags the pastelitos. "Your order's up in just moment." she assures him, adding, "My family needed me to come home." She doesn't seem inclined to clarify on that, even as she turns to take the handoff of the salmon meal and leans all the way forward and offer it to Tyrone.

"Thank you for your service, Tyrone." Love says thank you with fried sweets or delicious drinks, as is right and good. "I'm Love." Usually this goes down one of two ways, but she stopped flinching when she introduces herself when she was a little kid. She listens in for Julia's answer to Tyrone's question, turning her silvery-eyed gaze to Greg. "Greg. Green Harbor — sounds familiar." It'll take her a minute, then she asks, "Edibles?"

"Fair enough. Famiily's family," Tyrone replies to Julia, nodding. He rocks back in his chair, popping a wheelie while he waits for his food. Love's introduction gets a quirked eyebrow and a smile. "Love? Nice! That's pretty unique. Nice to meet you," he says. And then his food is offered to him and he grins, setting back down on all fours so he can roll over and take it from Julia. "And thank /you/," he adds, before turning to find a spot to park himself nearby.

Greg grins and nods to Love. "Yeah, we have an assortment of edibles... but I'm always looking to make them better, or offer new flavors." He digs into a pocket of his coat to produce a wallet and pulls out a business card, rising up to offer it over to Love. For good measure he offers one to Tyrone as well, tucking it onto his tray with a grin. "On a less official basis, I have been known to get other things for people." He doesn't make it more specific than that, and even shoots an apologetic look towards Julia. "But fuckin'... not here. Hit me up at my digits."

Julia snickers, having a good idea of why Tyrone was thanking her. But she does note, with an affable grin, "Management appreciates your discretion." To Love, "How do you like the horchata? We always make it fresh."

It's always a pleasure to meet someone who doesn't immediately begin singing her love song lyrics. "Thanks. Yeah, my parents were a unique couple." Love leans over to tuck some cash for the fried sweets and drinks within easy reach of Julia, including a tip.

When she turns back around, Love reaches out to take Greg's card, inked fingers tipped in long, black-painted nails. "I'll eat anything salted caramel flavored." She glances up again, pale eyes focused on Greg when he says other things. "Yep." That's all she has to say about that. She's just then tucking in to the horchata and gives a silent thumbs up, followed by, "I'm at the Sea View," scene of a recent murder! or body dump, no one knows yet, "And I think this just became my post surf stop."

Once parked at a table, Tyrone takes Greg's business card off of his tray and sticks it into the bag underneath him. "I'll keep that in mind, Greg," he says. And then he turns to start in on his food. Which, after a couple bites, makes him nod and turn to offer Julia a thumbs up as well. "I won't be surfing anytime soon, but I'll definitely think about stopping here after I get my roll on," he agrees. And, since everyone else offered something like careers, he grimaces and shrugs. "And ... I just get paid for getting shot in Afghanistan, right now. Currently figuring out my next move."

"We've got chocolate-covered salted caramels that will give you a three-day nap," Greg tells Love with a lopsided grin. He tries one of the pastelitos, and his brows shoot up. "Damn!" he enthuses, with his mouth full. "That's fuckin' good!" He wanders over to lean against the bar by the window, grinning at Julia. "I'm going to have to come eat here every day now. I can't cook for shit." He gives her his best puppy dog eyes. "You don't want me living on Ramen and Twinkies, do you? Can you really have that on your conscience?"

Julia beams at Love. "Well, thank you for that. Always happy to help, but I dont envy you the Northwest Pac surf. It can get pretty rough. Stay safe." She looks back to Tyrone, "Gray Harbor's definitely in an economic growth spurt. Lots of new businesses opening up, and a lot of opportunities out there. You'll find something." Greg makes her laugh in delight. "You're going to be spending money every day? Next time I throw a dinner party, you're on the guest list. That's when I get either really into the Cuban home cooking or I get super bougie fancy, like gamebirds and organic vegetables."

Love's black-painted lips quirk into half-smirk, half-smile when the loud appreciation for Julia's food comes from Greg. She jams his card into her back pocket along with a flyer she collected earlier in the day. "Ty, Have you tried taking a kayak out on the ocean?" Yeah, she nicknames people she only just met. "I couldn't ... surf for a while, and to get back on the water, I learned that. You strap in, right, and just have to learn a few moves to right yourself if you tip. It's all upper body. The water out here is cold enough that it requires a wetsuit, though."

"I like a more mellow, alert buzz," Love says to Greg, a little chuckle following. "As good as a three-day nap sounds." In theory.

"No ma'am, no kayaking for me. Just /looks/ like a death trap waiting to close," Tyrone replies to Love, shaking his head adamantly. When Greg effuses about the pastelitos, Tyrone quirks an eyebrow and likewise grows curious. He eyes the pastry for a few seconds, surprised it wasn't a drink like he thought, then shrugs and takes a bite out of it. ... and then he nods to himself, the corners of his lips drawing down as he approves. "Good stuff. Thanks for this," he tells Love, gesturing with it before setting it back down and going back to work on his fish. He's managed to slow down his eating a LITTLE bit, but ... the food is still almost all gone already.

Eagerly nodding along with every word Julia says, Greg is the very picture of enthusiasm. "I want to eat all that shit," he tells her in an earnest tone, shaking his head. "I ain't had something that good since I was a kid. My boy Hector, his mom and sisters brought the fire in the kitchen like you." He gets into his wallet, comes up with a bill, and stuffs it into the tip jar. Anyone paying close attention might notice it's a $50. He puffs on his vape as he tucks the wallet away. "Hey, I was looking forward to catching up with you about some of the stuff we were texting about. Maybe you want to catch up soon, when you're off the clock?"

"Yeah, that'd be fine." Julia says. "We're going to close soon, and I can hang around out back while the others get clean and prep done for tomorrow. You want to come around the back in a bit?" She doesn't seem in a hurry, ill-inclined to rush the customers. She might have missed the amount gone into the tip jar, but when they do their tipshare for the evening, it'll be a nice surprise.

Love only smiles all the more when Tyrone vehemently 86es the idea that he might strap himself into a kayak and put himself at the mercy of the ocean. "Probably a wise choice." She glances out along the boardwalk, to the ocean beyond. The look on her face suggests wise is the way she often chooses to go. She wanders back over to the bench to fetch her cooling shrimp, finishing them off anyway, because they're a delight. "Thanks for the conversation and delicious food." She chucks her trash into a nearby bin, still sipping the horchata. She saves her mango pastelitos for later. "Off to work for me." Where that could be this late in the day is anyone's guess.

Finishing the rest of his fish, Tyrone overhears the talk of closing and looks down at the phone clipped to his waist. The display shows him the time and his eyebrows raise. "Oh shoot. And I gotta catch the last bus or I'm rolling all the way home. Nice to meet you folks! Thanks again for the food!" He pulls his plate onto his lap, wheeling over to knock of the remaining bits of food into the trash before setting the plate in the proper receptacle. He then swings back by the table to grab the pastries and set THEM in his lap, before turning and hauling ass back towards the boardwalk and, presumably, the bus stop.

Greg directs a smile towards Julia. "Absolutely." He digs into his pocket to come up with a pack of Newports and lights one, since nobody's eating now. "I'll catch you out back, Julia. Nice to meet you, Tyrone and Love!" With a friendly wave, Greg steps over onto his skateboard and resumes his lazy drift, this time towards the back of the shop.