2019-09-19 - Your Friendly Neighborhood Dog Inspector

Sutton sits in the back, at a little table with a couple of chairs, poking around at some puzzle pieces on the top of it. This place has a few games set out for folks to fiddle with if they're staying in to drink of have a snack. The blonde has a croissant on a plate in front of her, uneaten, and seems to be fiddling with a piece that will not fit.

Sutton's dressed in a short-sleeve Grey Harbor Fire Department tee (logo on the breast pocket), with PARAMEDIC across the back. She looks like she's on-duty, but she isn't wearing a radio, so perhaps not. Her pants are dark blue cargoes to match the tee, and she wears steel toed boots, a studded belt with a large silver crow buckle, def not regulation.

Cold, grey and wet�that's Washington in a nutshell. Despite this, Moses wakes up disappointed every single day for the lack of sunshine. Even more missed than the sun? Dry socks. Trudging through the drizzle, slouched into the protective layers of a hoodie, Moses pushes his way into the coffee shop with a small huff at the sudden relief of warmth. He spends a moment shaking off the clinging droplets before, with a new noise, he moves lazily toward a table just shy of Sutton. She gets a glance and a wink before he sets his unusually full bag in the chair, turning on his heels to head onward toward the counter. Order of the day? Coffee dark. Even an idiot can get that order right, right? Time till tell, but as he waits the bag begins to move and shift....not exactly a good thing in a place like this. Then again, if evil comes in the form of large, brown eyes and tan winkles, then bring it. Penelope remains hunkered in the bag, but the tiny ball of wrinkles does offer the nearby stranger a small sniff at a distance. Doggy in a pouch? Yes please.

Sutton tips back in her chair, eyeballing the puzzle like it did her wrong. She runs a hand through her hair, glances at her phone as it chimes, then drops it back onto the table, face up. She glances over when the door opens, as she usually does, and watches a tall, black-haired dude roll in. Her hazel-eyed gaze does the once over, a slow one, and right back up. She reaches up to scratch her cheek, pausing when he winks.

"Aren't you pretty." That's the phrase the wink prompts from the woman. She eyes the bag he leaves behind at the table. She rises, tucking her phone into her thigh pocket. She abandons her croissant.

The 'compliment' gets a chuckle from the man, but he doesn't speak until he manages his way back, coffee in hand. Actually, as she abandons her food�a punishable offense indeed, he slows his roll, watching her curiously. Stealing from that bag will come with a LOT more responsibilities than the standard pickpocket (in a paramedic uniform no doubt) is probably prepared for.

In fact, the olive green, canvas bag wiggles, slumps, and emits a lazy groan from the chair, complete with the sound of a yawn. A very animated bag indeed. To his credit, Moses takes his sweet time getting back, but he does eventually get there.

Sutton brushes her fingers through her hair and bends, hands resting on her knees, bold as you please checking out the bag. It wiggles and waggles and slumps and there's definitely something happy in there. She's busted doing it too. "I'm not gonna touch, but I feel like there's a puppy in there." Maybe she's seen a dog butt wiggle in a canvas bag before. "Are you going to show me, or are you going to make me beg?" Is this an official bag inspection by the Grey Harbor Fire Department? Maybe. MAYBE IT IS.

Sutton glances up, a smile on her lips. She straightens when the bag's owner does finally return to the table, because he's so much taller than her.

Moses just laughs, but he also lifts the bag to take the seat, opening it in the process. Naturally, he safely deposits the molten hot drink well out of the spill zone before doing so. Does spilled coffee count as a party foul? At $7.00 a cup (the going rate of hipster coffee), probably.

The mutt in question is perfectly happy to peek up and out of the bag toward the newly located scent. Sleepy, lazy, and a little bit useless, she merely watches the two humans with little expectation beyond ear scratches. The bar for her human is set ridiculously low, it seems. "Her names Penelope. The princess who refuses to walk for more than 30 steps before she needs a nap." Thus, doggybag.

Is a little spilled brew a foul? Not unless it spills on the blonde who wants to play with your pooch, Moses. "Holy. Shit. What the fuck. That's a cute bomb right in my face." Oh jesus, a dog lover. Sutton turns to the beast in question and offers an outstretched hand to sniff. "You're definitely a princess, babygirl. Who makes her daddy carry her everywhere she goes? Who's in control? That's right, pumpkin. The ladies." Sutton sits on the floor. She sits right down on the coffee shop floor and she crosses her legs.

Her voice for Moses and her voice for Penelope are nearly the same, perhaps a bit more enthusiasm and brightness for the dog, but come on. Look at that face. "I'm Sutton." She could be introducing herself to either. She holds a hand up to Moses from her seat waaaaaaay down there. Oh, talking to him then.

Moses just laughs again. It's actually a change so, he'll take it. "I'm more than aware that there's been a shift in power." This is said rather matter-of-factly as he watches the woman sit on the floor. Inwardly the germophobe in him screams, but he does a mostly decent job of not breaking out the Lysol wipes. For now.

The offered hand is taken and given a faint squeeze and shake, while his free hand grips and lifts the bag to set it at his feet in front of the woman. Let's try not to get ejected from the first coffee shop he's found, ladies. "I'm Moses." This much is said over the rim of his cup before he looks away. "I'm going to ask, and hope for the best....does the weather ever get better here?"

The paramedic is probably immune to everything this town has to throw at her (ha, for at least two more days, little does she know). She's seen it all on the job. Sutton grins when the bags set before her, and she reaches in to scratch those ears double-fisted. "It does. It gets warmer and rainy, but then it snows sometimes." She glances up. "I assure, you," she says, her hands all over princess Penelope, "You get used to the rain." Eventually. Probably after a couple of colds. And road rage incidents if you, like her, brought only a motorcycle with you when you moved.

"Where are you from, Moses?" The squeeze she gave him is firm but brief, fingers slipping away, because DOG. "The trees and the fresh air and the ocean make up for it." Maybe not if you're from California or Hawaii.

"Los Angeles." The response is simple and tucked dryly on the tail end of her promise. No. It doesn't! It doesn't make up for damp socks and jeans that have soaked water up past the ankles. It doesn't make up for the smell of wet mutt!

Okay maybe it will help.

Moses bites thoughtfully at his lip, his attention shifting between the phone in his hand and the girl (and mutt) on the floor, but eventually the couple win out. "You're a paramedic?" Okay he's guessing! "You from here?"

"Oh, well, LA. That's gonna take some getting used to, love." And Sutton's accent shifts a little there. She sounds American for the most part, but English edges creep in on certain turns of phrase, certain words, and in her syntax at times. "Maybe it'll take you a bit longer. I'm originally from Seattle, so near enough. Only a couple of hours off." She laughs. Is she a paramedic? "That's what he shirt says." In large letters across her shoulders. So she's funny too.

"I've been here about... mm. Somewhere in January." She wibbles a hand. "8 months, give or take." She gives Penelope a chin scritch after a brief test to see if she likes hands under his chin as well as on top of her head. Sutton's careful with where she puts her hands.

It's possible that the mutt just likes /hands/. Period. Forever. Moses less so, because he moves away from the handshake with ease, instead taking up his coffee. It may be the only joy he has in life ever again. He's moved to the dreariest place on the planet! The snarky comeback is met with a snort and a smirk, but he nods in return. Sutton 1, Moses 0. "Wow, 8 months. I suppose that's proof that you don't need the sun to survive, but the fact that you're from Seattle kinda leads me to believe that you've adapted to gloomy as fuck environments and you don't know better." This is a joke, the grin says that clearly. JOKE.

"To be fair, Seattle is basically this, but north and with way better food, and basically all Vancouver has to offer, since it's so damn close." Grey Harbor has an ocean view, sure, but it's way rainy and cold AF in the winters, and the cuisine, by and large, is fairly lacking. If you want Korean, good luck. There's an Americanized asian type place that is sort of Chinese, sort of Thai, and at least has good dumplings. Moses will discover this for himself, though. Probably. "I don't mind the rain."

"Except when I want to ride the Triumph and it rains for three weeks straight. Then," she gives Penelope one last scritch. "It's basically weather: 1, me: fuck you." She moves to rise. "How new in town are you? You seem a little soggy, love. The sun comes out, just..." when it damn well feels like it. "Sporadically." Mmhm.

"What brings you to our green, slowly cooling little town just in time for Halloween decorations to start going up." Sutton's left arm is a full sleeve of black and grey tattoos, imagery trending toward fabulist. A horned fox, birds, grapes, pine needles, pinecones, a goddess figure and the moon.

Moses nods, taking in her words with a look that looks more defeated than accepting. Someone makes terrible life choices! As she stands his eyes move away from the puppy and coffee toward the woman's sleeve, eyeing the lines with what can only be described as absolute judgement. In the end, it gets a nod. "About a week. Give or take a day, I'm shit with dates." Chances are high he doesn't even know what day of the week it is! "So, shitty weather. Shitty food. Is there at least one good bar in town? I mean really, I just need one."

Penelope, since returned to her bag-nest, snoozes lazily under his feet. Zero fucks are given.

Sutton probably notices the look at her ink. It happens a lot. People usually either like it or hate it. "A week, you're new then. If you're staying at the Sea View, lock your door. Two bodies dropped a couple weeks back there. I don't know the details, but it doesn't amuse me. I'm staying there right now too." Sea View Suites would be the questionably priced motel on the boardwalk in town. She pauses. "That wasn't a come on." She did just tell him where she's staying. The blonde laughs.

"Mind if I join your table? This puzzle's kicking my ass, not too proud to say, and you have a dog. Also, you're more fun to look at than that guy by the door." The latter she says more quietly, but not that much more quietly. She moves the few steps over to scoop up her croissant and cup. Hopefully he says yes, because awkward if not. "So you know what I do, because I'm labelled. What is it you do?"

"I am, yeah," staying at the motel, Moses means. The rest just gets a chuckle and a nod. "A come on? I'd never dream it was. You're clearly just the official welcome wagon and puppy inspector. I know my place in this pecking order."

He takes his final drink from the coffee before it's pushed away. "Sure, take a seat. Penny likes you so you can't be that bad." For the moment he pretends the dogs not a slut for petting.

"I am the puppy inspector. And not very discreet." Sutton moves her drink and her pastry to his table, hooking a chair out to drop into it. Yes, she sat on the floor, she petted his dog, and never once did she stop to hand sanitize before she fetched her food and drink. "Penny has good taste, obviously." Thinks highly of herself, this blonde.

"The best way to find your way around town is to ask around. It's... always changing. People pass through pretty fast if they're not a townie." She tips back in the chair and crosses her legs, ripping a corner off her pastry and popping it into her mouth. "Welcome. For your first trip to the Grizzly Diner, order carryout. A dine-in experience is not for the weak. You need to acclimate." Whatever that means. "Leaving California for Washington. Bold move."

Moses does notice, and he'll cope with that when he gets 'home'. In private. Where people can't see his pain. The rest he takes in with slow nods and a thoughtful look that remains locked on the table between his empty cup, and her arm, as if he were taking mental notes. If he has any sense, he is. "Okay, noted. Acclimation activated." He smiles, but he also looks down to check the bag, which the wrinkly k9 has settled into backwards, her small curly tail occasionally bouncing against the lip of the bag she's burrowed into. "So, try not to end up dead, and don't eat in my first trip to Grizzly Diner..which by the way, is a /terrible/ thing to name a food establishment." Beat. "Anything else? Any decent night life, or am I destined to buy cheap booze and get tanked in my motel room while I wait to be victim 15 for the local serial killer?"

Sutton is apparently planning to rapid fire the occasional tip for the newcomer at Moses while he's trying to enjoy the warm, dry relief of the coffee shop. "Fried Fish right down the road from the motel has pretty good food." She smiles when he does. "If you think the name of the Grizzly is bad, you should see the decor." She doesn't elaborate, but her dark brows go up. That's a fun surprise for Moses for later. No one forgets the first time they see it. No one. "There are two decent bars. I started at the Pourover, but one of my good friends works at Two If By Sea, also on the boardwalk, so if you get drunk you can go pass out to the sound of the ocean. It also has fire pits."

"There's a strip club on the outskirts of town, if you're into that. The Platinum Cabaret. It's a range of talent, nice bar selection. Hiking trails, if you're into that. I don't go at night. And when they tell you there's a zoo, it's a lie." She shakes her head. "It's like four animals and a salty peacock."

Moses folds his arms over the table as the woman explains each detail about the town, his hands clasping to allow his chin to rest there. Blue eyes train on her, taking her in, finally, with the same stern expression used to study her ink earlier. Everything she says is taken in with a new nod, and the occasional hum of amusement. Except the last part. "I must meet this peacock." It's said in all seriousness. Seriously, could this be his long-lost spirit animal? "I'll check out the bar...though I'm honestly not much for strip clubs. I may not be the most charming guy, but I feel like I don't need to /pay/ to get a girl's attention. And if I do....well, that's a sad fact for me to cope with over a bottle of jack and the Hallmark channel..." beat. "But I do like hiking, I just have the directional sense of a drunk tourist."

Sutton is just raising her cup to take a sip when he mentions the Hallmark channel. The cup pauses for about a second and a half before it moves again to her lips. She takes a quiet sip, watching Moses. "You'll want to avoid the woods near dusk. The trails are marked, but I got lost on them once after dark. I have a decent directional sense, but there's something about these tall pines." Of the forest is haunted and likes to move around and confuse you. You know, if you believe creepy forest stories. Probably it's just her directional sense isn't as good as she thinks.

She just can't let it go. "Hallmark channel." Nothing asked, nothing else commented regarding it. Just that. "The peacock is in the park across from the PD/FD building. Addington Park. Also adjacent the hospital. Not a lot of town in this town." Unless you count how large the outskirts are. "I'd avoid the sawmill."

"If at any point I need to pay for a woman's attention, somethings gone terribly wrong and yes, I might as well just start watching that shit." Moses chuckles, "mostly I just wanted to see your reaction. I like reactions." The rest gets a nod. "You do realize every place you tell me to avoid, I'm not /obligated/ to visit? I'm terrible at minding instructions...or taking suggestions. My mother called it obstinance. I like to think I'm just instructionally challenged."

"Look, I'm giving you some friendly advice I never got." Sutton sips. "You can ignore the guidelines and roll right on in, but when you get there, and what happens happens, I want you to remember this moment, when I, a friendly member of the Grey Harbor Fire Department ambulance service, tried to save you some pain." She salutes him with her cup, hiding a little smirk behind it. "You won't have to pay for a woman's attention, Mo." He gains a nickname right up front. "I can guarantee you that, pretty thing like you. Cute dog like that." She shakes her head and tips back in her chair. "Brace for impact, my friend."

Moses just smirks, but the warning earns a small bow of his head and a two-finger salute before he chuckles at the compliment. "I feel like I should giggle and blush, but I don't want you to get a big head about it." His brows arch upward a moment, as if he were going to say more, only to clamp his lips closed a click later. A glance toward the window gets a sigh, "I'm having a great time, and I'd love to do this again, but I need to get a certain mutt home before it starts raining again. I /really/ don't want to smell wet dog while I try to sleep in my luxury motel room." Pushing to his feet, Moses chuckles again. "You get bored look me up, if you want help with that. I don't work at any local shops but, I'm still pretty good." The bag (and mutt) are scooped up carefully before it gets pulled around to his back and his hood goes up. "Bye pretty lady, thanks for the company....and the survival tips." Moses. Is. Doomed.

"I'll be around. Sometimes here, often at the motel. Always at the firehouse if you need some help, of just want to show off your pup. We always have water on hand for good doggos." Sutton glances down at her tattoo and then up at the tall guy who showed up bearing a cute pup. She smiles, a slowly growing one. "You're welcome, Mo." She watches him go, gaze dipping down to his ass, because, let's be real, who's not going to look? "Bye, Penny, love. Come back to me soon." She sits there for some time after, finishing off her croissant and tea. She smiles, then gets up to head out too, thumbs tapping across the glass face of her mobile as she goes.