2019-09-28 - Sweet Jesus!

The world outside is dreary and wet. That's only a very small part of the reason that Sparrow is inside. The pastries are a rather large part, though it's her brother that she's here to see. Not that she can see him right now, the kitchen and its occupants obscured from the main shop. That's a-okay by the redhead who has taken up a table all to herself, situated in a lushly lavender chair in contrast to the bright orange tee shirt she wears with the word 'Stardust' repeated five times on five lines in white letters upon her chest. She rather happily works her way through an immaculate dessert of some sort, each of its brown, cream and pink layers distinct except where her fork has smudged them all together. Giddy little sounds escape her with each bite, her attention divided between the delicious cake and her phone, some on-going text conversation idly attended.

Who has two things and is addicted to sugar? Well the thumbs are busy but authorities can confirm it is is one Grant Baxter who has not at all seemed to change. Well He's changed a bit his hair being neither denim blue or acid green presently, but otherwise pretty much what one might expect. It's cold and damp which means layers. Thermal long sleeve shirt under the t-shirt and the hoodie and the military jacket. The stagger suggests he's either not slept yet, just woke up, or possibly hung over. Time wise that might not be fair to say maybe all three but he's found a way before. Board in hand the bell dings and he comes in a bit damp from the outside, magenta hair plastered to his head. One eyebrow arches over the sunglasses and a bemused grin widens with a tired chuckle, "Noooooo shit, Jonesy's back."

Sparrow doesn't look up. She's got enough distractions without worrying about whoever else is coming into the shop. After all, she's waiting for someone coming out of another, unbelled door. It's not until she hears that voice saying her name--one of her names, gods, how many does one girl need--that she peeks up, what was meant to be a quick glimpse resulting instead with her full bright-eyed, wide-smiling attention turned right on Grant. "No way! Bax!" Her fork clatters to the table as she pushes to her feet and, without any hesitation or thoughts about personal space, rushes over to throw her arms around the walking waking hangover and plant a big old kiss on his cheek. There might be a slightly orange lip-print in the wake of that affection. "I was sure you were probably dead or something." She's almost certainly joking. Right?

Grant unhooks one arm and catches the technicolor flying Jones sister in one arm lifting her on toes in that one armed bear hug. Aww he gets an orange smooch print, she gets a playful gnaw to the side of her neck. NOMNOMNOM.

Tired as shit but amused he looks around for, well others from the old crew, and back to her again with a laugh, "Shit me? Nah. Afterlife's like... afraid I'll get bored and take the place apart for parts to build something cool out of it." Reaching up the sunglasses slide to the top of his head. "Just because you're in town don't mean I won't expect a post card. You visitin?"

Sparrow squeaks with laughter at the nomming, one shoulder going up in reflexive defense as she ineffectively nudges him away. Unconvincingly, too. Once she's on her feet again, she keeps close, reclaiming only the barest bit of distance as she looks him over. "Let's keep it scared, yeah?" she says of the afterlife. When asked if she's visiting, her nose crinkles, cheeks taking on a bit of color, and she admits, "I've been back for a while. In my second year at WSU, just..." The hand not still slung around Grant gives a vague wave through the air as she explains, "Last year was kinda a blur. Head down, work hard, try to do the grown-up thing." Ugh. Who wants to talk about that? She makes a face and hurries past, promising, "I'll bury you in postcards if you ask nice. Still at the same address?" Beat. "You wanna grab a seat with me?"

There is no end to the young man's amusement. "Woah shit, shows how much I've been paying attention. " It was never his strong suit, but who doesn't love the world being a constant surprise? "Don't tell my dad that. Shiiiit I got lunch with him today. He's still on my ass about getting a 'real job'" Shaking his head he sighs in that way parents do about their children, but in reverse leveling with her, "Love the guy but he's got no soul for art." She gets a last snug from teh damp skater before wandering to the other unoccupied chair. "Pfft ask nice? I'm like... the nicest guy I know." He pauses and considers the address, " Uhhh Nnnnnno? but... yes??!" Does he even know? "Sorta. I'll get you a good one."

"Real jobs are for suckers," Sparrow croons just loudly enough to suggest that neither Grant nor his dad are her intended target. She flashes a smile to the guy behind the counter in absent apology before moving on and slipping back to her abandoned seat. Nudging a plate of petite tartlets across the table to share, she wonders, "How's the art going? I've been..." Oh, look at that serious face! How her brows knit just a little, how her smile dims thoughtfully. "I dunno. Inspired, I guess? Painting more than I used to. Got a whole house full of white walls I wanna fuck up, but." Shrug. She hasn't started on that yet. Picking up her phone, she lifts it to snap a quick picture of the guy with damp, magenta hair and asks, "What's the new address?" Clearly, she means to make good on her threat.

Grant gives the camera a wink and a lazy fingergun. Hey this is for posterity. It's important. Board gets propped against his leg and trapped there by his foot. Arms fold on the table picking at the other pastry with idle, but bemused curiosity, "Ah yeah? Thiiiiis inspiration have a name?" The eyebrows waggle with every implication of innuendo there. She mentions white walls in her house and that eyebrow arches, "Well that sounds a damn travesty. When you gonna rescue it? The house." He digs out his phone and shows her the address for the skate shop. "I mean shit send it here. I'm there more than my dad's place so..."

Sparrow flips Bax off casually at his question about the source of her inspiration, but the smile which goes with it is definitely guilty. Yeah, he's got her number. When he holds out his phone, she takes it from his hands so that she can fish out not only that address, but his digits, a quick text sent to make sure he's got her actual number too. "It's got a few names," she says of her inspiration, grin going all crooked as she adds, "It could have your name, if you play your cards right," in shameless flirtation. "I keep second-guessing the walls, though. Like... what are the metaphors that I want to actually look at every day, ya know? I know I'm totally overthinking it, but." Shrug. That is as Sparrows do. Unfortunately. She's always best when she isn't thinking too hard about anything. Handing his phone back, she takes her fork back up and asks, "What've up been up to, cutie?"

Grant just smiles to himself. Not gloating. Doesn't need to. The one eyebrow and that grin hanging loose there telling her he knows she knows he's right. The other joins it briefly at the clarification. "Oh awesome. Canvas'll turn out good that way. Get some different things rockin in there. Shift your moods from like one end of the room to the other like emotional rainbow sherbet." He pops another bite into his face and the dreamy look might be about how that could turn out or possibly the sherbet. He offers, "Well, you know you can paint over it so it keeps changin with a kalidescope. Then when you see it and it down work yooooou can like ... self reflect or some shit."

As for what he's been up to he shrugs, "Doing some jobs for m'boss. I'm like working out at the skate shop next to the dispensary. Pretty sweet gig. Been painting custom boards and stuff. Hoping to like get an etsy thing going and open my own pro shop online maybe." He stifles a snicker shaking his head "Yeaah you can imagine how much my father the lawyer is excited about this. Gonna talk to him about getting an LLC or something but then he wants me to come work for him and it's like naaaaah."

Sparrow smiles across the table at Grant all warm and wide and half-lidded. Dopey. He always did get her in ways others didn't. Surely one of the reasons they got on so well for so long. Despite their undeniable inconsistency. "You're right," is all she answers for his advice on art, one shoulder shrugging up in comfortable surrender. One might guess that look means she forgot how much she missed him. Tilting forward a little, she teases, "Imagine how my parents the hippies feel about me going to school for chemistry," as if it were comparable. It is not. When she sinks back, she tells him, "Sounds like you've got your shit pretty together, gorgeous. I'm glad. Like. Really glad. Not easy to make the things you love work for you in ways that, like, actually work for you." Pointing her fork toward the door to the kitchen, she says, "Corey's managed that." But she says nothing about herself in that regard.

Grant sits back with a slouch looking around and back. "If you want we can trade. He'd be pretty proud a you then again, ya know, you can do some cooool shit with chemistry. Better livin, girl." Shit he is so fucking all on board fuckery through science. All in all he seems pretty happy with the way things turned out. "Don't let this charming demeanor fool you. I promise no responsibility. Do not worry." His eyes squint and the lazy drawl lays out the truth on it, "It ain't buyin a car yet. But I figure if you got what you need, then like why you need more than that?"

Reaching up he adjusts the buttons behind his right ear holding one down and by proxy sending his phone to voicemail. "There's like some old story and shit about a rich guy going down to like Mexico... Peru... something Spanish with water ya know? Like... fucking south, ya know?" Hey the story may not be detailed in specifics but it's got heart to it! " So this rich asshole is talking to this fisherman and they're getting on and he says you should come work for me. I'll get you a job. You can work your way up. The guy asks em, well for how long? He says a while but you'll make money then you can work on investing it and get a nice place and eventually you work long enough you can retire."

Looking up to the stressed counter minion he says, "Yeah a coffee'd be awesome when you got time man." Looking back to Sparrow there's that slight grin, "The fisherman asks "Well what do you do when you retire? The banker dude is all 'Well you get a house on the water and a nice boat or something and relax'. The guy looks around at his fishing boat and his little house and back at the guy and says "Yeah I'm good... but probably in Espanol." Lookign around he stretches with his good mood unbent, unbroken, and still unawake (ohmygodcoffeepleeeeeeeease!) "I'm living my retirement. It's awesome."

Sparrow winks for the better living through chemistry comment, grin skewing to the side in a way that suggests that not only does she know, but she might also have some meaningful experience in that aspect of her field of study. Rather than offer up that expertise, however, she reminds him, "I have a car." It's still the same one she left in a few years ago. He might've even seen it outside, whether or not he actually noticed it. Her red Kia's looking road-worn after all she's put it through, and its rear is plastered in weird kitschy bumper stickers from across the country, like a stamped passport marking all the strange places she's been.

While she listens to Grant's story, she finishes that little cake set out in front of her, fork scraping against the plate to gather the last of the crumbs and cream. The 'probably in espanol' earns a snort of laughter, wide smile lingering for the moral of the story. "I wish I had that," she admits without any shame to it. "I keep feeling like I'm stuck in this limbo, ya know? Picked a path, and now I'm stuck with it, and it's not like I'm not good at it and don't find merit to it, but--" She falls quiet as a coffee is brought over, flashing a small smile to the sorta-server. When they're alone again, she doesn't pick up where she left off, instead wondering, "You making enough bank to take a girl out?"

Grant muses "Ya do? Just think if you had skates you'd have twice as many wheels." He considers this with the thoughtful care being a street Buddhist brings and wonders, "Be hard if it snows though... then no wheels is faster..." He is most definitively living in his own happy augmented reality or is severely coffee dependent. Maybe both. Eyes squint and look fro her to an unfixed point above her head, "That's why it's important to adapt and stuff."

His eyes pull back down to Sparrow and comments, "You should stand on your head and figure that out. I'll get back to you when the project is done." He uses eyebrows for air quotes, but at least he doesn't make the 'bunny ears' with his fingers or he might risk becoming his father. When the coffee is brought over he refrains from hugging the guy for providing coffee but does start adding sugar to it. It might be more of an unbaked pound cake by the time he's done adding sugar and creamer really. The half grin comes back with a scoff, "Shit yeah I do. Need I prove it?"

"Pretty sure that's not the kinda perspective I need," Sparrow mumbles about literally turning upside down, but it's the sort of half-hearted protest that suggests some part of her might actually be considering it. She doesn't seem all that fussed about how many wheels she has or how they fare in the snow, rather comfortable with Grant's philosophical musings. And probably distracted with her own aggressive flirtation. "Mmhmm," comes with a wide grin. "You do. Scientist, remember? I need proof. Proof that can be replicated even. Like, we're talking at least three dates. Just to be sure." She knows full well that's a lot of commitment to ask of Bax, but she's not backing down. Not exactly. She does, however, offer something of an alternative. "But first! Party at my place in a couple of days. Crowding around and watching Scott Pilgrim and being lazy. If you're interested."

Grant arches an eyebrow with a wry grin that is all trouble when she protests what kind of perspective she needs, "Are ya sure though? Try it and then tell me if it doesn't help. For science." Not for him, honest! Look at that face. The try joy of enablers is they are just sharing the love of solutions...chemical and mathematic. He grins at the flirtation math and gets his serious face on. Really if you just furrow your brow business language comes out right? That's how it works? The cup is picked up in his fingers, one finger thoughtfully tapping the side as his junk-now-jewelry rolls back up his arm. "Separate dates or consecutive dates? Cause I think one trip out over three consecutive dates is just getting epicly lost-" He drinks his coffee holding up a finger of interruption. Coffee is an imperative to finishing this thought. "Which I'm also down for and happened to me twice in one day once." No, that's not how time works, but it is sometimes how Gray Harbor works. Leveling with her he declares, "A whole movie that is better living through splash effects? Shit, count me in."

"For science," Sparrow agrees with a satisfied nod. There will be some upside-downing at some point in the not too distant future. And possibly detailed notes on how said experiment goes. Luckily, Grant probably has some idea of what he's in for, even if she's upgraded her scientific method since they last spent any time together. His proposal for the date(s) earns a signature wide smile, the little lift of her chin suggesting some bit of undue pride at his proposal. Before she answers, she takes up her phone, sending a google calendar invite over to provide time and address for movie night. When the gadget goes back down, she refocuses on the important business. "Deal. One grand adventure. You pick the date and direction, and I'll pack for a couple of days. Just in case."

Grant nods sagely. See this is totally his scientific face and it's working awesomely! His coffee cup hangs in his fingertips watching her be so pleased. The grin is infectious though and Grant's always been one for ideas, but not one for guile so the reaction is genuine . Her chin lifts. His eyebrow arches really pleased with himself here. But her phone comes out and so the coffee cup goes down as he pats his many pockets to remember which one his phone is in. He holds it up. "Fuck yeaaaah high five phonage. God I love tech. So this has your address- cool. I was afraid I'd have to track you like an ant or something." Looking up his fingers are held an inch apart. "They got leetle legs. That shit takes a while." He considers the agreement and says "Thaaaaaaan I pick you as the date and it'll be that-a-way." He points out and westerly. "Packing's good. Never know when the great pumpkin will get antsy. October's comin up."

"Place is huge," Sparrow says of her house on Oak. One could probably guess just by it being on Oak. One might wonder what a college kid like her is doing in a house on Oak that doesn't belong to her parents. Then again, one might not really care. She looks thattaway and beams. "Into the deeps!" As if that's what he might've meant. With feigned seriousness, she looks back to Grant and tells him, "I'll bring my helmet." She probably doesn't own anything which would rightly qualify as helmet. More sincerely, she adds, "Just lemme know if you need me to drive," though she doesn't seem particularly attached to the idea of a vehicle.

Before she can say any more, the guy behind the counter calls over, "Hey. Your brother went out the back," which earns him a quick, "Oh! Thanks," and prompts her to get back to her feet. After gathering up phone and coat, she circles round the table to Grant's side and looks down at him, telling him directly, "I'm going to kiss you now," though she doesn't actually act on that without receiving agreement. Lines might not be where they had been three years ago, after all. It's best to be sure.

Grant grins and considers that. "Should see if I know someone with a boat we can steal. If I don't I'm sure Greg-o does." There's a pause and he considers this "And there, plain on his face, is a very bad idea that he's just absolutely fallen in love with. "I wanna see someone show up with like a bike helmet, a viking helmet, football helmet, like one of them suit of armor holy grail jobs... " Pausing he adds with a bemused murmur, "With a snorkel on it." Because swimming on a plate helm is hilarious to him. Then there's the intel that Corey's here and that gets the curiosity kicking in. "Shiiiit tell him I said hey" The smile warms to her and in the many years of their association this sparks curious interest, "Hell yeah." A kiss? This he's down for, "Where?" Ind it's really hard to tell if he means this geographically or anatomically as it would not be the first time this has led to the answer like 'Right now. On the roof.' or... well there's many reasons he was in theatre in high school.

Sparrow goes with show-don't-tell as she leans forward and kisses Grant right here, right now, her lips catching his for a few happily reminiscent seconds, his coffee playing nicely with her chocolate cake, all complementary-like. She lingers close after that contact breaks, bumping her nose playfully to his. "I make no promises." About the quality of her helmet or the presence of a snorkel. "Except that we'll make magnificent pirates for a few days." When she straightens, she appends off-handedly, "And that I'll tell Corey you said hey. Cuz I'm nice like that." But she's already starting toward the door, calling back, "I expect abduction soon, Bax!" on her way out.