2019-10-01 - The Old Grad's Back Again

Marion is sitting at a table by themselves, drinking a cappuccino and relaxing slightly. The local newspaper is lying half-read next to the coffee mug.

Summer is really gone. It feels like it had just begun and now the autumn shadows and the chill that comes with it are chasing away those memories in a hurry. Eli walks in all weather. He has been hiking around the town and the surrounding area of the last twenty years and he wasn't about to stop for much of anything. This is one of those days - directionless steps carrying through the streets and eventually pushing through the door of the coffee shop. He's wearing a well worn grey hoodie over top a black shirt and comfortable jeans, belted around the waist. He digs his wallet out and moves to the counter to put in his order - it's just black coffee and it comes along quickly. He takes the mug and makes his way over toward the seating area.

He stops there, holding his mug and his blue eyes settle on Marion. It had been a long time, but he knew that he recognized them. Social interactions are not Eli's strong point, and standing in the middle of the shop staring at someone is something he is known to do. He's working in his own head as to who it might be - but it isn't entirely polite.

When the door opens, Autumn sneaks in, mischief in its eyes. A gust of chilly breeze, laden with the promise of colder days to come, rushes through the shop and sends napkins flying off tables. Marion's newspaper flips to a new page, and they glance at it with mild interest before looking up to see who let in the trickster breeze. Eventually, their eyes meet. Well, now someone has to say something.

"Eli?" Marion asks, with a slight tilt to their head. "From high school?"

The words seem to drag Eli out of whatever trip down memory lane his mind was taking and he refocuses on the person before him at the table. He swallows and then nods. His body language betrays his discomfort - shoulders too stiff and the mug gripped a bit too tightly. From high school. That seems to push his reluctant memory over the edge. "Marion?" He says the name carefully, as though still very much uncertain. It had been more than a decade and - well, a lot changes in that kind of time frame. He takes a step closer, glancing toward the seat at Marion's table.

Marion looks somewhat surprised. "Oh. Hi. Please, take a seat. I mean, if you want to." They clear off the newspaper. "I just got back from Seattle, and... I mean, it feels like everthing has changed, but also not changed at all? If that makes any sense. How have you been?"

"Sure. I ... need to sit." Eli agrees. He settles down into the seat and sets his coffee on the table. At Marion's comments and shifts blue eyes around the room as though seeing the world beyond. "You've been gone awhile. I don't know - no. You're right. I think everything has changed and nothing at all. The the heart of it? Same place you left." He leans back into his chair and watches them across the table. "But, everyone always comes back, it seems. Ah - welcome home."

"Thanks. Sometimes I think it's just growing older," Marion says. "You always have poets and authors talking about returning home. But Gray Harbor has always seemed a bit different to me. It doesn't surprise me that people come back. So what have you been up to these... God. Fifteen years. Has it really been that long?" Marion and Eli are sitting together at a table, drinking coffee.

"Not many poets writing about the Harbor. Or none that I've ready. You'd think certain things about this place would inspire work like that." Eli's eyes go distant a moment and he looks down at his coffee, wrapping his fingers around the handle and bringing it to his lips. He seems to be growing more comfortable after a few minutes at the table with Marion. "It does have a way of tugging people back here, though. Fifteen years? Marion, it's not a lot to tell. Or it could take a long time. I got into business doing translations, mostly for fiction. After high school." He delivers this as if that's all that has happened in fifteen years. "You went to Seattle?"

A little more Fall comes in with Abby. She's in a bottle-green cardigan over a striped blue t-shirt, jeans and hiking boots, and carries a big ol' canvas bag over one shoulder. There's a cat embroidered on the canvas. She puffs out sigh, peering outside, then saunters over to the counter. "Hello!" She is one of those people, because she's obviously greeting everybody on her way in, smiles left and right, encompassing Marion and Eli, and the barista gets a friendly, cheery greeting. "How are you?" Only then does she place her order. Coffee and cream and sugary nonsense and and a brownie. Because the coffee didn't have sugar enough.

Marion nods and takes a sip of their coffee. "That's right--you were interested in languages in high school, weren't you? I never could understand it, but I think that's the fate of all of us whose parents shipped us off to Chinese School on Saturdays. And yeah--UW. Oceanography. I'd always liked the whales." They shrug. "But Seattle is a bit too big for me. So I'm back now. Saw that the boat tours are hiring--going to try to find something there. What languages do you work with?"

They stare a little bit at Abby. She's very stare-able. "That's... colorful," Marion says quietly. For their part, they're dressed in jeans, a white shirt, and a black hoodie.

"Mostly French, German and Spanish. I can get by in a lot of others, but bit gap between getting by and actually being able to work in a language enough to translate fiction. It's never really about the words. It's about capturing the author's intent and moving that intent over language lines." Eli's eyes are watching Marion's face with perhaps too much attention, sipping at his coffee. "My Mandarin is bad." He says the words carefully in Mandarin, slow and uncertain. "I've never seen a whale." He continues in English, but any other comment he was going to make about Marion's schooling is pulled away by the look toward Abby.

Much like he did when he first saw Marion, he watches Abby for a bit too long as the woman gets her coffee and is bright at everyone. So bright!

Abby is leaning by the counter, waiting for her coffee and brownie combo and exchanging warm pleasantries with the barista. Maybe it's the Mandarin that catches her attention, and draws her gaze back over in Eli and Marion's direction, her eyebrows rising slightly in genuine curiousity. There's a friendly smile to go with it, too. Then she scrunches up her face ever so slightly in thought, gaze darting from Eli to Marion, like maybe she's trying to place a face. Or maybe just curious about why everyone's looking at her. "Sorry! I didn't mean to stare," she pipes up after a few moments.

"I think I was staring first," Marion says. "Turnabout is fair play. No harm done." They stand and offer their hand to Abby. "Marion Tsai. Born and raised here, but just back from Seattle after, well--a long time. Good to meet you."

"I do that a lot." Eli adds, his eyes finding his coffee mug for a moment while he gives a shake of his head. He sips at the coffee after he rediscovers it to give himself a moment to compose himself. He watches Marion stand up to introduce themselves, but Eli stays in his seat while this happens.

"Eli Blake." He adds when a moment to put his own name on the table comes around. He nods to the other chair at the table. "Join us if you don't mind being stared at." Clearly he's not promising to stop just because he was caught. At least he knows his own limitations.

"Oh," Abby says, and glances down at herself as if she's searching for a reason to stare. But then she does reach out to take Marion's hand. "Nice to meet you! Abby Reed. No e at the end." Because that's relevant, apparently. "And I'm from Elma," she adds. Elma being a tiny town of not quite 3000 people, about 20 minutes away along the road to Olympia. Close enough for the next question to make some sense. "Wait! I know. Did you use to play baseball?"

"Nice to meet you too!" That's for Eli while she's at it, with a small wave of her hand. Abby hesitates for a second, glancing back at the counter where the barista is finally setting out her cup and her brownie. "Sure, why not!"

Marion sits. "A little bit," they admit. "Back in high school. I made varsity, but I definitely wasn't cut out for anything else. I did okay." They aren't being modest, really. Marion was a decent midfielder and okay at bat, but never the champion. "I remember playing at Elma a few times. You guys were good. Honestly don't remember who won, though." They take a sip of their cappuccino and furrow their brows. "I really don't remember a lot of high school," they say quietly. "Which, well..." They look at Abigail and Eli, peering at something. "I guess you guys understand why."

"Hey Abby." Eli seems to relax again. Clearly meeting people isn't something he's very good at. But, after he gets past that hump it evens out a bit. He shifts his eyes from Marion and back to Abby. "Never been to Elma. Driven past. Not much reason to actually go into town, though. Mostly always been here - aside from occasional trips up to Seattle for business reasons."

He twists his fingers around his coffee mug and nods to Marion's last comment. "Some of it will come back. Being away from here has a way obscuring details. You're not missing too much though. High school .. " Not his favourite time, perhaps.

"We sucked. Well, you were a little before me, so maybe our baseball team was better then? I don't remember. I played softball, a few classes later," Abby contributes once she's sat down with her coffee and brownie, flashing Marion a friendly smile and a shrug, followed by a perfunctory "Go Eagles!"

She takes a small sip of coffee and a small nibble from her brownie, humming. "You're not missing much either," she tells Eli on the subject of Elma, but reserves a puzzled look for Marion. Obviously, she doesn't quite understand why, or why they'd expect her to understand why. "It was... high school?"

"Er... yes. It was high school. Sorry," Marion says, rather awkwardly. They take a sip of their cappuccino. "You know, for being the birthplace of Starbucks, Seattle has pretty terrible coffee. This tastes great." They glance at the newspaper again, to take up time. "So, uh... Abby. What do you do? Are you a vet?"

"It was a long time ago now. I think things just fade away. I know some people really get into high school, but I was pretty happy to be done with it." Eli adds, perhaps to smooth out the strange bump in the conversation. He nods to the comment about the coffee. "The coffee here is decent. It's on one of my walking routes and I mostly stop in to have a cup whenever I come by here. Not as many options if I'm out hiking through the cemetery or the woods."

He turns his cup on the table in a vaguely nervous gesture while looking toward Abby, clearly interested in the answer to Marion's question as well.

"You know, I think the only coffee I had in Seattle was Starbucks. That's probably the same as everywhere else, though," Abby muses on the subject of coffee too, taking a sip from hers. Then she blinks at Marion, and her mouth hangs in a wide smile even as her brow creases in confusion. "Why would... I'm a nurse. Just the regular sort of nurse, over at Addington Memorial. Not an animal nurse. Except for Chickpea," she leans in slightly to comment, adding from behind her brownie. "That's my cat." And look, she has a phone, and she's showing them a picture of her cat. Mercifully, that's picture, singular, of a calico with an oddly quartered face sprawled out in front of the camera. Very artful.

Cat picture shared, Abby backtracks to give Eli a curious look. "You hike through the cemetery?"

"I guessed from your canvas bag," Marion admits. "It was a pretty wild guess. That's a nice cat. And Starbucks is uniformly terrible everywhere, I can confirm." They look at Eli. "I've never hiked through a cemetery before. I imagine it's peaceful, though. Do you go hiking a lot?"

"Cemetery is one of my favourite places to hike. It's beautiful. And peaceful. I'm careful not to bother people and they tend to lend me the same respect. It's a very good place to go if you don't want to have casual conversation. I walk a lot." Eli confirms to Marion's question. "Sometimes it's hiking, sometimes just walking. I'm not sure exactly where you draw the line. It helps me sort out my mind sometimes. I guess some people meditate and I walk."

Blue eyes shift back to Abby and his head tilts a bit. "A nurse? I'm sure you've been busy. I hear the flu this year has been out of control. I've been lucky enough to avoid it so far." He lifts his hand and crosses his fingers. "Hopefully it stays that way." His gaze shifts to her phone. "Chickpea? Very cute." And Eli smiles, which is something he hadn't done much of yet. "Never really had a pet. But, I like them."

"Thank you!" Abby seems genuinely pleased at the praise her cat gets, however polite it might be. "She's a sweetie, too," Abby comments, resting her chin on the heel of her hand, elbow up on the table's edge. "I used to go for more walks back in in Elma. I haven't in a while. Ran into a...." she trails off into a second of silence, like she's weighing up her next words. "A mountain lion. A sick mountain lion, I think. I just haven't really been up for heading out into the woods again since. But mostly it's been a pretty busy a few months. If it isn't one thing it's another," she replies to Eli with a small strained smile and a shake of her head. "I'll take the flu over people getting shot, though."

"It's bad this year? I'll need a shot, then. I keep putting it off." Marion frowns slightly. "I've always enjoyed exploring and hiking new trails. Sorry to hear you had a scare. I'm sure I'll be breaking out the old boots soon enough... Maybe you'd feel better if you had some company?" They glance at Eli. "You're welcome to come along too, obviously. I just didn't want to make you think I was volunteering you as tour guide." Marion scratches their head a little awkwardly. "I got the sense you prefer the solitude of hiking."

Marion finishes their cappuccino and puts it down with a slightly mournful look at the empty cup. "So, uh... Gosh. What do you two like to do when you're not working, other than walking and cats? Is that old bookstore still around?"

"I don't mind company." Eli replies, looking between the other two at his table. "Sometimes. I do enjoy solitude, but it can be nice to have company. If either if you wanted to trek out somewhere I'd be happy to go along. I walk almost every day, so I have plenty of time to find solitude in those majority of days when I'm alone." He looks toward Abby. "It's safe. At least the places I go. Haven't ever had a problem with wildlife at least."

He makes a face at the mention of stabbings and gives a nod. "Not a job I'd be good at. I'm glad you're there when we need help though."

Marion's last question gets a chuckle from Eli. "Until recently it was mostly working and hiking. Lately I've been trying to get out a bit more. I started dating someone this summer and we're both introverted. So we're working on pushing each other out into the world a bit. Occasionally go the pub or dancing. Ah, yeah - bookstore is still here. You read a lot? I do so much for work, but try to find time to read myself too."

"You should! It's a weird strain this year," Abby says to Marion with her nose crinkling up. Then, behind her cup, she thinks. "Sure, that might be better. Company and bear mace. Or mountain lion mace. That's not a thing, is it?" Her eyes dart to Eli. If he hikes a lot, he might know. Then she flashes Marion a grin, then gestures as if cutting off any possibility of other hobbies. "Strictly cats for me. Chickpea has over 2000 followers on Instagram, so that's a lot of work right there. I think it's gone to her head."

She turns a little more serious a moment later. "I like crafts in general, but mostly I do a bit of sewing. And I've been thinking of looking for some kinda... rec league or something, just for fun? But it's hard to make the hours work. My schedule is a little rough on my social life, to be honest."

"I think there's bear repellant," Marion muses. "I read... I mean, not as much as I should, you know? I spent all that time reading books in college, and I just sort of ended up stopping. But I've gotten back into it now. I got a few books in Chinese after I blanked when someone asked me how to write 'sneeze.' It'd be nice to go hiking with you both." Marion flips through the newspaper. "Are there any sports? I know ultimate frisbee is popular in Seattle."

"Maybe I could pick up a bit more Mandarin from you if we get together sometime." Eli suggests. "It's always nice to catch up with old faces." He turns to look toward Abby and adds - "And meet entirely new ones. I have the opposite situation, my schedule is entirely flexible. So, that's good if you want to try to walk somewhere. I can mostly make myself free. Or if I know ahead of time I'll just arrange my day properly."

He picks up his mug and takes a long sip, leaving it empty and shaking his head. "Bear repellant will work on mostly anything if you get it pointed the right way and in the right spot. Just depends if they kill you first. Like I said, I haven't seen much that troubled me out on the trails here. Enough people around they stay back I think."

Eli eases his chair back, giving a quick smile between the two. "I should keep moving though. I told Eve I'd only be gone a couple hours. It was good to see you both."

"It's good that you haven't run into anything like that. It's just this one was - it looked - it was strange and like it wasn't afraid of people at all," Abby says, then waves it off with a smile and only the barest contraction of her lips when Eli mentions 'if they kil you first'. "I'm sure it's fine. It's just been a crazy couple of months," she declares and finishes her brownie with a small sigh.

There's still coffee left, so Abby cradles her cup in both hands, looking thoughtfully back at Marion. "Other than the local school teams, I don't know. I played softball a bit after school too, so I'm thinking of looking into that..." When Eli stands, she looks up with a smile. "Oh, it was very nice to meet you too!"

Marion smiles as Eli stands. "Good to see you again, Eli," they say. "I'm going to take you up on that hike."

Abby holds her cup just under her chin, pensive. "Then there's - well, there's all kinds of things. There's going to be a pottery painting class. I was thinking of attending, but I'd need to get someone to cover for me..." she starts, then catches herself with a small smile across the table at Marion, eyeing them for a second before rolling her eyes at herself. "I'm sure it's nothing compared to what you'd have in Seattle. I almost moved there, but then I took the job here at the hospital."

Marion shakes their head. "Seattle's big, but it's too big for me. And I always felt like I belonged back here, for some reason. A pottery painting class sounds like it would be interesting. So you're a nurse at the hospital... that must be nicer here than in Seattle. Fewer people, fewer accidents."

"That's why I didn't take the job. That was the main reason, anyway," Abby replies with a nod of understanding and a soft smile, hidden behind her cup as she takes a sip. "Besides, compared to Elma, Gray Harbor kind of feels like a big city to me already." Then she makes a face, cringing and scrunching up her features off to the side. "You'd be surprised. Gray Harbor has a lot of violent crime for a town its size. And there were a few weeks about a month and a half ago, that were just... crazy, with accidents. Don't get me wrong, it's still a lot quieter than Seattle! That's one reason I didn't take the job. You barely had time to get to know your patients. That's how I felt, anyway."

"Interesting," Marion says. "What happened? Just a bunch of coincidences, or was it an honest crime spree?"

Abby hesitates, lips pressed into a tight thin line for a second as she looks at Marion, concerned. "There were a few deaths before, I don't know if they had anything to do with one another. Maybe. Some people thought there was a serial killer going around." Her voice drops, like she doesn't want to alarm anyone on nearby tables. "And then there were four more murders. On Friday the 13th. For a town the size of Gray Harbor, statistically... it's pretty bad."

Marion's eyes widen slightly. "Four on Friday the Thirteenth? I... that sounds like someone very sick thought of some/thing/ very sick. Did they catch whoever did it?"

Abby flinches. "I know. All over town, but... that can't be a coincidence, can it? And no, I haven't really heard anything about how the investigation is going... so that's probably not good news." She sighs above the rim of her coffee cup. "So that's another reason I don't really want to go out hiking on my own, I guess."

"Geez..." says Marion. "No wonder. I don't think I'll be listening to Spotify on my runs." They look out the window. "Maybe I should hire an armed guard," they say jokingly. "I had a friend go into the military..."

Abby gives Marion a sympathetic look. "Maybe bear repellent works on serial killers too?" She suggests in a hopeful tone, trying to keep conversation light-hearted though there's some obvious concern in her voice as she nurses lightly on her coffee. "I've thought about getting a gun and everything, but I worry that's just an accident waiting to happen, knowing me. Oh, if your military friend needs a job, there you have it! Maybe someone should make an app so you can hire someone armed to run with you! Pay by the mile."

Marion chuckles. "I don't think Nasir would come back here. I had a kind of rough time in high school, but Nasir... I don't know if there were any other Muslim families in Gray Harbor, and, well..." They shake their head. "After 9/11, you know, all the awful things people said. It was terrible. I always sort of suspected he went into the military to prove everyone wrong."

Abby gives Marion another quiet look, nodding in understanding. "That makes sense. I guess I didn't really have the best time in high school either. Oh boy, that seems to be a common theme!" She perks up with a bright smile, like her sunny disposition is there to dissipate any clouds from the past. "You might be surprised! A lot of people seem to come back to Gray Harbor for some reason. More than I'd expect, anyway."

There was no Spring arriving with this one, no; there was a stench. A horrible smell of sorts, the kind you'd expect from a dumpster, and it heralded the arrival of a man who seemed to have just crawled out of the aforementioned. A mess for long hair, a scraggly beard full of red and brown hairs, and features patched with bruises and stains of unexplained filth. He wore a bathroom coat once white, now painted a stained yellow. Below it a wifebeater, it too once white, now with one patch of muck from the neck down to a left portion of his chest. Green, dingy shorts; knee-high socks painted black enough so the stains hid (thankfully) and a brief show of thigh, hairy. Slippers, pink and browned - meant to be pink alone - with gnawed rabbit ears on their end, too small for his feet; so small indeed a part of his heels pressed the cold ground with every step.

Nasir made way for the bar, his eyes covered by big, black glasses meant for the blind, yet one could see his squint with the way his forehead frowned at the prices. With a sense of loss, he patted at his shirt and back pockets, finding a wallet on the last. Spreading it open, some greasy pamphlets and coupons eased down to the floor by his feet. He didn't seem to care, instead ordering himself the cheapest coffee available with greedily counted coins, and he'd stand there; he'd stare at the barista, in silence, while the beverage was put together. He didn't look around, for as far as spatial awareness went he was in a plane of his own, clearly.

Aubrey is the sort of young woman who aims to make an impression wherever she goes, and an impression is more than a look: its a statement, and sometimes even a whole narrative. Presently, that narrative is 'Boo-hoo woe is me, take pity on the poor bereaved young woman.' That is to say, she's dressed in conspicuous mourning colors, or the signature lack of such. All black everything, as another (unrelated) saying goes. A black dress that's a little too cold for the weather and too racy for her chosen storyline, and a black fur coat over it to cover up those details. High heeled boots, long gloves, handbag, its all the same. And BIG black sunglasses that are just a little Jackie O. In all this gloomy flair, she arrives just a few moments after Nasir...

...And obviously takes immediate notice of the fact(s) of his presence: "Oh my GOD, did something crawl in here and die? Ugh, what IS that?" Her tone is theatrical as much as her overall presentation is the same, but her offense may, at least in this case, be quite genuine. It's a pungent odor and she clearly expects better of a reputable coffeehouse, eyes scanning the place in genuine alarm, searching both for a culprit and likely for an employee to whom she might appeal for some measure relief.

Marion wrinkles their nose slightly as Nasir walks in, but then frowns at Aubrey's proclamation. "Not polite," they say quitely. But then their eyes widen slightly as recognition dawns on their face. "There's no way. /Nasir/? Nasir ibn Khairan? Is that you?" Their voice is at once astonished, disappointed, and horrified.

Abby's not eating, she's just got a whiff of leftover coffee at the bottom of her cup. She looks up, her nose quivering slightly at the smell. Then again, her professional experience being what it is, her face holds a neutral expression as she turns to glance across the coffee shop in Nasir's direction. Even smiling quietly. That is, until Marion seems to recognize the man. At which point Abby blinks, eyes darting back and forth betwen the two, jaw dropping so her mouth hangs open. "Seriously? We were just... no way!"

She touches a hand to her temple and drains the last of her coffee, head shaking behind a small tense frown. "No, no, no."

Aubrey could've well been one of the many flies that orbited his head, the ones he paid little attention to, for the only reaction he had to her loud proclamation and upheaval was one right hand that rose to the back of his neck to rake at the skin, clearing his nape of whatever black collar of soot was ingrained into his skin. He was used to such reactions, clearly; it was tied to his near-homeless ways, dictating a shameless nature more than visible in the way he acted, or didn't act.

.... Until his name was said, and he turned, looking at Aubrey with no small amount of loss, as if the snazzily dressed woman was the one who called for him. "Ibn Khairan", and he turned, seeing Marion and company, finally. Immediately, he cleared his throat and reached for a leg of his glasses, pulling it down to free the upper edge of his eyes below, studying the figure more intensely. "Marion?" he'd ask aloud, his voice hoarse enough to pass for an oil-starved engine's wheeze. He'd reach for the arriving coffee, giving yet another side-eyed glance towards Aubrey before carefully stepping closer to Abby and Marion. His gait was strange, made difficult by his footwear, and he leaned away as if he carried a piano on his back with every step. "I thought you'd be living with the whales by now," Nasir admitted, cracking the first teasing smile of the night. Strangely enough, his teeth were white, a contrast to the mook everywhere else.

Criticism (especially about being /polite/ of all things, hah!) is something that rolls off Aubrey like water, perhaps as much so as her own rude behavior leaves its target unphased. Still, she hardly looks chastened, and fixing her shaded gaze on Marion she opens her mouth as if to begin what is no doubt (in her mind, anyway) a biting retort of some kind... when the reaction of everyone else to the apparent vagrant demonstrates recognition, of all thing, along with their own concern. "Oh, you know this man?" That moderates her scorn just a degree or two, and at least halts the inclination to immediately start complaining to the staff to do something about him. Still, she does a poor job disguising her remnant disgust, if she tries at all. To be fair, some of it is purely physical, as the odor seems to make her a little queasy.

"If the poor fellow is unwell, or, ah, well surely he needs help, yes? The poor dear." Obviously, any show she makes of benevolence now is as theatrical as her overall presentation, undermined significantly by the way she talks to THEM about him, rather than to the man directly. "Maybe... he needs to go to the hospital or something? Or to some... ah..." A shelter? Somewhere not there? HINT HINT.

Marion laughs happily, the first time they've shown any strong emotion. "Nasir!" they say delightedly, standing up and moving to give the man a tight embrace. "What in the world are you doing back here? I was just saying I thought you wouldn't return for all the money in the world." Then they step away, giving the man a brief once-over. "Are you doing all right?" they ask, concern evident in their voice. "Why don't I buy you a brownie, or a sandwich? Uh, or both." Aubrey gets a tired look. "Yes, I know him. We went to school together. He's a veteran."

As for Abby, Abby is still dealing with, "That was quite a coincidence! You'd almost think it was... psychic or something, wouldn't you? LOL." She's a little too cheerful and positive. And saying LOL. Almost like she's trying to convince herself that Nasir's presence is just a statistical blip. "Small world, isn't it? Well, I should go. I have to be at the hospital soon... It was really nice to meet you!" She picks up her canvas bag, with the cat, waves frantically at Marion, flashes Nasir a big friendly smile, and then races out the door.

Each of Nasir's palms rose awkwardly to the sides of his head once Marion came crashing into his chest, the right one awkwardly so as it held the coffee loosely on a single index finger by its end. "Wow there," he mumbled, furrowing his brows lightly before his squinty gaze looked on to his left and towards Abby, the eyes hidden beneath the tinted lenses. He'd watch the girl depart momentarily before responding, with tired visage reeling back to Marion, quietly. "I like her. You two together? Did you settle down, or something?" came his query, with his palms finally dropping to borrow Abby's sit, and once he did crash on it did he finally look at Aubrey yet again, somewhat aloof. "Addington, yeah?" Clearly, there was a kind of mockery behind his assumption, and he appraised the girl's flair with a little tug at the edge of his lips, derisive all the way.

A veteran?! Oh no, Aubrey's stumbled into a land mine now! Abort classist bitch mode, abort, abort! "Oh, oh my! Yes, yes of course, I understand. Welcome home, and thank you for your service." Not that she can bring herself to offer a hand or anything. "You poor dear, it must have been terrible. It IS terrible, how you people are treated. Just... just reprehensible!" Now quite invested in singing her new tune, Aubrey raises her voice a little in her ready condemnation of the poor state of the beloved TROOPS, while stoically (and maybe a bit comically) trying to look like she's not about to throw up. And then the final bombshell hits: Nasir pegs her for her clan. Not that it's particularly hard! "Yes, that's right. Aubrey Addington. I'm sure we, the family that is, or well, one of the many organizations we run, must... must have some kind of fund for that? Surely." Yes, the small time local blue bloods have surely got this nation-wide, decades-old problem under control. "I'll look into that for you." She smiles, albeit queasily, while carefully moving out of the way of the escaping cat-lady doctor.

Marion smirks slightly as their words have the intended effect. "Yes, imagine. It's like Vietnam all over again, isn't it? They come home and are treated so terribly." But when their gaze goes back to Nasir, the smugness is replaced by concern. "Come on. Sit down. I'm hungry. We'll split a sandwich. It's on me. I never paid you back for helping me out when I forgot my school lunch." And before Nasir can protest, Marion has ordered two sandwiches and two brownies. Big spender! Aubrey gets a dubious look. "Nice to meet you," Marion says. "Marion Tsai. Feel free to join us, if you like."

Nasir looked smug himself on the asserted gamble, and he'd give a knowing bob of the head as returned display. "That's what I thought. No, nothing like that; nothing that I can remember, at least. I think I shook one of your uncles' hands once, at the hall, got a medal I must've sold a few years ago. I don't know," he reasoned, followed by the way his expression crunched in disdain at Marion's offer. He took off his glasses, laying them on the table while his own back laid carelessly into his chair's backing. "Alright, but just a sandwich, anything else and we're going to have a problem," indeed, there lingered a smile, to ensure his threat wasn't taken seriously, however brief and subtle.

With that same subtlety he looked at Aubrey yet again, making a lazy motion of his hand for Eli's former chair next. "Could always sit, you're making my legs hurt."

"Oh, a medal? Well that's... nice." That about sums it up, ayup, and here, even Aubrey sounds like she grasps at the empty nature of such a gesture, or at least comes close. "Honestly I don't have much to do with any of that. I've only just come home from, ah, school. For the-" Here, she seems to weigh if she has an opening to make it all about her again and her obvious state of extreme sadness for the family's recent losses... but evidently weighs against it. Another time, another day! Then, soon enough, they're both offering for her to join. "Ah, ah... no, no that's quite alright," she demures, quickly shaking her head. "If the two of you are old friends, then you should spend the time catching up, yes? I'm sure you have all kinds of things to talk about, and I'd only be a bit of a third wheel." This excuse has the benefit of being true! It also saves her from having to endure Nasir's presence, and reduces the odds there will be a newspaper article about her throwing up on a veteran. That's the last scandal she needs added to the pile!

Marion glances down at the page the earlier gusts of wind had turned the newspaper to. "For the funeral?" they ask. "I'm sorry. I understand. Grief makes us all act in strange ways, and sometimes we don't want to be with other people. Eh, Nasir?" He turns his attention to the other man. "Come on, come on! How are you? We've fifteen years of catching up to do."

"Suit yourself," his right palm rising as a motionless wave of defeat to the woman's decision and with it, his head turned. Out of sight, out of mind. He, instead, looked at Marion- something about them brought forth concern to Nasir's looks, and he made good use of their addressing of Aubrey's words to get a studious look of his physical state. He was the shorter one, once, but those times had passed. Fifteen years indeed, and it showed on the weary way he welcomed Marion's stare once it returned back to him, from the Addington stardrop.

"Easy there. At least let the brownies get here, haha. Shit.. Alright, I guess it's been a while, yeah? Been looking for a job for a while, not much success," he explained, the brevity of his words and a palpable hesitation to them rooting to deep shame in the way he weaved through the topic, yet not shame for Marion's ears, no; shame to Aubrey's still present stance, there where she stood, and where Nasir now looked - her face - for seemingly no reason.

Aubrey remains for an awkward moment, and this one may be more genuinely so, compared to the very programmed and formulaic response to the state of veteran affairs. "Thank you," she answers Marion, a little more simply. "It's a difficult time." A pause. "For many of us I'm sure." With this acknowledgment to the man's own troubles, and little more, she does extricate herself as promised, stepping away from the table. She is not, as a rule, disinclined to eavesdrop, as it can be a very rewarding kind of activity. But the moment has turned genuinely a bit gloomy and... well, there's still the smell. "Have a nice day, both of you. And, ah, good luck, sir."

Marion waves goodbye to Aubrey, then turns to Nasir. "I know the feeling. I think I've landed something at the Boat Tours, but I'm not certain. Makes me wonder why exactly I went off to university in the first place." They pause. "Sometimes I get the feeling I made a mistake. Like I threw away a lot of things that made sense. Or would have made sense if I had stayed. If that makes sense. Shit. I don't know. You're doing all right, though?"

The man opposite to Marion looked at Aubrey's departure much longer than necessary, almost as if to re-assure himself of her retreat, and once he did look back; once he appraised them again, his breath was held thorough the monologue, and he only did find a chance to finally release that clogged strain of air once the worry shifted to him and response was expected. "Yeah, yeah, you know," Nasir waved his palm aside, dismissing any possible worries on the question shiftily; "I'm fine. You know me. But you? You should've never returned. Shit.. College, good education, a chance to see the world, and the ocean, you decided to come back? Na', bad form. Wish I had been around, knock some sense in your head, dummy," and of course, with his right hand outstretched, Nasir forgot manners and seized the whole cup of coffee rather than the handle in his palm to take more than a sip.

Marion chuckles lightly. They've never been one for very expressive emotions. "The ocean's still out there. I did a year abroad in Taipei. It was fine. Too big for me, though. Just like Seattle. Would have been nice to have you there, though. In Seattle." Marion leans back and is quiet for a bit. "Mom told me you got deployed," they say, finally. Their tone is careful, like they're navigating uncertain waters. "For a long time."

The veteran's gaze slowly drifted away from Marion's, letting itself find a sense of defeat at the chosen topic in the way his right palm laid out across the table, fingertips prodding into it with dirty nails, which scraped at any dent on the surface. There weren't many.

"Yeah, twelve tours," he caved, the admission made with a clear weight to the words that sallied out of him, preternaturally discomforted; "Seattle," he immediately followed, snapping his baggy eyes open, torso straightening on the chair and he'd engage them more-so now with an assertive look. "Shit, I would have. Go to Seattle, I mean- always wanted to see the big city. The workshops, they're huge there. How's your mom, anyway; your dad?" he lifted his brows then, at the lingering question, yet there was a twitch on the left at the mention of 'dad'.

"They're good. Both of them," Marion adds, in response to Nasir's unasked question. "Mom's unhappy I left the PhD route, but... I don't want to spend the rest of my life teaching undergraduates, you know? Dad doesn't care that much. They moved down to San Francisco. Things were too weird here, I guess. But they're happier down there. A lot happier. More Taiwanese--you know how they were never really comfortable with their English. Not sure why I didn't join them, really... it's like there's something about this place that keeps drawing you back, you know?"

There was a genuine feeling of relief at the news on him, almost as if he expected the worst, and it disarmed the hard grip on his face much just as his body descended back into the chair, arms loosely set on the sides, held up only by his hands that palmed peacefully on his thighs.

"That's great, that's fucking great; no, honestly, yeah, I don't think I'd want to live in a world without ol' miss 'Maideine' and her-- her..." and there he lingered, lifting his right hand to snap thumb and index in search of the word; the meaning, and definition, under furrowed brows; ".. Guao-- pow, chow? Her guao pow, pao, thing. The fucking-- the thing; the fuckin' thing, the hamburger, haha, shit-- I have to pay them a visit. No, I will, life goals," Nadir re-assured, looking relatively smug as his head tilted to the side, amused lightly in the way he stared on at Marion. Still, on that lasting look, the airs of mirth dwindled, and he'd soon speak seriously, more genuinely; "I'm glad they're out. Of this shithole, I mean. Nothing good ever comes from this place."

"Koah pao," Marion says, with a small smile. It's not mocking, though. "She'd love to see you," they say honestly. Then they frown. "It's really that bad, huh?" they ask. "Abby said that four people were murdered on Friday the Thirteenth. That's... fucked up. Deeply fucked up. Did you, uh... This is gonna sound crazy, but, uh..."

They run a hand through their hair. "Did you, I mean, while you were out on tour... you know."

There was no doubt in Nasir's austere expression when his head, indeed, affirmed Marion's concerns with an up and down; with a bob so comically fast he looked to be more-so trying to convince him of the danger in question rather than simply re-assure the indagation itself. "Shit, people keep getting sucked into the ground every other day, but no one listens to me. I've got legal PTSD, you know? That's right- better watch out, I could shoot up this whole place," he threatened, made with a serious face, an even more serious expression and eyes that betrayed little of his tease. But a tease it was, and he'd smirk disarmingly, biting into his lower lip with sudden concern on Marion's reiteration. "Caught a mean tan, yes. Does it show still?"

"You always had a mean tan," Marion retorts good-naturedly. "I, uh... yeah. Up in Seattle. Broke a minifridge. And some other stuff," they admit, a bit embarrassed. "But some people found me, realized I was freaking out, calmed me down. Taught me about, well... I don't fucking know, Nasir. Sometimes I think I went crazy and I'm gonna wake up in an institution."

He laughed. A brief, dry thing that went as quick as it came, and he looked off, he let his gaze roam the walls of the picturesquely dressed inside of the Cafe as he spoke, and it was in that moment that his divided attention finally realized how incredibly out of place he was. He let his chin loosen, down to his neck, and his eyes took sight of his greased, mushy clothing with a crunched nose, biting the proverbial apple of sin. It was just shame this time, however- the rest would come later. "Yeah," he murmured, revealing his troubled thoughts with the divisive; with the distracted reply, before finally looking at him. "I've got no fucking idea what you're talking about, Marion. Freaked out? What happened-- taught you what? Maybe you are crazy, I guess."

"Shit," says Marion, leaning back. "Maybe I am."

There's a long, awkward silence. "Eat your brownie. They're good," Marion says at last. "So, you got out of the Army. Why'd you come back /here/?"

Nasir sniffled loudly, amusedly. He patted at his chest along the way, fingers pressing into the cloth of his tub's many pockets to find a rise on the fabric, where a torn cigarette package manifested between his fingers. A bit of a tap on its bottom on his palm, a little tilt of its top, and one of its dingy sticks - ripped at places, twisted even more - fell on his fingers. Effortlessly, he brought one to his lips just as his eyes caught the sign on the wall. He'd squint, then- squint so hard it wasn't any different to a mere mortal gazing into the Sun. In defeat, he slapped the already mortified cigarette back into its packet and dug it into his pocket, resigning himself to a bite from the brownie, and speaking with his mouth full of it still; "I thought family, but everyone's kind of moved on. You fuck off for some years and suddenly you become unnecessary. I guess it's fair, I did bail on them."

"You didn't bail on them. You went and got a job. With the military. There's nothing wrong with that. You were self-sufficient. Are they, uh... you know, still in town?" The same awkward question, but mirrored this time, directed at Nasir.

Nasir's shoulders rose carelessly, his right hand doing a motioning sign towards them; towards Marion, and his face, as if to shift blame that hadn't even been thrown his way. "No, you got a job. You went and became self-sufficient; you studied and rose from this shithole with your head straight. Not me, na'- I had a bit of an escape, is what. A runaway-like thing, right? Yeah, something like that," Nasir reasoned, a few beads of sweat manifesting across the hard, now-wrinkling of his forehead. Some silence ensued, and his jaw slacked for a necessary couple of breaths to be had; to be taken and inhaled, reaffirming his cool; "Pa died. Two years before I came back, you know how he was about hospitals, didn't trust them. Mom's just fine, though- she asked me about you, you know? It sucked that I had nothing to tell her."

"Ah, fuck," Marion says. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I should have sent flowers or something. I'd like to see your mom, though, if she's still in town." They look embarrassed. "I ought to have kept up with you, man. How long have you been back now?"

Nasir appeared far from disgruntled, giving a brief shake of his head with pressed, smiling lips - however brief that smile - with a light tilt of his head. "What do you mean, sorry? Shit, I skipped on you too. Never even told you when I was meant to leave, nothing... I'm sorry, pushed a lot of people away back then. Whatever, that's dumb shit talk, we don't need that, na'. She's back at the house, right now- same place, remember? Little dingy thing. Only difference now is that pa' built a second floor since I was gone, real pretty, for my sister, Jehane? When she had her first child. She's since moved, but place's still there, standing. Can pop by anytime you'd like, just not with me- I'm banned from there."

Marion raises their eyebrows. "Oh," they say. Then--"what happened?"

A right hand rose, lending nails to rake at his face with them, thinkingly. Recollection, that's right; that's what it was, how his eyes lost focus of what he looked at and his thoughts divagated elsewhere. That crooked nose of his loosened some, and he finally looked back at them with sardonic humor sprinkled all over the words he presented. "I got into a fight with my sisters, and my mother had to make a choice- them and her grandchildren, or the washed up jarhead that came from the shitter. It wasn't that hard to decide. I still visit, sometimes- holidays. It always goes to shit, then."

Marion shakes their head. "Family. I'm glad you get the holidays with them, at least. Maybe they'll come around." They tap their fork on the table for a bit. "I can't get those four murders Abby was talking about out of my head. All on Friday the Thirteenth. Isn't that weird? I mean, even if it's just some sick freak--I mean, I guess that's what it has to be..." The words trail off of their own accord.

"I don't know," says Marion. "I feel like the longer you go to school the less you know about anything."

The idea - the prospects - all made him think, and think long. There he sat, decidedly buckling his legs together to press feet against the floor, helping himself to full rise. He'd inhale that stink of his and shake his head, almost too profusely, his right hand reaching down towards Marion as an offering, one that was as awkward as it was dirty, for dirt clogged still the in between of his fingers. Indeed, Nasir must've been wading through the trash before getting there, certainly; "I missed you, Marion. Shit, I thought everything about this town would be one pitfall after the next, but it's good seeing you around, again, really. Got your cellphone? Pull it out, I'll pass you my number. We should meet again-- ah.. Had a bit of a tussle last night, and woke up in a shitty alleyway, that's why I look like this, but I'll look better next time. I promise," he smiled awkwardly, the self-excusing done with a brief huff of disdain, humorous, however; playful.

"Bet the other guy looks a lot worse," Marion says with a half-smile, obviously ignoring the claim. "It's good to see you too, Nasir." They pull out an old Nokia phone from their pocket--but it's got a color screen, and seems brand new. "Don't judge," they say. "They released a new version last year. It's almost as indestructible as the old ones, and the battery life is great."

Judging wouldn't even begin to explain the way Nasir's face shifted and saw a cohort of mockery, all at their expense. He tried to laugh, then; to show some audible mirth, but his throat was so dry with caffeine and the amusement so deep all he did was squeal a grind against his windpipe. The way his voice held a certain depth to it didn't help, but he shook his head no less. As he did this, almost comically, he began patting at his pockets. Left one, right one; back ones, too. Soon, as the search became more frantic, realization soon hit him. "Fuck, my phone," he announced all the sudden, and shrugged off his bath coat to let it drop on the chair behind him, accurately splayed across with the drop almost as if he had never stood at all. How quaint.

Some more searching ensued, and he finally held a finger out to Marion before digging a hand into the small slippers. He'd procure a rugged little Samsung Galaxy A3, small and portable. The screen looked absolutely destroyed, with enough cracks to resemble the rear end of a car after a horrible accident. Still, dingy as it was, Nasir worked the jalopy as if they were meant to be together; "Here. Seven, five, four." A beat, "Thirty, forty-eight. Got it? Add me on the thing. The chat thing, too."

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Marion grumbles, as they punch Nasir's phone number into their own. "I'll be the one laughing when we're out on a hike and your phone dies halfway through." They look up. "You like hiking, right? I want to go out on the trails like we used to do as kids."

Hiking. The word seemed to ground him, for that little moment. He looked down at the chair, seemingly considering something, before stretching down a right arm full of white little scars, all across its length, not too different from the ones on the grip of his palms. Some old, some new; all fading. He punched softly into his dirty coat, lifting it from the chair and slinging it on his shoulder. Finally, he looked back at Marion, smiling briefly. As brief as his mirth always was, this was no different; he was ephemeral with joy as a child just the same, some things just never did change. "That was a long time ago, that. We used to chase the foxes into the woods, thinking they'd lead us to treasure. They only led to trouble. My trailer's at the thirty-eight with Johnson Avenue by the way, in a park. You ask for a guy named Doodirt, and he'll tell you where my shack is, if you want to show up. I've got a sixty four plucked in, some cassettes. And the place doesn't stink, I promise."

"I believe you," Marion says, honestly. "I'm up in an apartment... I haven't mustered up the courage to see what's happened to the old house. I'll drop by some time. We'll hang out."

A brief glance to the door, an even briefer look at the barista already growing far more than just disgruntled with his presence, and he finally aligned eyes with Marion's again. Or, well, not eyes, no- he looked at their nose. Indeed, the nose; "Square. Show up, maybe we'll talk more about the hiking, yeah? And wherever the shit we're going. I don't like the woods here, none- it isn't like when we were kids, when things were whimsical and the strange things we saw we always had a way to forget them. I never forget anymore. Oh, and get your shit together, we've got a score to settle on you know what."

"You've gotta be kidding me," Marion groans. "Mario Kart? Seriously? I'd thought you'd forgotten about that."

The challenge was set, the expectation delivered, and soon an easy whistle followed him on the way out. He exchanged glances with the barista- mocking glances, something about their disdain for the near-homeless mess that now treaded the shop fuelled the bitterness in him, and with a mute farewell and glance towards Marion before taking that final step, he disappeared through the door, out into the wild world.

Marion shakes their head, then pays the bill and walks out onto the streets of Gray Harbor.

"Well," they say. "Looks like I'm back home."