2019-10-09 - Coffee and Quiet Places

The Grizzly Diner always has a steady trickle of people, but there are definite busy surges for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Of course, this being a more blue collar neighborhood... the breakfast rush is quite early, actually. Which means that around seven or eight AM there is a lull as tables are cleaned, things collected, and the smaller group of parents, elderly, and teens skipping school show up. So there are a handful of people present, most of the tables are messy, and three servers (one in simple jeans and a white sweater, one who looks like they stepped out of an 80s punk magazine, and one who looks like they're recovering from a night of clubbing and didn't change beforehand) in the Grizzly aprons roam around, cleaning. At the counter, perched on a stool, sits Gina. Purple hair, dark purple lipstick, heavy eyeshadow, a black and grey flannel shirt over a black bustier top, and black skinny jeans tucked into boots. She's reading the kind of magazine that discusses how the Nordics and Batboy have joined forces to kidnap Elvis's lovechild, idly flipping through it.

It should also be noted - the music currently playing? Some sort of Bangladeshi hip hop.

Monica's usually up early. Early enough for that working-folk-breakfast-hour... but that's not why she gets up. No, she needs to get in her four miles! And now, done with that, it's time for, well... Time for her to be herself? The young woman enters dressed in modestly climate appropriate casual wear. Neon pink athletic shoes, a tiny pair of shorts just barely visible past the oversized hoodie, which features a Pink Floyd-like white light hitting a triangle and spreading into an array of watercolor rainbows. She's tall, she's in bright colors, she's noticeable... But she's also talking. To herself? Not quite... Her phone is out, in front of her, with the forward camera going. "And we're going in..." she says.

And once inside, she does a slow spin, to let her 'audience' get a look at the place. "It is un-flipping-believable. I hope everyone's seeing this. Look at the bears. Ohmygod, I love it!"

There's a few glances at the new fangled young'uns and their crazy phone tubin' from those in the diner- but it's early in the morning, and there's coffee to be had. Most just ignore Monica. There is also no one who comes forward to ask her if she'd like to be seated or wish her a good day. Nope. Gina glances up once, raises her eyebrows the barest fraction, and continues reading about how Batboy's revenge-fueled quest born of being a bat scorned is what culminated in the unholy compact. She takes the time to finish her article, giving Monica enough time to fully take in everything before she calls out, "You going to order anything Hollywood, or just really into the ursine life?"

Monica takes just a few moments longer - can't make these too long, you know - and then she's blowing a kiss to the camera. The phone is put away and she's left looking around. No one to seat her, but the concept of a diner isn't foreign. She steps right on over... To Gina. And she eyes the woman, rather curiously. One of these things is not like the other! "Mmm..." she murmurs a response, with a little smirk taking over her lips. "Do you serve bear, too? Or is it just, like, things a bear would eat?"

"Bears have an extensive and refined palette. Can't get that class of customer here in Gray Harbor." Gina says, and it's very, very hard to tell if she's being sarcastic or making a joke. Or both. But she sighs, and folds her magazine closed, setting it to the side, "The menus are over there." They are laminated. And in landscape. And also shaped like the silhouette of a bear, the fold along the bear's back so you can flip through it. "Plus we don't actually do picnic sets unless we feel like it."

Monica's smile goes care-free and wide, in response to Gina's answer. "This place is incredible," she opines, before leaning over to reach for said menu. "But, I'm sure you're aware of that. I'd heard about the kitsch? Just wasn't sure it'd live up to the rumors." Beat. "Also didn't expect hot employees." She pauses once more, lifting her brows high. "Oh, sorry, um... you do work here?"

The menus? As could probably have been predicted, are mildly sticky. It's okay though, they're mostly still legible. And smell vaguely of syrup and grease. As for Gina, she only gives a little smirk, before she leans forward to rest her elbows on the counter. It's not a flirty move so much as a bored move, elbow propped up with her chin supported by a fist. "Yeah, it was too much trouble to get rid of the bears. Then I'd have to rethink the name and all that. But yeah, I work here when I feel like it. Gina Castro."

"Oh, totally get it. It's 'stick with it' ... or turn it into a gay bar. Pretty much your only options that don't cost a fortune," Monica decides, giving a very serious nod. Then her smile's back. "Monica." Beat. "Santander." She pauses, considering the woman once again. "Castro... Latina? ... Hablas espanol?" she asks, brows lifting.

"Liquor license is a pain to get and maintain. No thanks." Gina says with a casual shrug. She pushes away from the counter, casually moving to start making herself a drink - a milkshake, with vanilla ice cream, coffee, chocolate syrup, a few other random things. "Un poquito." Gina replies. The words come out naturally, the accent benign, but it was a very short phrase, after all. "Guy who raised me spoke Spanish. You must be one of the new folks in town." It's definitely a statement, not a question, accompanied by a slight, almost sly little smile.

"Mmm, that would be a problem," Monica muses, then nods. At the reply, even short as it is, she's smiling. "Bueno!" It's encouraging and excited. "Mmm, yep, going to the university. I am... uh... technically born and partially raised in Washington. My parents split when I was three... mom took me with her, moved to LA. But mi papa is still here. Or, well..." She waves a hand. "Yakima. Which... in-state tuition!"

"Uh-huh. Suuuuuper exciting." Gina says, not sounding particularly excited. But she's still got that slight smile, as she tilts her head a bit in her hand and studies Monica. "Lucky for you, landing in Gray Harbor. It's an interesting little town." Again, there's something hard to pin down about Gina's tone. It all sounds laced with double meaning. On purpose? By accident? She seems entertained, at least. "I went to school down in California. Nice place. Not a super fan of all the sun." It should be noted, like many in town, Gina pings like crazy for those who Glimmer. She just shines on like a sparkly diamond. "I only remember this one time I saw this band play outside of Yakima. UltraViolet Uforia. Not bad. Dug the trance, but it was so-so on the groove factor."

"I looooove the sun," Monica sighs out. "I have the tropics in my blood. Which, I realize, moving to Washington..." She shakes her head. "But, like, I wanted to ... make it on my own, I guess. Otherwise I'd end up..." She shakes her head. "Nevermind! Uh-... Yeah, it is interesting here. I keep hearing, like, weird rumors about... I don't even know what. But it's super pretty! So..."

Gina nods knowingly. "It's the town initiation, for those the Committee think will have ties to this place." Gina says, with that slight smile. Is that an amused glint in her eye? Maybe. There's a soft hmm, as well, "Rumors, huh? Must be because of how MANY new people we get. They're usually better about keeping it quiet. But," Her sly little smile grows into a little grin as she finishes making her drink, pouring it into a glass and adding a straw for herself. "I'm sure it won't apply to you. You're just here for some classes. Just be careful of the quiet places. And maybe keep your windows locked."

Yes, Gina's smiling... but she's also the knowledge laden local! And she works at a diner. Surely she must know something. And that has Monica squinting at her. "Uh-... what?" she says, with a frown. "What do you mean 'quiet places'?" she asks... and stares.

"You know..." Gina drawls, pausing then to take a long sip of that milkshake she's made. A pause after, to consider if she likes it, before she reaches for the bottle of caramel to squeeze some in, stirring it with the straw, before having another sip. Satisfied, she looks back towards Monica. "Don't tell me you haven't felt it already in town. Just before you fall asleep. Down some particular alley. Around people you've never met but somehow feel you know. Want to know. Just in front of your house, when the light goes out in the street. The quiet places. The places that you subconsciously know aren't the safest. But you rationalize away." Her voice has been hushed and steady for this, but then she grins again, "Or just do whatever you want, honestly. Your life."

Blink, blink. Monica's staring wide-eyed now, looking like she's bought this all entirely! She even leans forward, to whisper. "I've been having weird dreams?" she asks. "And my roommates... have too. And have been getting weirder...?" she whispers. "Is-... is that what you're talking about? That kinda stuff...?"

Leaning forward, Gina reaches out an arm and.... taps the menu in front of Monica. "You figure out what you want yet? Or want a coffee or juice to start you off?" The worse part is, Gina doesn't even look amused or mischievous. It's a genuine question, out of nowhere, as if she mentioned nothing about quiet places or dark streets or alleyways, or strangers with a mysterious, shining appeal.

"... uh!" is the only noise Monica can make. She's staring, wide-eyed, still. And now, her mouth is hanging open. It's a good thing she's absolutely gorgeous. Clueless and shocked is just one of many looks that work. "You-... I-... You can't-..." She finally huffs, and puts on a pout. "Coffee, I guess. Just-... just the coffee..."

Gina nods, and she's just. So. Darn. Normal. About it. She even raises her brows as if she has no idea why Monica is suddenly shocked. "You okay?" She asks, ever so mildly, before she takes her milkshake with her while she goes to pour the coffee in one of the mugs - this one has the bear paw stencil on it complete with chipped painted nails. The cup is set in front of Monica, before Gina points towards the end of the counter. "Sugar and cream are right over there if you want it." Because obviously Gina isn't going to get it for anyone. Waitressing just means delivering the food ordered! Right? Right.

Monica keeps staring, and pouting. Now she's debating if that conversation had happened at all? Or is she being teased?! Something happened and pouting is clearly the answer. But then, coffee. It lessens the pout, just a bit. And she does nod, and turn, and stand, to go fetch the cream. She walks (should Gina be paying any attention) like a runway model. "Thanks," she finally manages, as she sits back down. She takes a few moments to just stare at her coffee. She hasn't even put in the cream.

It's when Monica walks away that Gina watches and gives a small, amused smirk, and the punk rock waiter who passes through to grab some cups gives her an unsurprised, knowing look. Gina just shrugs in response, and the waiter just shakes his head and continues working. He definitely eyes that walk, with a mix of appreciation, pity, and slight amusement. Because we all love schadenfreude. By the time Monica comes back, Gina is back to casually lounging, elbows on the counter, milkshake to the side and magazine in hand. She lets Monica stew for a while, before asking, "So what did you come all the way to little Gray Harbor to major in, anyway?"

"... what?" comes out of Monica's mouth, after a long pause. She blinks a few times, then finally looks away from her coffee cup to Gina. "Major? -... Oh, um. Photography. I mean, art, but-..." she flaps a hand. Then a breath in, then back out. "Can I get, like, a to-go cup? I... think I should go take a nap... or something."

"Yeah." Gina says, and she reaches for one of the take-away cups - of course, still with the bears. Always bears. She reaches for the coffee Monica has, to take it away and pour a fresh cup. If she ever gets around to drinking it... it's surprisingly good coffee. Not stellar, by any means, but not watered-down and burnt-tasting or Folger's, either. She gives the price of the coffee - reasonable and cheap, no wonder people come here even with the subpar service - and picks up her magazine again. "Good luck with the picture taking. I'd recommend the beach during a storm. It's beautiful. But they like storms." Her attention goes back to her magazine, then.

"Yeah-... Beach during a storm," Monica mummbles, clearly still distracted. She manages a smile, as she takes her to-go, and hands over a few bucks. Actual cash! "Thanks. Uh-... Gina. Take care." And then she's off!