2019-10-12 - To Some, It's a Six Pack; To Me, It's a Support Group

Even though Easton had said that the first round was on him, most of those coming straight from the funeral will likely arrive ahead of the former marine. But at least the staff was warned ahead of time that there was a thirsty (thankfully no longer blood-thirsty) crowd on their way to the bar so they have made space for a huge incoming party of people. Most of the people in the bar area were relocated or at least told so there's plenty of open tables and the bar is empty. Huh, weird that Easton's not there yet though.

August arrives with Itzhak and Rebecca. He doesn't order a drink, just some grenadine and orange bitters in ginger beer for now. He keeps his suit coat on, but takes a second to pull off his tie and unbutton the top of his shirt, so he doesn't look quite as ridiculously dressed up.

Alexander rode with Isabella, almost certainly, because not even he's hardcore enough to want to walk through the rain from the cemetery to the bar. Still in suit, although he's left the satchel (and umbrella) in the car, so his hair is dark and damp. He pauses just inside the bar and smiles when he sees August, Itzhak and Rebecca. Okay, Rebecca actually gets a slightly wary look, as a mostly unknown quantity. But he says, "Hi," to all of them. "That was a thing." He slides into a seat near them and orders his usual: a beer. Just a beer.

Rebecca arrives with Itzhak and August, and her hat has been left in the car and her hair released from the pins holding it to one side. She still looks tired, and sad for everyone's losses and sacrifices, but there is a sense of peace about her too. They made it through. She looks up at Alexander's greeting. "Hello. I guess I can call you cousin now? I don't see a point in hiding that I'm a Baxter anymore." She orders a glass of pinot noir if they have it.

"Hey, guys." Said to the August-Itzhak-Rebecca collective.

Isabella's tone is indescribable at the start, equal parts exhaustion, confusion and relief, but her expression clears when she decides to kick that door shut, because she's not thinking any more today. There's a smile towards the bartender on duty. "Can you make it a double shot?" She doesn't have to tell him what she drinks. And then her face shifts. "What about a quadruple shot? Do you do those?"

Itzhak arrives looking like a man who needs a strong drink or five. He abandons his two dates temporarily to go over to Alexander. "Hey. Hug?" He may as well come out with it.

Alexander blinks dark eyes at Rebecca. "I...if you want to," he says, slowly. "I'm not sure being a Baxter is anything to be proud of, but it's a truth of a sort." He shrugs. Then Itzhak asks for a hug, and he stares for a long moment. Then a smile blooms. "Yeah." Fuck touch aversion, he's going to hug his friend. Ignore any panicked muscle spasms which may occur. Before he can second guess it, he closes awkwardly to embrace him.

"It definitely was a thing," August says, raising his shirley temple to the others in a greeting and having a sip. He watches Alexander and Itzhak embrace with a small smile, considers Rebecca. "Reclaiming's not the worst idea. Take it back, turn it into something else, now that he's out of the picture." He includes Alexander in that with a glance.

At Bar:
Rebecca tilts her head slightly to August and then nods. "Reclaiming it for good. I do like the sound of that. I might hyphenate my name to claim it even." She takes her glass of wine from the tender and take a healthy swallow from it, smiling at the hug between Itzhak and Alexander.

At Bar:
She studiously tries not to overhear any Baxter talk at the present moment when she retrieves her glass of Scotch, and filled well to the halfway mark when Isabella returns, having already swallowed a third of it. The sight of Itzhak and Alexander hugging curls a small smile on the corners of her mouth. To August, there's a faintly resigned look, but a grateful one also. "Thanks for everything in the last week," she tells the older man, sliding to a seat nearby; she looks contrite. Her last voicemail to him was embarrassing.

A while after the first crush of the crowd arrives, and the bartender on duty capably serves Rebecca's pinot, Alexander's beer, scotch for Isabella, August's virgin concoction and the rest of the drinks, Easton finally appears. Walking out of the office still buttoning a black dress shirt over a pair of jeans it's possible that he just stopped home to change or grab something. Ignore the lipstick smudges. He calls out to the bar, "It is a wonderful day to get drunk!" which is not terribly different than what he calls out on an average night here at the bar, but it's extra true today. He takes up a place behind the bar to play over-flow bartender but still be able to stop and chat with folks. And far from feeling the weight and heaviness of the funeral, or the dread of what they've just wrought Easton opens up with "God, I could just kiss all of you right now." He's just so happy to be free of Billy you see ... really.

Itzhak hugs Alexander. Brief, but tight. "Thanks, Sandushka." Hah, Alexander is getting called an affectionate Yiddish nickname and he can just be mad about it! He nods to Isabella. "Sometime, we oughta talk." But not right now. Right now he orders a Long Island iced tea and slumps into a chair next to Rebecca, rubbing his forehead. His entire posture screams 'oy gevalt.'

At Bar:
Sometime, we oughta talk.

A blink, and a curious and questioning look at Itzhak. "Um...okay, sure." She hunts around for her wallet and offers a calling card to Itzhak, for him to take so he would have her contact information - every possible way he could reach her, imprinted on cardboard.

There he is. Isabella's expression brightens when she sees Easton, grinning at him faintly and offering a fistbump from where she's seated. There are questions there, but decidedly not about the lipstick smudges on him; there's nothing but relief, in fact, when she sees them, though she wiggles her eyebrows at him in a silent tease. "I sent off the package a few days ago, by the way. If I end up waking up in the dead of night with a mustache stylishly tattooed over my mouth, I know precisely who to blame."

At Bar:
"You look amazing," Alexander tells Itzhak with a grin. His embrace is firm, although he doesn't object to the briefness. He doesn't even yell about the nickname. Instead, he slips over towards Isabella and trails his fingers over the back of her neck, like he's afraid she might have disappeared. Rebecca and August both get skeptical looks. "Maybe," is as far as he's willing to go. And when Easton enters, he does not ignore the lipstick. His expression lights up hopefully. "Did you start with Bennie? Please say you did."

At Table1:
August shakes his head at Isabella. "You're welcome, but, don't swear it. Not a problem." After all, his subconscious tried to kill four people. He can't talk. He moves to take a seat next to Itzhak and Rebecca, winces as he sits back. He nods at Alexander, even manages a grin. "We did all look pretty amazing out there." He won't go so far as to thank Gohl for the opportunity, but won't deny it felt good to dress nicely.

His mouth twitches in a small smile at Easton. "We'll let Bennie kiss you for us. How's that."

Ruiz shows up a little late to the party; one might even say fashionably so, going by his tailored duds, if not his timing. He's shed the overcoat, leaving him in the crisp white shirt, dark waistcoat and pants, and tie. With the shit he's obviously given in going so far as to put product in his hair tonight, he actually comes close to looking respectable. If one ignores for a moment the tattoos he's sporting up both arms, visible with his shirtsleeves turned up to his elbows.

"Cap," he greets Easton with a rare grin, leaning across the bar to clap the man on the shoulder solidly. "Got any Patron hiding back there for me?" He's already digging a crumpled bill out of his wallet.

Start what with who now? Bennie is a few moments behind Easton, having ditched the fedora at some point. She's half way into the bar proper before she looks down and sees that her shirt buttons aren't properly aligned with their corresponding holes, causing one collar to stick up higher than the other. "Whoopsie!" Nothing to see here. She turns around and bounds back towards the office.

At Table1:
Itzhak lifts his weary eyebrows at Alexander, almost--almost--smiling the tiniest smile. "Thanks. Same to you, huh?" On any other day he might follow this up with an appreciative look. Not today. Today there's a hole in his heart where his violin used to be. He says quietly to Rebecca, "Sorry I didn't tell ya. I guess I didn't want you to have to sit around and think about it."

At Bar:
Isabella's fist is indeed bumped even as Easton pours himself a beer. He laughs at her talk of the package and then says, "Holy shit, how do I not have a photo of him in those bad boys?" He pulls out his phone just to double check that he does not in fact have this and is sure to fire off some texts to correct that situation post-haste.

At August and Alexander's answer to his question he laughs and says, "She's had hers, now it's everyone elses." Her entrance and quick exit catch his eye and he further idiot grins.

"Gunny, put that shit away." Easton berates Ruiz for thinking he's going to pay for his drink. He pulls out a bottle of patron, and a glass and sets them both in front of him. "And pour your-damn-self so these nice other people have a shot at getting some of a bartenders' attention." Yea first round on him might get expanded. He's suddenly feeling a bit more generous too.

At Bar:
"Yeah, but..." Open hesitation wreathes Isabella's expression at August's response; she has not known him for very long, but has had to rely on him in significant ways the last two weeks. In the end, she doesn't press it, and her grin returns. "You're getting thanked at the very least, anyway, and I'll make sure to send those students your way once I get back to class."

The Captain, when he arrives, gets a jaunty salute with two fingers from where she's situated at the bar. Remarks about the picture Easton doesn't have yet? "You better send me a copy," she says. Bennie's arrival earns her a wink, and a thumbs up.

The brush of Alexander's fingers has those green-gold eyes tilting to him, the familiar chill of the white gold chain there biting at them, as if he's just touched something he shouldn't. "I was about to ask Margaret Addington for another casket," she murmurs to him, an appreciative look up and down on the suit he wears. "Could've sworn I died a little, seeing you in this, but in a good way. Unfair, though. You really don't fight fair - you told me nothing."

At Table1:
Rebecca grimaces at Itzhak and she reaches for his hand again. "I am so sorry. That was..." there are no words for the magnitude of his sacrifice. She just squeezes his hand again and looks to August as well. "Thank you both, for all you've done for me since this mess began."

At Bar:
Alexander chuckles. "Yeah. Although I can't take credit for this - it was all Erin Addington. I think she realized that I would show up in, uh," he clears his throat, "maybe too casual clothes, and decided to take pity on me." When Bennie appears all misbuttoned, he looks plainly delighted. He doesn't actually congratulate her and Easton on the make-up sex, but it's probably a close thing. "But everyone was...good. Very good." There's a bright smile as Ruiz comes in and he gestures towards the Captain, clearly including him in it.

His attention returns to Isabella, his smile turning sheepish. "I thought it might be a nice surprise? A little? See," he reaches up for the tie, "I do know how to do one of these." Then he reaches for his beer, taking a hasty swallow as if something about the admission embarrasses him.

Erin comes in a little while after Ruiz and Sutton, she had waited in the car and texted a little before coming inside. Now that she's there though, she is relieved to see so many familiar faces. Everyone was at least familiar in some capacity. It looks like she's gone through the ringer, probably like many of the others, and she'll go directly to the bar and place an order for a shot of tequila.

Ruiz chortles, low and warm, when Easton slides the glass and bottle of Patron in front of him. Pour himself some? Why, yes, he will. Two and a half fingers, if one's counting. He spills a little, lacking Easton's particular flourish with this art form, and lifts his thumb to his mouth to lick some off once he's done pouring. He hasn't yet spotted the two women who accompanied him here, but his gaze is cast toward the table off to the side of the bar. Isabella's salute is returned, two fingers tipped to his temple, and after some consideration he pushes to his feet and prowls on over. Mexican in a suit, incoming at ten o'clock.

At Table1:
"I'll allow it," August drawls to Isabella. He nods at the mention of students, has a drink of his cocktail. "Thanks, I could use the help. Been thinking of finding a chunk of land to buy, open up some P-patches, maybe." He squints, shrugs. "I guess they'd be R-patches, in my case. Anyways."

He grunts at Alexander, considering the suit anew. "I mentioned, after the exorcism, everyone should show up not in their sweats." He smiles, wry. "Glad to see she took the initiative. Looks great on you."

He eyes Ruiz as he approaches the table. Cutting a glance at Itzhak and Rebecca, he says, "Maybe Hyacinth and I can make you a new one. Something fancy. You know--with an inlay, or, something." Okay, so he has no idea how to make a violin. He also didn't know how to make a bow, that didn't stop him from helping with that.

At Bar:
"I wouldn't have arrived in sweats," Alexander mutters, sounding just a BIT indignant. But no longer does this indignation make him want to do terrible things. It just makes him grumbly. "I have shirts and slacks, you know." Yep. From Wal-Mart. He takes a swig of his beer and adds, "This is better, though." And brightens as he spots Erin, offering her a wave of greeting.

At Bar:
"It wasn't just a surprise, it was a shock!" But a good one, Isabella's smile a quick, but radiant thing. Unable to help herself, her hand lifts to brush a lock of Alexander's damp hair from his forehead, and a glance at the knot in his collar. "Well, I'm grateful for it - that every day is a learning experience." Briefly, a more solemn look touches her features, leaning in to press her lips on his cheek while he drinks his beer. "You did good today," she tells him quietly. "I know that wasn't easy." Both the writing of the eulogy, and standing up at the podium to deliver it.

With the Captain approaching, and Erin arriving, she abandons her Scotch so she could give them more proper greetings. She'll embrace them both, a warm squeeze each, if allowed. She remembers the rings that have made it inside the box, and the names attached to those pieces of jewelry. "Conspiracy, by the way," she tells the Addington heiress, about Alexander's suit. "Et tu, Erin?"

August's remarks about buying land gets a flare of interest. "What's the difference?" she asks; she knows nothing about his field, but is always up for learning.

Oh look! Hey! Bennie's here! She just arrived, honest! All buttoned up nicely back in her pinstripe suit with her hair falling loose around her shoulders in long damp waves from the rain. Doesn't she look absolutely, positively put together (again). Easton's outdoing her on the sunshine, though, but at least the Blonde seems at ease for once this week and a fair sight less stressed than she was at the beginning of the funeral. Normally she'd tuck behind the bar with Easton, but tonight she's bellying up to the front of it like any other patron. "Vodka soda with lime?"

At Table1:
Itzhak laces his fingers with Rebecca's. Prison ink in a fine suit. "Gotta look out for my pocket healer," he murmurs, with a wispy overlay of humor. "Hya could do it," he adds to August, between very serious drinks. "Have you seen the way that woman handles wood?" ...Oh no. He flushes red. "I mean carpentry."

Erin brightens too and returns the wave from Alexander, "You look so good, I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to tell you before." Erin takes the moment to hug Isabella, relieved they seemed to survive everything against the odds. "You look beautiful today." she tells her softly. With the decency to wear a guilty look, she smiles between the two. "Surprise!" Having kept the secret of the suit for Alexander to tell, since it was his story.

Hyacinth, and Vyv walk in for once not overdressed as is given the great aplomb which everyone post-funeral is dressed. going by teh bar first to collect their drink her fingers go up in what might be a silent hullo. "Hi. Stolis. Round one. Give me the tab for round two." She turns to watch Erin. She's in one pieces. Good. The mood on the architect is not jubilent all things said.

It's a bit too chilly to drink alone on the beach, plus there's the whole drizzle factor, so Clarissa has made her way down to the closest bar to her house and seems very pleased that the crowd here tonight is so nicely dressed. She undoes the belt of her red coat, which looks more like a dress than the dark green one she has underneath as she makes her way to the bar, folding it over her arm as she takes a seat. "Midori sour, please," she orders, giving Isabella and Erin a smile of greeting, but since they're obviously engaged in conversation letting them do her thing. Then it's a good thing she doesn't have a drink because from the look she gives Alexander she would have done a spit-take. Those are much better shoes than the ones he met her in earlier this week, "Mister Clayton?" She asks uncertainly.

At Table1:
"P-patch is a Seattle term," August says to Isabella. "It's an alottment garden. Someone buys a chunk of land and then offers out portions of it for people to use to garden with, since a lot of folks don't have space for that sort of thing. Name comes from the Picardo family. But my name's Roen. So..." Another shrug. "Might be a cool thing to do, with that space at the back I can't build on, or I can find another piece, maybe."

August licks his lips at Itzhak, says, "Yes she was quite happy to receive all that wood from me for the casket." Does he emphasize the word wood? ...maybe. And there she is! He raises his glass to Hyacinth in a greeting, sips from his shirley temple.

Conveniently, Ruiz's approach vector on Isabella brings Erin into his crosshairs. He returns the embrace from the former, arm wrapping her waist for a tight squeeze, and a ghosted kiss aimed for her cheek that doesn't quite touch. Then she's released so he can touch his fingers to Erin's back lightly, before he claims a seat near Clayton. He looks, honestly, like a weight's been lifted from his shoulders. Which is likely to be a theme for this crowd, tonight.

"Alexander," is greeted with a twitch at the corners of his lips that wants to be a smile.

At Table1:
Rebecca looks to the approaching police captain and nods to him in greeting. She's only seen him in passing, at crime scenes and his talks to the Bayview Apartment tenants. She brightens at August's suggestion. "Oh that would be wonderful. You can do that?" she seems impressed. She only has a touch of the Spirit aspect herself. "I could contribute something to it, maybe." She could find something.

At Bar:
"Yes ma'am" Easton nods at Bennie's drink order and gets to pouring. He hands her the drink and gives only the slightest of flirty grins at her before tearing away from her to try and remember how to act like a normal human being. One who is not ready to murder on a moments notice. One who is not haunted by a ghost. He lifts his beer and catches sight of something that has him glancing back towards Bennie as if he's about to ask her something before he shakes it off. He grabs Clarissa's drink and says "First rounds on me." He's mistaking her for part of the funeral 'party' but even if he knew she weren't it'd still be comped.

At Table1:
Itzhak blushes hotter and has to put down his drink to cover his eyes with his hand. "ROEN. God, you're the WORST." Then Hya herself walks in. Itzhak looks at the ceiling in silent recrimination to the Almighty for doing these things to him. He waves at Hya anyway though and beckons her over to the table with him and August and Rebecca and whatever other reprobates have washed up with them.

At Bar:
"Mrs. Robbins," Alexander replies, with a blink of surprise of his own. "Hello! We're drinking. Possibly heavily. Although that's a personal choice." He holds up his beer to her. "Hope you're well?" Then the Captain approaches, taking his attention for a moment. "Javier," he greets back with no effort at hiding his pleasure. "Hello. It's good to see you. It's good to see everyone." A sort of wistful sadness, there, for a moment, before he banishes it with another drink. "And the only people who are dead are the ones who are supposed to be!"

At Bar:
"And you look beautiful always," Isabella says with a teasing wiggle of her brows and a smile, though one muted out of concern as she watches Erin's face. "You alright?" She does let go of her, though, so she could open her arms for Captain de la Vega, banding tightly around the man for just a moment before she releases. What she wants to say is in her expression, but much like the ghosted kiss, it doesn't quite find a voice or contact.

August's explanation is taken in, curiosity growing at every word. "That is pretty awesome," she tells him when she reclaims her seat. "Rent out the space, maybe?" She knows nothing about running a business, but that doesn't mean she can't learn from someone with experience.

Clarissa's appearance has her green-gold eyes falling on the stylish woman's direction. "Missus Robbins," she greets with a smile, easing back into her seat next to Alexander. "How goes the good fight?" Vyv and Hyacinth gets a toast from where she is, with a large glass of scotch.

Vyv is not jubilant either, but to be fair, that's not a word anyone's had reason to apply to him in the last... possibly ever, regardless. The overcoat and umbrella get set wherever the appropriate place for such things here might be -- they do have one, don't they? -- but the rest of the perfectly-tailored funeral ensemble remains precisely in place. For now, anyway. A glance around at all those who've settled already, and a small nod of arguably very belated greeting on the way to the bar. He's going for scotch, himself, and Easton gets a quiet thank you for providing it. Including the not charging portion, presumably. Isabella's toast gets a tiny but genuine smile, and once his arrives, he lifts it to her in return.

Bennie smiles serenely down at her drink, something about being called ma'am by Easton flooding her thoughts with good memories instead of being shadowed for the bad, she glances up just as he does a double take back to her, a quizzical twitch to her eyebrows before he's off again to serve someone else. "Oh hey b...Easton." Shit that was awkward, "You have a little..." She makes a twitchy finger gesture at her own neck then waggles it at his own. Maybe he's born with it. Maybe it's Maybelline.

Hyacinth gathers her drink which turns out tonight to be a vodka gimlet and waits for Vyv to get his. The fashion judge and jury as it were. Her glass lifts back to August in return. Taking a sip she wiggles fingers back to the mad violinist who apparently does... something with cars and holds up that all important finger (the ones that points to things she wants) to indicate One second. Post toast she looks to Isabella, "Well stated." That done she and the master of pastry makes the sojourn to Table one to see what the hubbub is about.

At Bar:
The melancholy in Alexander's expression is noted, but not commented on by the captain. His glass is tipped toward his mouth, and about a third of its contents go down the hatch when he swallows. "Es muy bueno verte también," he replies to the other man, watching him steadily. Bennie's spotted, and greeted with a little tip of his head if he manages to catch her eye, and then his gaze skims thoughtfully over Vyv as he approaches. Looks familiar, can't quite recall his name. They had a difference of opinion, he seems to recall. "Evening," he greets though, politely enough. To Isabella, "We should talk soon." Second time tonight someone's telling her this. Does she have spinach between her teeth, or something?

At Table1:
August grins, toothy and open, to see Itzhak blush. Well, that was worth it, even if he was seconds from having Hyacinth hear them. He nods at Rebecca. "You can use that Gift to manipulate how things grow," he says. "So, if you spend some time at it, you can adjust the quality of a tree's cells--things like that. Change the wood it produces." Is he now just saying 'wood' on purpose? Probably.

"Rent, or just offer it as a community service. People can do a lot with a space like that--helps keep kids out of trouble, too." He raises his glass to Hyacinth and Vyv as they join the table.

At Bar:
Clarissa seems a bit surprised by Easton's offer to pay for the drink since he's making them, but offers a pleased, "Thank you," as she settles in to look around at the crowd, "I'd expect nothing less from people at a bar on a night like tonight," she replies to Alexander, clearly not yet clued into the context of this whole gathering. When Isabella addresses her she turned her attention that way, "That would depend on which fight you mean, but in all of them I'm rather sure I'm winning." Her lips purse a bit when she sees the police captain and she subtly shifts so as not to actually have to notice him, raising a hand to wave to Hyacinth instead at the other table.

At Bar:
Serving drinks and chatting with friends is great but when Bennie calls back to Easton and indicates that he might have something on his neck he makes an executive decision. He slaps the other bartender on the back and says, "You got this." He heads towards Bennie and asks, "Could you help me get that? It's hard to see.." Super subtle Easton. He then heads for the office, passing by Ruiz the two exchange some hushed planning that just furthers Easton's good mood. But he's not stopping for long.

At Table1:
Rebecca spies her boss and Hyacinth, and she raises her wineglass to Vyv in hello and a toast of having survived this nightmare. She looks back to August. "I can provide the strings for it, if that is all right?" She looks between him and Itzhak.

At Table1:
Itzhak upnods at Hya and Vyv as they join. Exotic names club right here. He's steadily getting drunker. "You said you'd pay me back somehow," he says to Hya, "and I know how you can. You wanna hear it?"

At Bar:
Alexander peers at Bennie for a long moment, like he can't decide whether he can do all the smiling, or start to make a worried face at her. Of course, then Easton is...requiring her aid for very important matters, so he contents himself with a little wiggle of his fingers and a smile. He won't discover the havoc she wrought on his books until he gets home, after all. His gaze drifts back to watch people, jumping from the group at the table, to Isabella with a warm smile, back to meet Ruiz's gaze - steady but brief, with all the things to look at. And back to Clarissa. "Oh, you haven't met people. Mrs. Clarissa Robbins, the room. Room? Clarissa Robbins." No, he's not good at social introductions. "Thank you again for the help with the murder," he adds, casually. And someone better stop him before he launches into murder-talk.

Alexander's topics of conversation are not that extensive.

At Bar:
Whatever planning's taking place between Easton and Ruiz, it seems to be tickling them both quite considerably. The cop looks pleased as punch with the reply he gets from his fellow ex-Marine, and knuckles him once in the shoulder as he departs. Then back to his drink, and absorbing the conversation going on around him, for the most part. A glance at his phone, and then the bathroom suggests he's wondering where the fuck Sutton went.

At Bar:
Oh, and Clarissa need not worry about the police captain corralling her into an uncomfortable conversation; he seems just as keen as she to not be having one of those tonight.

At Bar:
"That would be great! I wish I knew something about gardening, but I think it'd be beautiful," she tells August, clearly enthused, ever a creature generally enslaved by her physical senses.

Her eyes meet Ruiz's and holds, before Isabella nods. "Soon," she tells him simply - it is the second time tonight that someone is telling her this, but she is amenable to these pending conversations so long as it is not today. Today, she has scotch. Today, she has her boyfriend back. Today...

....is the mid-month mark of the fact that she's still sitting on twenty-five thousand words out of the eighty-thousand total she has to tackle, and she can't help but groan, her forehead finding the wooden surface of the counter. For a moment, she doesn't move. Clarissa gets a rueful, "I'm glad one of us is. Winning. It would be nice to, at some point." Her fingers crawl all over the counter, to blindly search for her drink.

There's a brief look of envy cast Bennie and Easton's way as they pretend to work by vanishing in the back. Murder talk does pull her head off the bar counter. Those traveling fingers? They find the bowl of snak-mix nearby, fishing out a pretzel. This, she will attempt to gently push into Alexander's mouth, merely being a woman of her word as she continues, to Clarissa: "I've been thinking of donating some family documents to the Society now that my membership has been approved. Who do I send those to? Michael?"

Approximately eighteen years after she disappeared into the ladies room, Sutton returns, staring at her phone, clacking herself over to the bar. She seems to be annoyed at her shoes. She stops there, glances down the bar, and eventually notices Ruiz being annoyed with this phone. "Good god, tacos, smile once in a while. You're above ground." Exact wrong thing to say. Exact. Wrong. Thing.

At Table1:
Vyv never has a difference of opinion with anyone, surely Ruiz is-- no, he's totally accurate, and Vyv probably remembers what, frankly. But it wasn't quite to 'refuse to greet' level! His glass lifts slightly in a return toast as he reaches the table, and a brow joins it at Itzhak's remarks. "Well, that sounds fascinating," he says, slightly amused, and he glances to Hyacinth, "Have you been accumulating life-debts when I wasn't looking again? Tch."

At Table1:
Hyacinth smiles to Rebecca first, "You look... much better. Very pleased." And by very please she means no longer scared shitless. She its tucking one foot behind the stylized banister carved appendage and looks to Augest. "The poem was lovely." There is a small thoughtful humm in response to Vyv's question, "Sadly, not in teh fun way." Glancing back to Itzhak she studies him, "Thrill me." Is she in cahoots with August here? Who knows.

Bennie spins in her chair, pulling her drink off the bar as Easton slips along the backside of it and pauses to talk to Ruiz. For a moment it looks like she might leave the bar owner hanging with his lipstick stain problem, tempted by the sight of all the people gathered in this room, several she's grown rather close to in short amount of time. In the end, she hops down off her seat, blows a kiss to August's table, raps her knuckles on the bar next to Alexander..once...twice...offers Isabella a smile and squeezes Ruiz' shoulder as she passes. Because in the end? It's easier just not to think about it and act.

At Bar:
The groan brings Alexander's attention around and he stares at Isabella fixedly for a moment. Anyone hurting her? No. Is she sick? Better not be after the flu. Does she have a drink? Maybe not? He chooses this as the most immediate problem he might be able to fix, and reaches out for her scotch to push it gently towards her hand. Although she finds the bowl first, and his anxious murmur of 'everything all right?' comes out more like, "Everyth--mmurrphh!" as the pretzel is pushed into his mouth. He chews. Swallows. "Inappropriate?" he asks, a little ruefully.

At Bar:
"I just feel a little out of it. I'll bounce back." Erin gives Isabella a reassuring smile before taking a seat somewhere at the bar. Her shot of tequila is delivered and she falls silent, a half smile worn as she listens to the conversation around her. While she does, other things run through her mind, but she does somewhat listen.

At Table1:
"You want to buy strings?" Itzhak asks Rebecca, pleased somewhere under all the layers of unhappiness and anger. "Sure you can. I'd like that." To Vyv, he hikes one shoulder and one eyebrow. "I owe her a lot more than she owes me, to be real fair. But I think," he looks at Hya, "you might like this one." She tells him to thrill her and finally the corner of his mouth twitches up. "That violin, I didn't buy it. She was donated to me by a nonprofit in New York City, gives kids like me instruments and lessons to keep 'em out of trouble, teach 'em they can do something amazing. Had her a long time." Shit, is he going to cry again right here? Keep it together Rosencrantz. He rubs his eyes. "Uhh...so anyway, donate the cost of a new instrument to 'em. So some other troublemaker can learn to do something halfway decent with his life."

At Bar:
Clarissa grimaces at the mention of Michael, "Yes, but please do copy me on anything you send to him. He's..." She searches for a nice word. "Truly awful." No nice words were found apparently. Picking up her ridiculously electric green drink she has a careful sip to ensure that it's the right mixture, then has another which means it is. "It's not his fault, really. He went to Yale." Then Alexander is introducing her to the room and she looks slightly amused, then sours at the mention of the murder, "Surely you're not trying to get the captain over there interested in me and this conversation," she mutters into her drink, having a larger gulp. "As if the gossips in this town don't misuse my name enough as it is." she gestures to the bartender that she's going to need another one.

At Table1:
"You could come and learn," August says to Isabella with a bob of his eyebrows. "We're gonna start offering classes, Thoma's a great teacher." He dips his head to Bennie, glad to see her doing better. A lot better.

He nods at Rebecca, smiles at Itzhak's response. "That'd work. I definitely can't do anything about strings." He leans back in his chair, listening to Itzhak's comment about the donation, nods. "And I was thinking," he adds to that, "maybe you and me could look into making him a new one." He pauses there, to see what she thinks.

At Bar:
Sutton's lucky that her favourite cranky Mexican is no longer under the influence of Billy's ghost. Instead of snarling at her, Ruiz simply gives her a long look as if to say no, and downs what remains of his tequila. "Sit," he offers. Sort of. Except it comes out more like an order. And Clarissa's the recipient of a rather devastating smile for her grouch aimed his way. Dimples and crow's feet and all. "What makes you think I'm not, already, Miss Robbins?" he demurs to her.

At Bar:
"The lack of response to complaints fifty-three through sixty-seven," Clarissa replies with a pretty smile Ruiz's way, lifting her glass to him in a mock toast.

At Bar:
"Sixty-eight," de la Vega corrects, reciprocating Clarissa's toast with his empty-but-for-a-drop glass. Which he promptly finishes off, before availing himself of more from the bottle Easton helpfully left behind.

At Bar:
Inappropriate?, Alexander asks, with that rueful face. Isabella tilts her head until her cheek rests into the counter, mischief in her eyes.

"I could be if you inspire me to it," she quips quietly, followed by a more serious: "Just work. I've been procrasinating." She looks egregiously guilty there. "I'm fighting with my word count."

She does manage to sit upright, Erin's quiet words encouraging her to offer a hand, palm up, to the other woman, and should she take up the offer, gives her fingers a squeeze. Clarissa's remarks about her long-suffering assistant has her grinning. No laughter, for now - she doesn't have it in her just yet. "Take it you graduated from Harvard, Missus Robbins?" She went to school in Boston, the war is real.

August's bobbing eyebrows does intensify that smile. "I might just take you guys up on it." And hopes she doesn't kill anything important. There's a swallow of her drink. "Let me know when you launch?"

At Bar:
"Gardening classes?" Alexander glances over to the table, catching at least a little bit of that conversation. "That sounds interesting. I read a number of your books, August. The nonfiction ones. I'd be interested in knowing more." About what? Everything, probably. But then Isabella is looking at him with that mischief, and he grins down at her. "I don't know how being inappropriate with me would help your word-count. Is this where tough love is called for? Or maybe positive reinforcement? Different levels of inappropriateness based on thesis progress?" A playful waggle of his eyebrows before he falls silent to just let his attention bounce from conversation to conversation, like it's vitally important that he memorize all of them.

Sutton really has no idea what's going on in here except her favorite bartender has fled, her partner has fled, and she doesn't have a drink in her hand and Ruiz just finished his, which she cannot now steal. She leans in to order something, then adds, "Are you getting complaints again?" Does she know the conversation at hand? No. Does she go with it? Yes, yes, she does.

Sutton also does not sit down.

At Table1:
"Mm," Vyv replies to Hyacinth's assertion it isn't the fun way, managing to imply this was perhaps a shame, and takes a sip of his drink, giving Rebecca another assessing look as he settles in for the moment. Okay, she still looks appropriately Rebecca-ish to his eye, at least. That's all right, then. His brows lift again at the suggested way to help, though the following suggestion from August seems to answer an unasked question. "Do you do carpentry as well?" he asks the latter.

At Table1:
Hyacinth regards Itzhak professing he is in debt to her with a flap-flap of her hand and a glance away. Oh look! her drink. That shit doesn't make er have feelings in public. THen teh favor strikes and her eyes lock on with curious and keen interest. "You want me to enable some young soul to butcher Stravinsky?" blink, blink. "Done."

At Table1:
Rebecca is doing a good job of emptying her wine glass, but seems otherwise to be ok, if tired. Also she might be holding Itzhak's hand under the table. Maybe.

At Table1:
"Will do," August assures Isabella. He mmmhmmms at Alexander. "We hold them in the green houses, gives people something to do that's not hide inside all day from the rain. I'm perfectly happy to do something personal with a few of you, if you'd rather, but the store website's got a sign up system otherwise. Charge is just for the materials, you get to take all that home with you."

Shaking his head, August assures Vyv, "Not like she does." He casts a sly look at Itzhak. "But I'm not half bad with wood, either way."

At Bar:
Clarissa tilts her head just slightly as Ruiz lets her know that he does read them. Well, that means she should probably start sending twice as many! She finishes her first drink and picks up the second as it arrives, just as electric green as the first, "I graduated from Princeton," She tells Isabella, "And while Harvard has technically claimed Yale, we like it when we beat both of them." Then is...Alexander flirting with Isabella? She looks incredibly surprised by this, but politely doesn't comment. "I confused the assistant I hired with another resume I saw and thought he'd graduated from Princeton. Imagine my disappointment." Obviously the worst.

At Bar:
Sutton's simply observed for a long moment by the captain. And then, he leans in to speak something quietly to her, fingers tracing her spine and pausing at her lower back. There's a glint of a smile as he pulls away, resettles in his seat, and happens to catch that comment slantwise from August's direction. About not being half bad with wood. He chokes a little on his drink, knuckles to his mouth. A minor coughing fit later, he resumes drinking. And breathing. Not at the same time.

At Table1:
Itzhak is totally holding Bex's hand under the table. Over the table, he solemnly offers Hya a dap in the traditional bargain-sealing fashion. He slides August a sideways glance, mouth pressed thin, and now he's definitely trying not to smile and encourage him. "That's enough outta you."

At Bar:
There is a long, long, long silence from Isabella as she watches Alexander waggle his eyebrows at her, hearing him say those words while dressed the way he is. What the hell. How is this even fair?

Finally, she levies upon him the growing wattage of that searing, incandescent smile, lips parting to bare hints of white teeth. "Why not both?" she asks, radiating so much innocence that it's a miracle that the rest of Ruiz's comrades haven't come through the ceiling to cart her away while reading her rights. "Tough love can be positive reinforcement. But all of that sounds like a plan. What an amazing idea. We should experiment on it later, come up with the rules. Unless rules don't apply, in which case, you're in incredible amounts of danger." And perhaps to even compound Clarissa's amazement, she presses her mouth lightly on his shoulder, winking at the woman across the way.

"I see someone took the Alexander Clayton I know, and replaced him with the devil." She looks between Erin and Ruiz and Sutton, also, unsure who to blame for this sudden assault on all of her senses. Certainly one of them is responsible.

More amusement, there, when the Chairwoman's alma mater is revealed. "Ugh! Of course you would say that," she groans playfully. "But I'm sorry to hear about the resume mishap." She's about to ask more about August's classes, but the sly glance he delivers onto Itzhak and his well-timed remark about wood has her pausing for a long moment also.

Finally, she turns an accusing glance at her glass, and to the bartender, shoving it in his direction. "I want more of whatever label this is," she says, brightly.

At Table1:
Hyacinth curls those manicured fingers and daps the mechanic. She goes to drink her gimlet and pauses. There is finally a faint curve of a smile and she tilts her head avenging the entertainment, "He shall not stop anything." She pauses and says very formally to August, "Speaking of men unfolding wood at my house I have in mind something for you." Oh yes. She's leaving that one righ there. She does pass her olive off to Vyv. She's done with fruit for the day.

At Table1:
August smiles, sweet and victorious, at Ruiz, finishes off his drink. He sniffs at Itzhak, indignant. "You're no fun." He sobers, clears his throat. "But I figure, if Ms. Addington," he nods at Hyacinth, "can give me specifics on what she needs--the properties, sizes, colors--we can maybe work on putting together a violin of your own. Custom. To your specifications." Directly addressing Hyacinth now, he adds, "I don't know the first thing about being a luthier, but I'm perfectly happy to fuck it up a few hundred times in the name of getting him a new instrument."

He arches an eyebrow. "Do you. I'll be happy to swing by tomorrow, if you've got time." He gets up, heads to the bar for another cocktail. Peach bitters, orgeat, and a little pineapple, this time.

At Table1:
Possibly holding Itzhak's hand under the table, hmm? The man in question gets a somewhat more sharply assessing look from Vyv, brief though it is. Hmm. Unfortunate tattoos. Reasonable suit. Quite good violin playing. Attractive enough. Helps get rid of murder ghosts. Might be acceptable. At the least, there's no immediate look of disapproval...

August's remark gets an arched brow and a faint upward quirk at the opposite side of his mouth. "Are you," he says, not quite a question, and a glance flickers along that look to Itzhak and back, "I'm sure he'll be quite lucky to have you handling his instrument, then." The olive is accepted, and popped into his mouth. He is not done with those for the day.

Whatever it is Ruiz says to Sutton, she accepts a cocktail from the bartender and then finally sits down at the bar next to Ruiz. (If there's a seat next to him by the time she's done making a case for them giving her a bottle (no, because Not Easton)), she takes the next best thing: an old fashioned. There's probably a joke in there somewhere. "Did you buy a round yet?" This to Ruiz. She glances over across the tables, taking in the number of people here who were at the funeral. Her expression is hard to read, but something in her eyes suggests she's probably thinking about what each one left behind. Her gaze falls on Itz for a while.

At Table1:
Rebecca is trying not to burst into laughter at all the wood and instrument talk. She's afraid if she starts laughing, she won't be able to stop. Hysterics will ensue. She drains her wineglass instead and squeezes Itzhak's hand.

At Bar:
"Don't look so pleased with yourself, Roen," grunts Ruiz as the other man passes him by. His dark eyes slink up to trail after him briefly, then lower as he tucks into his drink. "I did not," replies the cop-in-a-waistcoat to Sutton's query. And, "Was I supposed to?" He does, actually, have a half-filled bottle of Patron nearby on the bar that Easton seems to have bequeathed to him. A glass of it could be hers, for a price.

At Table1:
Itzhak mutters in Yiddish as his blush returns and shows no signs of going away. "Youse guys are mean, you know that?" Sure he's complaining, but...this is better than brooding. It is. He's going to tell himself that until he believes it. He happens to glance over at Ruiz and Sutton, in time to catch Sutton looking at him. His eyebrows go up interrogatively.

At Bar:
Alexander grins back at Isabella with unrestrained joy. He leans forward and lowers his voice to say in something that might almost be called a purr, "I do enjoy experimentation, Ms. Reede. A motivational study? Alter frequency. Intensity. Methodology. See what provokes the most effective reaction?" When she leans in to press her mouth against his shoulder, his hand comes up briefly to stroke her hair, fingertips skating along the outer curve of one of her ears, before he leans back, his own mischief glittering deep in his dark eyes rather than in the grin that's already fading.

It's replaced by a fond look that's less intense, and more diffuse across all the people in the vicinity. If he had more alcohol in him, this is probably where he'd be proclaiming his love all these guys. He smiles at Itzhak. "You're enjoying it," he says, because he likes pointing out the obvious, sometimes. "And the blush goes pretty well with the suit."

At Bar:
Sutton smiles at Itzhak when she's caught looking at him. She shakes her head slightly without commenting. Maybe not sure what to say, though her hazel eyes are touched by that smile, crinkling a bit. She raises her drink to the man and takes a sip.

Ruiz is talking to Sutton, but it's a moment before she nods. "Yes, you should, unless everyone's already too drunk to appreciate good liquor." She's drinking her old fashioned. Ruiz can keep his Patrón until she's finished her orange-garnished bourbon. She glances down in the glass. Hm. This is what happens when you don't specify your brand. Whatever, it's liquor. One can almost see her come to this conclusion.

At Bar:
"I'm going to need something a little stronger," Clarissa tells the bartender, definitely not looking at Isabella and Alexander. "Can you do some kind of sour appletini?"

At Table1:
Hyacinth warms a smile to Itzhak like he afforded her the Oscar. "I've been informed I'm a stone cold bitch, Mr. Rosenkrantz. Did you not get our meeting minutes on that?" yes, she can remain very tongue in cheek about these things. She glances to Vyv. he's up to something. She knows her bff well enough to know the judgy face. To Roen she swans a look wistfully, "I never get to make music on that level. I'm really interested to see what we can do with that. But! When you were busy not dying I noticed by your door you don't have a mud bench and your floors would greatly benefit from it. I want to take some of the rest of the wood unused from your tree to...give you that so you can still have that with you. Sit on it. Don't tip over putting your boots on. They're a real game changer."

At Table1:
Pausing on his way back to the table with his new drink, August says to Ruiz, "Just for you, de la Vega, I'll cease with my preening, and savor that in private." A gesture with his glass, and he resettles at the table. "We're mean because we care, Itzhak, my sisters assure me that's how it works."

A lift of his eyebrows for Vyv, then he tilts his head at Hyacinth, thoughtful. "That'd be incredibly generous." He narrows his eyes. "You sure you have time for that? I wouldn't mind a piece by you in the house, but..."

At Table1:
Rebecca reaches to smooth the lapel of Itzhak's suit jacket. "He does wear it well. So many men underestimate the value of just getting a suit properly tailored." Or getting a four-thousand dollar Tom Ford given to them by a friend. "I am going to head to the ladies room. If you gents finish and are ready for August to feed us, wait for me outside." She gets up, and bends to kiss Itzhak's temple, then gives Vyv and Hya each a shoulder squeeze on her way past.

Well, so! There was that! Bennie reemerges this time ahead of Easton, a little less put together than the first time, now dispensing with wearing her jacket and just having the suit coat flung over her shoulder and held at the collar by the crook of two fingers. Instead of waiting for the relief bartender, she reaches behind the bar and snags a shot glass, plopping it down next to Ruiz' bottle of Patron. "Fill up my tank, Dela la!"

At Bar:
Alexander says, "De la Vega," Alexander says, with a little HUFF of exasperation towards Bennie."

At Bar:
His shadow eclipses her face, and Isabella tilts her own back, eyes narrowing faintly, the tilt of her chin set on a defiant angle. It would be a seriously challenging look, were it not for the fact that the devil in her own eyes is dancing hand in hand with the mischief already there. "In this case, I'm all for effectiveness, but that might mean trading up all these newfound parameters at the expense of efficiency." Her expression turns mock solemn. "We might not get any easy answers, Mister Clayton. We might have to perform said alterations over and over again. Hours of intense and grueling data collection. You sure you're up for it?" Her smile tightens, but only faintly, at the lower hitch to his tone, the way his fingers skate up along the curve of her ear. Some part of her is tiny-screaming, a little. What time is it??? Murder talk, successfully derailed!

"Incredible amounts of danger," she reiterates to him in a quiet murmur, and almost laughs when Clarissa turns to the bartender and asks for something stronger. She doesn't, though. Instead, she manages to distract herself by turning her stare to the rest of the collective.

At Table1:
Itzhak could complain about Rebecca fingering his lapel and Alexander complimenting him, but Alexander's right. He really is enjoying it. For once. He smirks a little drunkenly at Hya. "I never listen to rumors." Liar. He thwaps August on the shoulder and gets up. "Going for a smoke."

At Table1:
"We are all sweetness incarnate," Vyv retorts lightly to Itzhak, daring to even sound faintly indignant. Albeit not entirely convincingly. The fairly innocent look that goes with it is better, and serves multiple duty in reply to both August and Hyacinth's looks toward him as well, as he sips his drink again. "Absolutely," he agrees to Rebecca's tailoring remark, which requires no artifice at all to sound as though he agrees on a soul-deep level there, and he gives her a small but real smile in return for the squeeze as she takes her leave.

Bennie chirps back at Alexander, "Term of affection. Not nickname." Her hands thrust above her head. "Loophole!"

At Table1:
August finishes off his drink, raises his chin at Rebecca in a confirmation as she steps out. He pulls out his phone to swipe a message to Eleanor. "I'll come with you, make sure Ellie doesn't mind us descending on her."

At Bar:
Javier's halfway through a rather nice swallow of tequila when Bennie plunks her glass down and demands he fill 'er up. He finishes downing the liquor, brushes his knuckles across his mouth, and eyes the blonde with some skepticism. "I'm pretty sure you know my name, and do that to push my buttons," he informs her. August? Just gets a smirk for his commentary, though he watches the man depart before turning back to his companions at the bar. "Looks like things are breaking up, anyway," is spoken with fake ruefulness to Sutton. Which means, he doesn't have to share his Patron. He does hear something about a smoke break though, and suddenly that's sounding like an excellent idea. His pockets are patted down.

At Bar:
Alexander's eyebrows go up and his smile is a small and secret thing, this time. "Well. I'll keep up as well as I can, Ms. Reede." He reaches out and draws a finger along her jaw for a moment, before Bennie's voice reaches him. He turns in that direction with a (probably?) mock glare. "It's not his name. If you have to use an affectionate term, it should be a term. Like...pookie?" He eyes the Captain thoughtfully. "Snookums?"

At Bar:
Sutton also seems amused as Alexander corrects Bennie, like that'll do any good at all. She sips her drink, brushes her hand under her skirt to be sure it stays where she puts it, mindful of how short it is when she crosses her legs. "You can buy a round next time." The blonde flicks her fingers over the button of Ruiz's waistcoat. "In the mean time, you can fill up my gorgeous partner's glass." Trapped by blondes Ruiz. Whatever will you do. Share your Patrón. "Javi has many names. Want to hear some?" This is said to Alexander, with her eyebrows popped.

At Bar:
"Yes, absolutely," Alexander says as soon as the words come out of Sutton's mouth. There's no space there.

At Bar:
Clarissa takes her appletini and sits back to marvel at the displays of townieness right in front of her. Clearly she needs to come out more often. Or not, considering how she wrinkles her nose a bit and has a sip of her far stronger martini, "No." She says at the same time as Alexander.

At Bar:
Sutton sits back against the bar, facing out. She smiles widely when Clarissa and Alexander answer opposite answers at the same time. She takes a breath, and she opens her mouth, and...

At Bar:
Ruiz is also apparently in the "No," camp. Spoken a heartbeat after Clarissa, whom he gives a bit of a look when they offer the same reply in stereo. "Alexander," is chastised a moment later.

Bennie's smile dulls slightly, and her reply is earnest to Ruiz. "Not trying to push your buttons. I...sorry." She looks to Alexander. "Sorry." Then back to Ruiz as she sees him patting himself down, "Easton keeps a pack behind the bar, if you're jonesing." And that's where the Oakes half of Medic 24 heads behind the bar to get her own drink that isn't guarded by a once again gruff sounding Mexican.

At Bar:
There's a curious look directed towards Itzhak and August as they leave, though Isabella's attention is on Alexander again when that index draws over the line of her jaw. When Ruiz's names come up, however, she does not interject, she does not say anything, she simply waits to see how this all plays out, eyes glittering with barely suppressed mirth. The laugh, it's there, dying to get out but they just came from a funeral and people are still smarting over their sacrifices. She's trying to be good.

So instead, she drowns the burgeoning sound of it with more scotch. But she's waiting, gold-shot eyes falling on Sutton.

At Bar:
"Ja-vi-er," Alexander responds, drawing out the name playfully, and for once not chastised at all. He picks up his beer and takes a drink, before saying to Sutton. "You know you want to say them." But his smile falters a little when Bennie's smile dulls. He puts the mug down, watching her. "...no need to apologize, Bennie. It's...I'm sorry." And now he's apologizing.

At Table1:
Hyacinth blinks to August and there's a glance of aexpression that starts to form. She's bad at them though from controlling and hiding every one of them. She sniffs. (She doesn't have feelings she has allergies!!) "No it's... it's fine. It's taking up all the space in my drive and while we can take it elsewhere whoever lays their hands on it I wouldn't trust after that tree went all Witness me for us. It... this is..." Sitting up her hand flaps with nails tap tap tapping the table, "It's not a burden. Tomorrow."

At Bar:
A simple no isn't enough to stop her. Sutton says, "I can't tell you what he's saved in my phone as, but if you have an i-phone, I can send it to you. Javi is my favorite of the ones that don't make him cross, but only two people call him that." She tips forward, "Once I'm sure he's rage monster free, we can talk about the others ones. I have to go home with him later."

"You can only use Javi if you're sleeping with him." Bennie comments casually as she ducks behind the bar, her head popping back up as Alexander apologizes. "Never apologize for who you are. You taught me that. Hey Isabella. Kiss him on the cheek for me." And then back down she goes to root around for those cigarettes.

At Bar:
Ruiz hesitates when Bennie slinks away. His hand's curled around the bottle of Patron, and he was just about to pour her a glass. But she's fleeing, and she looks upset, and he's fairly certain that's at least partly on him. The liquor's poured, and he's still for a moment as Sutton fiddles with a button on his waistcoat. The (short) blonde gets an unintelligible grunt, and his fingers trail through her hair idly as he moves to his feet, and prowls off after Bennie. So he can speak to her quietly, of course.

At Bar:
Did she just help save the captain from embarrassment? On the one hand that's a win because knowing that other people think he's good at something she doesn't want to think about at all ever would probably have made it difficult to keep complaining. On the other hand agreeing with Alexander might have caused him embarrassment and given her fuel for a later date on top of nightmares forever after. Clarissa mulls this over as he finishes her drink and then pushes to her feet at Bennie's latest comment, "Okay, well. This has been horrifying. Good night, everyone. Definitely don't sleep here. I call in complaints when I see that happen."

At Bar:
"I...don't have an iPhone," Alexander admits, sadly. "And it's gone." Which perks him right back up. "It's gone. It wasn't me after all." That's rather quiet, not quite under his breath, and he drains the rest of the mug of beer. "And I wouldn't want to use that. It's not his name." Why does no one understand this? Hmph. He watches Ruiz go to talk quietly with Bennie, but rather than stare like a creeper at the conversation, his gaze slips to Clarissa. "It was very nice to see you again, Mrs. Robbins. Thank you for drinking with us!" It sounds entirely sincere.

At Bar:
Ruiz has no apparent intention of bidding Mrs. Robbins good night. Good riddance, probably, as far as he's concerned. He continues speaking in a low voice to Bennie.

At Bar:
That moment of mischief flickers and withers on the vine, peeling back the curtain on the ongoing proceedings to reveal the mess underneath. Isabella watches as Bennie moves behind the bar, when Alexander's mug is set down, and the Captain follows after her.

"I think we should try not to apologize for anything else tonight," she offers, expression and tone filled with rue and the truth of it is there on her features. Too many have said I'm sorry in the last couple of weeks, and with smiles dimming all around her, she can't help but remember what Margaret Addington had said, her coup de grace in the proceedings before vacating with her brother. There's a wave to Clarissa, a smile to Bennie, before she leans in and plants a kiss on Alexander's cheek at her behest.

At Table1:
Vyv's fingers move absently to a pocket and withdraw a handkerchief, which he passes over to Hyacinth, for her-- allergies. A small wave toward the others as they leave the table (or at least, a small lift of the hand), and the two remaining there chat quietly for the length of the rest of their drinks before joining the small exodus out. Funeral accomplished. Drinking accomplished. Time for step three, whatever that is. Possibly ice cream. Can't go wrong with that.

At Bar:
Sutton almost reaches out to touch Alexander when he has that realization that he wasn't the rage. She actually almost reaches for him when she remembers he doesn't like being touched. "It is, Alexander. It's his name. To me, Javi was his name before we met. I knew him by stories. Sometimes names aren't about a birth certificate or a filing system. However unlikely a sweet nickname seems for a gruff man who carries around a gun professionally. I respect your purity in classification, though." She glances after Clarissa as she leaves, perhaps wondering who she is. Have they met before? Sutton's last few months have been... interesting. She mms and nods, glancing over as Ruiz leaves to follow Bennie, distracted.

As Ruiz speaks to her quietly, Bennie seems to note that Alexander's mug gets set down empty. She seems to know, by some almost six sense or perhaps by color or the certain mug it's in, exactly what Alexander is drinking. Her heel pops open the door of a cooler containing frosted mug, her hand swoops down to snag a handle, and it gets set under a tap and filled all the while she's responding to Ruiz. She flips over a coaster, sets down the beer and turns the mug so the handle is perpendicular to his dominant hand before leaning over to kiss Ruiz' cheek much as Isabella delivered one to Alexander at her request.

At Bar:
Although there's a moment when Alexander softens, at that kiss on the cheek, and he chuckles and agrees, "I'll try. No more apologies for tonight." When Sutton speaks, he turns and stares at her, eyes dark and without humor. "It's not his name." His jaw sets in a mulish sort of way, although at the same time, he looks embarrassed, like he literally can't stop himself from standing on this point. "It's irrational. I know it's irrational. I'm not going to yell at you for calling people whatever you want, it's my issue not yours, but it's not his name." All of that comes out in a rapid, uneasy tumble of words, and his shoulders hunch. The refill is a welcome reprieve, and he turns to the new mug with a brief smile at Bennie, and sets out to drain it quickly.

At Bar:
Sutton watches Alexander through all of that. "Oh." Oh. She seems to get it now. "You do you, love." There's that smile again. "No disclaimers needed on my account. I don't know you well enough to know your peculiarities, nor you mine. We've just learned something about each other. I nickname everyone, pet, I'm sorry to say. This does explain why you H. Every Sutton'ed me." She tips her head and watches him for another beat. "Would you like to know what the H stands for?" That has to be bothering him. Has to be. She grins. Lord, someone give Sutton a donut before she starts toying with Alexander.

Sutton looks to Bennie and winks. "You look better, love. PS: Easy is a hot tamale in his uniform." Her smile wavers at something else, but she doesn't ask. Still, there's something lingering in the back of her mind that's going to come up later.

At Bar:
Whatever Bennie tells him as she leans in to kiss his cheek, it seems to smooth away a few of the years of wear and tear on the captain's face. He proffers something softly, pitched close to her ear, then squeezes her shoulder and moves for his seat again. The glass he'd poured for Bennie is nudged closer, then his hand rested on Sutton's thigh while he finishes off his own drink. His dark eyes tick up at the unearthing of the mysterious H, but he says absolutely nothing. Of course he knows what it stands for. But it isn't his secret to tell.

At Bar:
Alexander watches Sutton sidelong. He's not as open as he was a bit ago, his posture a bit hunched and expression wary. But! He's clearly trying, because although he twitches at 'Easy', he doesn't say anything about it. He just nods, slowly. "I would like to know. Yes." The answer to any variation of that question is pretty much always 'yes', it seems. "If you want to tell." Giving her the out, even as his free hand starts tapping out a nervous, or perhaps anticipatory, rhythm on the bar top.

At Bar:
The interaction between Alexander and Sutton is one taken in with easy silence of one who is just as comfortable watching people as she is talking to them, Isabella's eyes moving between the former's stubborn profile and the other paramedic. Her stare lids, faintly, once the air changes - or seems to, cleared up in an instant when the investigator professes his curiosity because of course he does. There's another sip taken of her scotch.

Her attention diverges when Ruiz and Bennie rejoin the group, whatever stressors have been there eradicated from the moment's constantly evolving formula. Relief is in her expression, too open in the end to hide it. Though she tries when the sip turns into a hefty swallow of her drink, and then drains it completely.

Bennie nods in absolute agreement to Ruiz. "I never liked algebra either but I'm not sure what that has to do with a key?" Okay, so Oakes knows absolutely zero of the Spanish that he whispered to her. Trailing after the Captain, she takes up the glass of Patron as it's offered. She mouths 'Iknowright?!' about Easton in his dress uniform before honestly answering the rest. "Thanks, I'm feeling a bit better too." She offers to Sutton as she hoists up her glass, offering a toast to those that remain "Because of friends."

At Bar:
"Harry." Sutton lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "It was supposed to be Harriet, family name, but mum left it up to my father to write on the birth certificate and he was about five beers into a poker night when she finally got him on the phone. The rest is history. He didn't want his daughter saddled with an old lady's name." There's probably a reason most of her paperwork is the incomplete name.

Her gaze flicks to Isabella. "I'm Sutton, by the way. Everyone calls me that. I feel we've seen each other around, but never talked... was it.." She has a name on the tip of her tongue, but isn't sure it's Isabella. Her hand creeps from her phone, slightly across to touch Ruiz's hand with just two fingertips. She sips her drink in the other hand.

Sutton looks at Bennie for a couple of beats, really looking at her. She smiles and raises her glass to her work-wife. "Good." One word, loaded with sentiment unspoken. ILU partnerrrrr. UNSPOKEN.

At Bar:
"Harry Everly Sutton." Alexander says it solemnly, like an invocation of some sort. "I'll remember that." His eyes flick from Sutton to Isabella, and he adds, "Isabella Reede." Supplying identity, as if offering a gift. There's the faintest hint of a smile, too. Which grows into something more deserving of the name when Bennie speaks up. He lifts his mug. "To friends," he agrees, with no hesitation at all.

At Bar:
Ruiz also raises his glass when the toast is offered, then knocks back what remains in a single pull. Once he's swallowed, "Fuck. Sorry. Isabella Reede, this is Harry Sutton." Hey, she offered up her first name, so it's fair game now, right? Except Alexander beats him to the punch by a breath or two. "I'm going to step out for a smoke," he informs the more diminutive blonde in a low murmur, fingertip touched to her jaw once she's set her drink down, to indicate that he's about to kiss her. Brief, chaste. Because he can be, occasionally. Then he pushes to his feet, checks his tie briefly, and hunts for his pack of smokes as he prowls for the outside deck.

At Bar:
In many ways there's a reason why she has kept quiet all this time - not just to give Alexander a chance to interact with someone he doesn't know well, but also so she could figure out Sutton's preferred address, and when the blonde supplies it freely, there's a smile. Isabella offers long fingers to her across the bar in offerance of a handshake. "What they said," she says, in the heels of Alexander's and Ruiz's introductions. "It's nice to formally meet you at last, Harry Everly Sutton." Her mischief returns, a more subtle glint, though her expression sobers faintly. "I've been hearing of you and Bennie for a while, even before all of this, though I remember the first time I saw your faces. During the big storm. You brought her..." Her eyes lift to Bennie. "...back to life." A hint of admiration there, and no small touch of envy - not everyone can do that. It's an ability she often wishes she has.

Bennie's little ritual when taking a shot is to click it down on the bartop first before tossing it back. She normally takes her tequila chilled and dressed, with a lime to gnaw on afterwards so the Patron makes her give a little shimmy shiver dance. "That's why she's my boo!" Although Bennie doesn't remember a damn thing about that night, when Sutton started compressions to get a rhythm back into her heart and Erin then zapped her with the healing mojo. "We weren't even partners back then. But if you're ever in an accident, ask for Rig 24. We have snacks!"

At Bar:
"To friends." Her glass comes up, she toasts and takes a little sip. Oh god, now Ruiz is introducing her as Harry Sutton. Sutton slants a sideways look at the Mexican. "Isabella." Right. She locks that in there with another sip from her glass. Repeat the name, it's more likely to stick.

When Ruiz rises to take off to smoke, she turns her head toward him then he touches her jaw, drink down. There's a brief kiss shared, imparting some bourbon to ruin the tequila lingering there, and he ends up walking off with some red lipstick on his mouth. She doesn't say a word about that. She watches him go. This suit fits better than his other ones.

"At last, hm." She doesn't ask after that, not yet, but her gaze returns to Isabella. First meetings and all. "Oh. Oh." Right, yes. "I... don't remember everything that happened." That night. Or other nights before that, before weird things happened more and more and more. "That was before." Before the glimmer started invading her consciousness. "That..." She clears her throat. "Wow, that night sucked." Wait till she finds that video in her phone.

"We weren't! I barely knew her. Do ask for 24, we have snacks and an abundance of pain medications. And glitter." Because of someone who is currently smoking and still needs getting back.

At Bar:
Alexander watches Ruiz leave, his eyes following the man until he steps out the door. Then he returns to the conversation, flicking from one to the other, following the words with interest. "Rig 24." A pause, then he gives Sutton another side eye. "You used to be on the police radio, though. For a while. Then you stopped. I recognize your voice." A lift of the corners of his mouth. "You were funny. Sometimes." Then he lapses back into silence, content to listen and nurse his beer.

At Bar:
The toast is one that she adds her salute to, Isabella lifting her nearly-empty glass of scotch, and while she doesn't echo the words, her face is expressive enough to reflect them. She knocks back the rest and plants it back on the wood. There is no further ask from the bartender to refill it, however, or perhaps she has just forgotten. It's easy to forego liquor and sustenance when she's engaged like this by others.

To hear that the moment was precisely why Sutton and Bennie seem so close - they could have known each other before that, after all - softens her expression, her smile warming visibly. "At least something good came out of that nonsense, yeah?" she offers. Because the agreement is plain on her face - that night did suck. With the rig number supplied, not to mention the additional allure of snacks, that's when it finally happens. She laughs, and it feels good to do it, the low, unfettered sound leaving her as it loosens the invisible bands around her chest. "And glitter. Well, ladies, you've done it now. Now, you'll never be rid of me. In all seriousness though, I hope you don't mind if I take you guys up on that." There's a sheepish look. "I tend to wind up in the hospital more often than I would like."

Alexander gets a nudge. "He does, too."

At Bar:
Ruiz isn't gone far, in truth. Just across the bar and out the door that opens onto the deck. He loiters just under the lip of cover and lights up, giving his shoulders a roll as if to disperse some of the tension that's sneaked its way in while he was trying to be social. He watches the boats on the dock while he smokes, pinpoints of illumination from hanging lamps like tiny fireflies reflected in the water.

"That's riiiiight!" Bennie says of Sutton being a dispatcher, as if the memory was just sparked. "Hey, did you take a 911 call from Bayside back then? You know that's how we met," Bennie looks down the bar to include them all with her gaze and the hanging question. "Easton and I. I was the rig that responded after he split his leg open on his coffee table. And before any of you can say it was unprofessional, I told him he couldn't ask me out until I wasn't on duty." She glances over her shoulder towards where the office is as she tells the story, and there's a little flicker of guilt there in her eyes and a touch of sadness in the soft skin surrounding them that she banishes forcibly with the bloom of a smile as she absently tilts a bottle and refills Isabella's glass.

Bennie adds, "Alexander has a directive with me if he's ever injured. Make sure you let me know your preference too, if we're going to start going steady!" As Isabella's go to ride, of course.

At Bar:
Sutton laughs when Alexander adds 'sometimes' to his observation. "Ah, well, thank you, love. Sometimes. I'll take it." She raises her glass again and takes a sip to that. "Yeah, you're right. I hurt my back and they stuck me on a desk dispatching for the PD. I don't know whose idea that was, but it was a fun gig while it lasted." Bossing cops around is hilarious every time. "Haven offered to break my arm to get me back on dispatch." There's a pause, then she adds on a sigh, "She's so cute."

EMS are weird on occasion. She smiles to Isabella, "That's all we can hope from nonsense, really." She smiles more when Isabella's laughter joins the conversation. It's good to hear some joy, especially on a day like today when so many gave things up. "You're welcome to ask for us anytime. Hopefully not too much, at least if it's the business end." She glances over at Alexander when Is nudges him. "Seems we have that going around."

She glances down at her phone, "Pardon me a tick." She opens her screen and types out a text. Three guesses where it's going. She glances over at Bennie. "Oh, to meet a handsome marine on a call." She laughs at the story of Bennie drawing a line for Easy. "He has a really cute butt. Good job snagging that one." She glances up from her phone, putting it on the bar. She's curious about the directive, by the look she shoots Bennie, but she'll ask later.

At Bar:
"I prefer to never be in the hospital, so even once is more often than I would like. But," Alexander gives a shrug at the nudge, "most things heal on their own, and I patch myself up pretty well. There are dangers, healing things that don't need to be healed." But, as arguments go, it's softly stated - he has his preferences, his 'directive' as Bennie puts it, but he at least seems to realize he can't stop others from doing what they feel they need to do. A faint smile comes to him. "Very ethical, Bennie." He's teasing her, just a little. Although he continues to watch her, thoughtfully, until Sutton starts to speak. There's a snort at the remark about the cuteness of Easton's butt, but he otherwise doesn't add much. Just enjoys the stories, almost hungrily.

At Bar:
Ruiz digs his phone out of an awkward pants pocket as it goes off, checks the message he got, and twists around to gaze at Sutton through the window. Rather than the grouch he's mostly had going for the past few weeks, a dimpled smile and lingering look for the blonde. Then his tongue touches his upper teeth while he composes a reply, smoke twisting out of his cigarette and trailing into the silvery rain.

At Bar:
The 'when we first met' question answered, Isabella grins appreciatively when Bennie freely offers the story, and with the added refill in her glass, she laughs again, and picks it up, lifting it to those she's with in a silent toast. Merriment imbued within those green-and-gold irises, she takes a more careful sip. "No judgment," she promises to the other paramedic. "Plus now that I've seen E in his dress blues, there's absolutely no way in hell that I could blame anyone with eyes for not going for it." She pauses. "And maybe even people who are blind, I don't know, this town is weird." She makes a face. "Always has been, by the sound of it."

The sunny blonde's steady remark intensifies that lingering grin. "Honestly, save for rudimentary first aid, I know next to nothing, so I'm perfectly willing to submit myself to you and Sutton's capable hands. Feel free to touch or handle me as you will. Not going to lie, though, I'll be disappointed if at least five of my future calls don't end up in me covered in glitter."

Sutton's remarks, too, has her turning that effervescent expression her way. "I'm hoping not to put anyone to work in that way. I don't like hospitals either, but try as I might..." She falls silent, but only briefly. "It would honestly be good if, in that situation, to fall into capable hands right away." Another laugh, at the other woman's comment about Haven. It still feels good. It could also be the scotch, but she doesn't care and a halfway content sigh escapes her.

"I'm glad to have seen the two of you there, even if the circumstances weren't ideal," she tells Sutton and Bennie both. And then, she grimaces. "Parting shots and all from the Grande Dame of the City."

"That's actually the first time I've ever seen him in a scrap of uniform. Not even his dog tags. I should have realized he had a purple heart, but seeing it pinned to his chest..." The Blonde shakes her head with a whoosh of an exhale. "But that ass.. you just want to... OH! Oh. She said E! She said E!" Bennie points enthusiastically at Isabella, tattling with a bright laugh.

At Bar:
"If you call us, we promise to help you without insisting you go to the hospital if you're in your right mind." Sutton says this with clear enunciation. She's had this issue with people in the past. "I keep a stocked kit in the motel." She doesn't outright tell Alexander she'll treat him off-duty. "You're welcome anytime, since you're friends with Javi. Both of you. Now that I think we've begun our friendship. I hope."

She glances over to catch that look from the cop, leaning against the bar as she finishes off her old fashioned made with substandard bourbon. She thumps it down on the bar, and picks up her phone like she knows a return text is incoming. She glances down at it when her text alert chimes. Now that she's no longer at a funeral and it's turned up, the phone burbs out an arrrrrrrriba! arrrrriba! arrrrrrriba!. She holds very still for several seconds, and then quietly switches her volume... off. It's probably too late.

"We keep finding glitter even though we've disinfected that whole rig once a day every day since the incident. I think someone's adding more glitter." She's going on like that thing with her phone did not just happen. "Margaret's a piece of work, isn't she? Whew. To grow up with her." She shakes her head, clearly feeling for Erin Addington. She laughs when Bennie speaks up, the enthusiasm at the nickname, the commentary about his booty.

At Bar:
There's a flicker, a troubled expression that falls over Alexander at the reference to Margaret. He opens his mouth, then frowns, and reaches out for the pretzel bowl and puts one into his mouth. Chew, swallow, don't talk about evil rich women. Yes. Bennie's attempt to tattle gets an amused smile, though, and he says, "Yes. And it's a travesty. But she's devastatingly intelligent and sexy, so I try to forgive." He slants a sideways look towards Isabella at that, and a slow smile.

But then Sutton's phone goes off and Alexander is momentarily startled. Then he busts out laughing. Just complete, honest, unrestrained laughter. "Is your text ring for Javier Speedy Gonzales?" It's not quiet.

At Bar:
Ruiz probably heard that from out on the deck. Which might be what signals the end of his smoke break, cigarette flicked overboard before he shoulders his way back inside. Warpath? Maybe. He does have that look on his face as he rolls up to where the blonde's sitting at the bar with his (and her) friends.

At Bar:
Thrown under the bus! Isabella maintains that same innocent (not) air, and Bennie's bright tattling has her bursting out laughing, enough to put some pains in her, fingers lifting to splay on her sternum and brush against the moonstone pendant that resides there. "I'm drinking! Let me have this!" Expression brimming with the throes of her laughter, she continues. "Ask your man to tell you what I had to send his wife at his request if he hasn't told you yet. The one he married with Fat Elvis officiating. And you can tell him that if he doesn't send me a picture whenever he gets it, our friendship is over!"

Sutton has a way of speaking her language - other people's also it seems, within just a few minutes of conversation and the archaeologist's grin can't help but hold; it's starting to hurt her face, but she can't help it either. "We have begun it," she confirms. "Thanks Sutton, most definitely. And it beats..." And here, the smile gives way to a faint frown. "....having to find a medical professional not affiliated with Addington Memorial, and explaining away the things we all get up to-- "

That alert. She stops, green eyes wide, and much like Alexander, she leans back and starts laughing. And she doesn't even bother to hide it, especially with Ruiz coming back in. She lowers her face into the counter, and tries to smother it. But she can't. She can't. That train has left the station in full speed, and it's going to take a bit to regain her composure.

She does, eventually, and Alexander's forgiving comment - and compliment! - earns him a winning smile, face luminous with expended mirth. Her arms lift, to loosely wrap around his shoulders. "I think it's the suit, ladies," she murmurs in a conspiratorial whisper. "Brings out the bits of him that I know are there in public. Maybe we ought to glue him in it from now on." She side-eyes the investigator playfully there.

Finally, that talk of Margaret Addington - ripples of irritation, there. "Whatever kool-aid the older generation of that family drinks runs very potently in that house," she grumps. "But I'm determined to rant about her another day, and preferably with more of this in me." She nods to her glass of scotch.

Bennie doesn't reach for Ruiz' bottle of patron, no Easton gave that to him special, so she finds another bottle behind the bar and clinks down a shot glass in front of Alexander. "Party foul." She calls for his preferential treatment of his girlfriend. Of course, she's pouring herself a shot too, even though she's inflicting one on him.

Gotta keep her buzz going, especially as she responds a little quieter to Isabella about the fishnet incident. "We, um. Haven't spoken much this last week." She says of Easton, but then takes her shot. On the tail end of the burn of alcohol she comments, "Speedy Gonzales? That's not what I heard." Not realizing of course that the Captain has re-entered.

At Bar:
There's a smile lingering at the sweet interaction between Bella & Alexander. She opens her mouth to say something when the latter laughs, not knowing how rare it might be that he does so. His question is loud, though, and she's so busted. She doesn't glance over at the oncoming storm until de la Vega is stood next to her. Maybe because she knows he she looks at him and he's got the scowl on, she's not going to be able to keep it together. She drags her teeth across her lower lip and just barely hangs on to her impassive expression. Her ringtone? "Mhm." Yes it is. "Who needs a refill?"

Those two things come almost in the same sentence. She looks at Isabella and then Bennie instead of Ruiz, which is probably a mistake. It's really hard to pretend nothing is happening when everyone's laughing. More joy, though, so she just grins, finally. "The suits are definitely a level up." And the uniform, of course. Finally, her gaze flicks to Ruiz. "Hey... you."

The brisk air gets a little bit cooler when Cassidy walks in, but only because the door opened to let more of it in.

The ADA is dressed down in a simple blue shirt with a brown jacket and jeans. She still has on those ostentatiously huge sunglasses shielding her eyes. Her mouth is at a downturn (not unusual) and she heads to the bar. She removes the glasses, tosses them on the counter beside her and takes a stool all in a single motion. She checks her phone for a brief second, then sets that face down beside her as well. She folds her arms on the bar and leans forward and looks down at the other occupants, "So what are we having?"

At Bar:
That ringtone. Ruiz knows that ringtone perfectly well, and the last time he heard it, he threatened to 'accidentally' drop the thing in the toilet. Clearly, Sutton doesn't want to get laid tonight. Or so says the slanted-eyed look he gives the little blonde as he resettles next to her, smelling like smoke and freshly laundered suit. "I thought we agreed I never wanted to hear that again, bebe," he points out to Sutton, walking two fingers along the bartop until they're close enough to nudge her wrist a little. Then his drink's retrieved, deemed to be fit for consumption (she probably wouldn't drop roofies in there, would she?) and sipped from.

Does he notice the ADA and her big ol' sunglasses swooping on in? Not yet. Well, until she starts talking. Then, "You have got to be fucking kidding me."

At Bar:
Alexander grins at the approaching Ruiz, unrepentant. He continues to chuckle, although it more seems to that Isabella's laughter sustains his, and he shows no reluctance to have her arms settle around his shoulders. "This is too nice of a suit to be glued to me," Alexander says, firmly. "But it's got...good memories in it, now. I can wear it again, sometime. It won't be empty or filled with just," he gestures towards the graveyard.

Then Bennie is plunking tequila down in front of him. He looks blankly at her. "What did I do?" But it's clear he's supposed to drink, so he picks it up, and throws the shot back. From his shudder, he's not a man who drinks much hard liquor. "Needs plums."

He goes quiet, though, as the ADA enters. "Alcohol," he supplies, helpfully.

At Bar:
At Bennie's quieter remark, Isabella watches her silently for a spell, expression softening. Words are there behind her eyes, picked around and then discarded, finally settling with a very low, and gentle: "There'll be time for that. Talking." And now there's a faint worry there, that make-up sex from earlier was actually break-up sex, and some part of her wonders whether she ought to find Easton, and bludgeon him with his own prosthetic leg.

But she remembers their earlier smiles and she attempts to banish that thought of her head. Sutton's words about the suits? It earns her a wink, very much in agreement there.

Her arms squeeze, briefly, around Alexander's shoulders, though eventually they slip away again so he can take shots with Bennie. Cassidy's entrance is noted, her face familiar from the press conference the other day, but it's the groan from Ruiz that elicits a glance in that direction. "Miss Bennet," she greets.

Bennie lets the actual bartender serve Cassidy, and after a quick refill of hers and Alexander's shot glasses, she scoops up hers and says something lamely like, "I should go check on him."

At Bar:
Sutton mms. "You said, I did the other thing." Which is how most of their 'deciding' goes. She definitely probably didn't roofie his drink. Most likely. Her wrist turns and she touches his hand before he picks up his tequila. Her gaze follows his to the ADA, whom she must have seen around, but has yet to meet. Ms Bennet by Isabella's comment. That info's filed away. Her smile quirks at Ruiz's tone and comments for the woman.

"Patrón." Sutton is more specific than Alexander's reply, but only just. Not everyone is having tequila. "And a laugh. Nice glasses, love. Incognito?"

After a couple of beats she says to Bennie, "Drunk texting is an excellent relationship barometer." Yes, Sutton, because drunk texting never went awry. She almost says something about their dog, currently in the care of one Alistair Carver, but stops herself last minute. Another topic for later, when things are more settled.

At Bar:
"Good to see you too, De la Verga." Cassidy sallies as her eyes flick to Alexander, then down to his alcoholic beverage. The man's answer earns him neither acknowledgement or regard beyond that. Sutton gets a smile, but then a squinch of her face and a slight protruding of the tongue between her teeth. "No thanks." She looks to the bartender, "I'll have lemon drop..." and then a look back to Ruiz as she finishes her sentence to the bartender, ".../please/."

At Bar:
Drunk texting is an excellent life choice all around. What could go wrong? "That's clear to me now," Javier sort of grumbles to the blonde beside him, fingertips resting on the rim of his empty glass for a few moments while he watches Bennie disappear, ostensibly to check on Easton. Cassidy's mispronunciation of his name makes him snort softly, but he doesn't take the bait. Which is significantly easier a task now, than it has been in recent weeks. "You know," he tells the ADA, "you really should be at home resting. I hear this flu is bastante desagradable."

At Bar:
There's a moment where Alexander opens his mouth to protest the refill, but it's already done, and he's left to look at his shot glass of tequila. Stare long into the liquor, and the liquor stares back. Or you drink it. Which he does, without as much of a shudder, this time. "Is it really?" he murmurs towards Sutton. "Why would that be? People say in vino veritas, but it's not really true. Alcohol lowers certain inhibitions, yes, but it also distorts and changes one's emotional state - and since it's a depressant, it's often not necessarily for the better. People think intoxication brings truth, but sometimes it just brings out one's own doubts and fears, and causes a chain reaction from them. That's not necessarily an accurate barometer for a relationship." It's all very solemn, and rapid - each word precisely enunciated in that way that only people who are a) getting towards drunk and b) don't want to be seen as drunk usually manage. There may be a whole flood of rambling coming, but Cassidy's look in his direction quiets him. Stiffens his back, too, at the flick of her eyes over him then away. "De la Vega," he says, bristling like a tipsy and overprotective guard dog. "Captain De la Vega." So at least someone takes the bait! Yay?

At Bar:
She listens when Alexander puts forth his questions, Isabella's eyes meeting Sutton's, before she takes another sip of her scotch and replies, "That's precisely it, my darling. It's plenty difficult for others to talk about said doubts and fears without said lowered inhibitions, and if a couple doesn't know what's there to fix, then how can those problems get fixed? Not to say I'm particularly supportive of...you know, drinking all the time to communicate, but sometimes it does help." She gives him a long sideways look, though there's a touch of amusement there. "Drunk texting's helped us before, remember?" Said mildly.

There's the bristling, and at the rigidity of the investigator's spine, there's a long look turned Cassidy's way, that similar, earlier air of waiting lingering around her. A finger taps absently on her scotch glass.

Bennie returns, walking as she threads her arms back into the sleeves of her suit jacket. "Asleep." She announces with a fond little smile. "I'm going to grab a ride share to take me back to my bike and then head to the station to sleep this off. Everyone good?" She grins across to the bartender, "Just leave the tally in the till, Easton'll sign off on it tomorrow. No money crosses the bar unless it's going in your tip jar, yeah?"

At Bar:
"I only drink lemon drops when I'm looking to lose my panties to a stranger." Sutton's commentary is unnecessary in the extreme, but she's dressed in almost-black for the funeral earlier, and her shoes are very likely ruined, so that's just how it is tonight. There's a lengthy pause after what Alexander says. She reaches across the bar for a spare, clean rocks glass, and slides it over so de la Vega can pour her some Patrón. "You're right. I lie just as much when I'm drunk as when I'm sober."

The blonde leans over and gratuitously asks, "Servirme." Serve me. Ok, it's not a question. It's a request, but the lovely thing about Spanish is that it's grammatically a command. For Ruiz. Because it's his bottle.

"I swear by drunk texting." Sutton raises her glass. Because everyone else is doing it, she says, "de la Vega." She pronounces his 'v' with a soft b sound. When she says it again, it's clear she was probably not in the bathroom the whole time, and was likely drinking. "Drunk texting is how I learned which men in my life do not have secret teenage daughters." A pause, and then she says to Bens, "You need a place to sleep, babe, you can have my keys to 503. Better than the communal cots." With the snoring senior firefighters.

At Bar:
"Sure you don't need a ride?" Ruiz asks with a slight quirk of one brow. "I don't mind giving you a ride, if you need one," he tells Bennie, dark eyes ticking up to her face, then shifting askance to regard the blonde to his other side. With her commands. What does he look like to her, a trained seal? Not that it stops him from indulging her. On his own fucking time. Which means she's going to wait while he finishes off his own glass of tequila, first.

"I wouldn't have had half the sex I've had without alcohol involved," he murmurs in Isabella's general direction. "Maybe more like two-thirds." Which is probably a little TMI, but whatchoo gonna do? Tequila tickles Sutton's glass as he decants a little more for her, and Alexander as well if he's willing.

At Bar:
"I worked on recuperating for 12 hours and noooww..." Cassidy reaches forward with an open smile for the arrival of her drink and her tongue pressed to a canine as she takes it gingerly in both hands and gives the bartender and approving look. "...I am having a lemon dro-p-." She looks back down the bar and as her lips close on the rim of her cocktail glass she lifts her brow in silent defiant victory.

She rolls her lips inward to collect the sugar that transferred from the rim of the glass as she sets it delicately on a napkin.

At Bar:
"You don't have to go to the station," Alexander tells Bennie, with a frown. "You can stay at my place tonight if you want. I'm not sure if Isolde is back, yet." He leans to gently bump Isabella with his shoulder. "Mind if I crash at your place for the evening?" he asks, oh so innocent. "And, you know, some people actually do not have to be drunk to talk about feelings!" Not that he's throwing any significant looks at the rest of the party. He shakes his head a little at the offer of more tequila from Ruiz, although not without a smile. "I think I'd like to be awake and sober for any sex which may occur," he says, cheerful.

At Bar:
"Alexander's place has a very affectionate cat that apparently likes to curl up against warm bodies," Isabella adds towards Bennie, though her concern lingers on her features there. When Ruiz offers to give the blonde a ride, though, there's a degree of relief that slips over her sunkissed mien, a smile cast the Captain's way.

And one that has her blinking at what he says to her, before she grins, wiggling her fingers faintly. "Guilty there, too. A lot of the time, while I was traveling, the occasional itch that needs scratching. Though that has its drawbacks, too." She smiles as she looks down at her scotch. "Noise complaints, the occasional patrolman's ticket." And then a face. "That one time on camera, mistakes were definitely made." She takes a deep pull of her scotch.

The lean against her shoulder has her looking up, surprised, green-and-gold irises meeting Alexander's dark ones, before that unapologetic, wicked grin cuts through the half-light like a blade. "Are you serious? You'll be lucky if I let you go home at any point this week. Incredible danger, remember, I..." Talk about the reasons why he might want to maintain some semblance of sobriety earns him a long pause.

And there goes the rest of her scotch, slowly, surreptitiously slid to the side.

"Yeeesss. Keys?" Bennie enthusiastically takes up Sutton's offer while graciously turning down Ruiz'. "No, no. I'll be fine. Stay. Celebrate. Drink. Work on upping that drunken sex ratio north of two thirds. Wait, was that Algebra!" No, no it was not, Bennie, but hey, she's proud she can harken back to what she thinks Ruiz told her earlier. She leans over to give Sutton's cheek a kiss goodbye, then Ruiz', then moves down the line to Isabella with another smooch.

"You sir, need a night in your own bed." She tells Alexander. "With your lady. And your cat, and your bird. They miss you." There is a quick snap point, "Snickerdoodle, I forgot to clean up my bed. Sorry, all the blankets are piled in the tub, but the rest is tidy, promise. Keys are under the pot where I left them." Alexander's cheek kiss is actually a double tap tap on the bar near his hand and then she's moving on down the line to lean in and kiss at Cassidy's cheek before Bennie draws up short. "Whoops, don't know you. But have one anyway." SMOOCH! Even if it ends up an air kiss.

At Bar:
Sutton snorts and says, "I definitely wouldn't have fucked you without being drunk off my ass." Wow. T-M-I one-upmanship. She totally wasn't drunk off her ass. She was moderately inebriated. Oh. Right. "That sounds really bad, but it's totally a he was my brother's partner thing," she thumbs to Ruiz, though no one asked, "... and that's super frowned upon in guy code and cop code, but we're not in Seattle anymore are we? No, no we're not." Hi, Cassidy, welcome to your front row seats to stress makes us drink too much. She picks up the glass and salutes Ruiz. "Gracias, bebe." She needs no more alcohol, so of course she shoots that tequila.

"Oh, god. That's..." Sutton huffs in a breath. "Not used to that." She stopped drinking tequila for a while. "Needs lime and salt." And ice. "I don't have to drink to talk about my feelings. I just like to." Don't asks what happens when she's high. She glances over at Isabella & Alexander when the scotch is put aside. She knows what that means. You can tell by the stupid grin on her face. She thinks they're cute. She reaches up, then has to unbutton her top several buttons to get to her keys, which are in her bra. She pulls out a single key on a tiny chain, and hands it over to Bens. The key's attached to a little hard enamel donut with sprinkles on it. She air-kisses when Bennie kisses her cheek. "Be safe, love."

At Bar:
Ruiz shoots Alexander a bit of a dirty look at that. He didn't want to share his Patron anyway. So there! Fucking feelings are fucking overrated, anyway. He tugs at his tie with two inked fingers, trying to loosen its deathgrip on his throat. Suits are so not his jam. Tequila aside, the air between the two of them might be read as slightly.. tense. Though that could be more de la Vega's doing. It usually is. "I got your lab results," he offers to Cassidy, low-voiced, without glancing up at the blonde. The blonde ADA. God, all the blondes. "You weren't that fucking drunk," he mutters at Sutton.

At Bar:
Cassidy slightly turns her head and leans a bit, putting a hand up with palm facing Bennie thus forcing the air kiss. "K bye," she says with her knitted brow like who tf is this woman? Once tipsy lips have safely moved on she reclaims her proper 'bar posture' by sitting up right.

The TMI might as well be freeway noise to Cass, is how it seems at least. But who knows. Maybe she's noting all of this very carefully.

Her bright blue eyes fall on Sutton with amusement and then sliiidddeee over to Ruiz when he mentions the lab results, where the amusement fades. The DA looks then to her drink and swirls around the lemon peel, picks it up and lets the drops fall, then sets it down on her napkin as she speaks, "So I heeearrrd..." and the tone of that 'heard' is likely all Ruiz needs to know. She looks back to him with a smile as she picks up the beverage and says, "Let's not talk about work while we're at the watering hole."

At Bar:
Alexander thinks about something. "I've had a fair amount of sex while intoxicated, but not because I was intoxicated. Mostly just because people wanted to or because we were pretending to do tantric magic but mostly just having group sex." Because hey, it's overshare time. He blinks at Ruiz's dirty look, and Bennie's mention of his animals, and now there's anxiety again. He opens his mouth to apologize - the reflexive apology just clear on his face - before looking guilty and closing his mouth. His own tie is fiddled with, as if in sympathy with Ruiz, although he actually doesn't seem to mind the evil strangly thing. "I should go home. I haven't seen Luigi in a long time. Why were you sleeping in the tub? There's a bed. And a couch. And the floor. The carpet is clean." He has no idea how clean.

A slightly guilty look towards Isabella. "My place? Or I could come by tomorrow, after I've checked on the animals and made sure everything is okay." He stands up, suddenly all nervous energy now that he has been reminded of them. He walks over to Ruiz and bends close to try and say something low to the cop, before saying to Sutton, "It was nice to talk to you. In more detail. Don't die." He just sort of narrows his eyes at the ADA, but Bennie and Ruiz also get included in the 'don't die'.

At Bar:
"Later, Bennie. Let us know if you need anything, okay?" this posed to the other woman quietly as she makes the rounds before leaving.

The glimpse Sutton provides about just how she and Ruiz knew each other before everything else has Isabella blinking, interest flaring over her features. She didn't know that, and she can't help these visible traces of curiosity, though she does understand how that would go against cop code and bro code. "Well," she remarks, simply. "The heart wants what the heart wants, and Life's too short not to go for it." And she almost always does.

She does laugh. "I definitely need some help before I talk about any of that," she says, ruefully, both humor and envy there at those who can, not just Alexander, but Sutton also, when such things take a different, but just as equally noteworthy sort of courage. There's a glance down the counter, though her smile remains. "Didn't used to be this way, though."

But her gaze lifts, eventually, just in time to catch the knowing grin on the blonde paramedic's face. She is not a blusher, with a shameless enough disposition that the prospect is a difficult enterprise at best. The fact that it's been over two weeks, coupled by the fact that it's from a person she's just starting to get to know, has her coughing in a fist, suddenly paying very close attention to all the shiny bottles behind the bar. It might just be a trick of the light, but actual color does rise from the golden undertones of her skin, setting her cheeks aglow.

The grousing mutter from Ruiz at Sutton has her choking down another laugh, though when the slightly guilty look is flashed to her, she nods. "Your place." Decisive as always, when she rises from the stool and the keys are in her hand. "Stay safe, you two." To Ruiz and Sutton, with the latter given the additional, and warm: "Nice meeting you for real, Sutton."

Whenever Alexander is ready to go, she follows after him, her hand finding his and linking tightly.

Once she's just past Cassidy's shoulder, Bennie looks back to her friends and makes an exaggerated grimace at the remaining quartet left from those that gathered after the funeral as if to say, 'Yeeeesh, this one, amiright?'. "Long story! Another day!" She promises Alexander as she takes Sutton's keys and her phone and starts heading out to meet her summoned ride. "Thanks Is...abella." Because a nickname just wants to roll off the tongue there, but she stumbles into the full name for SOMEONE'S sake.

At Bar:
"Agreed, pretty lady." The heart wants what it wants especially when it's on a tequila bender. "We went for it about eight times." She grins. "Sometime, martinis. We'll talk." Danger Will Robinson. "Bens will come. Bring more ladies too. Lovely to finally put a name with your face, pet."

There's a second where Sutton's trying to figure out what lab results means, but Ruiz isn't talking to her. "Oh, for a second there I was like no way do you have my lab results. That's between me and my GP." Sutton hops off of her stool, "I know, but you were." She snorts and totters off toward the ladies room on crimson heels, more or less balanced properly.

Sutton disappears down the corridor to the bathroom, there's a muffled, "Ow." And then silence, so that probably means she's juuuuust fine.

At Bar:
Ruiz listens carefully to Alexander's quiet words, dark eyes ticking up as the younger man pulls away from him. There's a pause. And then a nod, terse, though no smile. He doesn't, as usual, respond to the don't die. Because in his line of work, that's a considerably trickier promise to make. No shortage of idiots with weapons looking to put a cop in the ground either by idiocy or design.

"Buenas noches, Isabella," he offers to the brunette in farewell, already digging for his own keys. "I'm driving," he points out to Sutton as he starts pushing to his feet, and she blows past to the bathroom. He doesn't ask what that was about. As for Cassidy, "I'll see you tomorrow." His first official day back in the office. If anyone's pranked his desk, he will cut them.