2019-10-14 - Do You Feel Lucky?

The Quinault Casino is only about a thirty minute drive from Gray Harbor and is a rather glittery building set in the middle of absolutely nowhere. There's the usual hallway full of shops that leads to a huge floor that's mostly full of slot machines where old people sit there, plugged in with a card clipped to their shirts, pressing a button over and over and over again. A bunch of bachelor and bachelorette parties running around in groups saying 'woo!' And otherwise not noticing that their futures are sitting right beside them. Every so often a siren and a little light go off and a woman in a short skirt walks over what looks like a paper cup full of whipped cream with sprinkles as a celebratory drink. Who knows what time it is, there aren't any windows to give away the hour of the day, and Clarissa honestly isn't sure how long she's been here. Annoyed after her meeting, she decided to visit one of the standard Blackjack tables and there she sits in a pretty, silk floral dress in shades of pink, with dark pink heeled sandals to match the dark pink straps of the dress. She knocks on the edge of the table with one hand, sipping a neon green martini with the other. When she comes up over 21 she scowls, then tosses a couple more chips over for the next hand.

And then there's the perennially annoying Sergeant Andy Géroux, wearing something between his work outfit and his usually sloptastic t-shirt and jorts. A reasonably nice button up and a pair of Target's finest slacks. No tie and he's still wearing a pair of New Balance sneakers, but one can't have everything. He's clearly not here to gamble, since he's not doing any gambling. Instead he's at the bar, chatting with the bartender and what looks like an off duty maid. Which is to say he's talking with some locals. Certainly makes sense, given he's a local too!

Another loss and Clarissa finds herself at the end of her drink, shaking her head at the dealer who asks if she wants to go another round and swiveling around on the chair to stand and make her way towards the bar to get another one. It's not like she's driving! Her heeled steps slow as she sees that odd mixture of Target and cop. It couldn't be. "Sergeant Géroux?" She asks, sounding a bit surprised to see him as she steps up to the bar a few seats down from him and his lady friend. "Is the Gray Harbor police department sending you to spy on me now?"

"...which is why I'd say Super Mario Bros 3 was the original survivor horror game." Andy finishes his drink and turns to look owlishly at Clarissa. Before speaking to her he says something to the bartender in a language Clarissa almost CERTAINLY does not know. The other man looks at Clarissa, laughs and goes back to waiting on other people. "Missus Robbins. Good to see you out here. I'm afraid that this is one of the few things that happens in this area that doesn't actually have anything to do with you. Do keep in mind that I was born about a five minute drive away from here, and still own property on the reservation." Well, his mom does, but w/e.

"Were you?" Clarissa asks of him being born nearby, setting her empty glass down and pushing it over the bar. When Andy says something and the bartender laughs she glances his way again, this time a bit more suspicious, "What did you just say to him? I assume it wasn't to order me another appletini."

"You're really determined to make everything about you, aren't you?" Andy picks up his drink. It's a beer. A /domestic/ beer. He might as well be drinking kerosine and cat piss! He drinks it. It's cold and frosty! "So why are you here? You decide that you'd gamble away the historical society's money hoping to get a big score? Maybe finally buy that cradenza owned by Princess Di you've been lusting after?"

"It's not my fault I'm always the most interesting person in the room," Clarissa replies mildly, raising a hand to try to get the bartender's attention, "And no, I was here to try to discuss the Gray Harbor casino hoping that the owners would see it as a bad thing, what with it only being a thirty minute drive away. Sadly, they seem to really like Foster, so that angle won't work." She sighs, resting her arms on the counter, "I think it's probably a done deal."

"Oh, come now, I can see a half-dozen more interesting people than you just in this room." Andy glances around, then points at some guy in a Supersonics t-shirt arguing with a floor security person about whether or not it's okay to bring his five year old to sit at the slots with him. The security person is strongly of the opinion that the answer is no, while Supersonics is insisting that the customer is always right. Also at odds is the way that Supersonics is having his child hold his beer, which Security is also objecting to. "Look at him. Now that guy's got a story." Looking back to her he says, "That doesn't make sense. Casino-ing isn't really a business where you're excited for some friendly competition. And the Quinault casino and resort is a benefit to the entire res. It provides jobs and everyone who is a member of the nation gets a check. /I/ get a check with a tiny little cut of the profits."

Clarissa shrugs one shoulder, finally getting another martini, "Maybe they think you're making too much money?" She leans back to look over at the guy arguing with the security guard, "He might have a story, but it's not going to be an interesting one and the ending is predictable. She has a test sip of her martini and from the face she makes it's pretty strong, "I think I need to start looking at damage control rather than trying to stop the whole thing from opening. I don't like it at all, but maybe I can get the Mayor to agree to some sort of clause where some money has to be set aside for things like addiction? And the zoning board only approves x number of places where you can get cash fast?" She lifts her sleek glass again in a perfectly manicured hand. The pink of her nails matches her shoes and at least one has a little flower painted on it that matches the necklace and bracelet she's wearing, where twisting golden vines sprout tiny pink glittering flowers, "No matter how much it might help the town economically, it's still going to have a devastating effect on the people there."

"Set some money aside for reparations, make them promise a $15 an hour minimum wage and full healthcare for all employees, not just full time employees, and require that a percentage of their gross be put toward green efforts and maintaining the local wildlife habitats in Gray Harbor." Andy gives a sniff. "Make it the greenest, most socialist goddam casino on the western seaboard." Andy looks up at her with a crooked smile. "Somehow I think I may be asking too much, though."

Clarissa gives him a rather impressed look, eyebrows rising, "There's no way they'd agree to half of that, but you always come to the table demanding more than you want and see how far they'll go. The bit about wildlife habitats is actually great since it will help them get the judge to throw out the environmental case," she sets her glass down and takes out her phone, texting someone quickly, "And if we push this route rather than one where it doesn't open at all, we'll get more of the public to support it. And the Mayor likes his approval ratings." She sets the phone down and gives him a genuine smile, "It's a shame you ended up in Gray Harbor, Sergeant Géroux. For the rest of the world and maybe you, that is. For those of us looking to improve the town it's refreshing to see someone on the police force able to think outside the box. Or just in general." She has another sip before asking in a more gentle voice, "How is your mother doing?"

"No change. Not good, but a little better than it was. I keep hoping she'll be able to come home, but..." Andy gives a slight shrug and finishes off his beer. "It is what it is. Which is the stupidest, most flaccid thing anyone ever says, but it still manages to be right when it's accurate and accurate when it's right." A long sigh as he leans against the bar and turns so he can watch the floor. "I actually hate casinos. They bring in money, but they're a toxin. I guess this is hypocritical of me since I profit off of this one, but this one is the best possible version of one. It provides jobs to people who struggle, it provides money to the government of a forgotten group. But Gray Harbor has plenty of opportunity. A casino there will offer the city very little, and will take away from the good that this one does. But. Shit. Can't fight city hall."

"Socially you're right, but economically Gray Harbor is pretty depressed," Clarissa likewise turns and leans back against the bar, glass in hand to watch him and then the people out on the floor, "I've looked at the numbers the mayor's office gives out and they're all good. The casino will help unemployment and bring in tourist dollars that the town desperately needs. It's just the social cost they aren't factoring in. And why would they when it won't really impact the bottom line." She looks over at him again, sympathy for the plight of his mother written all over her face before she turns back to the bar, "Fighting city hall is basically all I do these days. The trick is to just make sure that even when you lose they don't win as completely as they otherwise might have. Are you on duty or can I buy you a drink?"

"Social costs hit the bottom line, it just takes longer so people don't think about it. Think of those social ills. People get addicted, people need money, people do bad things to get that money. That's more time police are spending on it. There is a cost in human hours that becomes a cost in actual money. People hock all their things to get money to make that one last big win. Their spouse decides they don't like that. They do provide jobs, increase tourism and give a big boost to the divorce lawyer and pawn shop industry, but we'll all pay eventually. The neighborhood around a casino never stays nice for long." Andy looks back to her with a crooked smile. "You're worth a lot more than I am, so buy away."

"If I'm buying you're not drinking that," Clarissa gestures at the beer he has and then looks around, "Actually this isn't really a great place to have a conversation about the ills of a casino just like this. Do they have restaurants here?" She adds after a second, "Sit down, high end restaurants," lest he think she means a Burger King. "I don't disagree with any of that. And let's face it, Gray Harbor isn't exactly on the up and up. And we definitely don't need a larger case load for your department." Her tone implies this is not because she's worried the poor officers and detectives will be over worked.

"Well, hell, if you're asking me out on a date I guess there's Emily's. It's the nicest restaurant at the casino. It may be the nicest in the county, actually." Andy pushes away from the bar and gives her an appraising look. "If you bribe the host we can probably even get some nice views of the beach. Either way, yeah, the longer I spend near the gambling floor the less I'm enjoying my life."

Clarissa pulls out some bills and lays them on the bar before she stands, cheeks flushing a bit pink, "I've never been here before," she deftly avoids replying to what he actually said, smoothing down her skirt and gesturing for him to lead the way, "Did you really grow up around here? Before the casino was built, obviously."

"I did. Lived here until I was twelve when my Gran died, then we moved to Gray Harbor. I have magical memories of the place, though when I left for the opposite coast they became less magical and more 'how did I survive that?'." Andy moves around the floor so he doesn't have to actually walk between the slots and blackjack tables. Now and again he greets someone with an oonugwito, though one person merits a hac'h chi'i. Andy slows to speak to that person for a couple of minutes before he continues on to the elevator and leads her upstairs to the floor that houses only the nicest restaurant in the place on one side and their lounge on the other.

It turns out it really is a nice restaurant and they expect people to have reservations, so Andy gets to see some classic Clarissa maneuvering with pretty smiles, engaging chatter with the hostess, and just happening to flash a very hard to get credit card when she goes to look for something in her wallet. Still, she's not a miracle worker and they're lead over to the lounge side while they wait for a window table to open up, which just means they get to sit in comfortable cushioned chairs by an equally as pretty view and order drinks while they're at it, "Champagne. If you have a Rose we'll take that. Whatever's at the top of the list," she orders for them, flashing a smile to the waiter as she sits back and crosses her legs, "You mentioned that before, that you had a magical childhood. Was that with your gran or just when your father showed up?"

"Did I? Sorry to repeat myself." Andy leans back in his seat and looks out at the ocean, waves crashing up on enormous rock breakers. "It was everything. This was a mysterious land filled with adventure. Of course, I didn't have a car, so of course it was. There weren't a lot of other kids, so the ones that were here were by default my best friends. We'd become living legends, going into the woods to perform heroic feats and such." When the waiter comes he orders himself a glass of some expensive beer from Belgium, probably made by monks or something. "Though, yes, when my father blew through the whole world became an epic."

"That sounds amazing," Clarissa even sounds like she means it, although he gets a bit of a look when a bottle of champagne, two glasses, and then what he ordered shows up. "Did you ever find anything in your grandmother's house to help you find your father?" She accepts a glass the waiter hands to her that has a little bit of champagne to sample and sips it, "Excellent, we'll keep it." She holds it out to the side for him to fill as she keeps talking, like this sort of thing happens all the time, "Have you told your mother you're looking for him?"

"I try not to bother mom with stuff like that. I know she has no idea how to find him and she'd just get worried and try to help and I'd rather she not worry about it at all. I'm not sure how long it's been since they've seen one another." Andy sniffs the champagne before having a sip, then finishes it off in a couple of gulps. "I would like to find him for a lot of reasons, but I'd like to think he would want to see my mother before she died. I believe he loved her at one point. As much as he could love anyone who isn't like him."

The mention of his mother's mortality has Clarissa looking out the window at the waves a moment, sipping her expensive champagne like someone who knows how much it costs. She should probably change the subject, "You don't seem much like a gambling man, what brings you all the way out here?" She looks back at him and offers a slight smile, "If I'm asking too many questions just let me know."

"I came here as a favor for a friend. She's also looking into the casino. I get the feeling there's more to it, but everyone is just too happy to talk up whatsisface." Andy gives a shrug and holds out his glass for a refill. He's not a neanderthal. He knows that the champagne is probably ridiculously expensive. Of course, his idea of ridiculously expensive and her idea of ridiculously expensive are probably pretty far from one another. "I figured I'd have an in since I speak the language. Literally. But I think I've been away too long."

Clarissa looks a little surprised, "That's exactly why I was here. And I came up with the same results. That's why I said earlier that the whole thing was inevitably going to go through. This was really the last shot." She sighs and raises her glass, leaning forward to toast him, "To being utterly useless."

Andy raises his glass for a clink. "Well, I'm not useless. I'm still a heroic desk cop and can play the harmonica." He knocks it back, gives her a grin and then looks back out at the ocean. "I can't believe how quickly I got pulled into Gray Harbor things. I was foolish to think I could somehow stay up above it. Even birds can't fly that high."

"I'm not going to comment on that harmonica thing, but I want you to know that I've filed that away for later," Clarissa says with amusement, before it fades and she watches the bubbles in her glass, "I don't know what it is about that town. Or maybe I do and I just..." she doesn't finish that thought, instead deciding to finish her champagne.

"It would be easy to endlessly ruminate on how fucked up Gray Harbor is. I've decided I should keep that to only about an hour or two of my day. Otherwise I'd never get any work done. But yes, it's..." Andy gives just the softest of sighs and looks back at her. "So tell me about young Clarissa. Growing up in New York, the scion of the Cheerios fortune, an heiress on the prowl. I can see you as a regular Paris Hilton. Party all night, low-key charity all day."

That actually gets a laugh and she seems as surprised as anyone to hear it, placing two fingers to her lips and clearing her throat, "Cheerios fortune?" Clarissa asks, hiding her grin by taking another sip, "Oh, it was probably everything you can imagine. Lots of dinner parties, lots of walking with a book on my head, lots of being groomed to be the perfect wife with all the right connections and social standing. And nothing about charity is low key in New York. After all what good is it if no one knows you're doing it?" She has another sip then holds her glass out for a refill. The waiters here are really good, only hovering when they're needed. "But yes, as a teenager my nights were very long. I actually toyed with the idea of becoming an art historian, but my mother was insistent I went to school for finance. One of the Ivy's. Best way to land a rich husband, you know," she leans back in her seat and looks wistfully out the window, "Of all the things I hate about my mother, her ability to be right about everything is the worst."

"If only you'd gone to Wharton. You could be first lady." Because they're actually at a restaurant Andy picks up the menu and looks it over. "I'm thinking crab cakes or the seared ahi tuna for an appetizer. Unless you'd like to get oysters." He lowers the menu slightly and waggles his eyebrows at her. Then goes back to looking at his menu. "The tenderloin and scallops sounds good, but... hey, if I get the filet are you going to expect me to put out? Because I'm okay with that, but I won't want to load up on cheese." And because why wouldn't he poke fun at her, "Do you think the sparkling water is gluten free?"

"The tuna sounds good and I probably will get a few oysters," Clarissa ignores the innuendo and sets her glass down, leaning to the side a bit on one of the arms of the chair as she surveys the menu, "And I do eat otherwise prohibited things on occasion when I know it will be worth it." Speaking of, here comes a basket of bread. Delicate little french loaves and butter imported from Vermont, "Not everyone can survive on a diet of coffee, donuts, and beef jerky," she gives him a significant look. Cops! "You were an FBI agent once, right? What was that like?"

Andy takes one of the little loaves, cuts it open, drops a lump of butter inside and then closes it, dropping it to his plate where the butter will melt and either pool into a big wad of butter or else permeate the whole thing from the inside out. It's a toss up. The comment about his diet gets raised eyebrows. "You were there. I mostly subsist on breakfast foods. I'm a big proponent of binner 7/52." Andy gives the end of his bread a nibble, but decides to let it melt a little more. "Being a field agent meant spending a lot of time away from the office, which I liked. If we were working a case, and we were usually working a half-dozen or more, my partner and I would just meet somewhere to strategize or conduct interviews or investigate proper. Going to the office was something we did maybe once or twice a week."

Clarissa also picks up a piece of bread, but she just tears it open dainty with her fingers then butters each side. Apparently she doesn't worry about calorie counts when they're rich restaurant calories. "And now you're a Sergeant, which is mostly paperwork? Will you stay on after your mother..." she trails off a bit, "Sorry. That's probably not something you really want to think about, but you'd said you came back here to be with her. Is it back to the FBI eventually?"

"I plan to eventually go back. I guess it depends on how things in Gray Harbor go. I took the sergeant position because of the added responsibility, but I don't love manning a desk and investigating paperwork as much as I do. But that's mostly pointless complaining. If I wanted I could assign myself a case, but while I'm off solving crimes and having sexy cop adventures my paperwork just sits on the desk not getting done." Andy shrugs and seems about to say more, but then the waiter shows up. "Ah, I will have the tenderloin of beef cooked medium rare with the mashed potatoes, as well as the gorgonzola butter, sauteed mushrooms and onions on the side and the Dungeness crab beurre blanc." Literally the most expensive thing on the menu. Then, with a smile, he adds, "And my lady will take the beef, medium, and scallops plate, with seasonal vegetables. She'll take the gluten on the side." The waiter doesn't look super amused by that. "And we will start with an order of a dozen oysters."

When he orders for her and, more importantly, gets it right, Clarissa isn't sure whether to be annoyed or charmed and that's rather clear as she hands her menu back to the waiter, "Is this where I make a joke about you ordering the most expensive thing on the menu?" She asks, taking a tiny bite of her bread and a sip of her champagne, raising both eyebrows at him, "Or was that your play to make sure that I'd want to get my money's worth out of this evening?" She finishes her champagne and sets the glass down as another waiter appears out of nowhere to refill the glass, "What was the part of being an agent or a cop that appealed to you? It seems like a lot of dangerous but also possibly boring work. Of course I say this as someone who has never had an actual job a day in her life, so everything sounds like that to me."

"You're really going to like it when I eat a third of it and take the rest home for the dogs," says Andy mildly. "Or to make Philly cheesesteaks." Since he's had plenty of the champagne as it is, Andy goes ahead and kills that beer he ordered. "There was paperwork involved, so that was boring. Which makes it nuts that I'm now doing all paperwork. But being in the field was never boring. It helped that I had good luck with partners. My second partner ended up being my best man. She and I are still good friends. I always enjoyed the investigation aspect. My partners generally handled the interviews, but I liked listening. Maybe that'd be boring to you, but the idea of attending regattas or whatever to raise money for raccoons with hip displasia sounds pretty boring to me."

"Mostly I raised money for children in parts of Africa that were either orphaned or too poor to attend school so that they could do so and get at least one hot, fresh meal a day," Clarissa says casually, like that's not a big deal. Of course the undertone there is that it is and Andy is a big jerk for dismissing it. "Before I got married I was working with someone at Princeton who wanted to start up an orphanage that was also a school that did things like that. Despite not loving finance, I'm pretty good with numbers. That's how I met Pierce, actually, at one of their informational meetings. It turned out he was just there to hit on one of the education majors, but I was more interesting. And I spilled a drink down the front of his shirt, so," she shrugs, smiling a tiny bit at the memory although it fades a second later. She takes a much longer drink, "So. You've been married. I've been married. We've got that in common at least." Seems like a low bar.

"I guess that's good too. But it does make me feel bad for all the limping raccoons being left out in the cold." Andy leans back in his seat and looks at her evenly. "We've both spent time in Boston. I think we were even there at the same time." Then there's a stretch of silence while he tries to think of anything else. "We... both enjoy food? And breathing oxygen. We're both three dimensional beings? Fuck." He takes a deep breath and glances sidelong at a waiter. "So you do lots of charity and make the world a better place. I guess that puts you above 95% of people in your income bracket. So I officially don't feel ashamed of being seen with you socially."

"You might feel differently if your coworkers were here," Clarissa says mildly, finishing her glass of champagne yet again as the oysters arrive. And despite what Hollywood would have you believe there isn't really a way to eat oysters that makes them sexy. The look like snot. She picks up a shell and a little spoon to put some sauce on it, "I'm pretty sure most of your department hates me and there's no love lost on my end, as you've probably seen from my complaints."

"I don't particularly care what my coworkers think. Of you, of this." Andy gives a shrug, then turns his attention to the oysters. So gross! He dumps some horseradish on one and shoots it like it's tequila and he's 19 at Cabo. When the horseradish hits his sinuses he has a moment where his eyes screw shut, then he sits back, grins and has himself another. "I don't really think anyone hates you. Well. Most of them. I mean, there are plenty of people who don't even know who you are."

That earns him a sharp look. Everyone knows who she is! She's a very important person! But Clarissa lets it go, piling the shells she has in a little pile off to the side of the ice on the plate, "I go back and forth on..." she trails off a bit, struggling to find the right way to say it, "I've never told anyone the things I've said to you about Pierce's death. How things...changed that day. I feel very close to you, but we're very different people. And I have a hard time seeing us with any kind of future considering what people will say. It could threaten your job. People might question your decision making abilities. Most people already think the worst of me. And it's...I don't want to feel that kind of loss ever again. I haven't even thought about dating anyone in the past year. Opening myself up to that again isn't..." she toys with the stem of her champagne glass, "I'm not saying any of this right. I'm usually far more eloquent, but I've had a lot to drink already."

Andy holds up a hand. "Don't worry about it. This is whatever this is. If it's more than, well, it has been, then that will happen. I do wish you would stop taking what people might say about me into consideration, though. If you want to worry about what they'd say about you, then that's fine. But I'm an adult. If the captain would like to talk to me about my sexual habits, then he and I can have that very awkward conversation, but I don't see it happening. You were cleared and so far as I can tell no one has pegged you for any other crimes. Though it would certainly be a little easier if you stopped telling every cop you see how bad they are at their job."

"I don't tell every cop they're bad at their jobs," Clarissa says somewhat defensively as their entrees arrive, "Just all the ones in Gray Harbor that aren't new." She gives a bit of a smile like maybe that was a joke, "So, is this a date then? While it's not strange to run into you in Gray Harbor since it's a small town, it's a bit coincidental we both ended up here on the same day for the same thing. Not that I'm complaining."

There's a long pause while Andy contemplates his steak, but doesn't actually cut into it. Finally he says, "There's a photo you have of you and your husband in Boston." Which probably describes a lot of her photos. "I think you're in the common. I don't really remember. But in the background there are a couple of people walking past." He uses his fork to cover his steak with the gorgonzola butter, delaying just a minute more. "I'm pretty sure that I'm one of those runners."

There are a number of things that give Clarissa pause there. "How do you know about that picture?" She asks, reaching over for her bag to paw through it for her wallet. She knows the one he's talking about. She put every picture she ever had in storage after Pierce's death except for the one she keeps on her at all times. She pulls it out carefully since it's one of those older pictures that actually got printed out and has been a bit faded and wrinkled with time. "That's impossible. That's something that might happen here, but Boston is huge." And yet. That one guy does kind of look like Andy. She looks at the picture, then him, then down at the picture again.

"You left your purse at my place after, uh, well. I was looking for contact information so I wouldn't have to drive to your place." NOT. SNOOPING. Andy starts cutting up his steak, very much not looking at her. Mushrooms and onions and crab are piled up on a decent sized bite. "I went through some old pictures from college, but they're all on like iPhone 3s or whatever and the resolution is shitty. I have others, but they'll be on some old laptop that's still in storage."

Clarissa still seems a little shocked, staring at the picture in her hand. This doesn't even make any sense. "This doesn't even make any sense," she says slowly, looking up from the picture to him. "We spent some vacations there during school and then we lived there for awhile when Pierce joined a law firm in Boston but we weren't...that was just a small part of my life. How can you be in this picture? And it's the Esplanade, not the Common," she doesn't know why she corrects that point, but she's clearly getting more and more flustered by the whole thing. "We'd taken a quick trip up so he could do interviews our junior year. He proposed to me right after this picture was taken down by the water." She studies it a bit more then finally, carefully, places it back in her wallet. Though that seems like a weird thing to do now that she knows Andy is in it. "You've been looking through pictures? You think I'll be in one of yours?"

"I have no idea. At first I thought that it was just a very, very weird coincidence. And then... well, things progressed, and I started to wonder if there was something more to it." Andy pauses her to actually take a bite of his food, because it's food and he's hungry and she's paying and goddam that's a good steak. "Goddam, that's a good steak." Looking back to her he says, "I haven't found you yet. But that doesn't mean you aren't there. Or, hell, I took road trips to New York and we did all the dumb touristy stuff. Who's to say you aren't in Time Square when I was taking a picture with an off-brand Spongebob Squarepants? Not that I have any clue what it means."

Her scallops are getting cold. Clarissa goes ahead and starts eating, but it's mostly mechanical. This is all so strange. Stranger then a lot of other strange things even. "I didn't tend to go to Times Square unless I was seeing a show," She says, sounding a bit numb, "But what does it mean?" she asks, even though he's just said he doesn't know. "Were we like, somehow destined to meet? I didn't even know there was an event happening at the bar that night, I just wanted a drink!"

"Neither did I. I wouldn't have gone to a singles night. I'm not," Andy pauses and laughs softly before finishing, "uh, I'm not really ready for any kind of a relationship. Well, that was my thought, at least." He's focusing on his food. Because food is very simple. Even if the flavors are so layered and the beef is so well marbled! Yum! The steak is eaten mostly alone at this point, with the crab and mushrooms being eaten separately. The garlic mashed potatoes also disappear under a need not to talk. "I don't know what is happening. I don't know if I'd want to stop it if I did."

A flush rises in Clarissa's cheeks, maybe just from the alcohol. But probably not. She too eats in silence for a little bit. "I don't understand any of this. I've never been one to--not for a long time--" she interrupts herself, looking out the windows as her plate is cleared away and a dessert menu set down, "I don't really believe in fairy tales anymore. Magic and all of that. The only thing that's seemed really real these past few years are nightmares. And if I'm being completely honest, I don't know that I can open myself up to that sort of hurt again. I never expected...well. You."

"You don't believe in magic?" Andy finishes off his crab and sits back, waiting for a second wind to get him through the rest of the steak. As he does so he raises his fork briefly and there is a faint buzz as electricity arcs between the tines. "I don't know if it's magic, but it's something desperately fucked up."

"I don't know what that is," Clarissa says slowly, watching his fork and tightening her grip on her champagne flute, "I don't know why it is being near you impacts me so much. Sometimes I wonder if I'm going crazy. I moved back to this town after all. After everything that happened. And now you. And I want to believe you're a good thing, but what if more of this...weirdness keeps happening?"

"The weirdness is going to keep happening. That seems to be what Gray Harbor is all about." Andy stops the light show and tucks into his steak. "And it will probably just keep happening if you're around me. I've told you some about my upbringing, but have I told you about my father?"

Clarissa shakes her head, "You told me you didn't like to share your childhood with people and that you're looking for him," she pauses, like he just jogged a memory, "Birds. You mentioned birds l, I think."

"I should find him, I think. Though I haven't seen him in well over a decade." Andy looks at the table, as if hoping more alcohol will have appeared, then goes ahead and sips his water like only a desperate man would. "His name was Bayak. Is Bayak, rather. Which is the name the Quileute give to, uh, raven. The, uh, trickster god. An important figure in most northwest native belief. He called himself that and so did everyone else. Including my gran, who didn't tolerate bullshit."

Clarissa closes her eyes a moment then gestures to the waiter, some kind of rich person shorthand for we're going to need more champagne. It magically appears and they have two full glasses within moments. Clarissa picks hers up and unlike all the other times she use had delicate sips, she doesn't stop until the glass is empty, "More," she tells the waiter who dutifully fills it up again, "Just leave the bottle." She takes another sip, making a bit of a face because that's a lot of alcohol to have at once, "So. Your dad was a big fan...?" She's puts that out there to give him an out.

"He did seem to think highly of himself, yes. Look, I don't know what I believe. He used to take me out and tell me the stories of my people, and all the peoples of the PNW. And when he told them to me he brought them to life. But then I left and didn't see him for a long time and it seemed like he might just be a crazy person. There were people on the res who treated him with great respect, but that can all be waved off." Andy picks up his drink and finishes it off since someone is handily there to refill it when he's done. "Look, I'm not saying that I'm... you know, whatever, a raven prince or something. I just know that sometimes when I listen I can hear birds speaking."

Clarissa looks at him very seriously for a moment. And then she bursts out laughing. Loud enough that several people look over, "You're the prince of birds?!" She covers her mouth but that doesn't stop the laughter that's bringing tears to her eyes. "How many different words for worm do they have? How many birds do you know that can play with electricity like you do?"

Andy just looks at her, expression bland. At her question, though, he says, "I know a hen who can. Scrawny, but with a loud, grating bawk."

That shuts her up instantly and Clarissa purses her lips, raising her glass to him, "Touché." She has another sip, looking at him evenly, "I don't honestly know what to believe anymore. I thought Pierce was crazy and it turned out the things he said were true. I suppose I shouldn't act like you might be any different."

"My father told me that there's another world. Then he showed it to me. I don't know who or what he might really be. If he's from the other world, or just saw it enough that he started to get confused. But this isn't an idea that, once you are exposed to it, will benefit you by ignoring." When the waiter comes over again Andy gets the dessert menu and looks it over with as much prim irritability as one can manage when reading a dessert menu. "I'll take a slice of the vanilla bean cheesecake and an order of the chocolate mousse and the lady will have another half-dozen gluten free oysters."

"The lady will have the flour free chocolate torte," Clarissa corrects with a click of her tongue. He got that one wrong! She waits until the waiter is gone to put her glass down, "I know ignoring it doesn't work. After Pierce died I left as soon as I could and went back to New York. It was only a day or two before I realized I couldn't stay. I still dragged it out for two weeks before I moved back. It's like...it's like Gray Harbor is cursed and it passes it on to everyone that crosses the town line. It doesn't let you ignore it. And it punishes you if you try."

"There's something to the area, I think. I couldn't do any of this stuff when I was away from here. I could barely remember most of the fantastical details of my youth. But I come back and there it all is. It's like..." Andy struggles for a moment, then says, "When you were a kid did you ever see those things where there's like a hidden message or something but it's in light purple and covered with red splotches so it's impossible to make out unless you use a red piece of plastic? I think this might be like that. There are pure messages and the rest of the world hides them away in static."

"I wish the static was louder," Clarissa says with a sigh, leaning back in the chair and taking her half full glass with her, "I don't want to have to deal with any of this," she pauses with the glass raised halfway to her lips, "this...connection we have is the only good thing to come out of whatever it is this town does to people."

"I'm not sure what it is. I'm not even sure how to go about finding out. It's..." Andy sits back in his seat, looking at his desserts like someone who is going to be asking for a doggie bag here shortly. "Honestly, maybe we should just get a room here and not worry about it until morning."

"I've been comped a suite," Clarissa says casually, not looking at him and instead holding her glass out for more champagne. "I think they're hoping I spend more money in the casino."

Andy snorts. "Weird how the people who least need free shit always seem to get it." That said, he has himself a big forkful of all the free shit he got himself on Clarissa's dime. "Damn. This chocolate mousse is legit. The cheesecake is okay, a little grainy, but this mousse? Life changing." He dips his fork for another go, then holds it out for her. There's nothing particularly sensual about the gesture. He might as well be saying here comes the choo-choo with the expectant look he gives her.

"Why is everyone so obsessed with getting me to eat unhealthy things?" Clarissa rolls her eyes, but dutifully leans forward to take the offered taste. She then closes her eyes when she sits back, lifting a napkin to dab at her lips, "It is pretty good."

"Pfft. Pretty good." Andy rolls his eyes and goes ahead, proceeding to devour the rest of his dessert between breaths. "You should be less concerned about eating healthy. I'm not saying you should come over to my place for a dinner of Arby's, but you should come over to my place for a dinner of Arby's."

"So we're stepping it up for our second date?" Clarissa asks, hiding a grin by taking a bite of her torte, which is so tiny it's really only about three bites anyway. "Are you sure you want to spoil me that much at the beginning of whatever this is?"

"Clarissa," says Andy, giving her his best rakish look, "I'll upgrade to curly fries and let you get a shake. That's how much I value whatever it is that's happening here."

There's a laugh before she can stifle it and Clarissa pays the bill, tucking her wallet back into her bag, "I didn't know I meant that much to you. And a shake?" She smiles as she stands, smoothing down the silk of her skirt, "I haven't done this in a long time, do I need to use some kind of line? Like, the view from my room is lovey, would you like to see it?"

"I was going to suggest we pack up here and head out to Bonertown, but I guess your way works too," drawls Andy. Not that there's anything to finish up. It's kind of amazing he's not napping already. When she rises he does the same thing and offers her his arm. "Shall we?"

For a moment Clarissa looks like she realizes how far from type she's strayed here. Then she rolls her eyes and takes his arm, gesturing for him to lead the way.