2019-10-14 - The Key To... Success, Maybe?

Hopefully, it's too early for it to be packed in here when Hailey comes in out of the rain, arguing with an umbrella that has obviously seen better days: a couple of its spines are bent, making it difficult to close. Eventually, she just gives up and leaves it outside, leaning it against the exterior of the building. Then she comes in, taking a quick stock of the place with the kind of crooked frown that suggests she's looking for someone in particular - like someone on a blind date, skimming faces and coming up short.

It feels good to be back behind the bar. Easton's dressed in his 'uniform' of a black dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and a pair of dark jeans. It's early yet and the lunch crowd is always suppressed by the rain, even here in the PNW. Easton moves about awkwardly, his limp being a little more pronounced than usual as he chats with the few customers.

None of those few customers are whoever Hailey came to meet, but hey! Someone who works here. Her attention lights on this person like a moth that just found a flame, flutters right on over to it. Where flutters = walks, stopping at the end of the bar in the way of a person that wants some service but, like, is totally willing to wait for it. Still, "Hi," she tosses in at some convenient pause. "I'm looking for Mister Marshall?"

Mister Marshall

There is something so specifically civilian about it that Easton's brow furrows. Not just because it's curious that someone is in here looking for him without any idea of what he looks like or that he tends bar, but being stripped of his title feels extra alien. He gives the woman an obvious once over as if trying to place her or just guess what this is all about before he answers, "Well, I'm Easton Marshall. I take it you're looking for me?" Something in the back of his mind wants to connect this to Gohl. As if this is what Margaret warned them about but he pushes that thought back down. For now.

Awww, c'mon, Easton! Attractive chick walks into the bar, lookin' for him, and his mind immediately goes to serial killers? What has this town done to him!

Aside from the whole 'she's one of us!' thing, Hailey doesn't present as anything abnormal. Aside from the rapid little blinks when it turns out he apparently has so much composure that she can't so much as poke-at-him, rapid blinks that end with a quick crease of her forehead when she hastily moooooves on from that. She smooths a smile into place, a pleasant smile, and drums up a totally normal nod. "Yes!" Dial it back, sweetheart. "That is, yes. I am. I'm Hailey Stevenson." She sticks her hand out at him. For shaking. "And now I'm completely off my game, I'm sorry. But I promise, I'm completely harmless."

Said every spider to every fly, but still. She looks like a nice person!

Maybe a few weeks ago Easton would have assumed this was a one night stand come back to haunt him, or maybe their sister/lawyer? He highly doubts he hooked up with anyone and asked to be called Mister Marshall. Captain Sex Paints maybe.

And then she's touching him. No, not like that, the other way. Well the other other way. His expression however doesn't shift at all, just notices the rapid blinking that looks a lot like that didn't work from his point of view. He's not attuned enough to know what she just tried, and he assumes (wrongly) that she was attempting to read his mind or maybe communicate something? Hence making his face as neutral as possible, a 'read this' challenge. "Hi harmless Hailey Stevenson. I'm Easton Marshall, but we've covered that." He offers her a big smile as if to put her nervousness at ease. Too bad it doesn't quite reach his eyes, which remain intently focused on her.

Man, if Hailey COULD read minds, she'd spend way too long trying to figure out the superpowers of Captain Sex Paints.

"Easton," she's quick to chime, like this is news to her, yay! Now she has a first-name, too. It's okay if his smile doesn't reach his eyes; hers is delighted, carried right over when she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a bundle of keys. Normal keys - one is probably her house key, there's the fob for her car, a locker key, and then one big, brass job of the antique variety. It looks like a movie prop, and it takes her a minute to start working it loose from the key-chain to which it's attached. While she's doing this fiddly business, "I worked with your uncle. Doctor Marshall?" She glances up from the key to Easton's smile-free eyes. "Before he died." Which SHOULD be obvious, but around here? "It bears mentioning."

Many and varied is the obvious answer to said powers. A line that Easton has nearly worn out with use.

He raises his eyebrows slightly as she repeats his name with chipper enthusiasm. He manages, just barely to not mockingly echo 'Hailey!' seeing as she's pulling something out of her pocket. Before it's even pulled out he's checking to see if it's a weapon. That's about the how on edge he is right now, back to a time when he first came back when he expected everyone to be out to get him. But it's keys on a key ring which get an intrigued look, right up until she mentions dear old Uncle Monty.

"Oh."

Huh. Well that doesn't make him like her much more, but it does make him that much more interested.

"Yea. He's super dead." Why Easton feels the need to clarify that might be a mystery to her. But in his own mind he's wishing that dead things would stop being non-dead things. Even the dead things he loves, of which Monty is not one.

'Super dead' gets repeated silently, lips moving but no sound coming out of them till Hailey takes a quick breath and comments, "I've always thought of it as more a binary situation. Life, I mean. I guess death is less so." A thoughtful frown surfaces, then gets chased away hurriedly. "That's a pretty deep rabbit hole, though. Philosophically." While rambling, she successfully gets the key the rest of the way off the ring and puts it down on the bar.

Then she gives Easton some famous last words: "I think it's safe." With the tip of her index finger, she pushes it across the bar in his direction. "At least, I've had it for a while, and nothing - " Hold on, she has to squint and cast back through her memories before committing to this. "Well, very few terrible things have happened to me. And nothing unusually terrible. Just the usual terrible." Beam.

Easton watches her try to process super dead and a slightly more genuine smile touches at least one corner of his mouth. He gives a half shrug and says, "Well, I've only ever been alive, so what do I know?" And yet he's been nearly dead and interacted with the dead far more than he ever expected to in this life.

The key being placed on the bar causes Easton to look down at it. The expression on his face about the same as if she just put down a dead animal on the bar.

"You think, it's safe." He repeats the words with emphasis, looking back up at her and he shakes his head, "I would like to buy a fucking vowel here." It's a little dated of a reference sure, but the Wheel endures. "Where exactly did you work with my uncle and why are you here now putting that on my bar and telling me only a few terrible things have happened to you?"

Because it turns out that cursed objects are a thing. Something that Easton learned not that long ago.

"Because frankly ma'am, my uncle and I were never what you'd call close and I'm not sure what the hell you are doing here? With this?"

Hailey just, "That was a lot of questions. Do you want me to just tackle them in order, or start with the most vociferous and work my way down back from there?" Her expression is all patient and willing to wait, hum de dum.

"I would appreciate any and all answers at this point." Easton has pointedly not touched the key at this point though his eyes do occasionally return to it, as if watching to make sure it doesn't go anywhere or try to kill someone. What? It could be a murder key.

Deeeeeep breath in, then. "What do you know?" Hailey shrugs. "I'm not sure. What do you know?" There's hardly a pause before she presses on, because it was a lot of questions! "As for where, I'm not really sure what you know about your uncle's employment, to be honest. So I'm just going to say... at the place where he worked before he died." Her lips move again, recalling, and she guesses, "Can we combine 'why now' and 'what the hell I'm doing here with this' into one? Or do you really need them broken out?"

God, she must be fun at parties.

"Those are questions sweetheart, not answers." Easton patiently mansplains when she starts asking him questions.

"The asylum you mean. Which I would love to hear more words about how that all works, and how anyone ends up working there but answering questions doesn't seem your strong suit, so let's not overtax you." He watches her when he says asylum even though he knows that it's the right answer.

"Again. More questions. Feel free to combine them, break 'em out and alphabetize them. I don't give a shit. But I would really love to know anything beyond you worked with the embodiment of asshole that is my uncle at a place where people were locked up, possibly against their will."

Surprisingly he is fun at parties. This is not a party.

Hailey leeeeans back some while Easton talks, like she needs some physical distance from this conversation, sheesh. "Look, Mister - Easton. Look, Easton. Your uncle was always kind to me, in his way. You don't have to agree with my opinion of him," with the 'before you start arguing' hands held up in an attitude of surrender. "I'm not here to change your mind. And I'm not here to ruin your day, just to drop off a key. If you don't want it." She puts her hand over the thing, hiding it beneath her palm. "That's fine. I'll just keep it."

Honestly, "I'm sorry. I wasn't aware," that he had a hate-on for his uncle. Her heavy sigh well-matches the furrowed brows and HUGE TROUBLED EYES, way to ruin her whole day.

Easton really has a hard time thinking of Monty being kind to people, except in a weird taunting way. He may be biased since he remembers him as the creepy uncle that loved nothing more than to torment Easton with scary stories but it's hard to shake that thought. He looks down the key and pins it to the bar with his mind. He shakes his head and says, "That's not what I said either. I just want to know what is it? And why are you showing up now to give it to me."

Slowly, brows still drawn (have they ever undrawn since she walked in??), Hailey answers, "It's... a... key?" Those big eyes of hers drop to her hand over the key - it's a key, she's right! - then back across the bar at Easton when she lifts her hand off the key. She has no idea it's stuck to the bar, though it is a little weird that it doesn't so much as wobble when she her fingers leave it there. "And I'm here now because..." She exhales, a little frustrated but goshdarnit! She's trying here.

"I knew that Doctor Marshall had a nephew in Gray Harbor. But that's all that I knew about you. Surprisingly," that was a little sarcastic, Hailey, be nice. "People in this town aren't eager to share information with strangers, so it took this long to find you. Well, minus about ten days. The flu." She shrugs about that. "So. Are you keeping it? Or am I?"

"Yes. I agree. It's a key. To what. And did my uncle ask you to give it to me? Are you somehow the executor of his estate? I don't understand this transaction." Easton makes a back and forth finger movement at her. He doesn't love strangers showing up at his bar and handing him objects without explanation that belonged to his now zombie-corpse uncle who may or may not have abducted people to torture them for the good pleasure of dark beings that want to see him and his friends suffer. It's a thing.

"No. People in this town are not." He says it pointedly to include her in the statement seeing as he can't seem to get her to answer any of his barrage of questions beyond the banal. Not that tact and charm were ever his strong suits.

"And yes, I will keep it." Because he can't help himself and maybe it can help get that 'poor Whitehouse girl' out, as he's come to think of her. Not that he knows jack shit about Alice. Or even Violet who somehow started this whole thing.

To what? "I don't know. A door? A trunk? Something, I'm sure." She can do this alllll day.

Hailey shakes her head about the next two questions and says honestly, "No, I just took it with me when I left. As a memento, I guess. But then I started to feel badly about it, like it was stealing." BECAUSE IT WAS. "Then the bad dreams came, and it was just - " She breathes again, shrugs again. " - on my conscience. So I thought I'd get it off my conscience and give it back to his family." Fingers tip toward Easton, the family in question. "He used to worry it," with those same fingers now closed and rubbed together, demonstrating how this worrying occurred.

You know, back when Monty Marshall had all his fingers and skin and life and stuff.

"Anyway. I'm sorry that I," tried to do a nice thing!!!!!!, "intruded. I hope it matters? The key, I mean. Somehow."

Easton regards her skeptically as she runs through a list of things that keys go to. Is she playing dumb? Just dumb?

"You took it." Easton repeats flatly. "Because? He meant so much to you..?" Oh god, he does not want to know if they were a thing. Abort Abort. "What were the dreams about?" That's a safer question, although with her question evasion he doesn't actually expect to get an answer.

He looks down at the key when she mentions worrying, looking at the shinier sections and unfortunately considering his uncles fingers rubbing it over and over.

"You didn't intrude. You also didn't answer most of my questions. Can I get you a drink? Maybe try to pump out one or two actual answers?"

Hailey could be dumb. She's pretty, and pretty doesn't have to be smart, so. "The Marshall Foundation gave me a sizable grant when I was in medical school." So not super dumb, probably. "And, like I said, he was always kind to me." He can interpret that however he wants; she ain't clarifying further.

She doesn't want to talk about the dreams, obvious in the face she makes. But here: "An infinite number of locked doors, and your key - " HIS KEY! " - didn't fit any of them. You know how those nightmares are." Shrug. And then a headshake to answer the offer of a drink, paired to a quick look around like, oh yeah! This is a bar! She totally spaced that.

"You're not very good at asking questions. Just so you know."

His family's foundation. Super. So he's going to mentally shift away from that because he doesn't want to think about Uncle Monty and young grateful medical students, Hailey or otherwise. Agh, mind bleach!

Easton listens to the talk of the dream and shakes his head slowly, "Infinite doors. Huh, nope never had that one." But now at least he expects to. Even if it's only a lower case d dream.

"MY key? Did Uncle Monty call it that? Or is that just your words?"

Easton smiles when she says he's bad at asking questions. "You're right. I'm more used to giving and taking orders than questions. And while we're sharing, you suck at answering question." Or she's good depending on the scale on which one is being graded.

"I mean. It is your key, right?" Hailey head-tilts, looking between Easton and his key, Easton and his key, then shakes it off. "Look. Easton. You're obviously freaked out by this, and I get that. But I promise you, I'm not trying to cause you any problems. I stole something, I wanted to give it back, the end." If she's lying, she's INCREDIBLY GOOD AT IT; the earnestness seems really sincere when she draws back from the bar.

"For all I know, it doesn't go to anything. I lived at that place for two years, and I never saw him use it, not once." She smiles brightly across at the understandably twigged Easton. "But, then, maybe it goes to a room full of treasure. Or a box full of mechanical cupcakes that no one can eat. Or... I don't know, it unlocks the key to someone's heart. That place is weird like that. In my experience." What she's driving at is: "If it opens anything, I hope it's something nice."

"Yes. Yes I am." Easton isn't trying to pretend otherwise, he doesn't trust this whole situation. Not necessarily because of her, though her evasiveness is not exactly helping him.

"I'm sure it goes to something terrible." He is. Because how on earth could anything good come from this. His uncle was involved with Gohl and look how that turned out.

"How did you end up working with him? Was that through the foundation or your school?"

For once he doesn't keep asking questions, he just stops there, hoping for an answer. Hoping it's not the first of those two things.

Hailey glances back at the door, just to make sure she really, super-telegraphs that she's trying to extricate herself here, guy. Her duty is dispatched! Let her escape before the key comes to life and eats them or something! Since he's sure that it goes to something terrible. But questions, she tackles them. "Doctor Marshall floated the job to me, and." Frown.

"I don't know if you've ever felt beholden to someone, but I felt a sort of obligation. Then, when he died, I didn't feel obligated any more. So I left." Beat. "Before you ask! I don't know how to get there." She hooks a thumb toward the door indicatively. "So. Can I go? Oh here!" Hold on, she has something else in her pocket.

It's not another key (thankfully). It's a business card. Hers. 'Hailey Stevenson, M.D.' and some numbers and a hospital email address. "In case you think of more terrible questions to ask later."

Easton is definitely aware that she would like to leave, he doesn't care. She's the one who stole a cursed key from his dead uncle and decided to pop into his bar and it's not like he's restraining her from leaving.

He nods at the story about how she ended up there though, apparently understanding all too well how that can work. He boggles a bit at not knowing how to get there. The concept of it is so foreign that he can't undersand how that even works.

Then she's pulling out something again, but this time he doesn't check for a weapon. He's pretty sure he could take her down before she even got a shot off if need be. What? he thinks about these things. He takes the card and says, "Well thank you.. doctor Stevenson." Reading the card he corrects himself to her proper title at the last minute. "I'm sure I have lots of terrible questions to corner you with."

even if hailey had like a machine gun she'd just roll a bunch of 1s 🙁 🙁

"You're welcome, Mister Marshall?" Like, are they back to the formalities? Okay, Hailey can roll with that. "Good luck," she says and very probably means it. At that, she lets herself out to collect her busted ass umbrella, leaving him to (in her imagination) wander around, trying to fit that key into every lock he finds from now till Rapture.

A faux cheery wave sends Hailey on her way.

Easton takes a look at the key on the bar and grabs a dishtowel to pick it up with it. He carries it to the back office and stashes it in his desk drawer for now. Yea, that's not coming home with him. Though he does lock it in the desk, just in case.

This is fine.