2019-10-15 - Midnight at the Grizzly

The diner is always open. Always. And there are always a handful of people inside-- even late hours. And so even after midnight, on a drizzly, rainy night, the lights are on, the bears are dressed in their finery - several with sleeping masks or old-fashioned sleeping caps on, there is one drunk guy sobbing in a booth and an EMT pair wolfing down food and snickering to one another. There is also a very, very rare sight: a woman in a baggy oversized black tee-shirt, ripped black leggings, and boots, purple hair french-braided and eyes darkly lined, is wiping down tables with a thoughtful look on her face while apparently, The Phantom of the Opera's - the broadway musical, not the movie - soundtrack plays. Gina even seems to be humming along to it, not minding the loud sobbing cries in the booth at all. Nay, is that even a little half-smile? For the sobs or the music? Who knows.

Alexander is one of the more reliable late night customers at the Den, even though he's been absent for a while. No surprise, with the flu going around - and he does look like he's lost a little weight. He slouches his way in, eyes darting this way and that, looking for potential threats. His gaze rests on the drunk sobber for a moment, studying the guy with an impassive expression, before he makes his way towards the counter to take a seat. "Miss Castro. I see you're pretending to work this--" a glance at the clock, "morning. And the music isn't appalling. Is it a special occasion?" His voice is flat as he watches her, but there's the slightest uptick of one corner of his mouth.

Abusing the brief corner lights of the diner, there stood an unsavory fellow awaiting an even more unsavory other called Nasir that encroached into the alleyway beside it soon after. Some bills were exchanged, a few clasps of hands, and a powdery bag was laid on the latter's hand alongside a syringe, presumedly clean, and a spoon. A spoon. He stood behind a dumpster atop a sea of cockroaches and forgotten, dirty news of days gone by. With a shoelace for tourniquette, he wrapped his right hand's bicep and pulled up a hard, jacketed sleeve that struggled to give in on every fold on the way to the shoulder. His veins flared against hard flesh, one painted a darker shade of crimson from its recent collapse, forcing him to search for a different intravenous path with side-long glances as he prepared the mix.

Some spittle, a little mound of the powder and his zippo, he mixed the contents on the spoon and let it heat up into a nice, black and poorly refined tar made gooey, which he then suckled into the syringe. After some proper alignment, he injected his wrist and let in a proper flow of that charcoal for heroin. Another track mark for a limb already littered in them. He threw the syringe carelessly aside and loosened the tourniquet, dropping the lace by his feet as he groggily stumbled out of the alleyway. Heroin always made him hungry, and it was no different here, as his constricted pillows zeroed down on the diner's door. He pushed it open with a cramped arm, the music growing shallow as it spills to the outside in his entering, before it closed again. He didn't bother with faces- he himself was a new one in this diner, and struggled a slow, groggy pace on over to a booth where he didn't just sit, but rather sprawled out on.

He wore a dark flannel jacket with munched and wrinkled sleeves, ragged jeans of the loose kind, timberland boots and what appeared as a collar with a Sunni symbol hanging from his neck, just like slobber did from his lower lip.

There's a bell over the diner door that rings anytime someone enters - but the staff being who they are, it's about a 50-50 chance anyone will look up. Today, Gina doesn't. She just continues to efficiently and systematically wipe down the tables. But then there is someone saying her name, which means she WILL stop, and glance over as if she is making the LARGEST concession in the universe, and said person should feel honored by the attention. "Clayton. You're looking shitter than usual." A factual observation. "You want something or just stopped by because you missed my face while I was gone?" A small smirk, before her attention is drawn to the man stumbling in and sprawling on the booth, groggy and slobbering, with nary a change in expression. Instead, she also calls out, "Hobo-chic. Two hour limit to napping in booths. And that's after you order shit. This ain't a hostel." And then she returns to finishing her group of tables.

"Should have seen me a week ago," Alexander mutters, running a hand through his hair with a grumpy expression. "Compared to then, I'm a GQ model. But yeah, I was hoping to get some food. Burger and some fries, maybe?" He sounds like there's only a 50/50 chance of things like that existing in this rarefied atmosphere. His eyes flick towards the door when the bell rings, and when he sees who it is, there's an exasperated grunt. "Drunk?" he wonders towards Nasir. "Not driving again, I hope."

"Waffles!" Nasir called out immediately after Gina, the way he stared off into the opposite chair to his booth denoting he wasn't exactly aware of things at the time. In fact, he had absolutely no spatial awareness to speak of, the poppy made sure of that. He suckled in his lower lip at Alexander's question, and actually turned; tilted his head sideways and met the man standing from where he sat with a toothy, salivated grin. "Fuck no man, I promised myself that very night I'd go sober right there and then," he claimed, his voice strangely modulated and aloof. He had a hard time focusing his constricted pupils on Alexander, very obviously being under the effect of something. "Wait, not waffles-.... How about; how about a nasty ass burger with some big-ass french fries? Yeah. Hell yeah man."

Gina's look towards Alexander when he makes his order makes it seem like Alexander has asked for some giant, unreasonable favor-- but she sighs and very magnanimously moves to slip behind the counter, collecting a notebook and writing down the two orders, glancing up to look from Alexander to Nasir. She seems rather unruffled by the very questionable man in the booth. "You get one more chance to change your mind, hobo-chic. Once the order's in, you're charged." She says, "Sure about the burger?" Her attention also slides back to Alexander, "Busy time in town while I was gone, huh? It feels like it. The notes are off."

"He really wants the omelette," Alexander tells Gina, with a tilt of his head back towards Nasir. It's very bland, and he meets her look with the resignation of someone who is used to getting those looks. He slides onto a stool at the counter, choosing one where he can keep an eye on Nasir and Gina. The EMTs and other intoxicated guy apparently aren't as interesting at the moment. "Bit busy. Had a lot of bodies drop on the thirteenth, and amusingly, only two of them were the serial killer ghost, probably."

There was genuine hurt in Nasir's eyes as Alexander very treacherously chose to sit off in that stool indeed, away from his booth- couldn't he see the invitation clearly implied by the spearheaded stare Nasir set on the sit right opposite to him? Clearly not, so insanity kicked in - one funneled by narcotics - and he took hold of a plastic pepper mill center in his table and flung it across the room at the back of Alexander's head, accurately enough. Whether or not it hit, it didn't matter. "HEY MAN!" he shouted incoherently, waving out a palm left and right in violent swing of his limb. "Come SIT WITH ME, WHAT THE FUCK!" was his later demand, his head shaking disappointingly before looking at Gina next; "Yeah, whatever, the omelet man. I'll take the omelet."

Is that a flicker of irritation on Gina's face when the pepper mill is thrown? Maybe. But it disappears so fast it could've been an illusion. "Throw my shit again and you can join Ms. Pansy." Gina says flatly. She points up, to the... well, the large, snarling taxidermy'd bear head looking down on the diner from the rafters. "One omelette it is."

It's just after midnight, the soundtrack from the Broadway musical 'The Phantom of the Opera' is playing, and besides the somewhat out-of-it Nasir and the vaguely unkempt Alexander, there is a drunk man sobbing to himself in another booth, a pair of EMTs, and one purple-haired, black-clad Gina behind the counter.

Midnight, the witching hour. Or something like that. It's also one of those times where Type A's with problems go joking in towns where lots of people seem to get murdered, which is possibly what Vivian's been doing since when she steps through the door she's got on capri exercise pants in an annoying shade of blue, running shoes, and a track jacket that is too matchy with the pants, a pair of ear buds tucked into her ears and her blonde hair pulled up into a ponytail.

Clunk! The pepper mill pings off the back of Alexander's head and the investigator yelps in surprise more than pain. He spins around and tries to catch it as it rebounds, but only succeeds in batting at it, sending it skittering down the counter in a spray of pepper. Probably not making Gina's irritation any better. "Ow! Son of a bitch!" He glares at Nasir. "Use your words!" But, for some godforsaken reason, he actually gets up from where he was sitting, and goes to slide into the booth across from Nasir. "You're an asshole," he tells the man, rubbing at the back of his head. Before glancing back to Gina. "I still want the burger and fries. NOT the omelette." Very determined about that. Seeing Vivian come in, he raises a weary hand in greeting. "Hey, Dr. Glass." As if this is totally normal. Then again, for this hour at the Grizzly, maybe it is.

Nasir's boots rose in up and down amusement, eagerly tapping the floor in discordant rhythm as Alexander stood up, excited like a spoiled child about to get his just, spoiled want seen through. He even tapped the table with his palms, giving a drum set of arrival for Crazy Clayton until he sat down. "Hey man, you know I didn't mean to hit you, I was just trying to get your attention. " An excuse, not a particularly good one at that, and it was somewhat distracted as his gaze lingered on the looming head of the bear arched downwards with an open, massive maw. He took a deep, neck-straining breath and gave one single, submissive nod of the head for Gina. No more shit getting thrown around, for sure.

Finally, he turned to Alexander again, entirely oblivious of Vivian's entering. "Doctor Glass? No man, his name's Mister Glass. And I've been told I look a lot like him, too-- from the comics, right? You're kind of a superhero yourself. Well, I don't know if I'd call you a 'superhero'-.... How about the hulk, you look like a geeky little tweep and when someone makes you upset, pow! 'Angryloid'!" Nasir laughed after his explanation, all entirely at Alexander's expense, and made an attempt at copying the man's choleric tone as he repeated; ""Don't touch me!"" from that one time.

"Mister Clayton." Vivian greets in return, noticing the wave, and probably assuming the Dr. Glass part, since she still had the ear buds in her ears. However, she politely reaches up to pull them free, looping the cord around her neck before she starts to move further into the diner. There's a quick check of her phone in her pocket, a flicker of a frown crossing her face for a split second. Whatever she was maybe expecting, or not expecting, it seems to just get filed away as one more irritation in a long list of her night. And no one's thrown anything at her head tonight.

Gina continues to stare at Nasir for an extra few seconds, not looking upset... but very much like he's some sort of project she's considering how to start. Eventually though, her attention is drawn by the annoying shade of blue. Despite apparently being the employee on shift... she neither smiles, nor greets Vivian, nor makes any attempt to acknowledge the woman beyond that glance. Instead she turns around to add the omelette to the orders waiting. There's the clear sound of someone cursing when that item goes through. In frustration? Rage? Who knows. It's in the kitchen. Gina looks uncaring, and starts pouring herself a cup of coffee. "Aaaaanyways. Text me sometimes about that flu shit you mentioned. I told you. I've been out of town." This to Alexander.

"Sure," Alexander says, not even bothering to try and sell the fact he doesn't believe Nasir at all. He sits back in the booth, staring at Nasir, his hands falling to tap out their own rhythm on the table top, although softer than the drum roll. He does snicker, briefly, as Gina puts the fear of bear in the guy. He does raise a hand to gesture at the blonde woman. "That's Dr. Vivian Glass. I don't read comics. And I suppose that's not the worst thing I've been called." He rolls his eyes at the imitation, although there's some genuine embarrassment there, too. Which might fuel his irritated, "And what are you on tonight, Mr. Ibn Khairan?"

Gina's coffee gets a wistful look. "Don't suppose I could have one?" It's a testament to the dicey customer service that he honestly seems uncertain whether the answer is going to be yes. "And yeah; although not much to say. Flu came through the town like a hurricane. Ten days of misery and horror, including getting some very freaky dreams." The 'd' in dreams gets a bit of emphasis. "You're lucky you missed it."

Then he looks to Vivian, and his voice softens. "A bit late for a jog. How are things?" he asks.

It was difficult for Nasir to keep track of it all, what are you on tonight, and he smiled; he giggled and snickered, his nostrils flaring as a heralding of a hard, strained snort of rugged amusement. He laughed it all out, his body sinking into the booth's couch and dropping to the left by a shoulder, as if in on some secret; some mystery he wouldn't share with anyone for the life of him, it was his. It was his little secret, so naturally he told Alexander immediately. "The Black Death!" was his proclamation, almost proud- it may have been intended for Alexander's ears alone, but even bystanders outside would've heard his shouting beyond the threshold of the music's loudness.

Widening his eyes, he realized the force of his voice and looked back, over his shoulder, towards Vivian. Her poised, somewhat professional profile coupled with the irritation on her face that feels immediately daunting, forcing the Jury-rigger to sink further into the couch, letting only the superior half of his head peak out while he looks at her. Warily. "Is that your girlfriend, Crazy Clayton? Holy shit," he mumbled in hushed questioning, for the man closest to him.

It really doesn't matter to her if Gina gives her more than a look or not, because Vivian's going to put in her order anyways, no matter what, and just assume that someone'll get it for her, "Coffee, and whatever fruit you've got."

The question about how things are, well, that comes with a complicated answer as she glances back towards Alexander, "Wonderful. Do you know how hard it is to get your money back on canceled plane tickets? Shockingly difficult. Nevermind the fee for cancellation at certain places, they really hate that. But wonderful, so very wonderful. At least I'm going to broach the topic of things, now."

At Nasir's words, Gina pauses a moment to look Vivian over again. Then look at Alexander. Then snort in disbelief, shaking her head before she adds caramel syrup to her coffee, takes a sip, adds more, takes another sip... then begins working on a second cup. "Flu season again, huh? I remember I caught a flu once as a kid." Mildly spoken, before the two cups of coffee are brought over and settled in front of Alexander and handed to Vivian. Since Vivian doesn't ring any bells, Gina gestures towards the counter, "Sugar's up there with the creamer." Gina's attitude implies she's not about to go fetch it for Vivian. Her eyes slide towards Nasir, studying him for a moment-- before she snaps her fingers, with sudden recognition, "Right. Ibn Khairan. Amalia's brother." She confirms to herself, before she looks back to Alexander, "He makes you look cute." And then looks towards Vivian now, "Whole or fruit salad?"

There's an actual cringe and recoil from that shout, and Alexander just stares at Nasir. "Right. Indoor voice, man. Indoor. Voice." At the hushed question, he snorts, and gives Vivian a little half smile. "No, she's my shrink," Alexander tells Nasir. "Do you want a referral?"

He turns a little to grimace sympathetically at Vivian. "I've never tried it, but I imagine so. Did Miss Levin get in contact with you about properties? She said she'd look through her father's paperwork." He watches her with dark eyes. "And, uh, good luck with that? Is that the appropriate thing to say? I don't know how conversations like this are supposed to go. But you can sit with us if you want." It's very appealing, what with the sprawled shouty guy who is clearly high on SOMETHING, and...Alexander. Which Gina just can't help but point out, it seems, so Alexander snorts with something like amusement. "Thanks for the coffee, but not for the salt, Miss Castro. But this flu was something a bit different. Nastier than usual. Think it came from Over There," he admits, with a slouchy sort of shrug.

The door swings open with a woosh as Cassidy applies too much force to pulling it open. But she is petite and not very strong so no damage.

The blonde attorney does not appear irritated or mad, it's just her pace of things that led to the mild door mistreatment. She walks to the counter and collects a few containers of cream, leaves the sugar.

As she walks past Gina toward a booth she simply rattles off her order, "Huge coffee. Sourdough toast. Western scramble with hashbrowns." And as she settles into the Cop Booth(tm) she pulls out her phone and starts browsing. "And if you don't feel like walking today, I'll go over there and pick it up myself when it's ready."

There's constant, agreeing up and down of Nasir's head at Alexander's instructions. Indoor voices, man, and he makes for a following 'shhhh' soon after, making a silent vow never to shout again. Instead, he scoots further into his booth, as if making unclaimed space for Vivian to sit as she neared the counter. "Hey man, I think I need a shrink for sure," he mumbled, his words a jumbled mess, while his mouth puckered outwardly in an overtly dramatic fashion; "I need to get out of my head," he added aloud, his head shuddering visibly with reverberation; "It's a bad neighborhood," followed soon after, the statement done strikingly as he looked at Gina, and only Gina.

"Thank you. Whole fruit, if you've got it." Vivian replies to Gina, accepting the coffee and getting to her feet so that she can relocate to the table with Alexander and Nasir, because there's nothing at all strange looking about that group sitting together.

"She did not, no. But I'm not going to just waste time waiting, either." She sets the coffee down, sliding into the cleared space with a shrug of her shoulders, "I'm not sure there is really any proper response to the situation. I'm fairly certain that Hallmark doesn't make cards for it either...Putting 'Sorry Your Boyfriend is Cheating on You' on a card with a sad puppy just seems off." She doesn't bother with sugar or cream, and despite the heat of the coffee she takes a sip from it almost irritatedly. Which is always a bad move.

Nasir might not recognize Gina: she left after high school, has been back intermittently since, and she was probably a freshman when Nasir was a senior. But hey, Gina was one heck of a freshman. Maybe he will! But after the recognition, Gina doesn't look back, going back behind the counter to put in the appropriate requests, before she heads back to the kitchen to put in the requests, and ring up the EMTs who are waiting to pay.

"You probably do," Alexander tells Nasir. It's not even mocking, just stating an observation of the facts as he sees them. He's sitting across from Nasir, and the two have just been joined by Vivian, who is way too good for both of them.

He gives Vivian a grimace. "No. I checked. Lots of sorry cards, none covering that particular situation." He also takes his coffee black, and takes a sip just after she does, as if in empathy. "Still going to grab a place by the shore?" He glances over to Gina, watching her attend to work for a moment or two.

Daisy rolls by the diner outside on her skateboard and pops it up into her hand to carry it with her inside. She makes her way up toward the counter and finds herself a seat somewhere, plunking herself down and tucking the board by her feet where it won't trip anyone. She has no illusions about the service, so settles in to wait, instead people-watching those already gathered.

'Probably' was a term Nasir didn't have wired into his brain. While heroin lingered in his system, he dealt only in absolutes. Just like how he absolutely looked at Gina at that very moment, his gaze so locked in the back of her head as she wandered to the back, trying to make sense of who she was; of who her hair spoke of. It was difficult, but it didn't stop him from trying. Once she disappeared from scene his gaze flickered from Cassidy to Daisy; from Daisy to Cassidy, and finally back on Alexander, then Vivian, then Alexander again. There was a pattern here- it all culminated on Alexander. "Where the fuck are we?" he asked all the sudden, slapping his palm down on the table beside Vivian's. It wasn't a hard slap, but more so a motion to assert just how shocked he was of how things were developing.

If Vivian had any experience with dejected drug-addicts, it'd be perhaps too obvious that he was absolutely wasted out of some unsaid drug.

Cassidy reaches for a stick of gum from her purse and starts chewing as she awaits her order. Otherwise it's eyes glued on her phone and zoning things out.

"I was planning on it, yes. Although maybe I'll take a page from Isabella's book and get a house boat." One that some day (ha) she can sail right away from this town with. The slap against the table causes Vivian to glance towards Nasir, no judgment in those eyes, simply a quick double-check to make certain that he isn't about to drop dead at the table.

"Dr. Vivian Glass." She offers, lifting her hand from the table to hold it out in his direction, "It's a pleasure to meet a friend of Mister Clayton's."

Alexander stares back at Nasir. "Existentially or geographically?" A pause, before he relents and says, "Grizzly Den Diner. You ordered the omelette. And still owe me for the mailbox." Just in case Nasir has forgotten. Speaking of, he mutters to Vivian, "We're not friends. He crashed into my mailbox. And the houseboat is nice. I'm not sure I trust any floor that moves, but I accept that others are more adventurous than I."

His gaze drifts as he scans the interior of the diner, resting briefly on Daisy, offering the younger woman a nod, before moving on to Cassidy at the Cop Booth(tm). He stares at the ADA with a flat, intense sort of look that goes on far too long for politeness.

Daisy rests her chin on her hand and studies those around her. The slam of Nasir's hand coming down on the table nearby causes both brows to go up a bit. She'd have flinched if she hadn't seen it coming, having been studying him at the time. "Not in Kansas anymore," she answers to his question, even though it was very much not asked of her. "I'd be worried about it leaking and ending up on the bottom of the harbor," she opines idly on the topic of houseboats. "Though the rocking could be soothing, maybe." She gives a nod to Alexander in return, idly bouncing one knee as she waits for someone to eventually take her order.

It must be the eventual undeniable sensation of 'eyes on' but Cassidy (eventually) looks up from adorable cat videos and bikini fitness Instagram models. She looks around to see where the 'eyes' feeling is coming from. Then she spots Alexander and stares back. Her pupils contract as she focuses, making eye contact.

After ringing people up, Gina returns towards the table, carrying several dishes on a tray in her arm. First, Alexander's plate. The burger to his usual specifications, fries perfectly crisp and golden. For Vivian, bowl which holds a crisp ambrosia apple, grapes, and an apple, none peeled but all freshly washed. Cassidy gets a coffee: the rest of her order isn't done yet, after all. And finally-- Nasir gets his omelette.

The Omelette of the Grizzly Den is the sort of thing people use as punishments, a hazing rite, or a dare, and for good reason. Despite how good the scrambled eggs are, or literally anything else on the menu, for some reason, the omelettes are... well. What's set before Nasir's plate obviously broke at some point during the flip, but someone attempted to hide this with a liberal use of cheese. Of course, then they burnt the cheese- and the egg, leading to a dark, tan bit of egg on the outside that resembles butcher's paper, with a few wrinkles. This is very obvious as the non-brown parts have a slick, moist sheen to them, and the egg seems to be forming mini canyons around the pale strips of onion scattered on it. It also seems like someone attempted to fix the burnt portions by adding more eggs, as there is a distinctly paler layer on the edges that...is that a jiggle? Well. It may be slightly undercooked. Ignore how it almost forms little drops on the edges there. And the whole thing has been scattered with green onions. You know. For aesthetic appeal.

Yeah, the burger and fruit were probably better options.

Alexander holds the eye contact for a while, silently, not even otherwise acknowledging the ADA. Until his food arrives. Then his eyes skip away to Gina, and he offers her an honest-to-God smile. "Thanks. This looks amazing." And then. The omelette. He stares at it, and his lips twitch, because sometimes Alexander can be a complete jerk. "That...also looks," a long pause, "amazing." He hides his smile with a bite of his burger.

Cassidy lifted her phone and took a picture of the staring creepo before he looked away. Once he does, she happily goes back to fitness inspiration memes.

I've taken a hit, and I don't care about anything anymore, summarizes Nasir's existence better than any other term, or approach. On that plate there could've been cockroaches coated in a nice sheen of parmesan, and he probably would've gone for that fork and scooped a cut of that burnt, toasty eggspread he ended up shoving into his mouth anyway. He chewed as if he had taken glass shards in instead, with how many eggshells looked still caught in the mix. He made a gagged, pained expression as if he was about to add his own brand of omelet flavoring on Alexander's burger. It doesn't happen, however, instead he swallows.

Mistake.

The sour taste, the many unnecessary condiments, even the texture, it was all wrong. But his lifestyle was wrong - and he was wrong - and he deserved this. Like a trooper wading through a shitfield of wires and gunfire, he leaned down and asserted dominance of his omelet while taking a hold of Vivian's hand, when she presented it. And he'd never let go of that hand, not willingly- he'd anchor his fingers around her appendage with a fury while his left worked that fork into the omelet, feeding him clumps of black klutz.

Daisy can't help but eye the omelette. "Oh, man," she says with a wince. She's seen the omelettes before, but never one quite so mangled and disastrous. And then not only does Nasir eat a bite, but he keeps eating it. Her face crinkles up into a look of sympathy and disgust maybe. She's been high enough to eat some weird shit before, but the truly terrible is left to Grant, the human garbage disposal. "Can I get a uhm, cheeseburger with cheese fries and a coke and a piece of apple pie?" she asks when it is her turn to give her order. Then she asks Vivian, "What sort of a doctor are you?" curiously.

"The houseboat is very nice." Vivian agrees with a smile, an actual one. Not one carefully crafted to hide all the things making her unhappy at the moment. There is also a smile for the fruit, which appears safe in comparison to Nasir's omlette. "Thank you." She offers before reaching for one of the slices of her apple, leaning back in her seat before she takes a bite, carefully chewing and swallowing as she weighs her next words.

This is probably not the first time she's had someone cling to her hand, and out of deference to the shitshow that omlette is, and the clear indication of altered states, she doesn't try to take it back. Instead she keeps on about the rest of things, "Part of me considered just getting an apartment in the building. Less to move, but then I'd have to see Byron and potentially her if she came by. Which, honestly...I'd like to believe that I can be an adult about this, but I'm finding that my thoughts continue to circle the petty drain, and I want to figure out a way to send his car into the ocean with all his suits inside of it."

Which is a potentially problematic statement when Daisy's question reaches her ears, and the answer to that question is, "Psychiatrist."

Very smart, Daisy. Local knowledge saves lives - Gina waves a hand vaguely in acknowledgement of Daisy's order, "Yeah, sure, whatever." Her eyes are on Nasir's face for a moment or two, impassive, as he eats the omelette, before she glances to see who Alexander is staring at-- Ahh. TV chick. Another ding means a new order is ready: Cassidy-from-TV's plate, delivered to her by Gina. It looks great, with perfectly toasted toast, crisp, flavorful hash browns and fluffy, perfectly seasoned scrambled eggs dotted with ham, onion, and melted cheese that are a far, far cry from the horror that is the omelettes. Gina seems content to stop a minute and check her text messages while everyone introduces themselves. But she does add, "I knew some guys who could probably manage the car thing. Did a pretty good job with the senior prank when I graduated." Does she not know the cops are here? Maybe she doesn't. Or doesn't care, which is more likely.

Alexander can't help but sort of admire the self-punishing determination to get through the Omelette From Hell, and he watches with a bit of fascination as Nasir makes his way through it. While enjoying his own burger and crispy fries. There's a brief chuckle at Vivian's remarks. "I like Thorne. I do. But he might actually deserve that." A crunch of a fry. "But it'd be a tragedy for that beautiful car. Just kill the suits. The car doesn't deserve it." He might have Wraith envy. A curious glance towards Gina. "Which prank was that, again? I've forgotten."

"Thanksssss." Cassidy says to whoever it was that put the food there, while she stares at her phone.

The only source of action beyond the dogmatic method he had to shove food in his mouth was squeezing Vivian's hand. He needed that hand, she knew; he needed to hold onto something for dear life, for his throat wasn't on fire, no; his throat was feeling the rot that was that food truly sink in, and encompass more than just his tastebuds. He was dying, he knew that; he knew that was his end, there. A devil remanded to an abyss he never asked for, but fought for, with every forkful that went into his mouth. He had always pictured himself ending with a bullet of his gun on the corner of his forehead, but this was a sweeter, gentler sin. Allah wouldn't besmirch this, he knew; Allah would welcome him. Muhammad would wrap the collar of virtue around his neck, and lead him into the salvation he didn't believe in even while he chewed that omelet still.

"I'm going to die," he casually announced, perhaps to Alexander, perhaps Vivian; perhaps the fork, by how he held its now blackened state up to his eyes, now so preciously focused on it. He was only half-way through his omelet, but the omelet was more than half-way through with him, if his nauseated face was anything to go by.

Daisy takes no offense to the blase acknowledgment of her order. She's used to it. "Thanks," she says with a cheerful smile, and swivels a bit on her stool at the counter, watching the others around her. "Oh, cool. Shrink." She nods her head a couple of times. She smiles a little in amusement at the discussion about the errant Thorne, but she doesn't chime in on that topic. Instead, she peels the wrapper off a straw and begins folding it in an accordion, one side over the other, then compresses and expands it a few times, just listening. "Pretty sure it won't kill you," she opines to Nasir, "Though you may want to stick close to a restroom for a while." Another vague sort of wince.

"I could set his suits on fire, or dump them off the balcony of the penthouse." Vivian offers in an entirely too casual way, it's possible that she's actually worked out all the many things she could do to show her displeasure at everything. "I considered replacing all his suits with blue searsucker overalls and little sailor outfits." She tucks another piece of fruit into her mouth, glancing over at Nasir at his declaration as she eats her normal fruit. Safe fruit. Lucky her.

"You probably aren't going to die...but if you do get food poisoning I'd suggest going to get IV fluids as soon as possible. It'll at least probably keep you from dying." Vivian is a doctor, she knows these things. Then she glances at Daisy, offering her a faint smile that says she knows that the cool was just politeness.

"She's right, you won't die." Gina says, glancing towards Nasir with a bored expression. "I don't like dead bodies in my diner. You'll just wish you were dead. Plus the eggs are cooked to the FDA recommended temperature for safe eating. Any trauma is purely psychological." Does this mean Gina is aware of the damage of the omelettes? Yup. But it's a free country. People can make their own bad decisions and order sketchy food if they want. Another DING! And Gina saunters towards the counter, returning with Daisy's food. As expected-- it looks fantastic, especially considering the price, and tastes wonderful: the pie is definitely from scratch all the way through, even. "Also if it's Thorne, feel free to give me a call. I'll help pro-bono. I recommend polyester blend clothing all the way."

Alexander can't help it. He actually snickers at Vivian's revenge options. "Definitely the sailor outfits and overalls. If you have to choose." He offers her a warm smile. "But. Better plan? Just grab Isabella and some other friends and go have a really great evening forgetting about him and doing something fun. You can do better."

His attention ticks back to Nasir. "You're not going to die." A pause, to look at Gina. "Probably. Probably not gonna die." He glances back to Nasir, and sighs. "When you're, uh, done with that, let me walk you back to the trailer park." Even though - or maybe because - the Omelette is sort of his fault.

"Or just have all his suits taken in a bit at a time, so they end up too small and too tight," Daisy muses, and then perks up as the food is delivered in front of her and she straightens, sighing out a "Oh my god that looks amazing. Amaaaazing." She takes in a deep breath and then reaches for the burger, taking a big bite out of it, eyes half-closing in beefycheesybun-y bliss. She smiles over the burger at Vivian a little curiously. "No, really," she says around a mouthful of burger. "Figuring out what makes people tick is pretty interesting. So is brain chemistry. Not that I know a lot about brain chemistry other than some articles I read, but it seems interesting stuff." Apparently she wasn't just being polite. She grabs a cheese laden fry and pops it into her mouth.

Some necessary deep breaths, an even more necessary pulling of Vivian's hand to his chest, and in went that fork. Another take, another bite, another mouthful of death charred black. This is what it felt, he reasoned; this is what Gina's pro-bono was. This was her revenge, for something he hadn't known to have done to her in childhood, or something of the sort. Did he ditch her before prom? Did he ran over her mailbox? Wait, that was that other guy; did he steal her wig? all questions and propositions in the back of his mind, to explain the evil that was she. And then another bite. And soon his plate was empty of egg, but not soot, the entirety of it was colored black like a mini dynamite had gone off right atop of it, sparing only the ceramic that put it all together. "I'm going to die," he defied all aloud, again, as his body sunk back into the couch and his hand released Vivian's, letting it instead drop beside its counterpart on his lap, where they lingered. Dead.

"That would be you and Isabella, then." Vivian points out with a very neutral expression, which might not be entirely due to what she says. It might be because of the fact her hand is being manhandled, and she's doing her very best to not give Nasir a rather pointed look. "Vyv, as well. But that is actually it, considering I had thought that I'd be able to consider Byron's friends my friends, but considering he's been sleeping with one of them?" She shakes her head, making a very faint sound at that. So very many thoughts are happening there, honestly. When her hand gets released she takes it back, and doesn't wipe it off despite the probability of there having been sweating from that clutch happening. "I quite enjoy knowing why people tick, but sometimes? Things are sometimes inexplicable." She offers towards Daisy, then there is a look towards Gina, "Would you?"

"You know I wouldn't object to an evening in such good company, Dr. Glass," Alexander says, with a faint smile. "Although most people do not pick me for a night of fun. Isabella, yes. Me? No. But I'm at least willing to play designated driver and tag along. I promise to forget anything I see or hear." He raises a hand, all solemn oaths. When Gina offers pro-bono services and Vivian seems more than tempted, though, he looks a little alarmed. "As fun as that would be, maybe not a great idea? Just saying." It's the most lukewarm, CYA of objections. He finishes off his burger, starts in on his fries as he studies Nasir. Just in case death is on the table for real.

"Yup." It's a short word, the 'p' popped as Gina continues texting on her phone before she looks up. "It amuses me to fuck with Byron Thorne." Spoken quite frankly. "I just can't do anything that messes with his dick because a friend of mine likes it for some crazy reason that probably involves a crappy childhood and copious amounts of drugs done at some point." Yeah, Gina doesn't really mince words, does she? She moves to refresh her cup of caramel-infused coffee. "He's not worth going out of my way to fuck with, but if an opportunity arises, I'm down." And then she smiles, a small, sly thing, her gaze skimming over the group one by one, pausing slightly longer on Alexander. With a slight increase in that curve of the lips.

"And a bowl of mixed fruit," Cassidy says absently as she turns off her phone and puts it away. She only now lifts her fork to try the scramble. "It's a bit cold," she murmurs like it's not her fault for waiting so long.

"Yeah, that's true," Daisy agrees. "Pretty sure my roomies defy all logic and reason at least half the time." She quiets for a bit to ruminate on that as she devours the cheese fries as though someone might actually take them from her if she didn't eat them all immediately. Glancing over in Cassidy's direction she says, "That's what happens when you let'm sit for 20 minutes. Laws of thermodynamics and all that shit."

"You can drive my car. I'm sorry that it's not as nice as the Wraith." Which is amusing, considering what kind of car Vivian drives. Then Gina brings up her friend, and any irritation that had subsided seems to land like a ton of bricks once more, her expression going icy, "Let me guess. You and Miss Lilith Winslow are friends?" There is a final piece of fruit that is popped into her mouth before she pushes the dish away from her, finally reaching for a napkin to begin very carefully wiping her hands off, "I'm sure you'll be happy to know that your dear friend seems to have gotten what she was after."

"Mister Clayton, I'll be in touch. As always it's a pleasure to see you." Vivian starts to get to her feet, pulling out a few bills from her pocket to tuck under her still mostly full coffee mug, then from another pocket she pulls two business cards, one presented to Nasir, and the other to Daisy. But, seriously, who carries business cards with them when they go jogging?

Subtly, Nasir looked at Vivian. Little did she know she was in the way of someone who wanted to depart his booth, but there was no force in his body to truly move him, or strength in his mouth to talk. Once she laid out that business card on his lap he looked down and frowned, why couldn't he pick it? His hand wasn't working. Ah, yes, heroin intravenously injected recently into his arm. That's right. And there he was, splayed out nicely like a diva half-way into the wall and the other out on the couch, his mouth hanging way beyond his own will to have it so, drool hanging off of it. As far as Alexander's studious gaze could perhaps summarize, he was entirely catatonic.

Alexander winces. "The Aston Martin is a lovely car, and I'd love to drive it again," he murmurs. Then winces again when Gina speaks and Vivian speaks and just...now there's a sigh as the psychiatrist stands. "Don't die," he tells her, sounding worried. He gives Gina a look that says really? Before finishing off the last of his burger and fries. He eyes Nasir. "...you might need to call over those EMTs," he says, after a moment. "Just sayin'." He leans out of the booth to look down only to realize. "Oh, they're gone already. Damn." He fishes out money for his burger and a tip. "Don't suppose anyone wants to take his pulse?" A glance at Daisy and Gina, hopefully.

Gina seems to be entirely unaffected by Vivian's sudden iciness. "She usually does, when it's a shit goal to aim for." Gina confirms. Are they really friends? This seems like not a great way to talk about friends. "Later Doc." Gina's still at the counter, sipping her coffee, though she does look at Alexander at his look and raises both brows. "What." Daring him to explain where she did anything wrong. But then her eyes glance towards Nasir and she shrugs, "Your friend. Too bad the EMTs left." SIiiiiiiiip. And a glance towards Daisy. Taking a mental note.

Cassidy just squinches her face for a split moment at Daisy's comment and shrugs her shoulders into a more hunched posture as she picks at her scramble. She selects a bite and glances around while she's chewing until her eyes find Gina, and she repeats her follow up order - but a bit louder - "Mixed fruit bowl, please."

Daisy takes the card when Vivian hands it to her, turning it over to look at both sides and says, "Hey, thanks." That gets tucked away into one of the many pockets on her cargo shorts, disappearing from sight. Then she goes back to eating her food until Alexander asks about Nasir and looks at.. her? She looks him over incredulously and then at the guy catatonic in the seat next to him. "I don't even know how to take someone's pulse, man. Looks like he's breathing, though. Want me to call 911?"

Really. Vivian manages to keep things tied up beneath a nice little bow of politeness, but she's staring at Gina like she has a few choice words and they are really wanting to say something. Instead she glances towards Nasir, "He'll be fine."

Clearly, not what she was wanting to say, because there is another look towards Gina, then she reaches into the pocket of her jacket to pull out her keys, "I have Narcan in the car." Speaking of EMTs not being present, there are probably ethical obligations for her not walking away now.

Vivian's Hippocratic Oath be damned, Nasir's entire self suddenly snaps away with a tilt of his head, and a shower of spittle he'd release on the table. His lower lip hung still with his mouth ajar, as if it had gone to sleep, and he'd speak with the lisp of a sailor due to it. It didn't help his voice was the deep kind, croaky and hard, filtered through a rusty cheese grater; "I'm fine!" he announced, pushing himself up, up enough so that he could get ontop of the table. In his theatrics he knocked aside Vivian's cup, and plate, and probably hit someone with a foot there - either Alexander or Vivian - before falling, rolling and dumping himself out on the open floor. It wasn't much rolling as it was flopping around like a dead fish trying to turn himself on his back, and get a look at the roof. He took to a more pensive expression soon enough, how the fuck am I getting up now, type of thinking.

Irritation flickers to life on Alexander's features. "He's not my--" a sigh. He stares at Nasir, then yelps as the man moves into sudden motion. And kicks him. He looks down at the omelette plate. "Oh for fuck's sake." He pulls out enough money to cover the omelette and tip, adds it to his own pile, then slides out of the booth to reach over and first tuck Vivian's card into the man's pocket. Then he reaches down and hauls him from the floor upright, apparently planning to drag and/or carry him out. "No," he says to Daisy, with a shake of his head. "I've got him. But you should know how to take a pulse. Important life skill." A glance towards Vivian. "If you think it's needed, we can stop on the way?" Either way, he's hauling the guy out towards the door, muttering, "Don't you dare throw up on me, either. Asshole."

"Heard you." Gina says in response to Cassidy. And sips her coffee, not moving. Nope. She leisurely sips her coffee, stiffening and then relaxing at Nasir's sudden outburst. Watching the show as Alexander deals with him. Siiiiiip. Yeah, she's just relaxing over there while all this is happening. But now Alexander is moving, and taking away the druggie, and she sets her coffee cup down and collects one of the mixed fruit bowls pre-prepared in the fridge, and walking towards Cassidy, setting the bowl down. And then heads to collect the money left for the dishes, sending off another text.

"Um, yeah, sure," Daisy says to Alexander. "If I can't tell if someone's breathing, I'm calling 911 whether they've got a pulse or not." Someone with actual medical expertise can figure the rest out at that point. She watches the entire tableau unfold and the whole crowd bustle out before giving a slow shake of her head and then picking up her burger and taking another large bite. Doesn't seem anything has spoiled her appetite.

Cassidy's lack of reaction to the ordeal probably is enough to show it's not really 'her case'. But sheer annoyance playing on her features alone as she picks up her phone and is about to....oh nevermind. Problem solved.

The ADA puts her phone back down and picks the fork back up now that fruit has arrived.

Gina looks at the mess of spilled coffee and leftover food, and then heads behind the counter, knocks, and ducks her head inside. Apparently, there IS another server - a tired, fortysomething woman who looks hung over, dressed in a rather cute party dress that clashes with the sensible shoes and apron she's got on. The woman glares at Gina, but she's got a rag, mop, and dish basin, and does start collecting the plates and cleaning up the area, while Gina collects her coffee once more. "Ignore Clayton. Paranoid type. Believes everybody should know a shit ton of useless things like he does."

Daisy nods over at Gina and says, "Yeah. The cop-chaser." Apparently she did recognize Clayton, and seems to dismiss his advice entirely. The burger is downed, and then the pie is tugged closer. As she digs into it, she lets out a sigh that borders on obscene contentment. "Damn, that's good. I needed that. Too many days reheating sketchy leftovers."

"Which one is Clayton?" floats Cassidy's voice from over in the Cop Booth(tm). The woman for the first time appears to take an active interest in the room with eyes forward and focused on Gina.

"The dumbass." Gina says, in response to Cassidy's question, tilting her head towards the door where both Nasir and Alexander have departed. Because that's precise. Her attention goes to Cassidy then, The Youth(tm). Considering. "Shit cook, too busy, or too lazy?" Gina asks finally, her attention going to the muttering woman cleaning up the spills. She's managing to do it without getting her club dress dirty, either. Skills!

"I can cook. Just lazy. Hate grocery shopping," Daisy admits with a grin, owning her own laziness, at least. She continues to eat the pie, and glances over to watch the other woman in her party dress and eventually has to ask, "So what's with the get up? Like, seems impractical. Or do you have a hot date less than thirty seconds after quitting time?" Another piece of pie goes into her mouth.

Cassidy narrows her eyes at Gina and half-cocks her head, making the typical basic b 'really?' look. Her head moves back and forth from the neck as she speaks in a tone of irony, "Yeah, thanks Bubblegum."

She expresses an exasperated huff and punishes her fruit bowl for Gina's rudeness. STABBing a piece of melon, and CHEWing it.

"No problem, Candy Crush." Gina replies automatically to Cassidy, a small smirk forming at the angry fruit nomming before her attention goes to Daisy. "Bonus of owning a diner. All the food, none of the cooking. You do get sick of diner food, though." Gina says casually, before glancing towards the woman cleaning - who stops to glare at Daisy, opening her mouth to comment before Gina's words cut her off, mild and chill as chill can be, staring right at the woman. "I don't really think I ask a lot of my employees beyond a few ground rules. Some people though, have a problem with basics. And forget I have a security system I check when I'm bored." Gina smiles humorlessly, but her attention goes back to Daisy, and the expression fades away as if it never ways. "Life Lesson, punkette. Always, always follow through on your ultimatums."

"I don't know, there's a lot on the menu. I could probably go a long while before I got sick of the food here," Daisy admits as she glances over at one of the menus. "Pretty sure I could make a different combination for most days, and some stuff I could eat two or three times in a row before wanting something else. I'd run out of cash before I got bored, probably." She seems to be doing some math in her head, as though trying to figure out if that's actually an accurate statement or not. So focused is she on that, that she almost forgets what she'd asked the other waitress, until Gina cuts through and answers. She can't help the grin that quirks her lips then as she says, "Oh." Then follows it up with, "Oh, totally. Don't threaten unless you plan to commit," thumbs-up. More pie disappears, the crumbs even picked up with a finger and licked from the tip.

Cassidy has gotten over being angry and now browses Instagram's fine selection of dessert pictures as her fork hovers above the fruit, dangling and circling aimlessly.

Gina takes a moment to finish off her coffee, setting the empty mug down again before she looks towards Daisy. "Seen you around, too. Think in Geoff's neighborhood." The trailer park! Not that far from here. "Could be wrong though. I can't tell kids apart sometimes." It doesn't even sound like Gina MEANS to be offensive. It's just she's not trying to NOT be offensive. "Gina Castro. If you couldn't guess." Because Gina just assumes people know her.

"Yeah, we're in 48," Daisy says in reply to Gina as she rifles around in her pocket for her wallet and her cash, tucking enough for her bill plus tip under the edge of her empty glass and then sliding the wallet back in her pocket. "Daisy Rowe," she introduces herself, apparently not taking any offense at either being called a kid or not being recognized. She grins though and says, "Figured, since this is your place." She pulls herself up from her stool then, grabbing the skateboard she'd tucked down by her feet. "Keep on rockin' it, Gina. I'll be back for more pie." She tosses a wave then as she heads toward the door. "Try the pie," she offers to Cassidy in suggestion on her way out.

"Tryyyy the pieeee...." Cassidy distractedly repeats to herself silently as her eyes remain glued to her phone. She makes a few popping sounds with her mouth, then inflates the inside of her cheeks and swishes the air from cheek to cheek. Then lefts the air out with a sigh.

She lowers her phone and looks to Gina. "One slice of banana cream pie."

"Sorry, we're out." Gina says, without even bothering to check at the counter, instead pulling out her cell phone herself. "You want your receipt now or what?" Such kind and friendly staff.

Cassidy says, "Pumpkin?"

"An abomination only stocked when I'm not around." Gina supplies easily.

Cassidy sighs. "Okay." And it's eyes back to her phone.

As for Gina? She heads back behind the counter-- and then into the back. Leaving the only waitress Ms. Ready for the Club, who still looks like she's resisting the urge to commit murder. Ahh, those Grizzly employees.