2019-10-18 - An Evening Of Ghost Tales

Elias is inside, where some space has been cleared in the upstairs occult section in the loft for people to sit on the couches and chairs there for the reading. Those down below can also take up chairs and hear clearly even if they can't quite see what's going on up above. He leans up against the railing, watching people come and go, while a couple of high schoolers man the registers at the front of the shop, selling a few copies of Dante's books to those who might want to get them signed.

Byron's not here on official business, so it's one of those moments where he's not wearing a suit and instead is dressed more casually in a heavy deep burgundy sweater and a pair of black jeans and combat boots. He still carries himself about with confidence, but that's not unusual too. And due to the upcoming Halloween festivities and the town gearing up for the Masquerade, he seems to be in high spirits, wearing this warm smile as he makes his way towards the bookstore just for this event, his Rolls can be seen parked in the near distance.

He's not alone, with his right hand resting against the small of Lilith's back as he guides her over towards the refreshment stand. "Hot cocoa sounds good about now." He murmurs, reaching a hand to take up two cups of the warm goodness, before his eyes are set across the way at the s'mores counter. "Want to pick up some of those?"

Vyv is also not here on official business. He's still wearing a suit. It's a chocolate-brown three-piece number with a dark teal pindot shirt, the top two buttons undone in lieu of a tie, and a peacock-feather patterned silk pocket square sprouting cheekily out of the breast pocket. You know. Casual. It's just as perfectly tailored as ever, with a set of polished labradorite cufflinks and a slim, leather-banded watch periodically visible beneath the cuffs, and while the brown suede chelsea boots can probably handle any threatened rain, they probably can't handle it all that long.

He gives the cocoa a dubious look, but deigns to accept a cup on the way in nonetheless; he's early enough to find what seems like a decent seat among the more comfortable options, and also to observe Byron's guiding of Lilith. A brow arches slightly, and he gives the pair a wordless head-inclination of greeting before he settles in, setting his cup aside and pulling out his phone.

"Um. Yes. Because if I'm ever going to get fat, it might be on S'mores." Lilith is anything but fat, of course, though, wearing an off-shoulder and fitted smoky mottled sweater with a pair of tailored jeans and heeled black ankle booties next to Byron's more casual brand of attire for the day. While his hands are occupied with the cocoa cups, hers get occupied with grabbing a share plate of the offered sweets to turn with, seeking out a spot to sit and the general lay of the company with her eyes for a few heartbeats. Then she adjusts her shoulder bag with small hitching and juggle with the plate before a tick of her head to some seating provided for listening, "Quite a few younglings in here, I guess it's not surprising for spook-seeking. Let's sit over there?"

On the way with Byron to settle with their goodies, Lilith flashes a bit of a familiar lopsided smile and bats a wink of 'hello' to Elias in passing where he's posted up, then she comments more lowly aside to company, "After our stupid ghost affairs, it'll be good to hear... mm. Story-stories. Nice to get out and breathe. And I like fall weather, the cocoa and s'mores are a nice touch." When they pass Vyv, she distractedly returns the nod to be polite, but she doesn't quite know exactly who he is like male company does. When seated, she flips one leg over the other in cross to balance the plate on for them both.

Some people are pretty much Halloween mode all year long. Pumpkins, dead roosters, occult themed clothing, skeletons in the closet. Check, check, and more check. Frankie is wearing what she wears all the time, maybe a little nicer than usual. No casual leggings in sight. Instead she's wearing a broomstick skirt of tiers of different black fabric, a black shawl with long fringe and large roses on it has been wrapped around her hips, a black peasant blouse and a long cardigan. Plus bangle bracelets. Anyone that knows Frankie knows this is her work clothes, so it's a good damn bet she was at work earlier.

What is not usual is the fact that she's dragging some poor victim along with her by his hand. Greg. Poor Greg. "Ghost stories, that seems to be what is happening. Reading of ghost stories." She is explaining this, and why she's heading for the bookstore at a quick pace, only to slide through the door and then coming to a stop as she does a quick look around, then she points first towards Elias, "Elias." Then when she spots Lilith she points in that direction a well, "She's the one that gave me Scratch." Most important parts of the entire greeting process.

Nicole was out browsing the shops in town when she stopped at Likely Stories. Drawn by the smell of chocolate... mmmm... chocolate, she is procuring cocoa and s'more for herself when she notices the sign. "Oh... is that tonight? Nifty!" She lifts her refreshments and asks, "I can take these in?"

Assuming she can, she enters the shop wearing calf-high black leather boots over a dark washed pair of jeans and a baggy, comfortable-looking black fuzzy sweater. Normally, when she isn't working, she doesn't wear much black, but the crisp air seemed to beg for the fuzzy sweater to be worn. She makes her way upstairs, where the action will be, and settles in comfortably, sipping cocoa while looking around the place.

Ignacio is wearing his black, red, and ivory moto jacket that looks like he's given it some love over the years. Relaxed jeans and a long sleeve grey thermal and hi-tops untied with the laces tucked in. This is the life of the relaxed New Yorker these days. Comfort counts, people. He pauses and eyes he chocolate eventually giving up his buck fifty. He's at least smart enough to know not to drink these things immediately lest you burn the roof of the mouth. Once that happens the tongue isn't not going to find that spot for two days.

Greg follows along after Frankie, and like a good boy he nods in the right places, even occasionally offering insightful commentary. Dressed for being in public with Frankie tonight, he looks just slightly less sloppy and careless than usual in jeans with no holes and a red shirt with actual buttons under a black leather coat.

He nods when Frankie points out Elias. "Bestie. Check." But his face lights up a bit when Lilith is pointed out. "Oh shit, that's where you got him? I fuckin' love that little homie," he says fondly. He looks around the shop, just taking in the sights, as this is arguably the first time he's ever had occasion to be dragged into a book store.

Elias flashes a smile at Lilith in return for her little wink of hello, returning one in kind. He may be hosting the event, but for the moment he seems to be relaxing as people begin to congregate and settle in as the appointed reading time draws near. He's wearing a pair of black slacks with a dark violet shirt on, and a black jacket and tie, actually looking a good deal more dressed up than usual, his dark hair still a bit wild though, and he wears a pair of doc martens with his semi-suit. He lifts a hand to wave to Frankie when he sees her, flashing her a broad smile, and then grinning when he sees Greg is with her. "Guess he's not imaginary," he mouths in her direction with a wink.

Then, he pulls away from the railing where he'd been leaning and clears his throat, holding up his hands so that he can get everyone's attention. He can project pretty well, and so those on the first floor can hear outside of the comfortable lounge area can also hear. "So, we're going to get tonight's festivities underway. We're going to first hear a reading from author Dante Taylor, and then we're going to hear some local ghost stories, and we encourage anyone who has one to share to get up and share it with the audience. Everyone please enjoy the refreshments, and let us know if we can get you anything." He then introduces Dante. "Dante Taylor is the author of seven horror novels including the critically-acclaimed Merrymeet Trilogy, and his latest novel entitled The Guarded Path. A native of Cornwall in the Southwest of England, Dante is a lover of all things occult and archaic, which is why we've stuffed you all into the Occult section of the store to listen to him. THat, and it's creepier, right? Anyway, he comes here to Gray Harbor to research a new volume of nonfiction for his Dark Heart series. He likes to hear stories from lcoals, so feel free to hit him up to share if you've got any interesting tales afterward."

Dante emerges from some back room or another, managing to not trip or tangle himself up. He's immediately visible, thanks to the burnt orange suit he wears. It's got enough of a pattern to it to make it elegant, and well, it's cut like a dream, so that helps. He wears a cream shirt with soft brown checks, and a chocolate pocket square. The waistcoat is a complimentary shade of chocolate as well, and his shoes are vintage leather wingtips. "Thank you everyone for coming to this delightful little shop. Before we get started, I want to thank Elias for hosting us here tonight. Independent bookstores are the backbone of the careers of people like me. So please, make sure you support this young man and his shop." He applauds and gives a warm smile to Elias. "Now, settle in, get your cocoa. I'm going to be reading two selections tonight. One, from The Boiling Mound, the final Merrymeet book," he holds up a copy, "...and a section from The Guarded Path, my latest. After I've read, do settle in to hear other tales from the townsfolk. After people have told their tales, I'll be signing for a bit should you like me to deface your lovely book with scribbles."

If anything, Byron recognizes most of the familiar faces of other townies when they go to take a seat with the occasional tenant, new visitor or someone who he's had to help bury a ghost with tossed into the mix. Very small town. When Elias steps up to make an introduction and to kick off the event, Thorne's dark eyes study the bookseller before flickering over to the man of the hour, hearing several of Taylor's mot popular books listed by name. "The weather is fitting for the festival, at the very least." He murmurs to Lilith, his eyes o Dante, when he adds in, "I agree, though-- this is a lot better than the annoying heat and humidity." He then falls quiet once their guest speaker starts to speak.

As she looked around, Nicole spotted a few people who have been in this town forever, like her (minus a few years). She waves to them all, like Byron, Lilith, Isabella. Others might have been too far behind her in school for her to know well. After her silent greetings, she looks at the s'more she still has in hand, studying it carefully and looking down at her fuzzy sweater that will surely cling to each and every crumb she might drop on it. To prevent this, she looks around to make sure no one is looking at her, and shoves the whole thing in her mouth, chewing slowly and carefully as Elias announces the author and the man himself, Dante speaks.

Vyv is quietly and casually busy doing something with his phone as people file in. Probably texting, though he has it silenced. Polite! A couple things he reads are amusing, if the slight twitch of lips is any evidence, but nothing so engrossing that he doesn't give an assessing glance to each and every person who wanders through his general frame of view. Almost no one he knows, and there's no immediate attempts to fix that. Elias gets a moment or two more to his assessment than most of the others, though it's possible that has to do with the whole introductory thing, which gets proper attention; the author gets more so, which is very likely a good portion because he's, well, the author they're here to see, and almost certainly also because that's the other nicest suit in the room and someone ought to properly appreciate it. And the shoes. Those are quite good shoes.

Vyv gives that sort of making-no-actual-noise fingertips-to-heel-of-hand clapping in response to the prompting to appreciate independent bookstores, and dashes something else off swiftly on the phone before setting it lightly down on his leg to listen.

Lilith takes her carried cocoa cup from Byron and drinks before leaning to set it down and aside in brief so she can use her hands to hover the plate with the s'mores and eat some, eyes flicking up to study Dante and listen to Elias when the pair of them respectively speak. While leaning, though, she catches sight of Frankie pointing and flashes a sudden open glow of momentary, familiar smile, a study slipping to company before she downright waggles her brows a few times with suggestive, silent question. After waiting for some kind of silent confirmation it's her new guy, probably, she takes another bite of sweets before leaning aside to feed Byron a bite a touch playfully with force and murmur 'bite' as incoming.

Then she turns attention to what she came for, eyes going forward, eventually picking up the cocoa to nurse when the goodies are gone and the plate aside.

"He does!" Frankie calls back towards Elias, but then she quiets down so as to not be talking over anyone. Like the man that is supposed to be reading ghost stories to them. Which would be very rude of her to do. There is, also, a very obvious confirmation to Lilith's look in the form of her hand raising to show a very shiny, very new ring on it. Because why do anything by halves?

"Hot chocolate?" This is spoken a lot more quietly to Greg, giving him the choice on if he wants to grab something to drink first, or to just climb the stairs to find a seat and get ready to listen in to the reading without being too disruptive.

The very much not imaginary Greg slides a slow smile towards Frankie as she shows off her ring. At the question, he gives a wave of his hand. "I just ate some weed brownies and I want to let 'em mellow," he tells her, patting his stomach through the shirt. "Besides I think we're already missing shit," he tells her, pointing towards the stairs.

He leans in for a kiss, and gives her a bright smile. "Is it better if you can see? I really don't know. This is some straight townie shit." His look says 'guide me, wise one'.

Once Dante gets started, Elias slips off to one side and finds a place to lean up against the wall, arms folded in front of him so that he can listen to the readings, and answer questions from those who might come up to him and ask, quietly so as not to disrupt the proceedings. He does catch the glint of that ring on Frankie's finger though and one brow creeps upward quizzically. He glances from her to Greg and then back again, and amusement touches his lips. He says nothing, though, at least not for the moment.

Ignacio meanders to his seat in his usual uneven gait. He slides into the seat next to Vyv because he needs his antithesis this near the bespoke man but stays quiet and seems to mind his own limbs. For as much of a chatty smart ass as he is there's no commentary letting his focus fall on the Brit. He hasn't drank his cocoa yet but there's all afternoon. His backpack is slid from his shoulder and set between his ankles as he gets comfy in the chair.

Without further ado, Dante starts the reading. His first selection, as mentioned, is from his trilogy. The excerpt is of his protagonist, private investigator Annabelle Chase, who is escaping a murderous cult across the English moors. It's quite tense and descriptive, with plenty of evocative language. He's a good reader, with a pleasant voice, but he seems to know when to speed up or when to slow down. Which is probably to the relief of many. Author readings can be a very mixed bag, and some wonderful writers can't read for shit.

The excerpt ends on a cliffhanger, with Annabelle tripping, wrenching her ankle, and being loomed over by the cultists. He closes the book with a definitive 'thunk' at just the right moment. He pauses for any applause and for effect. "And if you want to know how Annabelle gets out of that, I believe Elias has a fair selection of the books available." Which provokes one of those murmurs of laughter.

"Now, this next selection is...well..." he scans the crowd winkingly, singling out the youngest he can spot. "...is not for the faint of heart. It's about a small town with lots of dark secrets. But...none of you would know anything about that, would you?" he drawls. For anyone who has spoken to him previously, he's certainly very 'on' and being a showman.

Then he launches into the next segment, which, as advertised is quite dark. The story centres around four young people who discovered a literal path to Hell (or something like Hell, in any case) and come back tainted. The taint spreads through the town, turning their friends and loved ones to murderous, violent versions of themselves - though the young people themselves keep control of themselves and manifest paranormal abilities. He reads a harrowing passage where one of the protagonists, Liam, inadvertently infects his mother with the taint. She turns first on his brother, and then on him, chasing him through their house. Unlike a zombie or simple madness, the taint seems to have turned his mother into the serial killer version of herself. She stalks, uses emotional manipulation and taunts her son. It's genuinely chilling, with a few of the gorier elements rendered quite vividly. The reading ends with Liam stabbing his mother in the shoulder as she bleeds excessively, including a black, viscous substance.

He pauses at the end of it, and closes the book. "Happy Halloween, Gray Harbor. Now, let's hear from one of you." He grins toothily, eyes wide and a little bit wild for effect.

She's a little late, but when she arrives she is not unburdened - there is a leather portfolio bursting with paper tucked under one arm, and a satchel slung across her shoulder, the leather strap diagonally biting into her clothing, and the bag itself pressed against her hip. Somehow, Isabella manages to carry these as well as a cup of coffee, needing something stronger for today's toils, and manages to keep one hand free, still for her smartphone, brows furrowed in certain consternation at the messages scrolling up her screen. Her thumb fires off a few messages, but however that conversation ends, it leaves her smiling faintly before tucking the device into her back pocket and returning her attention to her coffee.

It looks like she has arrived just in time, as Dante has just launched into some excerpts from his books, though given the crowd in such a small shop-space, she remains standing. She leans against the wall close to the gathering, her shoulder bracketed against brick, green-gold eyes flitting over faces familiar and unfamiliar. Byron and Lilith get a small wiggle of her fingers, Vyv gets a smile that's somewhat rueful and slightly exasperated, but not at him - rather the remembered bizarre situation from a few nights prior, and Elias gets a wink. But with the reading started, she remains as always focused and attentive, eyes directed forward and listening to the author narrate.

"I'm not sure I've ever been to a ghost reading session by some British author." Frankie, out here in the new territory, just like everyone else. Or she's forgotten that this has happened before. Which is probably hasn't.

But it's true, shouldn't interrupt, should let the pot brownies mellow, should get where they can see. All those things, and Frankie is on the move towards the stairs to climb up them with the long familiarity of someone that has been going up and down these particular stairs for ever. Once at the top she looks around, then moves towards a place to sit, and listen to what is being read. Any further inquires held until later.

Nicole listens closely to Dante as he reads, quietly sipping her cocoa, dark eyes locked on the author. At one point, during a pause, she leans over towards whoever might be sitting next to her and whispers, "I could listen to an accent like that all day." She smiles before straightening her posture while he reads his second selection. At the call to the attendees to speak, she looks around to see who might be brave enough.

"Thank you, Mr. Taylor for sharing those excerpts with us," Elias says once Dante has finished, and then he says, "And now we have a few of our fellow townsfolk who have some creepy, strange, and interesting stories to share. But first, a quick break for those who would like to grab some more s'mores and hot chocolate." Which gives the others time to move to the front, and the audience a chance to stretch, socialize and fetch food.

Greg tracks Frankie like a brooding, overprotective ginger shadow, settling into a seat next to her. He turns at her with a slightly lofted brow. "So folks come out and listen to people read?" He's just making sure he's got the lay of the land here, maintaining eye contact with her to let her know this dumb question isn't rhetorical. He does shut up and listen during the reading, although he fidgets constantly, tapping his feet and hands.

Lilith drops her jaw a little at Frankie when she does a bit of a double take on the ring, then leans as if to murmur and express her 'omg' to Byron, but something in Dante's first story early in and the general need to save it and be polite stills and stops it. Instead, she listens attentively while sipping at her cocoa, though her eyes occasionally wander over toward Greg for a bit of a thoughtful survey while he's seated there next to the auburn-haired woman. With her eyes wandering, she catches Isabella coming in timely fashion after much of the gathering has assembled and readied for listening, and one of her lashes bats in a wink of silent 'hello!' toward the familiar brunette with affability.

Something in Dante's second, story, though, at parts, it's... making her glance sidelong at Byron here and there, as if there's something familiar or contemplation provoking about it overall. And when finished, she drains her cup to put with her plate for gather, clearing hands for smatter of appreciative applause on Dante's behalf.

"Uh huh." Frankie replies to that not-rhetorical question, "I mean, I think this is a fancy literary thing?" She shrugs her shoulders very faintly about it, her eyes shifting around the bookstore before she turns her attention back to the reading. Of course, that doesn't stop her from leaning over to whisper something quietly to him.

Whatever she whispered is brief before she crosses her legs, adjusting her skirt to drape properly before she reaches for one of his tapping hands, lacing her fingers through his. When the reading comes to a stop, and a pause for things like socializing and drink getting is offered, she glances at Greg, "So, you want to meet people properly?"

There's probably a quietly unspoken DUN DUN DUN happening in her head.

Being a somewhat casual reader, Byron appreciates that the author, himself, is here reading a couple of excerpts from his various books for them, even if that means probably needing to purchase a book or to find out what happens. Not that he can't afford to do so. He doesn't even notice the ring when it's being flashed until Lilith alerts his attention Frankie's way, before his eyes flicker towards the guy with Frankie. Greg's given just this minor bit of assessment, but he'll flash over a smile either way at Dubois, this subtle lift of his brow. Isabella's arrival also gets an acknowledging nod and probably a smile.

The excerpts were interesting and from the applause that Dante receives it looks to be a success. What else is there for small town folk to do but read, right? He'll clap his hands to join in after finishing up the remainder of his cocoa before rising to stand, reaching to take Lilith's own cup if it's empty, so that he can discard of them.

Once that is done, he'll guide Lilith to the guest of honor to make some introductions, "You certainly chose the best time to do this reading, though I guess, in a town such as this," he can't help but just look at all the faces in the room when he murmurs, "It's always a good time. Nevertheless, if the citizens of Gray Harbor didn't know your name before, you're probably gonna be the latest celebrity in town."

Dante affects a little bow for the applause, then steps back from the stage as people stand up to stretch and get their refreshments. He sidles up to Elias and looks out at the crowd. "That went all right, didn't it?" He actually doesn't sound sure, which is a little unusual for him. "Do you think any of the townsfolk will get up to tell tales? I find it can be hit and miss." He takes a moment to scan the crowd for familiar faces, which, considering he hasn't been in the town long, isn't many. He spots Byron and lifts a hand towards him.

Vyv brightens just barely perceptibly at the arrival of Isabella, and something about the quality of her greeting look; it's returned with a similar edge to it, though he doesn't do anything to interrupt the reading. No, that he listens to with properly avid attention, the applause after the first section just a touch more audible than it was for the store itself. As it happens, the chair on the side of him not occupied by Iggy is the one Nicole chose, and her whisper turns out to be what makes him break his silence for the first time since arriving. Still quiet, of course, just a brief murmur of, "Would you?" Half innocent, half amused, and 100% crisply British-accented.

The second story gets a close ear as well, and applause at the end, though there's something about the atmosphere that seems to make him a bit tenser, until after a swift glance to a spot where surely there was in fact no actual movement, was there? he figuratively shakes it off, relaxing again. "Well, that was wasn't half bad," he remarks as he claps, to no one in particular but at a volume that suggests those seated closest, at least, are welcome to consider it theirs if they like. He takes a glance around at the assembled group, to see whether anyone looks about to leap in with stories of their own.

"Legit," is Greg's answer to whatever Frankie whispers to him, and he nods knowingly.

But another question, one far more insidious and horrifying, follows it. Greg's grip tightens almost imperceptibly on her hand for the barest of moments, the lines around his eyes standing out before the ghost of anxiety is chased away and a lopsided grin is affixed firmly to his features. He ignores the horror movie score rising to a terrifying crescendo in his head and nods to her, climbing to his feet.

"Fuck yeah baby, let's meet people. I'm all about meeting the people."

Ignacio comments to Nicole quietly entirely amused, "Well it's why he does it. Attracts an audience." There's a pause and he glances over quiet serious (at least in tone), "A lot better than just staring at people really." Looking around he looks up and around to teh shadows that hang in the corners of the book cases. He pinches his eyes and looks again with slight cofusion and back to Dante and the open floor portion.

Elias smiles when Dante comes over and leans in a little toward him to murmur, "I think it went well. People seemed to be interested, and I do see a few people downstairs picking up copies of the books. You'll probably be stuck signing for a little while." He then reassures him, "There are a couple of people who approached me about telling their stories." He then adds, "Oh, and I have your jacket."

"You've got your choice..." Frankie points out, then gestures towards the wide variety of choices laid out in front of them. Elias. Lilith. Byron. She could probably do everyone else in the room too, even if she doesn't know them, she'll fake it until she makes it.

But she climbs to her feet when Greg does, letting him decide which flavor of doom he chooses first.

Something slithers on the edges of her perception and Isabella's sharp eyes note it immediately, turning her head to the side to watch the aisles of antiquated bookshelves dominating one of her most favorite places in Gray Harbor. A small tremor, nothing short of electric, runs down her spine. They had almost looked like fingers.

This and Vyv's presence only reminds her of the dinner party incident and the first thing she does, at the moment, is pull herself away from the brick wall and move so she could search through the display of Dante Taylor's latest works and picks up a volume, with every intent to send it back to England autographed; her mentor is a fan. Crossing the area behind Lilith, her fingers move in an attempt to touch the brunette's shoulder in a silent, but warm greeting. Byron, ever the networking beast, is observed moving towards the celebrity author already.

Those coming up to tell more ghost stories gets an interested glance, though the next contributor has her pausing in her steps, fingers lifting to scrub at her eyelids. She ends up somewhere behind and to the side of Vyv, taking up a chair that had just been vacated by another spectator. "That lovely dinner party must still be lingering in my head," she murmurs quietly to him. "I feel like I'm seeing shadows moving everywhere." Still, there's a smile for him, effortless in its effulgence. "How are you, Mister Vydal?"

"Hi, that was enjoyable, glad you could do this for the town. In case you get famous, when I buy a copy of your book, can I have the autograph on it? I own a pawn shop, autographs can very much be worth something, you know." Lilith says to Dante affably with appreciation as she's guided over with Byron while he makes the commentary, shifting her weight between hips to let the actual introduction the proper way slide over to near dark-haired and handsome company. He seems more familiar with the man as a tenant. Then she's distracted by the woman standing up to tell a tale while people mingle or listen and whoever's next takes a turn, hand knocking absently back through her hair. She takes a moment to sight where the copies are displayed.

Color rushes to her cheeks when Vyv asks that simple question of her. Nicole pulls her lips together between her teeth as dimples press into cheeks. "Well... Uh... yes," she says, clearing her throat. She's slightly embarrassed, but not enough to fall completely silent. "I've always loved a British accent. When I was little, I used to try to speak in one... probably horribly." She smiles and offers her hand in greeting. "Nicole. Nice to meet you." Peeking over to Ignacio she asks, "why he reads? Because of his accent?" She shrugs. "Smart, that, I suppose. Whatever gets more books sold."

As others look around, feeling that sense of somethingness in the shadows, she does as well, reaching up to rub at the fine little hairs at the back of her neck. No one seems overly alarmed though, so it's probably nothing.

Greg eyes the room. "It looks like they're all in the same place right now," he observes, his tone ineffable. Not to be deterred, he grips Frankie's hand and guides her towards the group of people surrounding the author.. When he arrives, he makes a solid first impression by lurking quietly -- and quite awkwardly --and waiting for Frankie to lubricate the gears of the social machine. He does give a dumb little mute wave though, because it's important to be polite.

There is a lot of lubricating that happens. The first is Elias gets a hug, because Frankie gives zero shits about social propriety and not interrupting other peoples conversations, a quick whisper for him, then she turns to draw Greg into things, "Greg, this is Elias. Elias, this is Greg." She makes the quick and dirty introductions first, letting people add last names or anything only if they really want to.

But then there's Lilith and Byron, and she gives the pair of them a bright smile, but doesn't force hugs on either, "Hi! So this is Greg." Like some prized animal she's going to mount on her wall she gestures towards him a la Vana White. Only, not really. Though she seems to be exceedingly happy about making the introductions, either way. "Greg, that's Lil, and that's Byron. I went to school with both of them, and Elias." And anyone else in town, for that matter. If she's counting.

"Readings can be so hit and miss. I've done it to rooms of eight and rooms of a hundred. This is a good amount, though. Enough so my ego isn't crushed, not so many that I feel like a university lecturer," murmurs Dante to Elias. He keeps his voice low and keeps an ear to the stage so he can listen politely when people are telling their stories. Also, he came here for tales, so it's research as well. Elias' comment about his jacket brings a little colour to his cheeks. "Ah, yes. Apologies for my behavior. I don't usually drink to excess." He's distracted enough by his own adrenaline that he hasn't really caught on to the oddness in the shadows.

He looks over to Lilith and smiles politely. "Certainly. I'm sure this young man would be happy to sell you a book to deface."

"Probably," Vyv replies to Nicole, and there's a beat before one corner of his mouth twitches upward again, "But you ought to hear most Brits trying to do an American accent. Decent chance you were in entirely equivalent company." He accepts the hand, shaking it with a businesslike level of firmness and no extra lingering. "Vyvyan Vydal. Vyv, usually. How do you do." It's a statement, not a question

As Isabella sits and murmurs, he gives his head a slight tilt and turn to hear her better. The smile he gives her in return is much smaller, but seems genuine enough. "Yes, that was quite the event, wasn't it? I feel... similarly. And a touch annoyed at myself, to be honest."

Byron isn't so much as networking, Dante Taylor is his tenant! "This is Lilith Winslow," He'll make introductions, "She owns Harbor Mist Pawn Shop, if you're interested in learning about our town history that way." In the items that are pawned off out of desperation. "Mister Taylor lives in my building." He'll go on to explain to Lilith. "He has a set of non-fiction books as well that you may be interested in. But like anyone drawn to the siren song that is Gray Harbor, he ended up here."

"Weber, it's been a while." He then says to Elias, "I suppose that I don't stop by here as often as I should. One day, I'll find the time to actually sit down with several good books and play catch up." He's lingering near everyone, eyes scanning the room once more, though they focus on the elderly woman when she begins to speak. Of course, he probably knows who she is and of the story that she tells, but that doesn't make the moment any more... well, once the story is over, his dark eyes survey the room once more.

Elias wraps his arms around Frankie when she comes in for a hug, giving her a theatrically comical kiss on the cheek complete with a MWAH, and then listens to what she whispers to him, brow raising, "Well, well, well.. Congratulations /are/ in order then." He smiles over at Greg and says, "The fiance, then, I see. Congratulations. Be good to her. Or fear the bane of Weber curses for the next millenia." One must threaten. It's obligatory, right? Though he's grinning as he does so.

He smiles over at Dante, particularly at that little color in his cheeks and murmurs, "We'll talk about that later." But not here, and not now. There are people to meet and to greet. He looks over to Byron then and smiles, "Byron. Lilith. Good to see you both. Glad you could stop by for the event tonight. When you decide to sit down with a few good books, do let me know. We'll find you some good ones." Then he says to Dante, "Dante, this is Frankie, my best friend in the world, and the one gracious enough to lend me her couch." She's already introduced Greg, and Byron has introduced Lilith, so that covers the immediate introductions.

Nicole, Vyv's other conversation partner, gets a small smile and a wiggle of her fingers. "Isabella Reede, how are you?" she greets, though she falls quiet and examines the other woman's face carefully - small towns are what they are, and she looks familiar. She remembers her from Joey Kelly's self-defense class, and yet...

Vyv's murmur earns him a crooked quirk of the line of her mouth. "A touched annoyed?" she wonders. "Is it because of the letter?" Her attention is largely on the people surrounding her, but considering the miscellaneous traces of additional weirdness creeping into the gathering, she can't help but lift her eyes from the small gathering to occasionally fall on the smaller social clusters.

"Really?" Nicole asks to Vyv. "There's so many Brit actors who play Americans. Though, not sure Andrew Lincoln's 'Coral' instead of 'Carl' is a great Southern accent... He may still do it better than I could do an English accent." She pauses a beat, head tilting. "Do they actually try, over there, I mean? Most American accents are not nearly as amazing." She nods at the introduction, then smiles. "A pleasure, for sure."

Turning towards Isabella to see that finger-wiggled greeting, she smiles and nods. "I remember.. from the year behind me at THS, right? I am pretty good today, thank you. Got over that nasty flu... How are you?" She appears to be a bit talkative tonight. "Nicole Stein. Owner of the Curl Up and Dye."

"Well, well, well." Lilith starts to Frankie when she sees her approaching with Greg, casting a quick beam of smile with the introductions going around, nodding solidly at Dante's directive about the man selling the books, noting Byron's mention visibly about the nonfiction suggestions. But she'll get to that in a second, apparently, because she seems a touch amused with surprise tinging it when she looks between the engaged pair.

Then whatever she was about to say pauses with a tiny catch of breath and a bit of a double take toward a certain direction her eyes just happen to cast over. After blinking a few times, she regains stride, tone dry, "I didn't think it was this level when you mentioned wanting to see how easy a fellow spooks. Apparently not easy enough! He put that thing on you, didn't he? How new or old is this? I'm so stupid out of touch from the hell summer of mine."

"Lovely to meet you all. Thank you for coming," says Dante as he takes a moment to acknowledge the people he's introduced to. He nods once to Elias, "Ah, Frankie with the couch. Yes. Pleasure," his smile is genuine. "I am indeed Mister Thorne's tenant. He was good enough to let me crash in one of his display suites on a temporary basis, as I was losing my boyish figure eating bacon and eggs every morning at the bed and breakfast I was previously staying." He pats his stomach. "And yes, I'm seeking all sorts of true crime and spooky tales as material for my book."

Despite any socializing, he makes a point of swiveling his attention to the stage whenever anyone's up. He listens with an encouraging smile, hand on chin. He does tilt his head when he thinks he hears scratching, but...surely that was just suggestion? His brow furrows.

Greg flashes his best charming grin, full of dimples, to Elias. "You know I will, family," Greg tells him, offering a fist bump before, reciprocated or not, he wraps that arm around Frankie's shoulders, drawing her close. He waves around at the other introductions, nodding his head -- yes, in fact, I am Greg. His eyes linger on Elias just a little too long, inscrutable and weighing, before they slide towards Lilith.

After a moment's hesitation, he dares to answer for Frankie. "It's new," he supplies with a mischievous grin. He gives a helpless shrug. "I had to have her in my life all the time. What're you going to do, ya know?" He hesitates before also adding, "You should know I take my responsibilities as Scratch's step dad very seriously."

The lovely blonde's self-identification has Isabella's green, gold-shot eyes widening visibly. "Nicole...oh my god! You're...oh my god, I'm so sorry!" She has the good grace to look sheepish, laughing and lifting her fingers to rub against the curve of her cheek, her smile growing. "It's been a decade and change since I've been here, I almost didn't...wow. All grown up, huh? Honestly, I thought you'd be long gone away from here by now with your camera." All the details she remembers, long memories colored by a more idyllic childhood, come in a rush - as if her name had invoked a flood of other images let loose. "It-- "

But before she could continue it, a specific ringtone cuts through the proceedings, and she digs out her phone to check on it. The New Orleans number identified on the screen has her rising from her seat. "I'm sorry, I have to step out and take this for a bit." An apologetic smile cast to both, but with the promise of a swift return, she starts moving to the further back of the gathering, answering her phone. "Aunt Mary...?"

"Ooooh, hi Dante. I've heard loads and loads about you." Frankie smiles at the man before she offers a hand to shake, or maybe she's purposefully holding that hand out towards the group to show off the fancy ring on it. Fancy. Ring.

There is a quick nod for Lilith, though, "Yeah. I tried to spook him, but it didn't work out. Threatening murder usually works, you know?" She shrugs very faintly, amusement dancing in her eyes before she glances at Greg, then back towards Lilith, "Although I'm not allowed to bury him in the hole with the animal sacrifices. Evidently he's a people, and has to get his own hole. Which, like, okay. In exchange he has promised to not kill me and wear my face." Which just gets Greg a kiss, for his promise to not wear her face when he kills her one day.

This is all normal, right?

"Well, most of the ones they let do it professionally are passable to good," Vyv allows, "but more generally..." He trails off, gives a faint shrug. "At the risk of a poor imitation of a poor imitation, one gets rather a lot of 'Whal, y'all aren't real bright 'round here, are ya?' and the like." It can only be described as successfully intentionally bad, a sort of Southern/Western cross with a played-up drawl and over-emphasis on the Rs. Start with a bad comedian's impression of Bush Junior and go from there. It is at least not any louder than his casual speech, which is a blessing. "...not everyone, no. But."

He shakes his head to Isabella's question, then pauses. "Well, not precisely," he begins, but doesn't really get a chance to go into it any more deeply at present, what with introductions and phone calls. But no hurry, surely. Still stories being told and all. He gives her an acknowledging tilt of the head as she takes her leave, and glances thoughtfully toward the speaker -- though that feeling of a scratching sound catches his attention a moment as well.

Byron is semi-distracted by one thing or another and when when he's chatting up several individuals, his attention just seems drawn to the shelves, somewhat. Or perhaps the corner of the rooms. Oh look, Frankie and her... fiance, he'll assume by the ring, are in his face now. "Frankie, Frankie. You've come a long way." He says, flashing her one of his salesman's smile out of jest. He might not just be talking the ring, even if he brings it up now , "Congratulations are in order then?" He extends a hand out to Greg in a professional manner, "Nice to meet you, Greg."

Nicole laughs good-naturedly and waves a hand to Isabella. "It's okay, really... I was gone a good decade myself. Ish."Looking down to her body then back up she says, "didn't we all? I mean..." Shrug. "In a manner of speaking." But, the call comes in and as Isabella excuses herself, Nicole gives her a polite nod and a wave.

However, Vyv's impression of an impression makes it impossible for her not to giggle. She covers her mouth as she does and nods. "I see your point. I will refrain from further embarrassing myself tonight, I hope, and not try to do an English accent." Looking around for where the author got off to, but not leaving her seat, she wonders aloud, "is no one going to speak of their own experiences?"

Elias does in fact return Greg's fist-bump with a grin, seeming undaunted by that lingering look. He's in good spirits, and even though he does notice the strangeness going on around the shop, he seems not only accustomed to it, but perhaps enjoys it a little bit, since it does seem to be adding ambiance to the event. Also the talk of Greg and Frankie murdering and burying each other just gets a fond grin from him. Apparently this is normal, at least for some weirdos.

Greg takes that hand and gives it a firm shake. Byron's a Serious Guy, he gets Serious Greg. The aforementioned pusher/peddler doesn't even crack a grin (well,barely) as he nods, looking over at Frankie with pride in his eyes. "Thank you, thank you," he says, and doesn't even toss a street appellation in there.

Who is this guy, anyway?

"Great to meet you too... Byron, right? I'm Gregory Sumpter. I own Green Harbor Organics, out on Maple." Greg looks very adult for several seconds all together here, but he ruins it when he turns to Frankie with a grin. "Shit baby, I could never wear your face. I'd have to get Lil to stuff you like Scratch so we can keep being a happy fuckin' family forever."

"Loads about me?" repeats Dante. He shakes Frankie's hand and glances sidelong at Elias. He mouths the word 'loads?' at him, then returns his attention to the group. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches another fine suit, and he double-takes. If Vyv catches him looking, he'll raise the cup of cocoa that he got his hands on at some point in a salute. As for the happy couple and murder? Well, he is a horror writer. Love takes some strange forms.

"Awww, but even if he does wear your face in the end, it just means he misses you." Lilith offers sage advice to Frankie and seems to be on Greg's side a little bit after his announcement about being a good stepdaddy to ol' Scratch. Her lips twitch some, though, despite the dry deadpan and she tilts her head a bit to catch on the fancy ring with appreciative (and maybe jewelry appraising given her trade) study there for a beat. She's passively listening to the people telling stories around while quietly mingling off and away with the others, but her eyes make another quick survey here and there, as if something is nagging her subtly.

"Make sure and have a banger of a funeral when Byron eventually kills me for being difficult one day, since we're on the subject of death planning." The brunette woman makes another dry tack on to Frankie with advising last will before casting a bit of a slanting smile up at Byron next to her. Then she casts a speculative look at Dante a beat before excusing herself briefly to nab a few books, not just the one.

When Dante mouths 'loads?' at him, Elias feigns innocence, looking like he has no idea what she's talking about. No idea. None.

"Loads." Frankie assures Dante, smiling at him before she circles her arm around Greg's waist, leaning in against him before she nods, "Oh, certainly. When Byron kills you I'll be sure to bring up a band from New Orleans, and we'll march down the streets." She tilts her head, glancing over at Byron for a moment, then back to Lilith, "And I'll make sure that he springs for the big black carriage and fancy glass coffin." Which, she gives Byron a pointed look, "Which means that he can't have your face until after the funeral."

So there.

"I can show you how to mummify my head, if you wanted. It probably wouldn't be as pretty as what Lil could do, but it'd be creepy enough that Scratch would fit in with it." This is offered towards Greg, since he's the one talking about having her stuffed like the rooster. There's a passive look towards the guy with the attic story, then she observes, "I really thought that one was going somewhere."

"I suppose we don't know that woman didn't see the ghost once, or that this fellow wasn't once that boy," Vyv replies to Nicole a touch absently, then gives her a a moment of sharper focuse, head slightly tilting. "Have any suitable experiences of your own? Perhaps you ought to show them how it's done." He's never again picked up the now-surely-cold cocoa he got on the way in, so when he does catch Dante's glance and the cup is raised, rather than a counter-toast there's a head-tilt of acknowledgement, saved from qualifying as 'regal' only by having a quietly amused expression to go along with it. Suit-game recognize suit-game.

"Byron Thorne. I own the Bayside Apartments." Thorne goes on to say, though it's probably somewhat hinted that he owns a building, seeing as Dante is his tenant. When not in a business suit or anything fancy of that sort, Byron looks like your regular guy-- with city boy aesthetics. He might not know this Greg, but he seems a decent enough sort. "Green Harbor Organics? Hmm, interesting. How's business anyway, out of curiosity?" He then adds, "There's festival coming up for Halloween weekend. Dressing the town up for a weekend long Masquerade. I can stop by your shop with the official paperwork, if you like, but I would greatly appreciate your cooperation in promoting the festivities." He more than likely informed most of the local businesses by now of this, Greg is just new to him.

When the women speak of the strangely morbid, there's this quirk of his brow but that smile lingers, "You girls were always odd. But sure, a lavish funeral if we really want to talk about death this soon." He was just at a funeral recently.

Nicole nods her head, realizing she had just not been paying close enough attention. How rude. "Do you think he was? I think he might have been." She squints one eye closed, looking at the man that might have been the boy carefully. "Me? Oh... no, not really. I used to go to haunted places when I lived in Arizona to try to see something. I got creepy feelings sometimes, but that was it. What about you?" The nod towards Dante has her looking towards the author and she asks Vyv, "do you know him? I should get a couple books before I leave..."

Dante applauds politely for the petering story. There's a look of sympathy for the man. It can be quite easy to lose where you're going when you're in front of a crowd, after all. Then he murmurs to Frankie, "I hope the tales were not too terribly unflattering." Another sideways glance to Elias. Then, "Not quite on-topic, but I always thought a book on regional funeral traditions could be morbidly interesting. If I could gather enough material."

"I think somebody might have caught my staff at the shop," Greg answers Byron. "I didn't have a chance to look into it yet. But yeah, we'd love to be part of the party, for sure." He offers an affable smile that transmutes into a grin as he looks over at Frankie, smooching her on the cheek.

"I guess the fair thing to do would be to ask Scratch if he'd rather have mommy stuffed or mummified," he posits. A slight blush rises up from his red shirt collar as he notices Lilith's critique of the ring. He gives a small, helpless shrug. "Only the best," he says loftily, with a love-smitten look for Frankie. Oh it's real.

"So what do you ladies talk about when you're not making after-life arrangements?" he asks lightly.

"With an ending like that? I suppose he might have been," Vyv says, "Simple way to falsify it, of course, just find out whether his parents and brother and dog are missing." It might or might not be a joke. If so, someone should probably give him a small award for his deadpan. A small trophy with a pair of expressionless masks, perhaps.

Whether he has stories of his own somehow doesn't get answered, just a light, "Pity," for her demurral, and with a glance toward Dante, "...no, not yet. But yes, what I've read of his work before was worthwhile." The phone slides into his pocket, and he begins to rise to his feet. "Shall we?"

"Oh good, I'll be there." Lilith assures Frankie and Byron with their own assurances, and on her way of, she answers Greg. "Rainbows and kittens and boys, of course." The woman says as a total non-answer, batting her lashes at him after she makes a conclusive low noise in her throat with finished survey of the ring, right before going to fetch books. When she's back, though, she waits patiently for Dante to be free for signing once she's gotten a pen out of her shoulder bag. And shifting her weight between hips, she digs out her phone when it takes to buzzing and frowns at the screen a touch.

She seems in much higher spirits than recently has allowed for Byron's eyes, despite that brief bother of frown, and the moment doesn't touch it, whatever it is. She takes to tapping in response on text while making addendum to Greg and suggestion to Frankie, "But seriously, ever since I've been back, it's been one thing or another, so we haven't gotten to talk as much as we should. We should certainly amend that with drinks and stuff soon now that my own fuss and muss seems done with. And it seems you definitely have at least one story to tell, between the pair of you." Her eyes flit up to the two of them with a hint of a smile.

Then, to Byron, she adds, "When you're ready to go, I am, guy that temp agency sent over locked himself out of the computer. But he can wait too if you want to mingle more."

"Love to. Text me when you've got a day off?" Day? Night? Time for drinks, at least. Frankie tends to be able to shake off work whenever she gets the urge to wander away from the parlor. But mention of the festival thing gets a squinty look for Byron, but she doesn't ask about it. Nope.

Instead she glances towards the door, then she leans in to murmur towards Greg, "We can run away whenever you want, too." Maybe there is some sympathy for having dropped him into the deep end of what life is like among her friends. But at a more conversational level she shakes her head, adding, "She's forgetting the naked dancing around bonfires. But usually Gina's got to be here for that, since she's the High Priestess."

Dante spots a few people milling around holding books. "If you all will excuse me, I'm going to go..." he mimes signing in the air. "Thank you all for coming. Enjoy the goodies." He smiles, then steps back, towards a table set up with books. People can either take books from the table to bring down to the counter to pay for, or some have brought their own copies. Most of the people who come to get their copies signed are perfectly normal, but some are a bit strange. He greets both with patience and warmth. Anyone who goes on a bit too long gets a card with an email for the Dark Heart series and a request to send a message.

Byron should probably pick up a few books of his own, they'd look good on his shelf at the apartment at the very least. However, with the line already forming, he figures he can do that at another time since Dante lives in his buildings. "Well, it was nice meeting with all of you again, Mister Sumpter, but looks like we have some profits to rescue, something which would be lost if Lilith doesn't unlock that computer." He then just has to ask, "Why did they send another one? Did Ibn Khairan not return for a second interview?" Not that he should be surprised. Reaching into his pants pocket, he scoops out his car keys.

"Hmm... Maybe we should?" Find out about it, that is. Nicole studies Vyv at that, trying to read his expression, but the lack of one only seems to pique her curiosity. When he rises, she looks around a moment before realizing he is talking to her. "Oh... yes, sure." She smiles, leaving her seat to walk with him to look for books.

Lilith sighs a little at Byron as if it's just her lot in life to deal with irritating people and explains in the car after saying her goodbyes to Frankie and thanking Elias and Dante on their way out.

Greg looks at Frankie with a huge, relieved grin. "Can we really?" he asks, "Because honestly, I think the brownies are starting to happen." He holds out his hand in front of his face, slowly flexing his fingers, and nods slowly. "They are for sure happening pretty hard. What do you think about driving, beautiful?" He fishes his keys out of his pocket and holds them out to her.

He turns an increasingly stupid grin back on Byron, with an affable nod. "Really good to meet you, Byron," he answers, really insisting on that first-name basis.

He turns back to Frankie with what is now a completely vapid grin and giggles quietly, low in his throat. "How did we do?"

"Perhaps," Vyv says, with just the ghost of a smile; it's more in the eyes that the lips, for the moment it exists. Happily for the stuttering storyteller, though, it's the books he heads for, picking up a couple he presumably didn't have, and going ahead and getting them signed. There being a queue, however, he does his ancestors proud and does not hold it up with chatter and the like. Things for another day.

"You did great." Frankie replies with a bright smile for Greg as she reaches out to take the keys from him, then she moves to give her good byes to Elias before she starts to drag Greg towards the door so that his high isn't ruined by being forced to meet more people.