2019-10-18 - The Great Pumpkin

Noelle trundles up to the front of the pumpkin seed line with some sweaty cash in hand. It was sweaty when she got it, no judgments. She hands it over for some seeds. "Seed me, kid." She's dressed in vintage clothes, very grunge Nirvana fan.

Cole isn't a local. It's actually his first year living in Gray Harbor, but he'd been passing by the park and saw all the pumpkins, and it reminded him of home in a nostalgic sort of way. Back in New England, there would be a magnificent spray of color in the leaves, and pumpkins would be all over, ready for halloween purchase. So it's with a bit of wistfulness that he wanders along the periphery, and eventually makes his way over to buy some roasted pumpkin seeds to nibble as he peruses the pumpkins.

Alexander is a local! He's not here specifically for the pumpkins, or at least hasn't brought anything to carry a pumpkin home in. He's dressed badly; an overlarge sweater in an unflattering shade of purple hangs almost down to his knees. A few holes make it clear that he's got a white undershirt on beneath it. His jeans are old and faded, and not in the fashionable way, and his workboots are ancient and stompy. He has his hands shoved in his pockets as he skirts the periphery, moving to look at the massive mutant pumpkin. He sort of stares at it, fixedly.

There's always one super-huge pumpkin at things like this. A big, monstrous, lumpy beast that occupies a place of reverence among the straw and the happy orange gourds. Hailey has been eyeing this beast for a while now, and finally - finally! - all the little kids that want to climb all over it have cleared off, and grown-ups get to climb all over it. "I'm pretty sure we could just hollow it out and climb inside and roll it home. Like a hamster ball, writ large," she's telling Harvey certainly, trying to find the hand-hold that all those shrimps were using to get up here. He is burdened with two pumpkins already, so he's no help with this dilemma. Which is when she all but literally collides with the hard-staring Alexander, leaving her with a quick, "I don't want to have to fight you for this bad boy, Mister Clayton, but I will."

The massive pumpkin is probably full of spiders or something, so No Duchannes stays clear of it. The blonde, Gray Harbor born and raised!, lives dangerously, shoving a handful of salted pumpkin seeds into her mouth. You choose your battles around here. "You, blonde teenager. Heft that gourd to my chariot." She points at a pumpkin that she probably can't carry, and then thumbs it to her vespa parked next to the tree closest to the cop shop. "I got some bungees."

Gina is also pretty vintage-- a little farther back, though. She's got on a black-on-darker-black paisley bell-bottom jumpsuit, a wide black woven belt with little skull and feather charms around the waist, and her purple hair kept back with a wide black hairband. It's totally goth 70s, and unsurprising for Gina. She's even got an umbrella, despite being a local and more than used to the drizzle and rain. The platform shoes also tip her into tall territory, making her hard to miss in the crowd. She's strolling through the pumpkin fields, making note of what's around, and upon seeing the mess of people near MegaGourd, she slows enough to toss out a "Think they actually did that with a pumpkin a few years back. Person wasn't actually willing, though. Also pumpkins aren't soundproof." In case anyone was curious.

Harvey is indeed burdened with two large pumpkins, but he shoulders his burdens well. He still looks a little pale, on the recovery end of an illness perhaps, but the fresh air is doing him some good. "Sort of like James and the Giant Peach but with a giant pumpkin instead of the other thing. Maybe you could find some giant spider and grasshopper friends," he suggests to Hailey, and then grimaces when she almost collides with Alexander.

Alexander sidles away from the near collision with a startled, sidelong look towards Hailey that only gets a bit less defensive when he recognizes who it is. "I don't want it, Dr. Stevenson," he assures her. "Where would you even put it? And then it will rot. Fifty pounds of rotting pumpkin." A nod to Harvey. "And you already have pumpkins, looks like." He's cheerful. Gina gets another of those sidelong looks. "Think that's called kidnapping. When the person isn't willing. Generally illegal." His twitchy gaze scans the people, resting for a moment on Noelle and her orders to the nearest blonde teenager, who barely looks up from her phone as she bobs her head.

And doesn't move. She'll get around to it. Probably. Maybe.

Cole glances over at the giant pumpkin and the conversation and speculation that is going on around it. He can't help but be curious and so draws closer. "Sounds like a college prank -- stuffed in a pumpkin." He pops another pumpkin seed in his mouth and then glances around. He then selects a much smaller pumpkin, barely the size of a grapefruit, and a couple of other little ones, apparently going for quantity over heft.

Once commanded, Noelle leaves the teenager to manage (or not) the pumpkin she chose, a lopsided number with a cheerfully crooked stem. "It's kinda funny when the screaming echoes," the blonde confirms, wandering past Gina to take up a post nearby. "It's only illegal when and if you get caught," she supplies helpfully to Alexander.

Don't be so morbid, Hailey. "What did they die from? In the pumpkin, I mean. Asphyxiation? Heat stroke?" She thinks about this for longer than she should, head-tilted curiously after Gina while she knocks her knuckles against this big pumpkin a couple times before she pushes back from it, passing a warning look back to Harvey. "Let's don't tempt fate? I'm not ready for a Giant Spider Friend." She doesn't have an answer for Alexander, just a shrug and a smile that pair well together, a silent 'don't know, don't care 😃' to all the (admittedly valid) difficulties he mentions.

"Actually only illegal if the ringleader wasn't the grandniece of the chief of police." Gina comments. She remains a bit away from the group with her umbrella, scanning the crowd. Did we mention the large, 1970s sunglasses? They're pretty great. Gina really goes all in with the historic fashion sometimes. Glancing at Alexander, she asks, "You decorating your secret bunker for the holidays, Clayton?" She asks, as usual managing to make it sound like an almost-genuine question.

Alexander glances at Noelle. One corner of his mouth lifts. "Not a true statement. It's always illegal. You just only get punished if you get caught." He eyes Cole as the other man draws close, frowning at his selections. "Can't cut those into jack-o-lanterns," he points out. "Not unless you're real good with a knife. You might be. I don't judge." He looks like a guy who judges. The frown turns into something closer to a scowl at Gina. "I don't have a secret bunker," he says, a bit testily. "But I am thinking of getting a pumpkin. For my porch. Not the massive one. The doctor will stab me and I have no room." It's hard to say which of those is a more compelling reason not to do it.

"Starvation," Harvey says of what the pumpkins die from, bending to set his own pumpkins down. And just in time, too, 'cause it frees up his arms so he can cough into his elbow. Though, he coughs just as Noelle walks by him. Cough-cough, Noelle.

Noelle looks at Alexander for a couple of beats, pumpkin seeds halfway to her mouth. "What's the difference?" She takes several steps back when Harvey begins to cough.

"Stab? No." Hailey shakes her head at Alexander, then fails to clarify what she'd do in lieu of a stabbing because, "I'm sorry, Mister Editor, but does it count as irony if you starve to death while trapped inside something edible?" Her expression pulls toward sympathy while Harvey's hacking up all his lungs onto random passers-by, though it's hard to tell if she's sympathetic toward Harvey or the passer-by, since it's to Noelle that she suggests, "Do you want some Purell?" Of course she has one of those little bitty squeeze-bottles in her pocket; why wouldn't she? "You really should." Lid opened, she holds it out there to make the offer.

Cole glances down at his little pumpkins and then over at Alexander and then remembers his last adventures with a knife. He winces slightly and says, "Yeah, you're right, actually, and if my last culinary adventure is evidence -- I'm really not good with a knife." He sets the little pumpkins back and goes for a more mid-size easier-to-carve pumpkin instead. "Anaphylactic shock," he provides, "Trying to eat your way out of something you're allergic to."

"All the edible parts were carved out already. Who eats a pumpkin rind?" Actually, there's probably people out there that eat the entire pumpkin, but Harvey doesn't know any of them. So his point stands. When the Purell comes out, he holds out his hands for a squirt. "It smells like apples," he says to Noelle, in case she's on the fence about taking the offered hand santizer that he's about to get his germy hands all up in.

"I guess since everybody knows you own one, it probably isn't a secret." Gina nods, agreeing with Alexander. Agreeing! Her attention goes towards the less familiar Harvey, Cole, and Hailey, stuffed with pumpkins, disease, and murderous theories. Ahh, Gray Harbor. She seems content to hang back for a moment, eavesdropping.

"That's not what I meant," Alexander grouses at Gina, his shoulders hunching with indignation. Indignation! "I don't have a bunker of any kind," he adds, to the rest of the group, like this was a serious question. "I'm sure it would invalidate my rental contract." So there. He peers at Hailey with interest. "Slash? Or are you more the poisoner sort?" Then a pause. "You can roast the rind. Can't eat it all, but I've had some roasted with salt and spices." His stomach growls, faintly. He glances towards the little kiosk and its roasted seeds, but doesn't move in that direction.

Noelle is still stood out by Gina, though now about three big paces back since the group yonder has a cougher. She shakes her head at the offer of sanitizer. "You know how many people get infected off hand sanitizer bottles?"

Cole smiles a little curiously when Alexander announces his lack of a bunker, clearly not having judged, even if he did. He examines his more recently acquired pumpkin, and finding it adequate, goes to look for a second of about the same size. "I just like the pie, and muffins, and the seeds. I wouldn't eat the rind, even roasted." There's a glance over toward the demonstration tables where some simple carving is going on, and he wanders in that direction to watch for a moment or two, considering his own pumpkins. "What other halloween traditions are there in this town?" he asks to no one in particular, just polling the general populace since he figures there are plenty of locals present.

Honestly, "No." Hailey looks at the apple-scented hand sanitizer while she squishes some onto Harvey's hands for him, shrugging at Noelle's question. "But I know that alcohol-based hand sanitizers containing at least seventy-percent alcohol kill ninety-nine point nine nine nine percent of germs within a minute of application, and are recommended by the C-D-C for use in situations where soap and water aren't available." She's happy to share this useless factoid with all and sundry. "I'm guessing 'random murders?'" for Cole's question, though she defers to Alexander, as the local expert here; she also offers him some Purell, it's almost certainly not poison. "Have you met Harvey, Mister Clayton? He's an editor for the Gazette."

"How are you going to roast the rind if you're inside the pumpkin?" Harvey counters to Alexander, rubbing his hands together vigorously and smearing some of the hand sanitizer on his forearms, too. Just in case. To Cole, Harvey rolls his shoulders into a shrug. "I'm surprised there isn't some kind of Halloween parade. Small towns love parades," he remarks. "But there's a lot of buzz about the Masquerade events going on around town. Lots of small business involvement." When Hailey introduces him to Alexander, he looks back to the man, sizing him up with a quick glance. "Nice to meet you, Mister Clayton. Harvey O'Donnell," he extends a hand, and then second-thinks it and pulls it back. "Just got over being sick, shaking's probably not advised. What is it you do, Mister Clayton?"

Alexander can't help but laugh, just once, short and sharp, at the 'tradition' of random murders. "That's not a Halloween tradition, Doctor. It's more of an everyday tradition." He turns his attention to Cole. "Trick-or-treating? Pranks by roving teenagers. Uh. There's a festival this year that Thorne hopes will become a tradition." A shrug. "That's about it."

He turns his attention back to Harvey. "Have a blowtorch with you. What are you doing getting stuck in a giant pumpkin if you don't have a blowtorch handy?" He never bothered to extend his hand to shake, but he says, a bit gruffly, "Nice to meet you, Harvey O'Donnell. I investigate things."

Noelle glances over her shoulder to see a blonde teenager struggling with the pumpkin she asked for, trying to get it over to the old vespa by the tree. No hides a smirk behind a handful of pumpkin seeds. She glances over at Cole when he mentions all the pumpkin edible bits. Yumsauce. "Every year underclassmen decide to do a seance, can't keep it to themselves, and seniors punk them. It's pretty great, but usually generates a few 911 calls." She crunches through a few more seeds.

Gina deigns to speak again, at the talk of teenagers and pranks and seances. "There aren't that many official traditions. There are the unofficial ones, mostly. The walk in the woods. The Sawmill Scares. Mrs. Ellison's demons. The Hide-and-seek games. Teen shit. The adults have other things to do." A small slice of a smile. "The parade was discontinued couple of decades back. It turned into a problem." Something in her words imply a deeper story, but Gina just glances over towards the pumpkins and says, "Kind of sucks they don't have a ton of pumpkin varieties."

"Maybe that's how they died? Cooked alive inside a giant pumpkin, the very thing they were trying to eat to avoid dying. That's irony, right?" Hailey sanitizes her own hands and then puts the Purell away; it's not like they pay her commission (though they SHOULD). Kids keep drifting back toward the giant pumpkin, so she begrudgingly steps back from it, sharing idly, "I met a friend of yours, Mister Clayton. Actually, Harvey did, too. Isabella Reede? She said you mentioned me." There's some good-natured accusation in her tone and the eyebrow-twitch that accompanies it, tsk-tsk with tongue-to-teeth.

"Random murders," Cole repeats after Hailey, "Okay." Not that there weren't enough murders already going on. "I was beginning to think that was more of a year-long thing at this point." And when Alexander seems to confirm it, he smiles faintly in that direction. He nods about the Masquerade that Harvey mentions and says, "Thanks. I'll have to look in to that." To Gina he says, "I've heard about the Sawmill, a little. That it's supposedly haunted." But he hasn't been out there himself to check or anything like that. "Who is Mrs. Ellison?"

Harvey's brows arch upward at the gruff introduction from Alexander. "Investigate things, eh? Then I guess we're cut from the same cloth," he musters up a grin, complete with dimples, before he adds with a laugh: "Unless you're a cop. Then we're cut from two totally different materials and I'm pretty sure I'm a pain in your ass." As for the blowtorches? He looks thoughtfully at the giant pumpkin. "I guess I should start carrying one around. A blowtorch, I mean. Never know when such a thing could come in handy."

Noelle looks at Cole and says, in her best srs bsnss voice, "I double dog dare you to go lick the sawmill blade on Devil's Night." She nods to Gina then and says, "The demons are pretty much my favorite of the season." There's a pause, and she adds, "Sometimes the cops challenge the firefighters to Run Like Hell through the old cemetery." She's thoughtful at the talk of blowtorches and their usefulness.

Alexander blinks at Hailey. "Yes. I know Isabella. I'm glad you met her." He seems oblivious to the accusation; he just stares at her for longer than could possibly be comfortable, before saying. "I still owe you tea. I haven't forgotten." A sidelong look at Cole. "It's haunted," he says, deadpan. Truthful, or just a townie fucking with the non-local? Hard to tell from his dead-eyed stare, but he doesn't seem like a prankish sort of guy. But Harvey's words draw his attention back. The grin brings up a faint flicker of a smile. "Not a cop. I am often a pain in cops' asses, too. So. Guess so? I don't write newspaper stories, though. Just reports." And he just nods to the talk of blowtorches. They're useful! Maybe he has one on him right now - that sweater is big enough that it's hard to tell.

Cole glances over at Noelle and grins a little amusedly, "That just sounds unsanitary. Gonna pass, but thanks." The pumpkins are set down since they are getting heavy, and it makes it hard to eat his pumpkin seeds, which he picks at a bit. He glances back over toward Alexander and says, "I believe it. It wouldn't be the first haunted place I've been in town." Then the giant pumpkin starts thumping, moving, and tips over, and he looks a little surprised. "I think someone needs your blowtorch," he says to Alexander.

Hailey, just, "If this turns out to be a giant spider..." She back-steps from the pumpkin (like most people are doing now), collecting her own littler pumpkin in both arms and holding it against her middle.

"A private investigator then?" Harvey deduces to Alexander. He's a journalist, putting two and two together is just sort of what he does. He hooks his thumbs into his pockets, cocking his head to Alexander and Hailey, brows lofting again when they talk of having tea. "Bet this town's good for business at least. Lots of shit to sink your teeth into." Phrasing, Harvey! There's so much more he wants to say, but the giant pumpkin begins to wobble, and he reaches for Hailey's hand to pull her back. "Uh, maybe we should go get some of those seeds.." he suggests to her.

Gina smirks a bit at Noelle's words, nodding, before she glances at the non-Natives and adds, "Story goes if you lick the Sawmill blade, it'll feel and taste like it's covered in fresh blood. And you'll cut yourself some time the next day." Because it's important that they know this. She glances at Cole, too, offering, "Local widow. Three times over." She might've been about to say more, before the pumpkin starts thumping. Gina pauses, angling to better face the pumpkin, and after only a second or two, unhooks her umbrella from her wrist, lifts it, and opens it up to shade herself from... the sun? Drizzle? Potential exploding pumpkin and flying seeds? Who knows. But she does give a small, knowing little smile. But she's also not moving from where she is.

"Sort of like a private investigator. No license, so technically I think I'm just nosy," Alexander mutters, although not without an edge of self-depreciating humor. Then the pumpkin starts to wobble and he hops back a little, eyes widening.

Cole's pumpkin seeds are momentarily forgotten as horse hooves suddenly come crashing out of the pumpkin, and he blinks in a kind of stupefied fascination. Sure, he's seen some weird, even before coming to this town, but that doesn't mean that it doesn't still startle him every time it happens. He doesn't move from where he's standing, perhaps a little too wrapped up in what he's witnessing to think to maybe get out of the way of whatever else might be coming out of that pumpkin.

Noelle continues to eat seeds, but has by now noticed the pumpkin's wobble. It took her a while, because she was trying to get someone to lick a haunted saw blade. "...Um." This is the sound of several trains of thought colliding her head. Flee, flee, no wait, stay and watch the chaos unfold. She keeps eating, but warily now. "Yeah one time..." Her story trails off with the screaming inside the pumpkin. "Nobody asked for more cowbell." No, flee, flee! She skitters off toward her vespa.

Alexander takes another step back. His hand comes up, lightly rubs at his temple. Maybe the improbability of this whole situation is giving him a headache. His expression goes a little slack. "Might want to clear the area," he says, to no one in particular. "I don't think it's happy." He sounds calm about that. Because really, this is life in Gray Harbor.

Hailey feels the hand on her arm, since her own hands are clasped around her pumpkin, and she passes a look to Harvey that accompanies a quick shake of her head. Like 'no dude, we have to stick this one out.' (Curiosity has to be up there among the leading causes of death in this town.)

"Oh, fuck me," Harvey utters aloud as the first hoof pounds through the pumpkin. "Am I cursed?" he isn't asking anyone in particular, but he does ask Hailey directly: "Are you cursed?" Seriously. But she's wanting to stick this one out, and Harvey makes a grumbly sound under his breath. He's gonna at least pull her out of the way of whatever is coming out of this pumpkin. Maybe.

Nope, nevermind. They are just both gonna stand here and die. GG, Haiiley.

Noelle boogies across the park, perhaps ten yards from the tree where she parked her baby. She can hear what's going on behind her, and that only speeds her up. Lookit her go! Dang, did she run a little track in high school?

Cole's poor pumpkins are forgotten and abandonded to their fate as he continues to back up from the emerging horse and rider, heeding Alexander's advice. Even the bag of pumpkin seeds falls from his hand as he just keeps backing away, nearly stumbling over a pile of pumpkins behind him. Thankful for some good balance, he manages to stay upright, but seems reluctant to turn his back on the horse to better see where he's going.

Alexander raises his hands as the horse turns towards him. He sidles back and away, hopefully away from stupid cheering people. His expression manages to be both resigned, and worried, all at the same time. "You're about to try and kill us, aren't you?" he says, to the rider, the horse, or possibly both. But the horse has eyes, so he focuses on those. Creepy. So creepy. He starts humming tunelessly under his breath, trying to chill the headless horseman and its mount. But can you actually affect the mind of something without a head?

Experiments. For SCIENCE. Also, hopefully, for not getting turned into an small town urban legend.

Scoffing, Hailey points at Alexander, Gina, Cole, all the people with a more significant bit of brightness to them than she has: "And you think I might be the cursed one?" But she's nodding despite the implication to the contrary, while trying to cover her precious pumpkin with her arms. Headless horsemen are always stealing pumpkins for heads, but not this one, foul demon!

Noelle remembers at the last minute she has some dumplings for the guys over at the demo booth, she glances back, nopes right out of that, and keeps on keeping on, skidding to a stop beside the vespa, which doesn't even have all its gears. She hops on and started it up, kicking the stand. Hopefully the horseman doesn't chase the ones who run the fastest. "Read the fine print next time you orderrrrr!" Her yell is unnecessary. The pumpkin carving dude who ordered these bailed out before she did.

"I mean, sentient waffles. Now pumpkin hors - holy hell, is that the fucking headless horseman?!" Harvey's eyes bulge out of his head, because really. Fuck this town. But shit, he didn't grab his pumpkin - he makes flailing hands to bend and grab, grasping it protectively to his chest with one arm while keeping his other hand on Hailey. "Spinning this is gonna be interesting."

As for Gina? Umbrella open, she looks at the horse - and horseman - stamping its way out of the pumpkin, and she glances towards those present. Much like Alexander, she doesn't seem particularly surprised, but as Hailey points out, they've got a strong sense of the gleam in them. Unlike Alexander, however, Gina doesn't seem to be doing much, there in her sunglasses and with her umbrella open, '70s goth and stylin', even as she looks towards Hailey and raises both brows. "Curse? Sorry, I'm retired." The not-even-30something explains. She steps to one side, putting herself in a new row of pumpkins, and seems ready to... just stroll away, truthfully. But something makes her pause, and wrinkle her nose, and turn back, sighing and looking vaguely annoyed, "Want me to stick around for backup, Clayton?"

Normal is in the eye of the beholder, right? Okay, probably the eye of the beholder who has Glimmer, in which case, Rhys is 100% normal. The jeans and Docs and navy henley and plaid flannel over that also qualify as normal. Dropping by to look into picking up pumpkins and/or pumpkin seeds, still in the normal category. Big horses coming out of pumpkins and bearing headless riders is not in any way normal, and he stops about half a step into the pumpkin-related area of the park, eyeing that. "Uh." He glances at the flyer he'd picked up somewhere advertising the event, checking it for mention of some kind of show.

Noelle screams then a flaming pumpkin slams into her back, and tumbles off her vespa before she can even start it, her pumpkin prize clinging by the truly audacious amount of bungees the teen pumpkin-carrier pulled out of her vespa's saddlebags to secure it. It doesn't even bounce. Her vespa gains a few new scratches as it tumbles over, No herself going ass over tits.

"Goddamned traitor pumpkins," Alexander shouts, and tries to dive out of the way of the oncoming pumpkin. He fails - although, let's be honest, getting caught flatfooted by the Headless Horseman is nothing to be ashamed about. It is, however, something to be in pain about: he lets out a howl of pain as the flaming pumpkin catches him high on the shoulder. That cheap, old, large sweater? Super flammable. Down he goes, dropping and rolling for all he's worth. "Son of a bitch!"

To Gina, there's a disgruntled yell of, "Yes! YES! Backup would be appreciated!" as he starts to roll himself back to his feet, still smoldering a bit.

And then there are flames, flames coming from the horse, flames coming from the pumpkins, hurling pumpkins coming right for them. Cole manages to only marginally dodge the one coming for him due to that skilled balance and athleticism. Whipping of his jacket, he runs over to the nearest person whose clothes are alight and attempting to smother the flames, doing his best to help put them out.

"ShitshitshitshitSHIT!" Harvey shouts as the first flaming pumpkin flies through the air. He jerks Hailey back - or at least that's the story he's going to stick to later - but he doesn't fare quite as well as she does. The flaming pumpkin hits his pumpkin, exploding in hot bits of guts, seeds and fire. He hits the ground and starts flopping about like a fish out of water, trying to put his nice t-shirt out.

SEE WHAT GOOD DEEDS GET YOU?! Gina stopped her escape to be neighborly to a repeat customer, and what does she get? A FIERY PUMPKIN GOURD her way. She sees it out of the corner of her eye and hastily takes a few steps back, eyes widening and feebly lowering her umbrella - but it's not a special anti-fire umbrella or anything. The fire burns right through it and slams into her leg, causing her to stumble, dropping the umbrella as she gasps, groaning as she begins feebly trying to slap the fire with her hands, before her brain catches up seconds later and she starts rolling. She's already stopped and dropped, so she rolls out of the way now, likely getting all that great dirt and debris into the new burn wounds. There might be some hissing from her, but who can pay attention in the chaos happening?

Though she didn't stop or drop on her own power, Noelle rolls. She kermit-flails on the ground and rolls right out of her army jacket, which is lightly aflame. Mainly the strength of the strike from that far off is what knocked the wind out of her, so once she bounces up, she does another controlled fall to the ground, pops up again and then stomps the crap out of her jacket. Fire to smolder to nothing at all.

Belatedly, like about 30 seconds too late to even see a horse's ass, No lifts an arm extended and shoots the Headless Horseman the bird. This unsportsmanlike hand-gesture is accompanied by one final stomp on her jacket, which is undoubtedly singed. "May the chocolate chips in your cookies always turn out to be raisins!" Oh, sick burn, no.

"Ow! Quit!" Hailey's got this, Harvey, she doesn't NEED his help, and comes uncomfortably close to being on fire when he's dragging her one way and instinct makes her leap the other way. The end result is that the pumpkin splatters to the ground about nine inches from the toes of her sneakers, splattering flaming pumpkin-guts as high as the knees of her jeans. BUT! She's not actively on fire so she's still ahead of the curve.

She dropped the pumpkin she really liked though. That's a bummer. Plus, other people are on fire. Annnnnd now some of the straw is starting to catch, so she's hitting Harvey pretty hard while trying to beat out his flaming t-shirt.

Rhys flinches at that high-pitched shrieking sound, looking up from the flyer (which does NOT kindly have any reassuring text about a demonstration by the high school special effects department or similar) just in time for the massive horse to breathe flame and the rider to start hurling great gourds of fire at people. Massive horse galloping full speed through the horse isn't exactly calming either, but mostly? People getting set on fire. "Fuck!" he exclaims eloquently, and ducks down behind a trashcan, making good use of the fact that there isn't a whole lot of him to duck. The flyer falls to the ground and drifts off casually in a breeze; Rhys pulls out his phone and decidedly less casually dials 911. 'cause... fire. And big stampeding horses with headless riders although he MIGHT not include that detail in the call.

"Ow ow ow FUCK! OW!" Harvey sees how it is. He steps in to take the hit and save Hailey's life and she repays him by beating him. At least between her slapping and his flailing on the ground, he puts the fire out on his shirt. The fire on the straw, on the other hand .. well that WOOSHES dramatically. "Shit!" Now fire free, Harvey dives away from the column of flames that was once the straw.

Taking cover behind pumpkins is probably not an option, considering how they're all traitors, so Alexander is cursing as he scrambles to his feet. The flaming straw is yet another problem that he doesn't want to deal with, so he skitters away from it. "We've gotta take that thing down," he says, mostly to Gina, since she's offered to help. He stares at the horseman, dark eyes intent. There's the smell of ozone in the air to those nearest to him, as he tries to zap the thing.

Noelle picks up her jacket, now out, and her vespa, newly dented, and picks it up, checks her pumpkin cargo out, pats herself down, and hops on to start her little beast and speed off. At some point she's going to realize her beautiful, long hair was singed. And at that point in her day, she's going to throw a temper tantrum.

Poor, wounded Gina has rolled behind a group of pumpkins, possibly ignoring Alexander as she checks her wounded thigh. Her jumpsuit is ruined, the material burnt onto (and into) her skin in places, and the whole thing is red and seared. She hisses in pain, but glances over beyond the pumpkin to see the approaching horseman, and then there is-- suddenly-- a medium-sized pumpkin that launches itself towards the horsemen, but the thing's projectory means it only skims the horseman, just missing as the thing continues to bear down on them.

Cole helps tamp down the flames coming off the clothing of a nearby park-goer and helps them back up to their feet, checking them over to make sure that they aren't hurt badly, and then sends them off on their way. Looking around, he checks the surrounding area to see if anyone's badly hurt. The sudden whoosh of flames as the straw starts catching fire has him drawing up short though, the heat causing him to stumble back a bit. He then makes his way over to Gina and tells her, "I can help," nodding toward her burn.

This is not okay. Alexander was trying to have a nice, normal day with no more than the usual amount of murder. He might have carved a pumpkin! Instead, one of his sweaters is now melted to his undershirt (and a little to his shoulder), and all the things are on fire. Some of the people, too, briefly. He tries to keep dodging and weaving while he concentrates, raising one hand in a gesture. He's whispering to himself - there's an electric ZZAAAAAP as an arc of blue-white leaps from his fingers, and grounds itself right between the horse's creepy, mirror-black eyes.

Hailey TRIES to help Harvey scrabble back from the flaming straw, but they're just awful at helping each other. After a minute of pulling on his arm, she gives up and skitters away herself, stomping on some flames on her way. Her shoelaces catch on fire, and she yelps, and that's when she quits caring about whether or not the straw is on fire. It can just burn all up. She claps out her flaming shoe and, come hell or high-water, tugs on Harvey's hand till they can stand on the periphery of this catastrophe and survey the damage. What she doesn't know is...

Really, Harvey and Hailey just need to start coordinating better. Either way, he gets to his feet and helps stomp out her shoelace fire, managing to not accidentally stomp on her toes because really, they've had enough bad rolls for the day. And then he's getting tugged, trying to get as far away from this insanity when...It's raining pumpkin. "Christ," he utters under his breath, grimacing as a big goop of pumpkin guts splats on his head.

Noelle putt-putts away at like 30mph, leaned over the handlebars like she's going much faster. She makes the mistake of looking over her shoulder one time do see that Highlander maneuver, and nearly runs right into a telephone pole, cackling the whole way.

Noelle doesn't. She does not run into the telephone pole.

"What-- no, it's-- I mean, just look outside, it's the park," Rhys says into the phone, peeking around the edge of the trashcan. "'kay yeah I'm sure they got permits but I'm pretty sure it's not supposed to be on fire so-- That's what I said." Because why should a day involving horse-based fire-projectiles be one where you get a dispatcher who isn't already bored sick of people complaining about teenagers maliciously selling pumpkins in the park?

Reasonably convinced he actually got the whole things-on-fire message across now and quietly muttering lyrics from 911 Is A Joke under his breath, Rhys hangs up and tucks the phone away, reaching for something else as he watches the rider add a-- sword? to the firebombs, murmuring a startled but low, "Nice," at the sudden pumpsplosion that follows. Is-- will that stop it?

"I'm fine. Check on Clayton." Gina says, lips pressed together as she looks behind her towards Alexander and his glorious electrical arch, then back at Cole. "Probably our best bet on scaring that thing away." Gina's voice is tightly controlled, but you know, that leg of hers does smell a little crispy, regardless of what she says. But her expression is actually fairly stable. The sweat's just because of the fire, probably. "If you can do something, coordinate with him. I can deal with myself."

Hailey looks pretty with pumpkin guts spilling from the top of her hair, down her face (no she doesn't). She makes an eeeeewww noise while she plucks it off, trying to shake it off her fingers and succeeding in splatting it on Harvey's arm instead, whoops. "I have to ask, what's the paper going to say about all this?" <-- That's her big concern while there are people, like, all burned up. She's an excellent doctor. 🙂

Splut! That was very satisfying, at least until the guts rain down, and now Alexander has his ugly sweater and hair draped with gooey pumpkin flesh. "I'm fine!" he proclaims to Cole, hearing Gina's commentary. "I would like not to be the best bet! I would like to be one bet among many!" But still, the horse thing exploded, and he relaxes, fractionally, to look around. "Everyone alive? Not roasted?"

"Uughhh," Harvey groans when Hailey splatters him with more guts. But at least she's not splattering him with her guts or something even worse. He scrunches up his nose, looking about him to assess the damage, and then looks back to Hailey. "Uh. Something something something, just another day in Gray Harbor!" he decides, and then pulls her by her fingers to bring her in so he can give her a pumpkin-guts smooch. Cuz he also doesn't care about burned up people, at least he's fucking alive.

Cole looks at Gina a little dubiously but he nods to her, at least for now, redirecting his attention to Alexander. He moves over in his direction, but Alexander says he's fine too, and Cole just frowns a little, and says "Okay." Then to Gina he says, "I can help with healing. But if no one wants it, I'm not much good." Then there's an explosion of pumpkin guts and he just blinks as gooey squishy guts land in his hair and drip all over his shirt. He pushes pumpkin from his eyes and stands there for a moment before letting out a deep sigh.

"Yeah, whatever. Help me up." Gina calls out from behind the pumpkin. "I'm a waitress, Alexander! One who doesn't fuck around with that shit if I can help it. Anybody got a water?" Gina's voice still manages to sound casual, with just a slight undercurrent of strain. "Shit. Does anybody see my purse?" It's a black purse. With angry owl eyes and a teeny beak on it. Whose else would such a purse belong to?

Cole, sticky and pumpkinless, decides that it's time to call this detour a wash and finally make it to work. He's got classes starting in an hour or so and he's going to need to wash out all the pumpkin before then. So, without further ado, he wanders off to where he left his car, picking bits of pumpkin off of himself as he goes.

Don't judge Hailey; she'll take a smooch or two (or twelve) while covered in pumpkin guts and surrounded by burn victims and even manage to laugh afterward, another day in Gray Harbor. "I should probably go be useful or something," she says afterward, sighing and detaching herself from Harvey to start over toward the aforementioned burn victims. Good thing she has that Purell in her pocket! "I guess we can add pumpkins to the list?" is her parting comment before she gets busy, like, administering first aid.

Alexander turns to wander over towards Gina. He doesn't actually help her up; that would involve touching her. He just sort of scowls. "Oh come on. I don't even have a real job. Waitressing doesn't preclude helping us not die." Mutter mutter mutter. He gives Harvey and Hailey looks like 'grrrrr', then moves on. To stare at Rhys. Staaaare. "You. I recognize you. You work at the club."

"Pancakes, pumpkins - what's next? Pineapples?" Harvey's probably just cursed himself. He siiighs as Hailey goes to get busy - and not with him - but he makes himself helpful. Doing what is anybody's guess!

Is it dead? ...it seems like it's dead. Rhys risks straightening up to get a better confirming look, and tucks whatever he'd been reaching for away again, brushing off his hands on his jeans. Okay. Nothing actively acting like it's trying to kill people. Straw still on fire. That... seems like the fire department's problem, not his. The question of 'what the hell just happened here' is remarkably loud for something not actually getting said out loud. Whatever strikes him as the most likely possibility, it makes him look slightly chagrined. That could've gotten... extremely awkward. And the sound of sirens doesn't help there. "Maybe just Safeway," he mutters, and turns to start heading back out of the park. Not edging, though. Edging looks guilty. Just--

--stopping as he's suddenly addressed, and blinking once at Alexander before giving him a quick, personable kind of grin. "Manage it," he confirms, "Second least glamorous position." He studies his interlocutor with that 'definitely know you' look for a breath before it resolves. "Oh, hey, Mr. Clayton, right? I remember you." Is that good? Bad? What it definitely is is followed by a glance back to the straw-fire being fought and, "Someone's definitely getting suspended for that one." Starting to be amusing, now that it's over.

Gina will stare down Alexander! She said /help her up/, gosh. "Hand." She demands. "Or find my purse, I need to call a taxi and get my doctor to show up." A taxi, not an ambulance, her doctor, not the hospital. Gina's not fond of hospitals. "Plus, I'm shit at helping people. That involves caring and talent. That's not my life." Of course, then there is someone else being recognized, and Gina turns to look over Rhys, "You have a phone? I need to make a call."

Alexander reaches up and pulls gingerly at his sweater, hissing under his breath as it's all stuck to things. "Really starting to get tired of getting set on fire," he says, to no one in particular. He continues to stare at Rhys. "Yeah. You're," a pause as he thinks, "Evans? You hurt?" And then he's being ordered to give over his hand, so, after a moment of having to brace himself, he does. He lets go as soon as she's got her feet under her. "You could go to the doctor," he points out to Gina, blandly.

"Kinda shit as hobbies go," Rhys replies, 'cause hey, if a remark's not meant for anyone in particular, why not claim it for yourself? "Can't recommend it." Another quick grin when Alexander places him, and a nods. "Evans. Rhys Evans, specifically, and nah, I'm good. Nice solid trashcans they put in here. Also I don't think the guy saw me."

Gina, on the other hand, has, and now that she's closer and he gets a better look, he properly sees her too. She may have been a senior when he was a freshman, but there were stories about her. Better ones than most people. "Somehow, I kinda didn't expect you to end up back here," he remarks, pulling out his phone as the various remarks come together. "Yours is in your missing purse? What's it look like?" Black. He can guess that much. It's enough to allow a quick survey while he waits for details. "The purse, I mean. I'm gonna assume 'rectangular and vaguely metallic' on the phone."

"I needed some pumpkins." Gina says, in bland response to the unspoken question. Unlike Rhys, Gina doesn't really recall much of Rhys - but then again, he was a freshman when she was a senior. Ahh, the unfairness of high school. But he looks vaguely familiar, so that's fine. "Black purse. Grey and white owl eyes on the front. Thin straps." She informs the MUCH MORE HELPFUL RHYS, before looking over at Alexander, "Why, if they're wiling to go see me?" A roll of her eyes, the 'duh' unspoken and yet still somehow loudest of all/

Cassidy strolls by, oblivious, on her way to the police station. She has Air Buds in and huge dark glasses on while looking straight ahead as she walks save for sips from a giant coffee.

"Because it's polite to go to your doctor rather than summoning them like a butler," Alexander says, with a weary air of resignation that suggests that he does not expect Gina to care about politeness. He doesn't help look for the purse; he's clearly already done enough with the pumpkin-spectre murdering. He does watch Rhys look for it, though. "You can probably get a pretty good deal on whatever ones are left," he does point out to Gina. "The pumpkins, I mean. I think the high school students are traumatized." Just an observation.

Rhys managed not to get too terribly much interesting gossip attached to him before Gina graduated. 'bout the best a frosh can hope for, really. "Huh. That's why I had to come back too, couldn't find a single one in Seattle," he says, just a touch absently, as he scans the field of pumpkin-war. The now very foamy, but at least not burning, field of roasted pumpkin-war. It's a slow turn of his head to take it in, eyes narrowed, broken by a sudden lift of both his chin and a 'one sec' finger, one side of his mouth turning up in a small, satisfied smirk as he strides away.

It's not a bad stride, considering the leg-length he's got to work with, and takes him very directly to where a slab of the huge pumpkin originally hit. Leaning down, he flips it over, and -- voila! -- black purse with grey and white owl eyes on the front, thin straps. Also a fair amount of pumpkin-innards and fire-retardant foam but hey, you take what you can get, right? He carries it on one finger by the straps as be brings it back to present to Gina. "Ta da." A glance to Alexander. "Think you get a better deal on traumatized high school students than the other kind? Assuming you can find the other kind."

Gina shrugs at Alexander's odd sensibilities. "Fuel and time goes into my pay plan." Gina points out, as if that really is all that matters. She doesn't laugh at Rhys's joke about the federal pumpkin shortage, instead focusing on her thigh and carefully starting to peel back the cloth from the skin. It's not a bad burn, but it is an expansive one, and those burnt threads are going to be a pain to remove. But luckily, then there is her purse! And she holds out a hand to accept it. "Thanks, Evans." Immediately her purse is pulled out and-- she texts. Texts! "Trauma's cheap in Teddy High." She says while doing so.

"Sharp eyes," Alexander says, absently, to Rhys. Like he suspects that Gina won't bother to give the compliment, and someone should. But his eyebrows go up, clearly surprised, when she does offer her thanks. There's even the faintest hint of a smile at Rhys' question as he studies the foam-and-pumpkin flesh spattered grass. "Yeah. Probably. How well can anyone negotiate when trying to forget flaming pumpkins? Bit of a distraction. Don't you think?" He turns back to study the man with a frankly rude interest. "She's not wrong," he mutters, regarding the trauma.

"Thanks," Rhys says to the compliment, with a quick grin that remains long enough to also cover the, "and you're welcome," to Gina. Life has inured him to the shock of people texting, and he scarcely seems to notice her doing it. What has the world come to? Well, apparently flaming pumpkins, which makes him glance back toward the grass as well, brow furrowing. "Yeah, definitely a bit of a distraction," he agrees, "What do you think the odds are we hear about a pickpocketing spree here in the news tomorrow?" Bit light not to be a joke, and he doesn't bother to check his own pockets. But it would have been a decent cover. "I guess, logically, then pumpkins should also be cheap." Alas, the ones that remain seem already to be being loaded onto a truck for transport somewhere slightly less headless-horseman infested.

"They don't have any decent heirloom varieties. I wanted some of the non-orange ones." Gina comments as she texts away. Apparently not noticing - or ignoring - Alexander's surprise or Rhys's welcome. She did her part, why bother with the rest? "Not really worth talking about, is it? Senior prank gone wrong. Not worth remembering by the next school dance." Gina's words aren't scathing or bitter or resigned: just factual. Just a footnote to the conversation. "Two sentences at the end of the article. Gossip about who set up the prank. And an actual prank a week from now from a copycat who gets it wrong." Texting done, and both men having FAILED to assist her, Gina pushes herself up to a standing position, leaning her weight on her good leg.

"She's not wrong," Alexander says, again, with a hint of resignation. He gives Rhys another thoughtful look. "You'll probably remember this differently in a few hours," he tells the man, not unkindly. He steps back as Gina gets up. "Looks like the opportunity to bargain for low pumpkin prices has passed us by, though. So I'm going to," he waves at his shoulder with his other hand, "patch up. Nice to see you, Ms. Castro. Nice to meet you, Mr. Evans." Although he stares at the younger man for a longer moment, before turning and starting to walk away.

Wait, did Gina never take that hand and get up? You'd think a guy'd notice a thing like that! Too busy hunting down purses, apparently. "Senior pranks that get the fire department out usually get at least a couple column-inches," Rhys says, "Remember that year with the fireworks in the lunchroom? Gone wrong's always more interesting than gone right. Though that one with the car was pretty good." A shrug. "I'm just sayin', it would've made a good distraction, if someone wanted one." Alexander's remark about remembering it differently confuses him slightly, but he lets it go. Sure, why not? "Nice meeting you too," he says, "...and seeing you again," the latter to Gina. "His turn not to be wrong, though. Guess if I need pumpkins I'll have to go find them elsewhere. You good?"

"I'll be fine." Gina says. Her voice is even, she doesn't blink, and she sounds casual. If her leg is tense and she looks grouchy, well, maybe she's mad about her outfit! She hobbles towards her burnt umbrella, to collect it. "Pissed off about my outfit. I liked this jumpsuit. Later, Evans." Yes, that was probably a dismissal, as Gina crouches to collect her umbrella, then uses it to help push herself back up. Some people are just stubborn and ornery. And gently seared with a foam-and-pumpkin accessories. But it could be worse!

At least nobody was stuffed, rolled, and starved in a roasted pumpkin, as the theories went.