2019-10-20 - Midnight Snackage

It's very late at night, well beyond midnight and into the small hours of the morning. This does nothing, however, to deter the steady business taking place at The Waffle Shoppe. Inside, several of the tables are full with diners ranging from drunks to late shifters.

Neither of these things, Greg pulls into the parking lot. He pulls his black, nearly windowless van, painted with what appears to be a dwarf viking wielding a machine gun and riding a unicorn across the surface of the moon, into a spot near the door. Blaring rap music emanates from the van for a moment before he kills the ignition, craning around to reach into the back and snatch up a white camo backpack with a skateboard strapped to the front of it. He exits the van, shouldering his backpack, and walks into the restaurant. His dark eyes scan the place, seeking Val.

Late nights when the bars close are a great time to pick up rideshare calls. Who cares if class starts at 8 AM in the morning? Not Val, that's who. He's probably a little noticeable what with the stark white skin and hair and the deep blue shadows under his eyes, but that's surely not too shocking - he's lived in the area his whole life, surely people know there's an albino in town. He is, however, staring at his phone, and staring at the door, and staring at his phone, and the door... yeah, probably that guy, right there.

He's parked in a booth in the back, one of those nice comfortable ones where your back is to the wall and you can see everything and everyone, and he eyes Greg as the man enters, his very pale brows snaking slowly towards his hairline. I mean, the dude looks like a drug dealer. He looks down to tap something into his phone and then looks up expectantly to see if Greg gets it. Cell phones have made things almost too easy.

Greg pauses on the threshold and digs his phone out of his pocket as it vibrates. His thumbs mash the buttons, pounding out a text, and soon after the device vibrates with a reply. Greg shoots a look at the thing like maybe whatever it told him isn't as helpful as it wanted to be, but then he looks up, scans the room again, and his dark brown eyes settle on Val looking over at him.

"White kid," Greg observes to himself, grinning, and steps over to Val's booth. He shrugs out of his backpack, winding it onto the bench on one side of the booth unceremoniously. It seems to land with an inappropriately heavy thud for the size of the object, but that's probably just an overactive imagination. Greg slides in beside his backpack, leaning back as he eyes a waitress approaching with a menu.

"Not gonna need that, yo. Just waffles with everything over here." He points over to Val. "I dunno if my homie here ordered yet though." He watches Val surreptitiously while he conducts the small pleasantries, gauging.

Into the amazingly sweet aroma of breakfasts, waffles, syrup and sugar comes Juniper, inhaling deeply as if needing a sugar fix and being quite willing to try taking it from the very air. She's got a cheerful bounce to her stride, though she pauses a few steps in, looking around for where she might sit. Sure, it might be super late, but a woman has to eat, and carbs are where it's at. To a booth! One not far from where Greg and Val are sitting, and she waves at the menu-bearing waitress, needing one of those for herself.

"I didn't," Val says, glancing up. "I want pecan waffles, thanks. And coffee." The night is far from over. He actually finds the energy to flash the waitress a faint smile, then fixes his attention firmly on Greg with an expectant sort of look. "Hi. I'm Val." No point in keeping the name secret, not like there're any other people like him around - at least, not that he's ever seen.

It might be odd to see Gina NOT surrounded by bears. But sometimes you just want to visit new places, check out the competition, and bitch at people who don't know you that well. Or maybe she's just taking her boss privilege to skip work and eat new food. Either way, here she is, reading a book of poetry over in a booth there yonder. She's actually fairly easy to miss, dressed semi-normally in black skinny jeans, black boots, and a short-sleeved flannel top over a beige (GASP COLOR) tank top that's over a sheer black long-sleeved shirt. Layers, bb. She's also got on a slouchy black cap covering her violet braid, but there's no hiding that bored, apathetic attitude as she ignores the cup of sub par coffee in favor of orange juice. There is a vague glance towards the door as Greg shows up and sits with the pale kid - interesting? Maybe. Gina sips her juice thoughtfully, ignoring the barely touched plate in front of her.

"Val," Greg repeats, and those deep dark eyes of his bore towards Val, intense, for a long moment. At length Greg gives a crooked grin, lifting his hand to extend it across the table for a fist bump. "Well homey, I'm Greg." He gives a little 'voila' gesture with his hands, leaning forward to prop his elbows on the table top. His hands rub against one another, dry washing back and forth across his field of vision, while he considers Val.

"So what's good family? You just need somebody to eat a waffle with?" Grinning, he turns to look around the restaurant. His eyes pause on Juniper briefly, weighing her silently, before moving on to alight on Gina. They stop right there for a moment in time that stretches on, and a hard shadow passes across his features before he turns back to Val. He doesn't say anything else though, just looks expectantly at the albino man around his hands.

Greg. Somehow Val was expecting something more... weird. But Greg is fine. He breaks into a sharp little smile. "I need to mow a bit of grass at some point." Sure, that works for not being too public about it. "Also my friend Molly said you could hook me up with the party scene?" See? Subtle! "Nothing too fancy though, I'm not the black-tie type." Read: I don't have a ton of money.

Val slouches back, watching Greg, nowhere near as mobile as the other man seems to be; he keps his hands in his pockets and just sort of waits - except for, "Everything OK?" Because yeah, he saw that look towards Gina, though he doesn't follow it with a glance. One doesn't stare at maybe-cops in the middle of a drug deal. It's not polite.

Securing a menu, Juniper is reading but can't quite help overhearing the conversation between white-haired boy and the cheerful supposed dealer. She also can't help but snicker quietly at the kid's attempt to be subtle, nor does she try to keep that quiet either. Not that she comments directly; her words are to the waitress. "Hey, I'll have a waffle with chocolate and bacon, please."

Gina meets Greg's eyes with her own flat stare. And at that hard look, she just smirks, unblinking and sips her juice. In the game of Stare Chicken, she's got a lot of practice and patience., and when he looks away, she turns her attention to Val, that sly smirk still on her face, and raises the glass of orange juice in a silent toast, draining it before she stands up and abandons her table with its plate of food, heading-- to the counter, not towards the drug deal table, thumbs hooked into her pockets as she lines up and pulls out her cell phone.

As a completely unrelated-related side note, Gina doesn't look at all disappointed.

Greg looks over at Val, and sighs. His hands stop rubbing themselves long enough to rub at the bridge of his nose and then his temples for a moment. "New friend Val, these are two different conversations." He looks around again, but he seems more interested in Juniper than Gina now. Her snicker causes his brows to draw down like a closing gate. "Holy fuck, this is getting out of hand," he says irritably, but can't keep himself from breaking into a grin. His phone buzzes and he looks it, then sighs heavily. It's a sigh of resignation."Yo homie, so here's the deal. I got a legal business in town where I sell weed literally all day and night. If you need to get hooked up with the medical card, we can make that happen too. For a fee."

He settles back, holding the phone still, and his thumbs are poised to send an answer. His grin broadens and he shakes his head. "For the other? Yeah bro, I can do that. What're we talking here? A gram? A dose?" Evidently the fucks are all sold out.

"Sure." Val flicks a look over at Juniper and makes a wry face, slides a glance right to everyone else in the area, "Dose is fine. And that card. Depends on the fee, though." There's suddenly the faintest bit of color in his cheeks. No melanin = blushes show up like crazy, even when they're only the barest hint of one. "Whatever works."

Having placed her order, Juniper sits back, catching Val's look and winking at him cheerfully. She doesn't seem like she's about to try and call the cops or bust anyone for talking abut 'the other' however, instead just sitting back, hands tucked behind her head to pillow it against the booth, and closing her eyes for a few moments. Hey, it's late. No judgement.

Some of the shiny appliances facing the counter might reflect that as Gina listens, and reads her phone, there is an amused little grin on her face. It's not benign. Gina's just entertained by people backed into emotional corners, apparently. There's also an eyeroll as she sends a reply, before she makes it to the counter. "Yeah, a slice of the coconut cake and a glass of milk. And same shit applies as before. No bothering me while I'm eating." She pays ahead of time, texting a bit before she glances at the 'resting her eyes' Juniper. It's a measured, considering look before she collects her cake and milk. And then she just, makes her way towards Greg's table, telling the table in general, "Slide down, or I won't get any of you cake." It might be a joke - but Gina doesn't sound like she's teasing. Then again, Gina's mood is always a little hard to guess, beyond irritation and apathy.

As he gets his answer from Val, Greg turns to dig around briefly in his backpack. His hand appears to come back out empty, and he zips the backpack up. In a turn of felicitous timing, the food arrives at just about this exact time. Greg stops the waitress as she moves to set his plate of waffles with everything in front of him. "I had the pecan waffles, actually," he tells her, and although she looks confused at first, sustained eye contact by Greg convinces her in the end. She reaches out with the plate of pecan waffles uncertainly, and Greg all but snatches it. Sneaky like only a sketchy drug dealer can be, he dumps the little baggie containing the dose of Molly that he palmed from his backpack under the plate. As the waitress walks away, he looks to Val with a stupidly confused look.

"Oh wait, that was right. You were tryin' to get under the plate of pecans." He pushes that plate of pecan waffles over to Val, along with its illicit cargo, stowed beneath. He does now snatch his own plate, just in time for Gina to walk up. He gives her a bright smile with his best dimples, crowding over against his backpack. "Hi Gina!" he greets excitedly, now that we're all in the open about this, I GUESS. "Frankie'll be so excited to hear I ran into you." He looks over at Juniper, grinning and shrugging.

"Hey stranger, you want to come eat over here too? Fuck it, we're partying now."

Oh hell, things are getting interesting and Val didn't sign up for interesting. A spark of recognition finally hits as he looks up towards Gina, pulling his plate his way, almost off the table. The baggie drops down; he idly palms it in his lap and into his pocket. Done. Wait, this is weird. Greg didn't ask for payment. Val gives him a rather suspicious sort of look, but... circumstances are unusual. Maybe Gina's put the kibosh on things and Greg is just that confident in his ability to collect later. Oh well, not like Val intends to defraud him, it'll work out. Right? Right.

\Since he didn't come for the chit-chat and he's got no idea what to say to Gina, he begins digging right into those pecan waffles with the hungry gusto of the sort of person who forgets to eat all day. Greg can have Gina. Heck, even Juniper can join. Anyone gets creepy, he's always got the option to bolt.... which will probably be awkward because he's on the inside in a booth, but oh well.

Opening her eyes as her food is delivered, Juniper misses the sneaky drug-swapping entirely, focused on her waffle. Though when Greg glances her way she looks back and offers him a sunny smile, before cutting into her waffle. Mmm. Chocolate and bacon for the win. "God, this is amazing," she comments to the room at large, apparently very much enjoying her food, and not afraid to share that. It's been a while since she's had a good waffle, okay?

Does Gina look interested in the plate shuffle? Their dining options? Nope. She settles down in the spot Greg's cleared for her, ignoring the pair while she prods at the coconut cake, as if it'll start moving. Then Greg is being /cheerful/ at her and she rolls her eyes, "No she won't." Gina corrects, before she... grins. It's not a malicious smile... quite. "But it's cute you'll lie to spare my feelings. Eventually you'll learn better." She informs Greg, ALMOST kindly. Her attention then goes to Val, to her coconut cake as she cuts off a bit of a corner... pauses, then looks back at Val. There's a long moment of consideration, before she states, "Mikhailov's kid, right?" The name is pronounced in the ways of the Old Country. "Didn't know you were a free man already. Last I heard you got sent away." How ambiguous! Val is so young! Could he be an ex-con?! Ahh, reputations.

Juniper's waffle love only gets an eyeroll before Gina has a bite of the coconut cake. And judges.

Greg looks at his plate of waffles like he's got zero -- nay, negative -- interest in eating them, but he picks up his fork and digs in anyway. "Oh no, I'm a hundred percent sure that she's going to think this story is pretty goddamn funny," Greg insists to Gina around a mouthful of ashes, or at least that's how it seems to him. He has a bit of a look for Val over there. He gives a small, helpless shrug for his ruined hard case act. It's just one client, after all, right? He tries to summon something to his eyes to drive the point home, but fails totally. This situation has just gone right the hell off the rails.

So, he eats waffles. And waits for the surely imminent arrival of the clown car. "So how the fuck is everyone tonight?" he asks conversationally, looking around. At everyone. He waves at an elderly couple trying to eat in peace.

Lord. The situations Val finds himself in. Gina's being /friendly/. "Yeah," he says around a mouthful of waffle, and washes it down with coffee, looking vaguely uncomfortable. "I turned eighteen. Turns out they can't keep you past then." So uncomfortable. "Been back three years though." He just... hasn't been in the same places as Gina for Reasons.

Greg's attempt at hardassery gets a wry glance, then Val offers, "How much?" in his direction. Because, fuck it, the deal is already south and nobody gives away molly for free. "Card too. If it's cheap I got two more that need it." He steals a glance outward again to see if they're getting any more of that uncomfortable external attention.

Oh hey, there was an invitation. Why not. The stranger - Juniper - picks up her plate and wanders over to the booth with all the action. Which is to say, not the one with the elderly couple in. Sets it down, slinks into the one empty booth spot, if whoever else is on that side makes room anyway. "Doing alright thanks," she responds brightly, before getting more waffley goodness into her mouth. Om nom nom. While eating, she eyes Gina and Val and Greg in turn, looking thoughtful, though after swallowing all she says is, "Didn't expect it to be busy in here at this time of night."

"Considering adding you to our poker games. I always love easy money." Gina comments when Greg asks how everyone is. She's not even smiling. But she does seem... mildly less stand-offish towards Val than she was to Greg, previously? "Guess luck caught up with you in the end. I got pretty lucky that my dad was into the frou-frou clean eating shit." Gina says towards Val. She doesn't sound friendly, per se, just not...insulting. So Friendly For Gina. As for Juniper, both brows are raised, but she doesn't let Juniper interrupt her cake time. "Lot of insomnia in Gray Harbor. Gets worse the colder it gets. People start wanting to find other people."

Greg gives up the ghost on pretending he's hungry, setting the fork down across the waffles and pushing the plate away. He chuckles as he looks across the table to Val. "Fuckin'... don't worry about it. Worry about it next time though. For the card, we can set you up in the shop any time. We work with a telemedicine practitioner so we can get you hooked up with an appointment on site, in minutes, and have you buying anything under the roof. I think they're getting forty five bucks right now?" He shrugs dismissively. "Chump change." He grins as Juniper joins the table, and shoves his plate towards her. "Have these too if you're feelin' the fire. YOLO and shit." He gives another little shrug. "Welcome to the party table."

His gaze rests last on Gina, and he studies her for a quick moment. Thoughts swim in his dark eyes, but he just grins his crooked little grin and tells her, "Actually I never played poker before."

"I will totally take those, honey. I haven't had waffles in a fucking age," Juniper tells Greg with a grateful smile, then glancing between him and Gina and Val again, doing nothing to keep the other woman from her cake time. Cake is life, and she would never carb-block. Ever. "So, you've got a dispensary?" she prompts of the dealer, presumably meaning his legal one. "Where in town? I need to get a little somethin' to chill me out on an evening."

Wow. Val furrows his brows and just continues eating with a nod towards Greg. This is... definitely not what he expected, but it'll do. "We should teach you," he pipes up regarding the poker thing, with a sidelong glance towards Gina. "It's fun." See? He can be social! "Maybe not tonight though. I gotta drive." Which is probably why he's eating so fast. He falls quiet again to listen, because this dispensery's location is indeed of vital importance right now.

Greg looks happy somebody's going to eat the damn waffles, anyway. He looks over at Gina's cake like he's considering trying to take it away, just to see what happens. Not all impulses are wise to express, though, and he suppresses this one. His gaze flits back up to slide between Val and Juniper. "We're out on Maple. Right up the road from Safeway, by the Firefly Club." He reaches over to rearrange his backpack so he can sit a bit more comfortably on the booth's bench seat.

He gives a soft chuckle for the strangeness of the situation before he drives on with the awkward small talk. "This fuckin' weather sucks lately, eh?"

Gina has been real focused on that slice of cake, focusing on it instead of people. She doesn't look up before saying, "I always lose at poker." Does she notice Greg's look? Or does she not care? 50-50. Halfway done with the cake, she seems to tire of it, pushing it away as well while she focuses on her milk. Yeah, Gina's not a badass, she's just mildly apathetic and a people-hater. It's FINE. "Kind of mad at the lack of thunderstorms this year. They're my favorite."

"Maple. Gotcha. Also, I love how this town's roads are all named after trees," Juniper muses, finishing off her own waffle and starting in on Greg's donated goods, picking pecans off the first one and crunching on them contentedly. "Eh, rain is good. Though yeah, a thunderstorm would be epic. And good for business." She grins faintly at that, then resumes her dedication to eating delicious and terrible-for-you snackage.

Val clears his throat and shifts in place, pushing his plate back. The waffles are gone, every drop of syrup and butter vanished into the void that is Val. "I need to head out. I've got work." To Greg he adds, "I'll stop by when I get the chance. Probably tomorrow." He's going to have to work his way out around Juniper, hopefully without too much awkwardness. "Nice meeting you all." Please don't call the cops. Yeah. With a fleeting smile, Val works his way free in preparation for a swift departure.

Greg gives Val a small wave and a grin. "It'll be great to catch up again," he tells him in an ineffable tone. He watches Val struggle toward freedom with half his mind and an amused grin.

"So is this what people do at night in this town? Just chillax and eat waffles?" He seems genuinely fascinated by this slice of small-town life. "Did they build this joint on top of the town well pump or what?" He seems to get a little more comfortable in his skin when Val leaves; now it's just the fiancee's friend and a stranger, not the aforementioned plus a client. It's easier!

Helpfully scooting forwards so Val can walk along the booth bench to get out, Juniper then slides back into place. "Honestly, I have no clue. I've lived here for fourty eight hours," she tells Greg with a smile. "But I couldn't sleep and I wanted something sweet, and this place is open all 24.." she responds with a shrug, polishing off the pecan waffle with a contented sigh. Sits back, folds hands over stomach. "Yum."

Gina's eyes follow Val as he rises and tries to escape. Not predatory, or appreciative. It's that measuring, judging look once again. She doesn't say goodbye, just drinks her milk and keeps on looking. Eventually Val is gone, and her attention goes to Juniper, "Thought you looked new." Gina's voice might be a bit flat now. She leans back on the seat, legs straightening beneath the booth, crossed at the ankles. She slouches like a woman a decade and a half younger! Greg's question has her giving a small snort, shaking her head. "Depends what you do. I tend to walk outdoors. Or stay home with Iggy and Vee." She sets the glass down, pushing it with one finger towards the half-eaten cake on the plate. "Cats."

"This place is fucked," Greg tells Juniper with a bright and perky smile, and he begins to shoulder his backpack. "Best thing you could do? Fuckin' run. Not tomorrow. Not later. Right fuckin' now, and never look back." He smiles all through this delivery, and starts climbing up onto the bench, then up onto the back of it, to find his own unconventional path to freedom. He digs out his wallet as he jumps down on the other side, and steps back up to the table to set a $20 down on it. "But you won't."

He turns his smile to Gina and shrugs. "You got me. I don't know what to tell you really. It is what it is." He shrugs again loftily, getting the keys to his amazingly low-key van out of his pocket. "I don't try to bring her in to this shit. As happy as I was to see a friend," and he hits that word hard, "I'd have rather been anywhere else in the fuckin' world just then." He shrugs again and grins. "Needs improvement. Good to meet you, new friend," he says with a little wave to Juniper, and then he heads for the door.

"Oh, honey. I moved here from Roswell. Doesn't get much more fucked," Juniper responds dryly to Greg, lifting a hand as he makes his way towards the door. "But hey, what do I know. Laters hun, thanks for the waffle." Her gaze shifts to Gina, looking.. contemplative. "So. How fucked?" Because Gina looks like she knows things.

Gina turns her gaze on Greg, and for a moment, her eyes narrow as she looks at him-- but it turns into an eyeroll at the 'friend' being hit that hard, and she just... lowers her head to shake it. Since he's leaving, she doesn't get to say 'Go away' and be rid of him-- which makes his departure slightly less satisfying. But her shoulders do relax, before her eyes turn back to Juniper. Because Gina probably even FEELS like she knows things. She's got the shine pretty strong on her. Discreet though she keeps it, she's bright. "Pretty fucked. There are waves. But the thin is old here."

"Mmm." Juniper nods thoughtfully, her own shine bright but steady - not quite the supernova of some, but there's a practiced look to it, if one could imagine such things. "Okay. Could be interesting. How's the sleep? You mentioned insomnia," she asks quietly, before adding, "I'm Juniper, by the way." Because she's nice like that.

"Gina Castro. I sleep fine, when I do. I work at the Grizzly. Schedule can get weird." It's said blandly, but then again... Gina is prickly, if it's put politely. "Never stuck around in Roswell. Itches my skin. We all Dream here." Her hands rest on the edge of the table, shrugging slightly. "I recommend you try and forget the glitter and gleam. But you probably won't. And you'll be dragged into shit. I'm retired. I don't bother." Retired? She's not even Juniper's age! How unadventurous.

Retiring from a job that young, sure, a bit weird. But retiring from the shine? Entirely understandable. Juniper nods a few times, absently chewing on a fingernail. "Mmn. Yeah, I'm sorta used to Dreaming," she acknowledges quietly, before rubbing a hand over her eyes. "I should get back. Gotta sleep at some point."

Something Juniper says has Gina smiling. There's no humor in her eyes, however. "You do you. I'm waiting for someone before I head home." At this hour? Well. "Welcome to Gray Harbor. Home of humidity and mysterious disappearances. You'll fit right in." The way Gina says it, it's not a compliment.