2019-10-29 - Coffee & Creepy Pronouncements

The Grizzly always has a handful of people. Beyond a few key times during the week, it's never really more than "bustling." But sometimes... sometimes the points are very low, and a handful includes the waitstaff. For example, tonight there's a pair of EMTs in the corner booth, having a terribly graphic conversation about the things they've seen that week and what it could have been, while a bedraggled waiter sits at a table, typing up an essay on his laptop - from the textbooks, he's in college. The music playing is top 40s stuff-- something that does not stand when Gina walks through the door, already with her phone in hand, pressing this and that until the music goes from how Lizzo put the siiiiing in single to some sort of high-energy heavy metal except with the voices of adorable children instead of growls. Gina doesn't bother with more than a glance towards the waiter, just going to slip herself behind the counter and hang up her coat.

And it's not long after that when yet another bedraggled person drags themselves through the door. It's nearly 3 in the morning and James is fairly certain that his stomach can now bear to hold actual food since this dang flu seems to have finally run its course. Still, he looks even paler and more disheveled than usual, his beard in a particularly bushy mood. He hasn't noticed Gina yet, just giving glances to the bear decor again, as if confirming to himself that, yeah, it's there. He ends up at the counter, looks up, and spots Gina. "... yeah, that seems about par for the course.", he mumbles.

Anatoly strolls on into the Grizzly in a storm of motion, his clothing consisting of a pair of heavy duty canvass pants that would be more at home at a construction site a white t-shirt and an unzipped addidas jacket, while tucked under one arm is what appears to be a rather small halibut that clocks in at a hundred and fifty pounds tops. There is no mistaking the cocky (if slightly strained) swagger of the man as if he might be the actual owner of this establishment, with an upnod he grants Gina a greeting "Privyet." and heads around the counter with a grunt to make it into the kitchen. Once the kitchen doors close behind him music can be heard to crank up and the bastard love child of polka and europop can be heard coming from behind them.

"Zdrastvui." Gina returns, and the Russian flows easily from her lips, with only a slight accent. But then she looks towards the bearded, lukewarm misery at the counter and raises both eyebrows. For the record, she's simply dressed: black skinny jeans tucked into heavy black boots and sheer, tight-fitting red long-sleeved shirt...beneath a short-sleeved black button-up shirt beneath a grey sweater vest. At her neck is a black choker with aa monolopy iron as the charm, and her hair has been pinned up into a bun tonight. Red lips, heavy smoky eye, who knows what Gina's fashion choices mean. Looking at James, she leans forward on the counter. "What, that I'm in my own diner? It happens. You want to nap in the booth, you order something first and there's a two hour time limit." Gina says this all as if it's just normal, nonjudgemental factual information to give somebody. She glances back towards the kitchen, too, at the sound of the bastardized music, and grabs her phone to slightly raise the volume of the heavy metal sung by children.

James has jeans, and he has hoodies, and no one's seen him in anything other than some combination thereof in years. He watches Anatoly and The Big Fish pass by, blinking, and then looks back at Gina as she speaks. "Nah. Been doing nothing but sleep. Now I'm hungry. And this is nearby. And open. And I need one of those spicy chicken sandwich things. And coffee. About 40 cc's, intravenous, if you got it."

Anatoly pushes back through the doors and is accompanied by a burst of the music, not that it's not straining through the order window or anything. By now he's ditched the track suit jacket is donning a black apron with a bandana around his head restraining his hair. Quart container full of steaming soup he takes a sip from it and tells the two "Tonight we are having fresh halibut fish sticks, crusted with nuts and bread crumbs from the loaf I baked earlier this week and a lemon aioli."

Gina has her notepad out when James ordered, ready to scribble down something... but then there's Anatoly, and she turns to look back at him when he approaches. "Yeah, I haven't had dinner yet." Is that her way of saying she wants a plate? Probably. "Coffee?" Gina is still looking at Anatoly, so one assumes that's a question from him, even as she tucks her notepad away and moving to go start a fresh pot of coffee. Already she grabs a mug and swirls the caramel on the inside. She knows what she likes, all right? But her attention goes to James, "Coffee'll be a minute. This is Anatoly. Cook. He recommends the the halibut sticks with lemon aioli." In case James needed a translator for English.

James looks over at Anatoly, as this announcement is made, and furrows his brow a moment, doing some minor mental arithmetic, before coming to a decision. "OK, I'll have that too.", he says, and slumps forward on the counter a bit. "Haven't eaten anything solid in days so my stomach needs to be beaten for its sins." He yawns, scratching at his beard a bit, and then returns to watching Gina warily.

With a mischievous glint in his eye he offers Gina "Fish sticks or tacos? I've got fresh avacado in." this is left there as he offers a simple "Da" in response to the coffee question. Still sipping on his quart of steaming soup he says "Once I get my coffee the magic can begin." one cannot rush the magic "I am thinking tomorrow I will mix up some ceviche and tomorrow evening will be the ukha. It will be good." this last bit is said as if the quality of the dishes has already been set in stone. With an appraising glance towards James he offers him a dip of his head in an acknowledging greeting

Gina's busy setting the coffee to brew! She looks... well, not /normal/, this is Gina, but Gray Harbor normal. Unruffled, a touch drowsy - it is 3 AM - and at home in her surroundings. Sweater-vests and all. She turns her attention to Anatoly first, as he's somewhat more familiar than James, "Fish sticks. Sliced avocados on the side with more of that aioli and a little salt. We're low on onions right now," She does mention casually, as if this wasn't a staple food item, "Shipment will be in at six." Three hours! At least three of the slower hours. Her attention then turns towards the dying James, and she stares at him for a long moment before she says, "Alcohol bender or some other disease?" It sounds curious, not accusing, though with that odd Gina tone that makes it so darn hard to tell if she's serious, sarcastic, or teasing.

"Yo.", James says, raising a hand in Anatoly's direction as he gets that nod of acknowledgement. He meets Gina's gaze when she turns back to him, and freezes in place. This is how cobras hunt, you know. They paralyze you with their gaze before they strike. James is pretty sure he read that somewhere once. "Yes.", he finally replies to her, still wary. Poor dude seems oddly terrified of Gina, and yet here he is. "Flu. Which I tried to treat mostly with whiskey, which we all know kills germs." He sighs, and slumps. "So anyway I googled flu and turns out its a virus, so the whiskey did nothing but get me drunk, which I guess was not a total loss, and anyway it's all over but the crying." He pauses for a moment then, squinting with one eye, wondering why he's sharing all that info with Gina, who is surely already finding ways to slice at him with it. "... delirious with hunger. That's gotta be it.", he mutters to himself.

The door opens, and in walks Julia. She's been out clubbing, if the size of her hoops is any indication. And if they aren't, the slicked back hair, smokey eyeliner, and metallic bodycon dress would be a clue. Also, the heels. They're kinda epic. "But did you see Andre's face?" she's grinning at Rhys as they walk in, regarding him over her shoulder. "Sometimes I just want to show up with a puppy or kitten and give it to him. He might even cry, bless him."

Anatoly nods along with what Gina says until she gets to the part about being low on onions, this earns a stream of russian swears from the man, before he shakes his head and says "Well this is a kitchen, what fun would it be if we did not have a near crisis at any given time." He looks about to say more when James admits to being sick. Reaching into a pocket on his apron he flings some salt at the man as if to ward away the evil of disease "This I cannot deal with. The /uhka/ cannot deal with. Have my coffee sent back to the kitchen." And with that he is disappearing back into the kitchen with an overly dramatic raising of his hands into the air and low dark murmurs

Rhys is not wearing epic heels, which means the usual inch or two of height Julia has on him is currently more like half a foot. He's wearing a suit jacket, cream with a plaid pattern in shades of brown and pale blue, over a navy blue shirt and slacks and a knit tie in varying mottled blues. Brown boots. Kinda natty, not full on club dance floor. "He might melt into a puddle," he replies to Gina, grinning back, "...make sure he's about to go off shift if you try it. I don't want to have to be the one breaking up the next fight while he's looking for his skeleton. Also? Try one of those bottle of bubbles, you know, with the plastic wand in them?" He turns the grin on Gina when he spots her there, and one of the EMTs in the booth, though his attention stops on James for a moment or two. Okay, that looks like about 3am in a diner, yeah.

"Weird nightmares a part of that flu?" Gina asks, not approaching James... but her eyebrows do creep up hire. She does do a small step to the side so Anatoly can storm off after he tosses that salt, but her expression doesn't change. Not even a twitch of a grin. The clack of heels and the cheerful voices have her looking beyond James towards the newcomers, just a glance, before she goes back to ignoring them in favor of James. It should be noted that the music currently blaring is heavy metal.... but instead of growls or screams, it's adorable child voices. "That's been going around, so I hear. What you get when you spend time around people."Speaking of, another flick of her eyes towards the newcomers, "Specialty of the day's fish sticks. Coffee's brewing." Ahh, that usual Grizzly customer service-- the barest minimum without throwing food in your face.

James opens his mouth to reply back to Gina, just in time to end up with some salt falling into it from Anatoly's direction. "... did... did I just get exorcised?", he asks, looking startled. Why does he keep coming here? He finds a napkin and uses it to scrape at his tongue. "Blood pressure's high enough without needing to just straight up eat salt.", he mutters, then flumps back onto his elbows on the counter. A glance back at the others who just entered, and he hunches down a little, as if trying to make himself less noticeable. Which, let's face it, he already is, except for the red hair and beard, really. "Uhm. What was I saying.. oh, yeah. Nightmares. Nasty ones. How'd you know?", he asks. Does explain why he looks so worn out, though.

"Cross my heart and hope to die." Julia assures him. "Booth or counter?" Looking over, she flutters her fingers at Gina, wheeling around and backing in. "Now see, this is the perfect post-club place to go. All the grease absorbs any of the alcohol left and saves you from any kind of hangover. Though I'm sure you don't get plastered when you're working."

"Not unless it's going really badly," Rhys replies Very Seriously, glancing around. "Haven't been here since I got back. I like the changes." Which visually speaking probably means 'the fact that bear is wearing a spinner beanie and shades', though there's also a hint of shift in rhythm that might mean he approves of the current soundtrack as well. If nothing else, it's amusing. The question is of course one of great portent, and he glances from one option to the other. "Hm. Counter? Closer to the font of coffee."

At James's question about how Gina knows things, she only smiles. A very slight , sharp little smile. "You haven't been back long enough if you don't know that." She replies. Cryptic much? But then there are people approaching the counter, and she doesn't bother to muffle her put-upon sigh. Luckily, she checks on the coffee aaaand-- done! Pouring herself a cup, she pours a second for James, setting it down in front of him and stating, "Blood pressure is going to be the least of your worries pretty soon. Halloween's coming." As if that has some meaning.

James peers at Gina as she makes her cryptic statements. "So do you just make creepy pronouncements at everyone who comes to the counter? Or do you just particularly enjoy torturing me?", he asks her, then pulls his coffee closer, reaching for the sugar and dumping an unhealthy amount of the stuff into his cup. "For the record, both possibilities are disturbing, just in different ways."

"American coffee is a bit like sex in a canoe," Julia notes with good humor, "But it'll do in a fix." Hopping onto one of the counter stools, admitting, "I know we're here for waffles, but I also want bacon. Though if there's bacon in the waffles, my evening slash morning will be complete. Smiles are offered to James and Gina, though she continues her conversation with Rhys. "You know, there has to be something you do besides manage the club and wear awesome cosplay."

"Bacon waffles sounds kind of awesome," Rhys says, sliding onto a stool as well, "With maple syrup, I assume?" He snags a menu and opens it to scan, idly remarking, "Huh. I think I expected about twice this level of bear puns. You don't have to do something about that fish stick special, do you? I mean, if this is gonna turn into a turf dispute, some warning'd be good." Pause. "Surf 'n' turf dispute. Just warn me if I gotta hold your earrings."

He makes a quick appraising glance between Gina and Julia, as if considering which way he'd bet on that one, though it ends up with the former getting a greeting, "Hey again," and "Can I get a cup of your least American coffee?" A glance to James, "...and maybe a creepy pronouncement?" Looking back to Julia, "What, you don't think those are plenty to fill 24 hours or so? ...okay, I guess there might be the odd other thing or two." What they are is clearly Mysterious. Or he's just being a pain.

Gina doesn't even bat an eyelash at Julia and Rhys's taunting of American coffee. Nope, she just sips her own. And looks at James, raising both brows. "Having delusions that you're special now, Becker?" Gina asks, solemnly - as if she might genuinely want to know if his condition is regressing. "Better keep an eye on that. I hear not sleeping for a while can drive you crazy." That little smile of hers, bordering a smirk, before she glances back towards Julia and Rhys, "Waffles, bacon, and two coffees, or is Firebug here going to eat too?" Even as she talks, she's preparing three cups. One goes on the counter for the cook, along with the food order. The other two are set in front of Rhys and Julia. And the coffee is... not the best most amazing coffee you've ever had. But it's probably a pleasant surprise, being actually pretty good quality. Maybe even fresh-ground at some point during the last 24-hours. Folger's, bless that company, it is not.

As for the creepy pronouncement, Gina just looks at Rhys for a long moment, considering... and just raises both eyebrows, grins juuuuust a little bit, and says, "Think it'll be more fun if you don't see it coming."

"I've got delusions, dime a dozen, but that's not one of them. Cursed, sure, but not special.", James quips back at Gina. then takes a long sip of his coffee as she delivers that smile. He narrows his eyes at it. S'dangerous, that smile. "Besides. Kinda figuring that if I just keep pushing the crazy maybe I'll come right back around to sane.", he adds, and straightens up a little. "Seems the most likely course by this point." Other than his banter with Gina, he keeps to himself, perhaps not wanting to inflict himself on innocents.

"Like what?" Julia mock-elbows Rhys, and when coffee is served, gives Gina an easy, "Thanks. I am admittedly spoiled. From the day I started drinking coffee it was always cafecito. I've never done cocaine I can only assume the jolt is similar." She regards James. "Crazy is relative. Start with the easiest determination; do you keep doing the same thing over and over and expect a different result?"

"Hey!" Rhys mock-protests to the mock-elbow, complete with mock-wounded look that's entirely gone when he nods and replies, "Bacon and waffles," to Gina. "And some kinda fruit, because we gotta eat healthy."

He picks up the coffee for a sip, and does in fact look fairly pleased with the result there; the remark from Gina has him pausing with it at his lips, considering before he completes the next drink. "Okay, I think that qualifies." Another little nod, like checking off a box, and he finally answers Julia, "Mostly the usual stuff... reading, working out, shooting things, really terrible karaoke, making sure my house doesn't sink, bothering interesting people. I'm going to pretend there's also a whole bunch of more exciting ones I'm not mentioning right now, though. Possibly things I could tell you, but then would have to kill you. Espionage, maybe."

"Running a business. Got to cut some corners." Like on the quality of the customer service. But Gina just shrugs, taking a moment to check her phone-- just as Julia gets that text and excuses herself. And Gina just...smirks, without looking up, and says, "Waffles and bacon, topped with fruit and syrup. Guess we don't need another order." Which she wasn't putting in anyway. She tucks the phone away in her back pocket, leaning forward to rest her weight on her elbows while she holds her coffee cup in both hands, casually sipping it. "You don't, by the way." She tells James, offhand. "Get back to sane. You just forget what sane is and consider the crazy as normal." Her finger brushes across the rim of her cup, looking up at Rhys and James, then down at the dark liquid, navy blue nail still circling. "Dime a dozen curses and a lot of pretending for everyone in town. Gray Harbor does love its fog and mist." A sip of her coffee, and she looks up as if this was just another 3-AM for hour-- which it is, really. This is Gina. "So how WOULD you get rid of a body, Firebug?"

Ding! The food is ready - two orders of halibut "fish sticks" with a nut-and-breadcrumb crust, covered in a lemon aioli, one containing avocado, one delicious, amazing looking spicy chicken burger. Gina puts the burger and avocado-free food in front of James.

James raises a brow at Julia's question, then pauses. He looks around at the Grizzly, taking in the various bears and hats, then looks to Gina, pursing his lips, then to his coffee, and finally back at Julia. "Evidence definitely points to yes on that one." As Julia runs off, he shrugs to himself. "Well, that's on-brand, James old boy.", he mutters mostly to himself. Gina's words make him jump a little, and he glances at her out of the corner of his eye. "Well, that explains a lot.", he replies back to her, then turns back to his coffee. The question sent to Mr. Spy over there does make his ears twitch slightly. He's curious. Not that he'd ever show it. Besides, the food's here! Without another word, he digs in, eating like a starving man. Omnomnom.

Rhys lifts a hand in farewell to Julia, watching thoughtfully a moment as she heads out to catch that Lyft, then remarks to the others, "Probably the karaoke, huh? I could claim it wasn't terrible but that kinda lie always catches up with you eventually." Oh well.

He sips his coffee, eyeing the food that arrives. And looks really good. Maybe he should've tried the fish sticks, even if it might have led to restauranteur on restauranteur violence. "How would I get rid of a body?" he echoes, head tilting slightly, and immediately non sequiturs to James, "Is that as good as it looks?" Possibly to buy a moment to think about the other question. "Depends what body and what I have at my disposal. Weight-and-sink is pretty traditional but I hear they have a tendency to pop up again, and then they can get IDed and there's the whole following currents thing..." he trails off. "Did I put 'watching police procedurals' on that list? I might do that too much too. I think I'd lean dissolving in some suitable kind of chemicals, maybe. Or mulch. Someone's gotta do some serious composting around here, right?"

Gina's settled into a stool she's got on the business end of thing, collecting a fork and enjoying the fancier fish sticks with their avocado salad made of... just avocados. But she seems perfectly comfortable eating in neat bites while listening to Rhys go over how to dissolve bodies and his police procedural inspired plots. It's hard to tell if she enjoys the food, considering she's gone into her default resting bitch face, but it's not like she's pausing much. "Dissolving is a good way to go." She agrees in that same genial, casually dismissive tone. "But then you've got nothing left. Safer, but you wouldn't get to keep any trinkets. I know a guy who can make great jewelry from human bones. Skull especially. The lines where the skull sections combine make interesting patterns on a necklace." Calmly eating, still. "Thoughts, Becker?" Yup, dragging him in to this.

And then there's another DING! "Should be your food." She says, going to collect it and set it down in front of Rhys.

As is standard, the waffle is golden and crisp and perfect, half-topped with sliced fruits with a little dish of maple syrup on the side, the bacon is crisp and still sizzling, generous and good, and there is a second small dish with freshly whipped butter.

"Better.", James mumbles back to Rhys in between bites. He gamely tries to ignore Gina's talk about human bone jewelry while he's eating, at least until she invokes his name. He glances back up at her warily, and replies, "Not if I can avoid them. Nasty things, thoughts." And then his phone buzzes while she's off getting Rhys' food. A quick exchange back and forth and a murmured "... fuck yeah...", before he looks up. "Gonna need this to go! Beermergency!" And just as soon as he's gotten it all packed away, he rushes off. Not before paying for his meal and, once again, leaving an overly generous tip. Probably because he's afraid of what Gina would do to him if she were to find the tip unacceptably low. Flee, little ginger beardo! Flee!

Rhys gives the food a covetous look when it's declared better than it looks. Not that his own looks the least bit disappointing when it arrives, granted, and that assuages it a bit. The fruit's carefully pushed off the waffle and into a neat pile on the side, and a slice of bacon set atop the waffle. A brief eyeing, and he breaks the bacon up instead, letting the bits drop into the wells, then pours syrup over the arrangement. "Beermergency," he says to no one in particular, glancing after James. Huh. Got a point on the Thoughts, though.

A bite of the waffle, a small approving nod, and he returns to the macabre topic at hand. "Trinkets get you caught, though," he says, "so I guess it depends where this body came from and why you need to dispose of it. If it's your Auntie Carol and she died of natural causes and it's just a matter of not having her decay on the sofa or something, I can see going the jewelry route. Something to remember her by or whatever. If it's some guy you're being paid to get out of the way, might get away with that but c'mon, let's be professional about things, right? And if it's that dude next door who stole your girl-and/or-boyfriend and keeps playing bagpipes at 5am, you're really just making things easy for the cops, right?" Another bite of waffle, still thoughtful. "Maybe rob a grave if you're just going aesthetics. Plus, built in story."

Gina's brow rise at the disappearing James, but she continues to finish her meal, letting the plate (and money) just sit there for a bit until she finishes the rest of one particular fish stick. Eventually, though, she wipes her mouth with a napkin and collects the cash and empty plate, clearing the space before she tucks right back in, listening to Rhys provide his opinion. Is her attention straying? Darn Gina and her difficult-to-read expressions! After some thought, she clarifies. "Bodies don't hold memories like bones do. Bones don't forget. Some people might think memories are worth a little hassle." Gina opines, without much heat. She's making small talk, after all! "Don't really like human bone jewelry personally. Don't really like people, don't see any reason to carry around their memories." Om nom, tasty food.

Rhys is enjoying the heck out of that waffle. Brilliant topping, Julia should regret missing out. Also on the scintillating dinner conversation! "I'd say brains held memories. And they're kinda squishy for decorative purposes. Pretty much for any purposes but staying inside skulls and thinking things. I'm not that big a jewelry kinda guy in general, though, so it's moot as far as that goes." Another bite. "Far's people, some I like, some I could do without. What makes you go with memories being in bones?"

"Brains suck at holding memories." Gina's voice is flat, certain. But not upset or angry. Instead, she spears a piece of fish and avocado and swirls it in that lemon sauce, enjoying the sharp flavors smoothed out with the fats and oils. "Bored of this conversation now, though." The last forkful is enjoyed, the fork lowered, and Gina straightens away from the counter, collecting the plates and just... walks away to the back. RUDE. But after all, the college-aged waiter seems to have slipped towards the register, books tucked away into his backpack again, collecting payments.

"Sure, but I suck at cooking, and I still end up having to do it," Rhys replies, glancing at the forkful of waffle and adding, "though admittedly, not exclusively." He chews the bite, watching her walk of post-announcement, and looks thoughtful again. "'least I know it wasn't the karaoke that time," he remarks to the world at large, and the rest of the meal disappears in no time at all with no one left at the counter to chat to.