2019-11-04 - Coffee With Your Coroner

It's a perfect evening for coffee, given the dreariness of fall outside, the long hanging, gray clouds threatening a misty rain. It's brought Yule in, for certain, and the man can be found propped up in a chair at a table by the windows. A pair of khaki slacks, an untucked button up black shirt whose sleeves have been rolled halfway up his forearms, and a pair of brown dress shoes complete his attire today. Around his neck dangles a long black nylon cord to which an ID is attached - work related, no doubt - that rests just beneath his chest.

He's old school today, apparently. In his hands is a folded up newspaper from the stands of the coffee shop that he is reading, and set out before him is a mostly full cup of coffee, steam still rising from it in an indication it's either a fresh refill, or he only just got settled in.

The door opens, letting in a draft of crisp autumn air that smells heavy with oncoming rain. At least the clouds haven't broken quite yet, which means Alexander is dry as he steps inside. He very well may look familiar, even after twenty or so years - if nothing else, the blank, black stare that was Crazy Clayton's most common expression as a child is still on display here as he gives the interior a paranoid once over. He's dressed in an incredibly ugly, oversized sweater, jeans that look one bad day from the trash can, and stompy workboots. He also looks either badly underslept or possibly strung out on something.

Maybe caffeine. His attention pauses as he notes Yule at the windows, focusing on the man's ID card. He can't read it from here, but his eyes narrow, perhaps recognizing the design. He moves for the counter first, going to get a black coffee in the largest size they have, and a chocolate chip muffin. There's another glance back at the man as he waits, his brow furrowing like he's trying to place him.

It's only natural for Yule's eyes to lift when that blast of lightly chilled fall air comes wooshing into the coffee shop, but it isn't Alexander himself that causes the man to pause in observation. It's that damn sweater. One dark brow ticks upwards as he unfolds his paper, flipping the page before proceeding to fold it back down to a more manageable but still readable size.

No doubt that ID would look familiar enough, given its the calling card of the city, and more specifically those working in or around the police department. "I know, I know," Comes Yule's bemused tone, catching that elongated glance his way just over the top of his newspaper. "I look just like that one guy on that one show. Happens to me all the time." It doesn't, given the faintly amused tone of his voice, but one has to do something when a blank, black stare is cast your way.

Alexander's order is an easy one to fill, and he comes here often enough that no one even tries to upsell him on a pumpkin spice latte or something similar. He takes his coffee and his muffin, and - after a moment's thought - moves over to a table right next to Yule's. There are other open seats in the place, so that's not really necessary, but it does let him stare at the man more easily. And he does. He barely even seems to notice the quip and the silence stretches past politeness, before he responds. "You look familiar. Are you a cop? You must be new?" He probably doesn't mean for it to sound accusatory, but it does.

When that silence settles in, Yule is content to go back to his paper, browsing through it before flipping it over to continuing reading the reverse side of his fold. It makes it hard to get an angle to read clearly that badge, and he too lets a few seconds tick by after those questions come before he speaks. "Nope. No badge here. I just play with dead bodies." It's a light enough tone to be humorous rather than serious, and a small breath of air is pushed out in a chuckle for the very last inquiry. "New? No and yes. Yule Duchannes. Born here. Left here. Just came back here. Isn't that how it always goes, though."

Alexander blinks. "I remember you. Odd name. From the trailer park. We had classes together. I heard you got out of this damned town. Why on earth would you come back?" He takes a sip of his coffee and frowns at Yule, like having returned is a personal moral failing, and Yule is being judged for it. Then he says, after a moment, "You must be the new medical examiner. I heard they were getting one. Only good thing about having a statistically unlikely number of murders and suicides - there tends to be funding for hiring so you don't get a back log."

"Only odd if you don't love the holidays. And mom? She sure loved Christmas," That paper is pulled down, and out his hand reaches for his own cup of coffee, fingers curling lightly around the base of that container. His brown gaze studies the man at the other table for a few beats, before he murmurs, "Alexander. Yeah, I remember. You left after senior year too... yet here we both are." It's that point that serves as his answer to why he's returned, a touch of a smile curling to those features. A small scoff comes at that observation about the amount of bodies around here and the need for funding, his head just shaking a touch, "Seems it went from bad to worse around here. What are you up to these days?"

"It's not the worst holiday," Alexander allows, tonelessly. "There are carols. Sometimes snow. Christmas lights." A brief nod at the recognition, a flicker of something that might be a smile. "Alexander Clayton. Yes." He ducks his head at the observation that they're both back. Studying the steam rising from his coffee wordlessly for a bit, before taking a long sip. For a moment, it doesn't seem like he's going to answer, but then he says, "People hire me to look into things. Sometimes." A pause. "And it's not so bad. This has gotten unusual. A lot of people are...finding their way here. Or back." His head comes back up, and he frowns at Yule. "You stand out. Did you always stand out?" He gestures like he's outlining something around the man. Maybe his Glimmer; Alexander certainly radiates the stuff.

Yule takes a long drink from his coffee while Alexander works his way through those thoughts on Christmas, but there is a certain crinkle in the corners of his eyes that betrays a touch of mirth for it all. "So I've heard. About the fact it seems a lot are coming back. Course, some? Never left. My sisters and brothers, for example." His coffee is used again to mask his thoughts when the man turns the conversation to standing out, but this time it isn't to hide that amusement. It's a far more serious thought, his eyes flickering over the fellow to study him. That pause turns into long seconds, before he finally answers, "Don't know." It's an honest enough statement, if vague enough, but there is the most subtle of dips of his head to shows he understands what he's referencing.

Alexander makes a thoughtful noise. "I see them, sometimes. I live on Elm. Don't speak to them, generally. Are they well?" He puts his coffee down to start work on his muffin. He's one of those people who tears off neat pieces and eats them with his fingers, rather than either biting into it or cutting it down. "Interesting. That you don't know." A pause. "I don't remember, either. Sorry." His eyes flick away to the door as someone comes in, staring at the newcomer with an impolite directness, before returning back to Yule. "How are you settling in? Re-settling. Whatever."

"Yeah. Nat took over running the trailer park. Winter is off saving the bats. Don't even get me started on Noelle and the others," A small bit of chuckle comes from Yule, and his head dips one way and then the other. "A bit too well, you know? Too easy. Moved into a trailer to be closer to family. Still, it's more space than I had in New York City," Up his shoulders lift into a hapless shrug at that, before the convesration is turned towards the professed work Alexander does. "And what sort of things do people hire you for? Doesn't sound like your typical find out if my husband is cheating on me stuff." It's when the other looks away that Yule follows that cue, though his attention lasts all of a fleeting moment to the newcomer before he returns his focus to the conversation.

There's a hesitation, before Alexander nods, slowly. "Yeah. I remember that. How easy it was." His smile is crooked, but there's a hint of genuine humor in his eyes. "Home is where you never quite grow out of your clothes, I guess." A tap tap tap of his fingertips on the table, a nervous drumbeat. "Noelle. She does delivery work, doesn't she? For the Thai place? I've ordered from there once or twice." When he's asked about his work, he grimaces, takes another piece of his muffin. It's only after he swallows that he admits, "I'm not...licensed, or anything. So, no. Not a lot of cheats or divorce cases. Mostly just stuff that people with actual reputations won't look into. Whether because it's weird, or because it pisses the wrong sorts of people off."

When Alexander mentions what home is, Yule can't help but glance down to that sweater the other man wears that looks a size or two too big. "Yeah. For me? I came back to visit about a year ago. Saw Nat and Noelle... just knew it was time to come back." It sounds as easy as that, a deep breath drawn in as he puts his cup back down on his table. "She does. We will see how long that lasts." It's fondness for his little sister there, the warmer smile that graces his features lingering just a bit before Alexander is explaining his particular line of work. "As I recall, plenty of wrong people to piss off in town. And from what I can tell? Plenty of weird, too. People disappearing in odd circumstances, and that seems to be the least weird of it all."

"A more sensible reaction would have been to get them to pack a back and take them back to...New York? You said?" Alexander's brow furrows. "It'd probably be better there. But," a shrug, "now you're here. Got a couple of New Yorkers in town, recently. Outsiders, not returning locals. They're good people." He doesn't argue with the observation of there being a lot of 'wrong people' to piss off; just another of those twitchy shrugs. He does say, "Plenty of weird. The Masquerade has been...unusually eventful. In that way. Byron Thorne organized it - I don't know if you remember him at all. Little kid, always trying to start a business. Also escaped. Also came back. Did pretty well out in the world. Nobody's dead so far, though. So. Yay?" It's deadpan.

"Yeah, New York. And they never had that itch to leave, as far as I can tell. Though I've been gone," It's a beat of a pause as Yule calculates, "Shit. Twenty years?" It's the mention of outsiders that has his lips curling into a touch of a frown as he mulls that over, murmuring, "Sure seems an odd choice of moves if you have no ties to here," but that's all he comments on, the little bit of information filed away. "Yeah? I've heard about it. Been in town for about a month now... roughly. But too busy with my head in paperwork, reviewing old cases, to get out and around much." A soft snort comes at the mention of no one being dead yet, his fingers slowly turning his cup around as it rests on the table. "Byron. Sounds familiar. About Snow's age," Twenty nine, that is, if he recalls that particular sister of the Duchannes family. "Masquerade. Halloween. Sorta sounds like inviting trouble."

"I think the town's been calling people," Alexander says, after a moment. And so naturally that, well, he definitely didn't grow out of being a crazy person, it seems. "Couple of outsiders have said that they just were passing through, not planning to stay, but...felt like they had to." A grimace. But then he perks up as Yule talks about his work. As a kid, Alexander was always hanging around cops and crime scenes, and clearly that hasn't changed, either. His expression is downright eager as he says, "Anything interesting?" A brief nod to agree that Byron and Snow were contemporaries. And then another because, yes, definitely inviting trouble.

One brow arches upwards at the thought of the town calling people, but Yule keeps those thoughts to himself. "Why would anyone pass through here." It's murmured, and given that those brown eyes of the man flicker out the window where those clouds threaten to break, the wind picking up a touch, it's more of an absent thought to himself. "Nothing too odd so far. But I think they've given me the routine shit to review first... don't want to scare me off." That draws a faint smile to the corners of his mouth, and ther is a certain glimmer in his features that shows the weird? That's what has him interested in the first place, and he'll get to it soon enough. "And you? Anything you've been poking into that stands out? Or," The thought almost isn't spoken, a touch of a hesitation before he asks, "anything I should be looking at?"

Alexander thinks about it, his head ducked and thoughtful as he sips the rest of his coffee. "Mm. Mostly, they always look normal. Medically. Nothing stands out at the moment, but sometimes look at things that are classified on the scene as animal attacks. And suicides. We have a lot of those, and sometimes they're not actually suicides. In the conventional sense." There's a rusty, humorless laugh as he takes up one of his last muffin pieces. "But good luck proving anything. It protects itself, and most of the people who sign off on the reports aren't going to pursue anything that looks, you know, weird."

"Saw a lot of suicides in the docket," Yule confirms, that voice speaking in a tone that he'll take a closer look at those, but given it's all just paperwork rather than bodies? Doubtful he'll find anything worth while. "Yeah. I mean, look. I saw a lot of creative shit in NYC, but nothing that was /weird/. People can get inventive killing each other. But animal attacks," A scoff comes at that, Yule pushing out a breath of air before he lifts up his cup of coffee, taking a long, savoring drink from it. "Well," It's a touch of humor at this, doubtful that anything will actually be found, "you need something dissected sometime? You know who to come to."

Alexander's eyes light up. "Really?" A pause. "I will." Now you've done it, Yule. He pulls out his cell phone. "Give me your number, and I'll text you. So you have mine. If you need it." While he waits, he finishes off his coffee, and folds up his napkin with its crumbs and tucks it neatly in the empty cup, for disposal. He does warn the man, "You might regret that offer. So, uh, if you're having second thoughts? Now is the time."

It's a critical, sidelong glance that Yule flashes towards Alexander, already calculating just what weird, dead animals the man might bring his way, but what is done is done in his mind. "Hell. What's a dead creature or two between classmates, huh?" His phone is slid out from his slacks, even as he rattles off his number to Alexander to punch in, and then he waits for that subsequent text for confirmation.

Alexander isn't good at looking innocent. Between the strung-out fatigue on his features and his alternating between rude staring and twitchy, paranoid glances at everything, he just can't help but look inherently shifty and guilty of something. But at that critical glance, he smiles and tries to project an air of trustworthy innocence. It fails thoroughly. He taps in the number, saves it as a contact, then sends a text: just his name. Then he stands up. "I gotta go check up on someone. But...nice to see you again. Bad life decision, but still nice. Don't die." And then he's gone, pausing only to drop his trash off in the bin, before shuffling out into the cold night air.