2019-11-08 - Safe Haven

Okay, so, it's Friday night, and Tyrone has a date. This means that the former Marine has cleaned himself up, shaved his face, made sure his hair is precisely squared up, and he's put on the good clothing. And while definitely not as dashing or bold as the Marine dress blues, going to a bar really didn't call for something quite that fancy. So, instead he's wearing a dark maroon button down shirt underneath a black jacket, with black slacks and the shiny-bottom shoes he polished that morning. With it being Friday night and anticipating the bar being at least a little busy, Tyrone arrived early by fifteen minutes. Now, he just needed to find a spot where he could see and be seen from the door.

For her part, Haven has dressed up for the occasion. She's got on a form-fitting black dress and has styled her hair into something of a boy cut. A warm puffy jacket, white in color and filled with synthetic down is worn over the dress as a barrier against the cold. Not one to wear makeup often, she does now though it's subtle. A little gloss on her lips, a little eyeshadow. A very slim golden chain is worn about her neck and hanging from it is a miniature Mjolnir (Thor's Hammer).

She steps in after a crowd of 20-something ladies who are clearly out bar-hopping and waves her hand in front of her face after they pass. Too much perfume. Glancing around the place, she tries to spot Tyrone in the crowd. It doesn't take long. He stands out. She smiles and moves in his direction.

Or sits out? Really, it's hard to see him in a crowd, unless you look for the negative space created by the lack of head or shoulders in a group. Thankfully, Tyrone isn't in a crowd at the moment, he's occupied some space near the end of the bar. When he sees Haven, he smiles and holds his hand up, just in case she hadn't seen him yet, and then wheels in her direction. "Hey, Penelope. How's it going? Your hair looks really cute tonight," he comments- hard to see the dress under the jacket! "Do you wanna get a table, or sit at the bar ...?"

"You're looking sharp, Ty. Let's do a table," Haven says and motions to one that just so happens to open up as a group leaves. She claims it by way of tossing her purse down on it and then starts to peel off her jacket. "I've decompressed from work, finally, so I'm feeling pretty good. Nothing some Netflixing and working on my bonsai couldn't help me work through." Bending down, she gives the man an unsolicited hug. "How about you? Any more dreaming?"

Tyrone is there to help with the jacket and to hang it on the back of a chair, if he's allowed, and quickly returns the hug as well, wrapping one arm around to Haven's back. "No dreaming, no. I saw that you worked for the police department, but I didn't ask- what do you do?" And then, once the hug has ended, he'll pull a chair out for Haven and help her to the table.

"I do. I patrol the mean streets of Gray Harbor, mostly at night when everyone is sleeping and all the weirdos come out," Haven states and settles into the chair Tyrone pulls out. "It's what I like to do and it just so happens I get paid to do it, too." She lifts her chin and asks, "What do you do now? What are you interested in? Besides exercise and fighting dragons?"

Tyrone's eyebrows crop up at Haven's description of her job. "Wow, that's impressive. What made you wanna do that?" Once she's settled in to her seat, Tyrone backs up a little. "Actually, I just took a part time job as a tour guide at the Addington House. But most of my money comes from disability right now. As far as interests ... I'm still figuring that out, really. For the last several years, my only interests were assigned to me by the Corps."

"X-Files. My dad really liked the show... made me watch it with him when I was old enough... always thought it would be neat to be like Fox Mulder and investigate the really strange cases," Haven rolls her shoulders and smiles, "You and I both know the strange people are only the beginning of the mystery that is Gray Harbor." Her explanation out in the open, she listens to Tyrone before asking, "Have you considered volunteering? There's a lot of wealth here, sure, but there's plenty of people who could use the help. Homeless vets, for instance."

"... not really," Tyrone says, making a bit of a face. "I'm still kinda adjusting to not walking. Hasn't even been a year. I wasn't even sure I was gonna stay in Gray Harbor, at first, but after that Dream and stuff, now I don't think I wanna leave. At least, not until I figure out more about the other side. I've been told it's easier to get there from here," he explains. And then he smiles a little. "But, before I forget, I owe you that drink. What'll it be?"

Haven reaches over and touches Tyrone's hand when he makes a face. "You're allowed to not be sure. And you're allowed to be adjusting. And you're allowed to not be okay. I was just suggesting the volunteering because, well, something about helping someone else with no expectation of anything in return, it gives me clarity. Maybe it could do the same for you." She winks and says, "I'll take an Old Fashioned."

OoOoOo, the hand touching! It gets Tyrone's attention and he listens to what she says and then shrugs a little. "I know. I just ... well, lemme go order your drink, I'll be right back." He gives her hand a soft squeeze in return before turning and heading for the bar, using the time as an excuse to gather his thoughts. It's only a matter of a handful of seconds before he returns and settles his chair in on the corner from Haven's. "So, yeah, like I was saying. The whole homeless vets thing? That really bothers me. I mean, I know that it's a lot better NOW than when a lot of cats got out of the service. But, even if all you learn is soldiering, there's still jobs out there, man. Like, I can see where it's a struggle, but I just look at some of those guys out there with their cardboard and I'm like, 'are you even /trying/?' So ... yeah, maybe I'm not there yet," he admits, pursing his lips and looking down at his hands as he forces them flat on the table.

"Maybe it isn't about trying. It's possible to be broken in a way that cannot be fixed, Ty." Haven lets the drink sit on the table, turning it in place and looking at the colors of the liquid inside the glass. "It sounds like you are committed to not giving up and that's pretty important. Especially since you've got a lot of life left in front of you." She smiles and flicks her eyes up from her drink to the man in question. "You should come and do a ride-a-long with me one night."

That makes Tyrone laugh, shaking his head. He takes a swig from the bottle of beer he'd gotten for himself and smirks at Haven. "You're joking, right? They gonna let you take a civilian, 'specially one that can't even walk, for a ride in your car when you're on duty?" he asks. He then chuckles again and sighs. "But ... yeah. I mean, who gives up? When I joined the Corps, it was just to get outta the hood and maybe go to college, because there was no way I would make it their on my own. But, man. When you're a /Marine?/ People look up to you. Especially over in Afghanistan. The little kids and a lot of the civilians? They see you as almost like a super hero or something. Well, some of them, anyway." He shakes his head and frowns at what is apparently not a pleasant recollection. "But, for the most part, you feel really good. You feel like you're doing something, like you're somebody. And in my unit? I was /that/ guy, you know? The one who, when the shit hit the fan, stood right in the breeze and kept marching. Like, when we got ambushed, I didn't bug out, I stayed and tried to cover my sector. And then I got shot, and I got sent home. And now, I don't know who I am or who I'm supposed to be, ya know?" And, the look he gives Haven as he finishes his sentence is probably the closest thing to fear he's let anyone see in a very long time. At the least, it is definitely a look of uncertainty.

While Tyrone bares some of himself to Haven, she just listens and watches him. She's a cop. Body language. Non-verbal cues are kind of their thing. And when he finishes without any interruption from her, she finally speaks: "You are who you always have been. An injury didn't change that. It changes how you walk your path, not the path you walk."

"Well, it does change the path a LITTLE. I can't just hop over stuff in my way anymore," Tyrone responds, smirking. "Plus, I really don't know what i'm gonna do next." Tyrone shrugs and takes a drink from his beer. "It's not easy to just hit the reset button on life, you know?"

Haven sips her Old Fashioned and states matter-of-factly, "It isn't easy. But you can do it and you will do it. Understand?" Without waiting for his answer to her mostly rhetorical question, she asks, seemingly at random, "Do you cook?"

Tyrone smirks as little and lifts his chin up. "Ma'am, yes ma'am," he replies, then taking a drink from his own beer. At the follow up question, he looks a little confused. His shoulders lift high in a shrug and he shakes his head. "When I need to. All I ever really learned to fix were MREs, but if it's in a box with instructions, I can prolly manage?" A beat passes. "Do you?"

"You are looking at a gourmet microwaver of 3 bean burritos, my friend," is the blonde's reply, a smile cresting her lips. Haven sips her drink again and says, "So I guess if the apocalypse hits the fan here in Gray Harbor, we're gonna be stuck with protein bars and granola. How are your zombie killing skills?"

Tyrone laughs, smiling at Haven's joke. When she asks about his zombie killing skills, though, he hmphs and straightens up, pounding his chest twice with his fist. "Even if I can't walk, I can still shoot. Long as we got ammo, nothing to be afraid of. Ain't nothing in this world more dangerous than a Marine and his rifle." He smirks then, and winks at Haven. "And you were pretty good with the sword, if I recall."

Haven nods solemnly at Tyrone's last and sticks her chest out, raising her voice as she declares, "Any she-elf worth her salt knows how to handle a blade of Gondolin," and raises a clenched fist in the air. Somehow it's not as impressive as it would be if she were, say, still wearing the mail armor she'd been wearing while they were Dreaming. More soberly, she adds, "I can't say as I know much of what exactly is going on here. But something is lurking out in the dark and it has to do with the Dreams."

Tyrone tries not to make it too obvious that he glances when Haven sticks out her chest. But, he's a dude. Those are boobs. He can't NOT look. He chuckles, then, and nods. "Well, you were a very cute she-elf, so if you couldn't cut it as a knight, you could always get a job as a cos-player," he quips. However, when she mentions something in the dark, Tyrone also sobers up quickly. Setting his beer down, he nods. "Easton- the other marine that was there with me- we're putting together a team. We're gonna go hunting. I don't /do/ being afraid. I'm really damn ready to show whatever's over there what happens when you fuck with a marine." Then, realizing he swore in front of a lady, Tyrone grimaces and shakes his head a little. "Pardon my French."

"I try not to hold people's French against them. They've gotten kind of a bad rap. You know they were America's first allies against the British?" Haven seems to self-detect that this is probably an odd little tangent she's jaunted down and steers back towards: "Wait, what?" One can almost hear the record skip as she furrows her brow at the man. "You want to Dream. On purpose. To hunt?"

A few beats later, she adds, "Please tell me there's more thought to this than just... WAHHHH HULK SMASH."

"There's more, but we're still planning right now. Well, Easton is mostly doing the planning right now, I think. We haven't really made anything happen yet," Tyrone admits, looking a little sheepish. "I'm still pretty new to all of this, so i'm mostly just listening. I don't know enough about anything to really offer ideas or suggestions. And I don't know if we're just going in the dreams, or if we're gonna go right into the veil. We'll see." He then raises an eyebrow as he looks to Haven. "Wanna join?" he asks, a light smile on the corner of his lips.