2019-11-11 - Digging Deep

Mist and rain, the story of his life lately. Thewlis is in the middle of a 'family plot' with a portable canopy overhead to try and keep out the wet. He's digging (no room to bring in heavy machinery) with a shovel in hand, his flannel jacket up on the grass beneath the pavillion, and dirt on him. The paths leading to the plot are clear, in fact the plot is on the crest of one of the many hills, making his pavilion tent look like a beacon in the gloom.

In a town like Gray Harbor, the cemetery is never the end of the road, and the caretaker has learned to live with it the best he can. He likes the mist about as much as he likes crowds for its ability to soften sounds, hide shapes... and create others. Thewlis isn't looking up, and it seems like a pair of faces are peering down at the man in the hole in the ground. Shapes like faces at least, shoulders and arms folded behind backs.

Normally silent, the man is unnerved and is singing to himself in a tone made off-key by his tension, "The summer breezes blow so-o tall... and the winter nights are cold and so-o long. In between... the falling leaves o-oh" no stutter (there's no one yet to set him off just yet) and more dirt is thrown from the six by six by four and a half foot hole in the earth he's cutting.

Dealing with that flue kept Devlin down most of the day but now that he is feeling better plus restless; he's driven out here. Once he parks his Rubicon, Devlin takes a moment to close his eyes and just listen. Hearing something he looks in that directly and opens his eyes slowly. He nods to himself as he starts heading out in that direction. Perhaps 70 feet away he calls out, "Thewlis, that you working over there? It's Devlin." Any one watching him move might notice that he doesn't let the weather bother him.. almost a 'It Ain't Nothing but a Thing' vibe from the man.

It seems the Cemetary is the place to be right now. And at least two of the people here are working; Thewlis with his digging, and Juniper, having dropped by to check on something for a customer order. She's got a dark green hoodie on with 'Sexy and I mow it' printed on, dark and somewhat threadbare grey jeans, and a pair of sneakers finishing off the ensemble. Her many-braided hair is tucked away under a grey bandana. Humming to herself, she heads in the direction of that same hill, though not to the grave being dug; instead, to one three plots over, slowing and making 'hmm' sorta noises at it. "Morning gents," is offered casually, though she doesn't look in the direction their voices are coming from.

Umbrella in one hand and a trio of cellophane-wrapped bouquets in the other, Patrick dunks his nose toward latter beneath the protective overhang of the former, even while he picks his way among paths and headstones, his feet making squelching noises in the sodden grass as he goes. Dressed like someone coming from work - button-down shirt, slacks, shoes that are going to be ruined from this outing, nice coat - he's a black jacket-and-tie away from funeral attire. He's heading specifically toward the fancy mausoleum where the Addingtons are traditionally interred, surrounded by a smattering of grave-markers of family-adjacent corpses.

On his way there, he necessarily passes the pavilion and the man working beneath it, slowing his steps. "Excuse m--" The call he was sending off gets clipped, coming as it did at precisely the same moment that Devlin also called out. That's awkward. He passes a look across to Devlin, then cuts his steps more specifically toward the pavilion. "Excuse me," he tries again. "Do you know which grave belongs to William Gohl?"

Where William Gohl is the GHOST SERIAL KILLER that got buried here a few weeks back. It's a grim errand.

Abby isn't here to work. She's got flowers in hand, a small arrangement in autumnal hues, as she wanders through the graveyard. It seems she knows exactly where she's going, but she's taking her time to get there, allowing herself to wander along the older section of the cemetery before setting her course to a somewhat newer section. She's wearing a heavy flannel jacket, red and black plaid, over jeans and hiking boots today, looking comfy and warm and ready for a walk, at least. As she comes near to where people are, she readies a small. A small thing, not too expansive out of consideration for her location, perhaps.

Head coming up at voices, Thewlis blinks and looks up shrinking back and frowning pensively. More calls and the question of the man with flowers. The caretaker shivers, looking up with his head just poking out.

"Huh? Oh... I... uhm... G-Gh-..." he sighs and rubs at the back of his neck, getting himself grimed up some. "I... Billy..." he shivers and looks back down. The figures in the mist are gone, dispelled, replaced with something far more terrifying. People.

"I uh." hesitantly Thewlis begins climbing out of the hole, frowning and slipping a few times as he begins flinching and trying to quick-view his surroundings. "Gohl... I... yes." He looks to Patrick, then to Juniper and then to Devlin. Patrick is regarded again, and still carrying the shovel, the caretaker nods. "Th... He's... heads- headst-..." he looks to the ground. "F-f-fuh-fuhh-foll-" he sighs, stops and starts walking.

Devlin changes his path to move towards Thewlis, his stride eating distance swiftly. As he gets closer to person shadow where he heard Thewlis, "Hey there. Just came by to see how you are doing. If it's a bother I can move along." Devlin's tone friendly and perhaps trying to be comforting too.

Inspecting a nearby grave, one that is new enough that the edges of the plot remain visible in the grass, Juniper takes out her phone and snaps a couple of photos before tucking that away and unclipping from her belt a.. measuring tape? yes, she's measuring the headstone. She doesn't know where William Gohl is, so she doesn't answer Patrick's question, though does look his way briefly.

Watching the pensive frown and then the shiver that follows, Patrick laughs through his nose and offers with dark amusement, "My sentiments exactly." He drums up a polite expression while Thewlis stutters through his response, no effort made to interrupt except when he follows 'Billy' with, "William." As if the distinction is somehow important.

The back-and-forth between Thewlis and Devlin gives him pause, the first step or two taken to follow the groundskeeper halted when he looks between them. "You can just point me in the right direction. I'll either find it," he shrugs, "or I won't." There's a look flicked to Juniper and Abby, too, inviting them to share the location of the Ghoul's grave if they know it? No?

Abby glances after Patrick and Thewlis, having just caught enough to spark some faint interest, an eyebrow arched as she follows them with her gaze for a moment. Patrick's look receives a small smile in return and an apologetic negative with her head, shoulders just hinting at a shrug. "I only know the one grave. Sorry." And there she stops, glancing back down at the flowers in hand. She hesitates, looking up to find landmarks to help with her own orientation. In this, her attention is caught by Juniper measuring the headstone and she stares for a moment.

"I.. not... No... Bothering, no not at all... I'm, you can... come along, you can, if you wa-wha-.. whan." Thewlis answers Devlin as best as he can. He jerks his head slightly, as if to call the man along. He's familiar with him, so there seems less hesitation. Juniper is giving a brief look, which causes Thew to immediately look at his feet and towards where he is walking.
"Goh... buried this... Gohl. In... over. Here, over here. I can take you." he clams up again, for now, settled to be a tour guide for the moment.

"Its... I'm. I can show... William." if it was a few weeks back, Thew probably dug it, and he just shambles on, long legs chewing up distance steadily.

Once Devlin catches up with the group, he walks along as he pulls a thermos off his belt. "Who is this Gohl, if I can ask that?" yup.. newb to the town with that question. He opens the thermos and there is some steam from it as he takes a sip out of it and then closes it back up.

Noting down measurements on her phone, Juniper is respectful of the grave plot, not standing on it as she works, lifting a hand to push her hoodie hood back after a moment, straightening and tucking her measuring tape back onto her belt. Now that she's done what she came for, she can be nosy about the other people here, and so she observes and listens.

Waving away the apology about the one grave, Patrick answers Abby with an easy, "Unless you work here? No need to apologize." From there, he falls into step with Thewlis, occasionally glancing out from beneath the safety of his umbrella. But the rain hasn't stopped (because it NEVER STOPS RAINING), so he's not about to emerge from it entirely. Instead, he brow-quirks at Devlin's question and shares a glance among everyone - Juniper, Abby, Thewlis - while trailing the groundskeeper.

"Who wants to do the honors?" he asks around a smirk.

Abby's smile softens while watching Thewlis lead the others along, staying back with her own flowers, though she looks just a little curious about the grave sought. "Oh, I'm not really into true crime stories," she says with a tiny flinch, which probably gives away some of the ending, leaving the others to fill in the details. She has her own quest for a more anonymous and hopefully boring deceased. A couple of plots over from Juniper and she starts to lean in, scanning the names until she finds the one she was looking for. It's a few years old, at best, a plain headstone, no flowers until she bends down to lay down her small arrangement of humble flowers and foliage.

"Wah... whu-wha... Murderer." Thewlis leaves it at that, easier to let others do the explanation. It'll take far less time than if Moore does with his speaking problems.

In the mist, as much of the figures begin moving away, the sensations of the graveyard return. Like being watched. Mist moves as if being walked throug rather than with a breeze pushing it, no sounds, no smells. But perhaps a glimpse of an arm, the sound of a foot stepping in wet grass.

Thewlis's path leads them up a short ways to a single plot, isolated, with the name 'William Ghol' on the headstone, and as Patrick had noted the recent burial time - it looks quite new.

Devlin nods to that short explanation. "I see." He goes quiet to open the thermos again and takes a sip of the hot contents. To the others, he introduces himself, "I'm Devlin." Not much else is offered for the moment, after all it is a somber place when you think about it.

Being fairly new to town, Juniper knows nothing about the murderer, wandering after Thewlis and Patrick with interest. She's gonna learn something apparently, a story will be told, and by the sound of it one fit for a misty, drizzly morning in a cemetary. Huzzah!

With things swimming in the mist, it's the perfect time for Patrick to elaborate on the abridged version of Billy's crimes: "Serial killer. They say he has a hundred and fifty bodies to his name now." The grave is new, but the headstone says William Gohl died on the 23 March 1927, and this seems to strike Patrick as perfectly normal. He drops a nod of thanks to Thewlis for showing him the way, shuffling his trio of bouquets so he can pull one from the bunch. Another nod acknowledges Devlin's introduction, and he supplies back, "Patrick Addington. Pleasure."

Crouching briefly, he lays the thing just at the base of the headstone, bracing his weight and his umbrella-hand against the thing in the process. Nothing reaches up and grabs him by the ankle and sucks him down to his doom, but he twitches his shoulders briefly in the way of a person that just got the chills.

Abby stays behind, over the other grave for a moment longer, sharing a faint quiet smile with the soil. Then she tucks her hands away into her jacket pockets, and after a deep breath and a brief look around decides to tag along behind the others. Morbid curiosity, if nothing else. And she wouldn't want to stumble into an open grave if the visibility gets any worse. She doesn't really go to the grave itself, but lingers behind, frowning mildly at the sight.

An Addington laying flowers at Billy Ghoul's grave. Wonders never cease. Thewlis watches a moment, looking between Patrick and Devlin when the man of the premier family gives his introdutions. Hell Thewlis didn't even know how the man looked - he just tended their graves.

His head turns several times, trying to look about himself again, eyes moving from point to point. He sidles a little bit but seeing the other bouquets he can't help but force himself to ask. "Ahh... Ahny... Graves, do you... Do you need to, see, graves, more graves.. Do-o... you?"

Devlin says, "Interesting," is his reply to the serial killer information. "Guess someone messed with his grave or something.." A bit of disgust at the idea of someone doing that in his tone. "Well, on to more pleasant things or as pleasant as our surroundings allow. But if a group of kids with a goofy dog show up looking for Old Man... fill in the blank.. I think I may depart this location." He chuckles a little with the minor joke. "I came over to see how you are doing Thewlis. After all, the other evening was a bit rough for what I expected. I have to confess I was tempted to cut loose with a room filling at the fuck ease..." his head shakes a little, "Still.. may be a source for answers in the future."

An Addington laying flowers at Billy Ghoul's grave, then patting the top of the headstone with his palm while he uses the thing to help push back to an upright stance, quitting his crouch. Patrick shakes his head at the question, assuring, "I know my way to the others, thank you." He shoots a glance to Devlin for the comment about the grave having been messed with, and his pleasant smile tightens briefly. "Actually, someone desecrated his grave in the sixties and threw his bones into the sewer. He's only recently been re-interred." It's the Cliff's Notes version, ahem, and he looks beyond Devlin and Thewlis to make sure Abby knows that he knows that she's eavesdropping back there.

"Dare I ask what happened the other evening?" Look, if everyone else gets to be nosy, so does he!

Abby is just here to gawk at the ghoulish serial killer tourism! Well, and the flowers on the other grave, but that was back there. She frowns slightly at the mention of grave desecration, and has a tiny quiet smile for Patrick when he looks her way, acknowledging that he knows that she knows that he knows that she's eavesdropping. "That's terrible," she says, but it's an awful perfunctory statement, like she's not actually terribly horrified by the serial killer's grave being desecrated. Then she looks around, to complete the part of tourist, taking in the rest of the cemetery nearby. She's not eavesdropping, she's... culturally enriching herself.

"Go-hah... Got, crazy... in there. Too much. To-to-too many. I'm... ok." Thewlis nods, looking down at the ground again, then to Patrick, Devlin, and the others further back. "Home, safe... I. I got... Jade got muh... I got back safe." bobbing his head again. "Th-thuh... I... Thank..." he sighs and shuts his mouth again... only for there to be questions.

"Lot of. Got loud. People. Too loud... too many." Thewlis manages to get out before looking pleadingly at Devlin before again he is checking his surroundings for attempts to invade and attack, at least by the way he's moving.

Devlin takes a moment to reassure Thewlis first, "All good friend. It's all good. Nothing out here but us four." He remains close by to the grave digger. He then explains to Patrick, "Short version, we went to the same meeting. Couple people got into a pissing match over their opinions of each other as best I can figure. Then a disturbed man showed up. It got a bit nuts with the chaos. Jade and I helped Thewlis get some air; and I assume the doctor there helped the other man." He coughs a little and then takes another pull from the thermos. "Damn.. it.. I forgot to check with her. This flue has me slowed way down.. I don't normally forget checking.." Devlin berates himself a little.

Edging away from Devlin as he mentions having the flu, Juniper looks to Patrick, curious. "Did he deserve a burial?" she wonders aloud. "I mean, one assumes some of his victims didn't get one. Why is the town wasting money on interring him in a perfectly good plot when cremation is surely cheaper and less likely to create a spot for assholes to visit to glorify him?"

With a small laugh through his nose, Patrick tells Abby, "Worse things have happened to better people, I assure you." Even if she wasn't being all that sincere. He brow-lifts at Juniper's comments, briefly burying his nose in the flowers he's still carting while she says her piece. "Did you just call me an asshole glorifying a serial killer?" Despite how easily that question could be accompanied by a huffiness, he seems to find the implication more entertaining than offensive, shaking his head as if to deny the need to answer it. "From what I understand," more authentically, this bit, "there was a lot more to it than just whether or not William Gohl deserved a burial."

So saying, he attends the tale of The Other Night with an enlightened nod and a slow, "Ahh, I see. Another good old-fashioned Tuesday in Gray Harbor, then?" He makes himself chuckle, anyway.

Going quiet, Thewlis looks to the comment about being deserving of burial, talks of the flu. He doesn't have to weigh in, but the mention of Tuesday in Gray Harbor makes him flinch at some memory, hand raising up to one ear and he hunches, head ducked, eyes closing.

Abby's gaze moves between Juniper and Patrick, and then she pipes in on a tangent. "I think I want to get cremated. Not that I'm planning on murdering lots of people or anything. So it's not like people would visit my grave because they're fascinated with my grisly crimes," Abby shares, bright and friendly. It's the sort of thing one shares to put people at ease. She gives Devlin a sympathetic look, wincing slightly, "Oh, I had that a while back, it was the worst. Don't forget to raise your intake of liquids. I think tea may have saved my life."

Devlin shrugs a bit as he takes another pull of tea. "If that's normal for around here, sure beats random mortar fire during dinner." He takes a long breath, sounding fairly clear for someone with the flue. "I would have to agree hard to respect some people due to what they have done. I helped both Iraqi and Afghani families retrieve the bodies of family members that only 4 hours ago were trying to kill the soldiers in my care.. were the cause of me having to hand a causality off to the medivac bird...." He pauses with a deep breath.. "And more than once.. put a friend into a body bag. So, yeah... always someone in the picture that is going to give a damn about someone dead.. well normally. So yes, in someone's eyes even Gohl deserves a decent burial." He looks over to Abby, "Herbal tea.. HOT.." He raises the thermos her way

"Well, I don't know. Are you an asshole glorifying a serial killer?" Juniper asks Patrick straight-up. Her brows raise a little, the question pointed but not unkindly said, her hands resting briefly on her hips as she waits for him to respond. A brief glance away to Abby, then to Devlin, then back to the man with the flowers.

War talk, glorifying serial killers. Thew's own memories. "I-uh... Grave. Got to get. On a schedule. Grave need." he stops trying to explain, turns and heads back for his pavillion. He's soaked now because he forgot his jacket, but he has to get the hole dug, plastic in, liner holds in place. It's a mess. It's always a mess. But at least it's simple.

And off he goes.

Patrick's expression, while Abby's talking about being cremated and how she's totally not planning a murder spree, could best be described as 'go on.' He watches her with amused interest; "If you do - go on a killing spree, that is - at least do us all the favor of staying dead when you die?" With a winning smile at the woman. The same winning smile he wears to answer Juniper with a shake of his head, the pleasant expression at utter odds with the comments that follow. "I don't think so. He was my uncle's dear friend for a number of years. But he murdered my brother and sister." He makes handweighing motions, still holding the umbrella and one and the pair of bouquets in the other.

There might have been more from him, but. After Devlin's story. He just settles on, "Thank you for your service."

There's a faintly disgruntled sound from Juniper, but she nods to Patrick's explanation, turning back to the grave she was here to visit, tuning out of the conversation.

The thanks of course make Devlin a little uncomfortable, still he manages, "Once I pass my Washington state certifications, hope to continue serving as an EMT for Gray Harbor. Bureaucracy still amazes me at times. I'm good enough for a dust off slot in Tacoma," He then pauses before adding, "National Guard.. but for a civil service position, they want me to jump through a bunch of hoops." He takes a sip of his tea, "Sorry.. little irritated about it and the flue isn't helping.. I rant a little more than I should." He looks over to Abby, "Not sure if I want to be cremated.. then again, Mom would throw a fit if I elected for that.."

Abby nods her approval in Devlin's direction as he holds up the thermos. "Good thinking!" She flashes a smile, but it fades slightly as she glances after Thewlis on his way out, nodding his way, then Juniper's as well. She rolls her eyes slightly in Patrick's direction and insists, "I'm definitely not going on one of those." Her jovial tone is a little muted, though. "I'm sorry," she says in a quieter voice, fingers grasping and giving the hem of her jacket a firm tug. "Oh. I'm a nurse at Addington Memorial. I'm sure I'll see you around as soon you get the bureaucracy taken care of," she says to Devlin.

"I wish you luck," says Patrick. He's the sort of smarmy prick that could make that comment sound entirely too unauthentic, but he does seem to mean it, and tacks on a nod at Devlin, as if that will make sure it doesn't come across as anything but genuine. A similar authenticity has him telling Abby, "Thank you," for her sympathy.

The two that linger seem to have struck up a conversation, and he? "I have more deliveries to make yet." Crinkle-crinkle goes the cellophane around his bouquets. "Enjoy the," peek out from the umbrella, "weather." With that, he's strolling away from the headstone of William Gohl, toward the Addington plots over yonder. Where he'll linger for a while at the two that earn the bouquets, then stroll among the graves of his ancestors quietly.

As the other's leave, Devlin's humor tries to rise up over the flu, "Well, guess that leaves you and I, Abby. A nurse and an EMT.. doesn't even sound like the intro for a bad bar joke.. just feels ominous or something.." He smiles followed by his taking a pull on his tea. "Almost out of this blend.. Sifu knows his stuff.."

"Ominous?" Abby asks, eyebrows rising and casting a small crease on her brow. She looks around, then leans in towards Devlin. "I don't think anyone else around here is at risk of being seriously ill or injured, at least," she comments, gesturing lightly at the graves nearby with one finger. Then she straightens up, glancing up at the overcast, wet sky. "I'd get some rest while I can, if I were you. It's... there's a lot of call for emergency services for a town this size. Statistically."

Devlin nods, "I came out here to check up on Thewlis, guess.. Doc McCloud has done his duty. Now I need to take care of myself.. problem is my patient is a stubborn ol'e Eee Six that will run his happy ass into the ground to take care of his people." He grins a bit, "So do I get written up for ignoring a nurse's orders?" a bit of tease to his tone. However, he does start slowly moving towards where the vehicles are parked.

"Ah. The caretaker? He seemed a bit... jumpy," Abby remarks in as neutral a tone as possible. Then she shifts, taking in the are around them for a little while before refocusing on Devlin. She's headed out towards the parking too, hands pushing deeper into her jacket pockets. "Oh, I wish I could just write people up for all kinds of things! Everything would run a lot better. The power might go to my head, though. It wouldn't be pretty."

Devlin nods and chuckles, "Might be fun to watch from the sidelines. So any skinny on the ER I may need to know about? I knew a few surgeons that could be a real pain if you didn't do a hand off by the straight book." He rolls his eyes a little. "Others, just wanted the important highlights so they could do their job and save someone. And others.. well, quirks.. "

"I haven't been here as long as some have. It's... it's a lot more crowded than you'd think, for Gray Harbor," Abby remarks after a small pause on her way down to the parking, freeing one hand to touch her chin. "Everyone's nice! Well... some doctors are a little more - oh, demanding and - hmm - direct and to the point than others! But that's not a bad thing, right? It takes all kinds." That's a glass half full attitude if there ever was one. Once at the lot, she flashes another smile. "Hopefully that paperwork won't take too long. I'm Abby, by the way!" And after introducing herself, she waves and walks off towards a green 2002 Subaru Forester, lightly dinged.

Devlin heads off to his car, a Jeep Rubicon, "I may show up at the hospital to check things out. I'll wear a mask if I do. Nice to meet you Abby"