2019-11-23 - Naked Bears

Nine PM on November. Saturday. Thanksgiving is getting close -- terribly close. Plans are made, pre-T-Day parties are happening, shoppers are all starting to circle like sharks around potential Black Friday deals. There's enough going on in the grey November, so close to the family holidays, that the diner is in a lull period between the late dinner-eaters and the people grabbing a meal on their dates, or stumbling for food after leaving clubs - the usual late night crowd. Gina herself has set the music to some sort of bubbly Bollywood soundtrack, dressed today in black skinny jeans, boots, and blue-and-purple flannel shirt splashed with bleach then ripped to shreds, over a long-sleeved blue shirt. Her purple hair is in a low bun, and her eyes are their usual overdone smoky eye with, today, deep red lips. She's just sitting there at the counter, sipping coffee and ignoring some poor couple who keep giving pointed looks around the diner for a waitress without saying anything. The guy who calls out for a refill of coffee, though? She does get him that.

Proactive customer service is not a Gina standard.

The redheaded waitress saunters into the diner looking utterly dejected. She's in her usual sort of outfit, dark colored t-shirt, jeans, sneakers, her hair left down without much effort put into it. No makeup or anything, which isn't unusual, considering she's not on the schedule for tonight.

Alison finds a spot at the counter and sits down in a heap, then promptly lays her head down on the counter, sending her hair loose everywhere. Then her hands sprawl out dramatically, "Nnnnngh." The noise representing ire at the injustice of this world isn't really meant for anyone other than herself, otherwise it might have been a slightly more coherent sound.

"If you're still plague-ridden, shouldn't be picking up other people's shifts, Springs." Gina says, looking down at the mass of red curls. "But if you're just here to make out with my counter, there's a knot-hole over on the left corner that'd be more useful. Pretty sure someone tried fucking it once." Gina's expression doesn't shift-- it's impossible to tell whether she's joking or not. Just like it's hard to tell if she really forgets Alison's last name out of sheer apathy or it's a cutesy nickname for her to always get everyone's name wrong-- until she nicknames them permanently. Poor Paul, forever Pepper.

The.. nickname again? Or maybe Gina just doesn't remember her surname. Doesn't really matter, but she's heard it enough times by now to know that she's being spoken to by the woman who signs her paychecks. It's enough to break her out of her woeful reverie, regardless, sitting up in her seat and staring at the boss with a mostly neutral, if a little but somewhat cranky expression on her face. "I doubt it's the only part of the counter that's been dry humped, but I've spent enough time wiping it down to be confident than it's clean enough for me to use as a pillow."

"Figures that when I've got Saturday night off, everyone I know is busy. Girlfriend's having Thanksgiving with her Dad, nobody's answering my texts." Alison shakes her head a bit and digs her wallet out of her crossbody bag, setting it on the counter along with her phone. "May as well come down here and see if anything's going on. Who's on the grill tonight?"

"My heart bleeds for you. I'll weep for your sake." Siiiiip. Nope, Gina is entirely unbothered by the plight of her waitress. "Also not dry humped. Kid was on something. Luckily one of regulars was around. I think I've still got a photo of it in the office as potential blackmail material." Gina's voice is thoughtful, thinking back to the item in question. Before her gaze focuses back on Alison. "Don't recommend going back there. Miguel's in the middle of a domestic with his wife and Alicia just wants to show everybody her new tattoo." Pause. "Of her boyfriend's name." Dry, so very dry, that tone, "On her ass cheek. Geoff's a genius. Not sure how he got Samantha to turn into Jonathan, but he did."

Alison throws a playful, if sarcastic hand at Gina for the dismissal of her boredom. "Not sure if blackmailing a random tweaker's gonna do you a whole lot of good. He didn't.. like.. have his pants down and everything, did he?" She says this with a somewhat dubious look. I mean, yeah, Grey Harbor is pretty weird, but that's extra weird. But somehow not out of the realm of possibility of weirdness.

"Normally I'd be all about seeing someone's ass, but I'm starving right now. Can I get a burger and some fries?" She holds up her wallet, hoping to imply that she's willing to pay rather than try to mooch. It's not like Gina doesn't already compensate her well enough for her work here.

"Geoff did a great job on Evie's tattoo. Huge wing down one side of her back. Not surprised that he can work magic with letters too."

"Yeah, he did a good job finishing mine, too." Gina comments, writing down the order before throwing it towards the kitchen. Not literally, but with that much care. "Drink?" GASP. Gina is being NICE. proactively asking if Alison wants liquids with her meal! "Anyway. the blackmail would just be for fun. But the pants were tugged down juuuust enough for business." Gina... deadpans? Elaborates? Lies? "It was two thirty am. Things are weird from two to four." A shift Gina enjoys, luckily enough. "All the jail time did him some good. Skills got better." All this praise! Well, he is an actual friend of Gina's. "There's always shit to do in Gray Harbor if you look long enough, though. People have a hard time not fucking up their lives, and it makes things nice and dramatic around here."

Gina's out of character compliment gets a quirk of the eyebrow out of Alison, but nothing in the way of actual words. Gina has a way about her, but oftentimes that way can be unpredictable, so. "Coke, please?"

The bit about the potential sex offender registry member garners more of a reaction in the way of a scowl on her face. "Ugh. Gross. See, that's the kinda of shit that makes me rethink being attracted to men at all." A beat as Gina goes on about Geoff's work. "I wanna get something done but I'm not sure what.. and I don't think I'd be able to handle it, really." Alison gingerly (heh) lifts a lock of her hair, letting it drop. "Not so great with pain."

"Things or people to do, anyways." Ahem. "Funny though, there was this dude in here a few weeks ago that was showing me his knuckle tattoos that he got in jail. Big nose, funny accent?" The redhead shrugs her shoulders, disturbing her hair a little. "Sounds like it was interesting, at least? I kinda thing I'd rather have to deal with that kinda thing rather than it being dead quiet, though I'd probably be pretty screwed if it was just me."

"Hurts like a bitch. But not the worse thing in the world." Gina's tone is usually pretty ambiguous, but those words? Said with a small shake of her head as she moves to go get the soda? They're matter-of-fact, throwaway even. "Just get something small. It'll be over before you know it, and with you forever." The drink is set down in front of Alison, Gina having refreshed her own coffee at the same time, with more caramel sauce. Both brows rise at the talk of a criminal. "Huh. Sounds vaguely familiar. But I don't really pay attention to unimportant people."

Ouch. Poor Itzhak!

"Two to four AM is, psychologically speaking, the time most people freak out at night. Melatonin's low." Gina's words are casual, as she leans forward with her weight on her elbows, gently blowing across her mug of coffee. "Juuuuust before dawn. It's mostly quiet. But it's also when the strange people stumble out, right along with the drunks stumbling out of the Pourhouse."

Alison gives another little shrug. "Yeah. Just have to figure out what. I know I don't want a tramp stamp, though. Might bring something to bite down on." She reflects on that for a moment, but says nothing. Thanks are given for the drink, the short woman taking a sip from the provided Coke.

"Psychologically speaking, huh? Is that your expert opinion?" She smirks as she takes another little sip from the drink. "I just wish people would make their minds up at that time of night if they want breakfast or dinner. It throws me off my game when I've got one booth ordering eggs, and then the next wanting burgers.. end up dropping off hollandaise sauce off with a plate of fries."

"That's what the magazine at the dentist's told me." Gina comments, sipping her coffee just a little more. "And it still had all its pages, so it seemed relevant." Best standards.

Gina's own shoulder shifts in a half-shrug at the talk about food orders, "Makes it interesting. I keep unstable hours myself, so everything kind of loses meaning. I've had meatloaf with waffles before. It only matters if one of 'em's got a deathly egg allergy. Otherwise they can grab their own ketchup." Tao of Gina. "Box thinking, Winters. Just let shit flow. As long as they get what they ordered before the cops arrive, all I care about. Everyone else can work out their own thing." Siiiiiip.

Dark eyes look back towards Alison, "Just don't get your girlfriend's name tattoo'd on your ass. Two brain-deficient savants are as much as I can tolerate without going on a murder spree."

"Magazine at the dentist, huh? Probably better than webMD. "Low melatonin? Well, that's definitely cancer!"" Alison leans back a bit, trying to get a look through the passthrough. Where's that burger, Miguel? Not that she actually says this kind of thing out loud, given Gina's warning.

She wiggles a bit in her seat, rolling her shoulders, stretching slightly. "The cops are easy enough. Coffee and bearclaws. And that one big dude who always asks for blueberry pancakes. And they don't usually care about the drunks until they've got their coffee in them."

The warning about getting Evie's name on her ass makes her smirk. "Yeah, that's probably a good call. I think it's more likely to be the other way around, though, depending on what kind of mood I'm in."

A dark shadow gluides between the prking lot lights and the window, guiding towards the front enterance. Once there, it pauses, and then the doors open and Everett ducks under the doorframe with casual annoyance; his green eyes glancing upwards as if expecting an aural assault to his sences as they had been last time. Whether there is a 'please wait to be seated' sign or not, Everett waits dutifully, tucking his thumbs into his black jean pockets.

"Everything's cancer." Gina points out, just as there's that convenient Ding! Gina looks back towards the counter: alas, it's someone order of fried chicken and salad. One of the other waiters handles it. Gina just returns to her conversation with Alison. "If it were up to me I'd prefer to have all of them eat at the Firehouse. Cops make people nervous." Well, that doesn't make you sound shady at all, Gina. "Though there are a few cops I like. I prefer the EMTs. They've got a sense of humor." A morbid, macabre sense of humor.

The bell above the door rings at Everett's arrival: at the moment, some lovelorn Bollywood song is playing, the tone implying some sort of epic loss, the man crooning "Dekhte dekhte" at opportune moments. Gina doesn't even look at the doorway at first, instead replying to Alison, "What, you're going to be doing the tattooing? Didn't know you had it in you, Winters." Siiiiip.

The figure isn't moving. Gina finally glances over. And then right back at Alison.

Alison nods to that, rolling her eyes. "GMOs, sugar, wheat, everything's cancer! So annoying." Still no burger, ugh. "I mean, you probably could technically kick 'em out of here? Might tank your yelp score though." That's said with something of a smirk. She's pretty sure that Gina doesn't give two shits about yelp, considering that.. well, it's the Grizzly. And it's not like people have many other options late at night anyways.

And then another smirk, wider than the last one at the notion of her doing the tattooing. "Nah, I might be able to tell her what to get, though, depending.." The redhead just kinda trails off there.

Whatever's caught Gina's eye makes her turn in her seat in the same direction, spotting tall, dark, and.. something. Oh shit, it's that guy from the boardwalk again outside the candy store. Jesus he's huge. And terrifying. Alison just turns back in her seat, looking back at Gina with something of a "help me" expression on her face.

Another terrible song choice, but at least this one doesn't send the giant running for the hills. At least, not yet. His eyes roll down from the ceiling, to focus on the pair speaking. Knowingly. And still he waits unmoving except the gentle sway of a man shifting his weight from foot to foot. He's cognizant enough, of Gina, at least to know that if there isn't such signage on display, he'll be waiting for sometime. But still... he waits, without a marker to draw attention to himself, such as a cleared throat. His size, his resting glare face does a fine job of that for him.

Did we mention Ms. Pansy on the ceiling? The glorious, silent mascot of the Grizzly among all the grizzlies -- a magnificent snarling, taxidermied bear head hanging from the rafters, staring down mid-snarl, rows of gleaming off-white teeth on display. And, of course, pearls strung about the neck base, because only the best for Ms. Pansy. She, at least, pays attention to Everett!

Which is more than Gina does. Gina sips her coffee, and only raises a brow at Alison's words, "We have about half a star more than we actually need on yelp anyway." Gina DOES give a shit about yelp! A single shit, because sometimes she likes to print out particularly funny reviews and leave them in the break room, usually with the usernames changed to things like, 'entitledbitch' or 'UsesCustomerServiceToFakeFriendships.' Because Gina's that warm and fuzzy a soul.

Alison's discomfort, however, has Gina looking back towards Everett momentarily, then back at Gina, "What, he try to get his hands on your kitty cat too?" Ambiguous words there, Gina! Maybe on purpose.

Alison usually tries her best to ignore Ms. Pansy. Alison has a bit of a thing about the bears. Especially the one by the front door. She's welcome to pay attention to the tall spooky looking motherfucker by door all she wants, really. Just as long as she doesn't try to take a bite out of Alison.

"Really. Half a star extra? I mean, I could probably drop a few more plates to get you right where you need to be. That's probably gonna happen anyways, but it's an easy thing to make happen quick." Now it's her turn to sip.

The redhead shakes her head a little bit at Gina's question. The euphemism, intended or no, goes right over the woman's head. Which is only a little above feet anyways, so it doesn't take a whole lot if she's distracted. She does lower her voice, however. "No, he just.. kinda freaks me out? I mean, look at him. He's huge. He looms."

Oh good, finally, some female attention. How you doin', snarly, fuzzy, and hairy? I can't BEAR to see you've lost your head. What's Ursine, darlin'?

Everett's been in here, once, and briefly at that. Now, having time to stop and browse the dinner's decore, hos expression doesn't change. He already knew or was forewarned it's grizzly in more than one way. When Gina looks back at him the second tkme, Everett upnods, just once, and remains were he is. Like a well trained puppy, not wanting to inturrupt. Casually looming, like one does, at the doorway.

Gina looks at Alison with a strange sort of skeptical disbelief, "/Him/?" She looks again towards Everett, still standing there, and rolls her eyes, raising her voice, "You going to block my doorway all day or are you going to order shit?" She calls out, before lowering her voice to speak to Alison again, "Just consider him a shaved, naked bear that couldn't cut it in the wild. You already work surrounded by dead bears," After all, the wood-carved ones are just dead trees, "So flex. It's not like he'd be a viable threat for long." Spoken frankly, with a slight, ambiguous smile. No Gina, you're not threatening anyone, stop it.

Alison narrows her eyes at Gina. "He's not really naked with all that hair on him!" Her voice drops down to a whisper. "He looks like he escaped from the back room of a Hot Topic."

The rather explicit mention of being surrounded by bears make her look around the diner a little bit. Thanks for the reminder, Gina. Especially looking at the one by the door with the coats hanging off of it.

"Flex what? I don't have any muscles!" She holds up an arm, pulling her sleeve back to show her sad little excuse of a bicep. There are, true to her word, no muscles to be found there. And then she's looking back at Everett again. Shit. It only looks like a low grade panic reaction to the man, but she's generally pretty good at keeping her cool.

Considering the question pointed at him for a quick second, Everett's eyes roll up with the heavy burden of thought. He shifts his weight to his left leg, before slipping his hands into his pockets, lifting his shoulders in a long shrug.

And then he smiles.
A lop-sided smirk, from the right side of his mouth. And when he replies it's with his usual deep cadence. "Not ALL day." He pauses a tick before adding, "Depends on you." Then he adds a sway of his head, a 'c'mere' gesture, his smile fading to return to a diminutive form of itself.

Dark eyebrows frown, then his left rises. A questioning eyebrow rise. Maybe he would inderstand why there's sudden bicep bearing, if he could hear them. But it's damned confusing. When it's Alison's turn to stare at the naked-bear-in-a-leather-jacket, Everett does the same thing he'd done to Gina: an upnod with his expression returning to its usual brood.

Both brows raise at Alison's crack about Hot Topic, as that is an occasional insult thrown Gina's way for her considerably dark-hued wardrobe. And maybe her meticulous, fabulous eyeshadow and odd lipsticks. But she listens to the rest, and smirks when Alison has that bicep on show! "Put that away, Springs." She looks up, then, to see Everett making a 'come here gesture. To which Gina only... raises a hand, in a stay there a sec motion, before she looks back towards Alison, "If /that/ guy ranks top ten on your list of shit in Gray Harbor that makes you nervous, you live a charmed life." The words are serious, with a small, humorless little smile, and then Gina's attention goes back towards Everett. The 'stay there' gesture turns into a finger snap, twice, to get his attention, before she points to a stool a little away from Alison. He can come in and sit: she's going to go get more coffee.

Alison 's narrowed eyes move to a roll of both of them. "Put what away?" But she does, tugging her shirt back into a normal position. And then he's nodding at her. Ugh, eye contact doesn't do him any favors either. She pointedly turns away from him, only to find Gina acting like a conductor in a classical performance, directing Everett in her general direction, even if not directly beside her. With a little aggravated strain in her voice, "Gina!"

The redhead looks at the passthrough from the kitchen, an idea coming to her head, then raises her voice a little, shouting to be heard back there over the Bollywood tunes and the normal diner din. "Hey, Miguel! Can I get that burger and fries to go?"

Stay. Good boy.
Thusly gestured at, Everett moves his weight to the other black booted foot, and looks up at the Great Carebear in the sky, and then looking around at the others at ground level. Thumbs untuck before he slides them into his backpockets with his wallet-on-a-chain, and his facinf is forced to turn to look up at the next poised animal with consideration serious enough, he could be trying to place the family connection.

Double snap. Everett's attention returns to the pair, his long hair swaying over a broad shoulder with the violent head motion. She points at a stool and he follows her finger, considers the furniture for a second, then the pointer with a small contemplative left eyebrow arch while he heads in that direction. Like a well trained seal, with just a touch of the wild still in him, Everett remains standing beside the stool, turning to face Alison, as Gina's left for caffine.

Think of something. Something to say. Weather, sports? Everett stares down at Alison, boring holes down through her while he considers. Her or the thing through which the gorilla can break the ice.
Glare. Her distraction towards the kitchen seems suitable enough too, for him to follow the line of her gaze, while he does so, taking his hands from his back pockets and starts to crack them. One at a time. Starting with the knuckles on his left paw people call hanss.

Luckily, there's always coffee! And Gina's soon filled hercup and returned. There might be a smirk of amusement at Alison's panic, before Gina makes a vague gesture between Everett and Alison. "Cat Minion, season employee. Season Employee, one of my cat's playmates." Dryly stated, towards Alison. "His hobbies include kitten care and using his hair to taunt Vee," One of Gina's two cats, she totally has pictures of them in her office, "Into compliance. Her hobbies include smashing home goods," Plates /count/, Alison! "And debating tattoos." Siiiiiiiip. A touch noisily: the coffee is hot! "And now I can tell my therapist I'm engaging in communal activities and hosting events." A smile, maybe just a LITTLE...mischievous. Malicious-lite..

Alison glares at Gina a little, but listens as she speaks. "Cats, what? That guy?" She's pretty much abandoned all pretenses of lowering her voice at this point. But she turns to look at Everett again as he moves to sit on a stool. "You're fucking with me. And I don't like dropping plates, it's just.. something that happens. Sometimes."

The waitress brushes her flowing red hair back over the shoulder closest to Everett, looking at him a bit more closely. Her facial expression just barely relaxes a bit.. and then he's cracking his knuckles. Giant knuckles, attached to giant hands. Nope.

Alison turns back to Gina. "You let this guy play with your pussy? Really?" Maybe that euphemism didn't exactly slip past her after all.

We'ee using nicknames, are we? Ok.
Everett smirks softly with delight kept back with practice.
Crack goes the last knuckle before he moves on to opening and closes his mitts into large fists. A few straggler joints give up and with a cacophony of different pitches.

"Speaking of," Everett starts, while he both steps closer to look down. Down, so down, at them. Opening his leather jacket with his right hand, Everett reaches into the right side of his jacket with his left. From inside, Everett pulls two items, Alison getting a glance before they're left on Gina's side of the table.
"I saw this, and thought of him." While one of the items is concealed in his hand, the other hangs outside of it. Made of knitted burlap it has a vauge mouse shape, braided tail and ears made of leather, probably rabbit. It certainly does smell of catmint. The other object, a buisness card for /Sweet Retreat/ with a phone number scrawled on the back.
His gift perhaps proving Gkna fucks not with Alison. "I havn't gotten a phone call for my play date. I DO hope your Vee is well," the thug says to Gina, facing her direction. "So here's something for you and your ... cat." not being as brave as Alison. Everett's smile begins to creep on his lips while he loses the fight not to add her nickname. "Thanks for the introduction, Delicate Flower."

Turning then to Alison, Everett offers his first two sausage thick fingers down for a shake, as if to highlight to differences in their heights. And builds. "Nice ta meetcha."

"My mom always used to say, find something you're good at and learn to love it." Gina comments on the 'just happens' of the plates, completely skipping over the question of whether she's fucking with anyone. Of course she is, that's like asking if it's damp outside.

And then before she can answer Alison, Everett is stepping in! With those meaty fists of providing a soundtrack. She looks down at the table where the toy mouse is, picking it up and giving it an experimental squeeze and small sniff. Just making sure it's just nip in there. "Slipped my mind to ask for your number after we picked up Vice. Whups." Gina doesn't look particularly repentant, either. "I'll be sure to pass along the new toy, Minion."

And then Gina glances at Alison, holding the toy by the tail, gesturing towards it. See, Alison? Cat lover. But the toy is tucked away, the business card examined... brow furrowed. But then Gina shrugs and adds it to her back pocket. "Yeah, sure." She says, in response to the thanks for introductions. And doesn't seem particularly bothered by the nickname being out there. Slightly amused, at best.

Alison eyes the conversation between Everett and Gina intensely warily. And then she eyes the little mouse toy. What. Really?

The redhead doesn't look amused about this situation one bit. But hey, it's those big thick meaty fingers on Gina's kitty, not hers. And if it stays that way, she can probably learn to cope with him being in the diner if he gets the Gina stamp of approval. Or at least enough approval from her as someone gets, with the giving of nicknames and all.

Slowly, carefully, hesitantly, she extends a much smaller hand out to meet his. "...hi. Alison." She'll shake his hand very gently when they make contact, but the chances of him overpowering her in that regard are damn near 100%.

There's no comment either on if her Vee is healthy. Unless that first paragraph is her answer. Damp. Good at And Love it. Wow. Everett's handshake is soft, delicate. As though he's keenly aware he could hurt someone if he is too vigorous. Now, does he keep the gag going, or, "Hey. Minion," he offers, smiling softly, almost sadistically.

As for her absentmindedness, Everett shrugs, his expression not changing. Much. "Not your fault. My buddy was supposed to tell you." He nods his head to her, eather than at, as he adds, "Now you have it." Glancing between the two, Everett uses a hand to pull his hair over his shoulder then pulls it back so it dangles on either side. "You two look busy," said with a straight face, his peering at the customers arpund was done already when he was waiting at the door, "so Imma gunna go." Before this place creeps me out further. "Nice to meet you," is said to Alison, adding, "Tell Vee my fingers miss 'im," to Gina.

Everett's done what he's wanted to do here, AND MORE. Pushing away from their table, Everett retuens his thumbs into his pockets on his way out.

"Yeah, I don't know his name either. He just helped me find Vee when that asshole left his normal free kitty perimeter." Gina comments after Everett says his name is Minion. But there's a ding! And Gina turns to grab the food - to go! - for Alison. Miguel must be in the bargaining part of his current stormy situation: there are plentiful fries in that bag, and maybe someone in the back snuck poor Alison, ex-Plague Victim, a cookie. Gina wouldn't know, though. She just takes the bag and sets it in front of Alison, before she gives an idle wave towards Everett, "Cats have shit attention spans. He's probably forgotten you already." Gina notes, before making waving/shooing motions. Bye bye Everett! Gina is a terrible person.

The redhead makes a grossed out face particularly at the last line about his fingers. UGH. But she gives Everett a little half hearted wave as he says nice to meet you.

And then her food's suddenly ready. Omg. She dives into the bag, and just starts shoving fries into her freckled face. Yessssss. "TANKF MIWEWW" she calls out to the kitchen with a full mouth of fried potato. With food actually right in front of her, and her initial sense of panic at Everett's presence fading away, she doesn't make any sudden movements to flee.

Supposed to leave them wanting more, is the adage, not lwave them dispassionate and confused. Ah well. His long legs carry him back towards the doors quickly, in no small part fueled by the embarassment over surrendering his digits again.

But something catches his attention enough to make the giant turn on the ball of his left foot. "HE probably has. Good-bye, pretty flower." Alison's given another upnod while he walks backwards and turns back before he collides with the doors. Before he forgets if its a push or a pull. Before he opens the door, ducks his head and stumbles back outside. Did he mess up that nickname? Ah well, cats have shit attention spans.

Gina shakes her head, leaning on the counter once more. "The man tries to help stray cats and blushes all the time." Gina's tone is observational, gaze sliding back towards Alison stuffing her face full of fries. "Had you seen him carrying Vee around, you'd agree with me he's not exactly frightening." Or Gina's just lived a colorful and occasionally terrifying childhood that has inured her to sane, normal ideas of when to worry about something. "I can promise to get my cat to scratch him if he bothers you, of course." Gina's voice is so, so dry.

Alison stares back at Gina, swallowing her mouth full of fries. "We ARE talking about your cat, right? Four legs, fur, two ears..?" She digs into the bag and offers a fry in Gina's direction, holding it out. "Big guy like that, into cats? Really?"

"No." Gina says, reaching to grab the fry. A pause while she bites into it, then clarifies, "Four legs, fur, and three quarter ears. He's been in a few fights." GINA STOP MESSING WITH PEOPLE. She rolls her shoulders back in a shrug, "He's probably still a piece of shit, but most people are shit piles. Haven't seen any reason to be worried about a guy scared of walking in here because of all the bears, who ALSO likes cats." Blandly stated, there.

Alison squints a little more, then sets the bag down to pick up her coke and drain the glass with an obnoxious slurping sound. "Well, make sure to have the vet give your kitty a good once over. Don't know where someone like him's been. Maybe he's had a few prison tats of his own?"

The redhead pops open her wallet and digs out the money for the ordered food, sliding it across the counter towards Gina. "I'm gonna head home and pass out after I finish this, I think, before any other huge dudes come by and make me nearly piss myself. Thanks for the chat, boss lady."

Gina only smiles, slightly, at Alison's recommendation. "Not worried, Springs." Gina says as she...directly pockets the money. "Stay not plague-ridden."