2019-12-05 - Turkey's Overrated Anyway

It's Thanksgiving, and early last week, Diana offered to have James over for the occasion, 'if he didn't have any other plans,' though she definitely warned that since she's a terrible cook, turkey would not be in attendance with them. Instead, the menu is Chinese, and Diana has gone all-out, ordering both shrimp fried rice, AND(!) pork fried rice, as well as several entrees like General Tso's chicken, sweet and sour chicken, and tofu with beef and broccoli. ...dangit, now I'm hungry again. At any rate, she's dressed for the afternoon in high-waisted pants, leggings with orange and red leaves beneath, black flats, and an ugly Christmas sweater with gingerbread men and snowflakes, though its centerpiece are thick-rimmed black glasses: https://vangogh.teespring.com/shirt_pic/1659977/1578305/11/2490/480x9999/front.jpg?v=2014-12-10-01-14 She heads for the door once she hears the knocking, opening it wide with a broad smile on her face.

James, of course, agreed immediately, for three reasons. The first being that he had no other plans- having no more living family means lonely Thanksgivingses, and it would be nice to not spend his first one in Gray Harbor in 15 years that way. The second being that she's ordering Chinese, because let's face it, Turkey is freakin' overrated anyway, it's tasteless bland birdmeat that most people overcook to within an inch of its life, but good Chinese food is forever. And the third? Well, the third is the woman that greets him when that door opens. He smiles a little sheepishly at her. "Hey. I like the sweater." He himself is, as ever, in jeans and hoodie, but he's wearing his 'Time to get Basted' hoodie with a picture of a drunk turkey with a happy smiling beer. https://bit.ly/2MoFERQ

Diana frowns at his compliment. "...you recognized me, despite the glasses?" she asks, as though horribly disappointed... and then grins, of course, adding, "That's an awesome hoodie! C'mon in, and thanks, belatedly." She steps aside to allow him to enter, and gosh. Her place is even cleaner than the last time he was here. By like, a lot. Nothing's out of place, it seems, and the table's already set (for Chinese take-out??) with a candle burning in the center. "Would you like something to drink?" she asks, smiling. "I've got mostly non-alcoholic stuff, but I do still have a tiny bit of chicken whiskey."

James's smile widens as she lets him inside. "My powers of perception are unrivaled, what can I say?" He looks around, noting the way the place looks (maybe a little jealously, given his own home's disastrous state. Thanks, Uncle Dan.) "Let's save the whiskey for after-dinner relaxation? I'll take whatever you have to drink?", he replies, turning back towards her. "And, thanks for having me over. You didn't have to, and I really appreciate it."

Uncle Dan is a gentleman and a scholar! "I'm thinking ginger ale. And don't you thank me, goofball. I should be thanking you." Diana looks over her shoulder at him, smiling, and then heads into the kitchen, grabbing them each a can of ginger ale and grabbing up a few extra napkins, just in case. His can is offered to him, though she does note, "I could pour it into a glass, if you prefer!"

James perks up at the mention of ginger ale. "Ooh. Yes. Love me some ginger ale.", he says, then smiles a touch shyly, a hint of a blush showing just over his beard when she looks back at him over her shoulder like that and calls him a goofball. When she comes back, he takes the offered can with a grin. "And have to wash another glass later? That defeats the purpose of a can. And I guess so we don't get into an endless circle of who should be thanking who, I'll just say I'm glad I'm here tonight. With you."

Diana smiles warmly at him, 'clinking' her can against his. "Happy Thanksgiving. ...and I'm glad you're here tonight, too. With me." Though she meets his gaze for all that, she breaks off after, blushing furiously as she makes her way over to the table. There's no sign of food anywhere, so hopefully he's not too hungry! She has a seat in front of her very empty plate, cracking open her ginger ale and taking a sip, smiling to herself, quiet but for that.

James blinks, his own blush deepening as she meets his eyes when she says that, and he bites his lip as he watches her head for her seat, suddenly a little nervous. He's gonna fuck this up somehow. He knows he is. He should have had a joint before coming, mellow out, that's what he should have done- James shakes his head, and takes a breath. No. You got this. Come on. He moves over to join her at the table, taking the seat across from her as he takes a sip from his own can. ".... so.... I guess I'm kinda early?"

Diana is fiddling with the silverware, smoothing out and straightening each piece repeatedly when he asks his question, and she wrinkles up her nose, admitting, "Nope. Delivery person is late. Sorry about that. They should've been here by now, but... hopefully they get here before either of us is forced to resort to cannibalism." She smiles teasingly, then has a sip of her ginger ale. "Did you have a good day? Get any writing in?"

"Oh! Yeah, I guess Thanksgiving is a really busy night for a lot of Chinese places, it was like that back in New York too.", James agrees, then gives a laugh at the cannibalism quip. "Well, if it comes to that, I'd like to offer an alternative: instead of trying to eat each other, we team up and eat the neighbors." Her last question causes him to pause, remembering his day so far, which consisted in large part of hiding from the old locket that's in the middle of the living room that keeps yelling at him about the sad story of the widow who mourned for the husband she had killed, and which had been extra loud today for some reason. "Enh, it was pretty average.", he finally says. "Not much writing, but I've been doing a lot of reading. Went to the library a couple of days ago, checked out a bunch of books on local history, some old like public records stuff. Y'know, research, like."

"Oh, that makes sense, then. And I accept your counter-offer. Those neighbors better watch out. Besides, Mrs. Wetherby next door's just one, and we are two. And I'm hungry, and armed." She picks up her fork, twirling it just so, and then replaces it, straightening it up with a small smile. She perks up quite a bit at the mention of the library, and specifically local history. "That's awesome. If you find any of the books have more information than the others, or more information up our alley, will you let me know, please? I've been tracking down a lead... apparently there was this ghost of a serial killer named Billy the Ghoul, and he got banished. So that could help that Aidan guy, plus there were a bunch of people involved in that, so I'm definitely going to try and track them down."

James rubs the back of his head, scrunching his nose up in thought a bit. "... Billy the Ghoul... I think I remember something about that guy. It's fuzzy, though.", he says, then shakes his head. "I'm gonna have to get used to the fact that when you talk about ghosts and banishings, you're being literal about it.", he says, and gives a sheepish smile. "I can look into that as well if you want some help?"

"Oh, if you ever remember what you remember, whatever it is, please do let me know!" Diana says excitedly, and then nods to the rest. "...actually, now that you mention it, it occurs to me you'd be the perfect person to help me with this. You've been here since you were little. I mean-- you were gone for awhile, sure, but-- you might even know some of these names or have some clue what they're related to. And... thank you. For offering." She pauses as there's a knock at the door, rising from her seat and saying, "Let's hope for her sake it's not Mrs. Wetherby." She smiles and reaches for her purse, which is very large and a rather plain black. He's seen her carry it everywhere, though usually it goes without mentioning. I totally didn't forget. At any rate, she opens the door, revealing an older teenager with green hair carrying a buttload of food. "Oh, you're just in time!" she lies, and exchanges money for goods.

James beams happily as Diana seems so excited to have his help. "It's my pleasure. I mean, I want this book of ours to be amazing, right? So, I'll help out any way I can." And then there's the knocking, and he laughs. "Well you let me know if you need backup taking her down.", he calls after her as she goes to get the food. Just as she opens the door, there's a light growl from his stomach. He looks down at it. "... hush, you."

Diana begins moving her haul to the dinner table, and it's... a lot. Like a LOT a lot. There is no way they're going to eat all this food, growling stomachs and Thanksgiving feast or no. In fact, it takes her two trips to get it all to the table, though she's grinning the whole time. The door is closed, and she rushes into the kitchen, getting serving spoons and the like. "It'll be more than amazing!" she calls from the kitchen, and then comes back out with serving spoons and even more napkins. "Your wit and my facts? We'll take the occulty, new-age sections by storm!"

"Well either that or the government will come to shut us down before we reveal the truth, I'd say it's fifty-fifty.", James quips, and starts standing up as he sees the massive amounts of food. "Need any help getting everything set up?", he asks.

"Naaaaah," Diana says with a vague wave of her hand. "They'll just assume we're crazy in the coconut and leave us be. I mean, think of all the ghost books out there. A lot of them are no doubt true, but, they're waved off as superstition. Ours'll be one of those." It's subtle, but there's a tinge of disappointment when she says that last part, even if it really is what she thinks will happen. She brightens a moment later, though, turning a smile on him. "No, hush, you. No helping! You're the guest!" She grins, and starts opening the various containers, adding serving spoons or forks to each one in turn.

James sits back down, chuckling softly. "Alright, alright.", he says, holding his hands up placatingly. "And, hey. Maybe it will be another one of those books. Or maybe we'll make something special.", he assures her. "I mean... people might not believe it- hell, I barely believe it... But what's happening here, this is real. Even if all we can show people of it is just a story, well, you know what they say. All the best stories are true stories."

Diana keeps bustling about, opening containers, unwrapping the crab rangoon bag, and otherwise 'fussing,' though she inclines her head to hear him better when he talks about the book. Eventually, there's nothing more to really fuss over, and she pauses, offering him a soft smile. "Maybe so," she says, and takes her seat again before smiling at him again. "Eat up. You're a growing boy," she teases.

James laughs, and reaches out to grab one of the crab rangoons, dipping it in the sauce before bringing it to his mouth. "... mmf.", he says, and swallows. "If only." He polishes off the rangoon in another bite, then cheerfully starts serving himself substantial amounts of food. Look, the Shaggy comparisons are not without merit with this one. "So, I'd been wondering- how'd you get into the business of weird? You'd mentioned before that you were a psychologist, right? Why the turn towards para-psychology?"

As he serves himself those heroic portions of food, Diana just looks on fondly. Oh yeah. She's got it bad. His question makes her blink, and then her smile turns warm again, and she nods. "Research, really, was the start of it. I was in Rancho Santa Fe," and he'll be familiar with her book's take on that area; it's thinly-Veiled, likely due to interactions the Heaven's Gate cultists were involved in. "...and I was working on my residency. I had a lot of patients, and they had a lot of stories-- you know, their life experiences, things they'd seen, all of that. And I kept noticing references to the Heaven's Gate cult. So I started looking into it, and I noticed a lot of information that locals and my patients had, wasn't part of the narrative that'd been pushed to the rest of the world. Some of it seemed like nonsense, at first-- how so many really believed the cultists had been on to something, or signs people thought they'd seen that validated the prophecies the cult had been following." She frowns, tilting her head. "And I started... seeing the Shine. The Glimmer. I-- well, I thought I was going mad, honestly. Thought about checking myself into my own hospital, there for awhile." A half-smile. "But I started to realize that I really was seeing something there. Something that was in some people, and not others. I spent less time studying medicine, and more time researching all this wild stuff. It really hooked me." She gives a sheepish grin. "I hate putting a book down before finding out the ending."

James isn't just serving himself a lot of food, he's being methodical about it. There's a method there, a procedure, as he builds terrain with dinner, using some bits as structural support for others, grabbing a bit of everything but keeping it separate through clever use of other foods. So engrossed is he in this that he manages to completely, obliviously, miss the way Diana's looking at him. Because of course he does. When she starts speaking, however, he looks up and listens attentively, seeming genuinely curious to know more about her. He smiles a little at her last words. "I feel you there. And, y'know, on the whole 'oh shit am I going nuts?' thing too. I mean, after I left for NYC, all those years out there, I forgot about all this stuff... my, uh, powers, such as they are, they pretty much went away. But even then, sometimes I'd see someone on the subway, or walking around, and they'd have like this... heat shimmer around them, y'know what I mean? Or like a gleam to them." He shakes his head, then picks up a shrimp and pops it in his mouth, chewing and swallowing before adding, "I went to so many therapists and psychiatrists. Got diagnosed with half a dozen things, because I knew I was seeing something, even if I thought it was just in my head. And then I come back and it all starts coming back and maybe I really am crazy, but if I am, so's like half the town."

As he carefully and methodically serves himself food, she watches with no small amount of fascination. In fact, she points to one bit of food that's keeping two wet sauces apart, saying, "You're like an architect." She grins, and then nods, reaching across to very briefly touch her hand to his before withdrawing it to get a sip of ginger ale. "I'm sorry you had such a rough time. I never went to anyone about what I thought was going on with me. I was afraid of jeopardizing the life I'd built. Of leaping before I looked. But in the end, I leaped off an entirely different cliff, and landed safely, all the same. As hard on me as the time in residency was, I think I escaped relatively unscathed." She smiles warmly. "We should look into learning more about your powers-- and how you might lessen or shut them off entirely, for those times you need to. I'd like to hope there's a way to bring you some measure of peace, there."

James blinks as she touches his hand, blushing faintly, but when her hand moves away his almost, almost follows it. He smiles sheepishly back up at her. "Well, only with food. I'm just sort of particular about how I eat, sorry if it's a little weird. It's delicious, though." He listens as she speaks, and she might notice that just as he served himself in patterns, he eats in patterns too- despite the variety of foods he served himself, he doesn't mix and match, he chooses one bit, or maybe another and a sauce, and works his way through each in turn, not moving onto the next until one is done. He tilts his head when she mentions controlling his powers. "I've been giving that some thought. Like... I'm pretty sure it's all in my head. Like, the control, I mean. Because... it's the worst when I'm at home. Lots of memories there, not a lot of them good ones. When I'm home it's like everything around me is screaming at me to touch it, y'know? And sometimes when I'm walking around town I'll get like... flare-ups, usually when I'm already nervous about something. And then, well... then there's spending time with you. It's... peaceful."

Diana shakes her head quickly, giving a reassuring look. "No, it's not weird. It's neat. And it does look delicious. You'll have to show me how to do that effectively sometime. I've had to rely on scooping a little bit at a time and just hoping the stuff doesn't mix a bit anyway." She smiles, though it fades into a more serious look as she listens to him talk about his powers-- and the troubles with them at home. There's a pause, and she reaches for his non-utensil hand again-- this time leaving hers close, almost touching, rather than moving it after the initial contact. "It's peaceful for me, too," she says softly, and then smiles again, blushing. She clears her throat, sitting up in her chair, and notes, "You're probably right-- it makes sense that a place with... I don't know, psychic resonance or something, would heighten that for you. And you said your uncle was a hoarder?" She gives a sympathetic look.

James bites his lip as she leaves her hand close. He swallows a little nervously, and then looks down at his food, eating a little faster- and ever so lightly moving his hand so their fingertips are touching, leaing it there, but not looking at it. Y'know. Casual, like. Casually awkward, but, casual. His attention is entirely on the food, at least until she mentions his Uncle. "... yeah. Starting to think he was, y'know, shiny too. Because it feels like every single thing he hoarded has a bad memory or a terrible story attached. No happy memories, no sweet delights, just... unrelenting suck. That can't be coincidence."

Diana gives another fond look as their fingertips touch, and she scoots her hand just a teensy bit closer. So there. She doesn't comment on it, however, instead taking a few moments to dig into her food. She stops as he answers about his uncle, nodding her head. "That does seem... likely, honestly. More likely than his hoarding all those objects with bad stories attached. I mean, the world can be really rough sometimes, don't get me wrong-- but some objects are just objects. My hairbrush was bought new, and I'm sure it has a million memories of brushing my hair, and me yelping as it finds knots-- but I doubt that's the sort of unrelenting suck you're talking about." She pauses, frowning, and then ventures delicately, "Would it help to have someone to help in determining how important or useful any of those items are, or were? Because..." She lets her voice trail off there.

James can't help smiling just a little as she scoots her hand closer, that light, gentle contact between them lingering, unspoken. He frowns as she mentions the unrelenting suck, and she can feel just a slight shiver pass through him, thanks to that contact between them. "... yeah. No. It's... usually a lot worse than that.", he agrees, voice quiet- until she asks that last question. He looks up at her, tilting his head curiously a moment. "... because?"

"Because I could, you know..." Diana shrugs. "Help. I can't look at objects and know what their story is, but I'm as capable as anyone else of grabbing a broom and a dustpan. And I could sort objects by assumed value or something. Things that look like real gold, or antiques, as opposed to like, I don't know... milk jug lids or something." She smiles softly. "I'd be happy to help, and to do it at your pace. I know you're not the one who was doing the hoarding, but I can only imagine it's difficult for you, even beyond the powers run amok." She pauses, then blushes. "I mean, not that I'm inviting myself no matter what. It's up to you, in the end. No pressure, and no expectations, okay?"

James ohs, and smiles warmly at her. "I... yeah. That... that would help. I actually- you remember me mentioning my friends? Byron and Lilith and the others? They said they'd come help out too. Lilith runs a pawn shop, she offered to buy anything valuable off of me to sell at the pawn shop too.", he explains. "They're supposed to come by sometime soon- maybe you could come then too? And, uhm... meet them?", he offers. "I think you'd like them, even if they can be a little, uh, intense at times.", he says, sounding a little hopeful- and backing that up with a little squeeze to her hand which, by now, he's holding.

Diana squeezes his hand right back, nodding her head. "I'd love to," she says simply, and at least seems like she means it. She smiles over at him, food forgotten for the moment, and squeezes his hand a second time, her thumb brushing up against his index finger and then his thumb. There's a pause before she adds, "...I'm really glad you came tonight. Nights like this-- they shouldn't be spent by yourself."

And she might feel another little shiver, though this one a far more pleasant one, as she brushes her thumb along his fingers like that. He looks up to meet her eyes when she says those last words, and he returns her smile, shy, but happy. "I'm glad I came here tonight too. There's... literally no other place I'd rather be tonight, and I mean that.", he says in a soft voice, lowering his eyes after a moment. "Thanks for, y'know. Having me over."