2019-12-13 - Going with 75% crazy.

One thing to recommend the Grizzly, if you're not that much into the holidays, is that it doesn't tend to go 'all in' on Christmas music, decorations, or anything else. Except, obviously, bears. So what's playing is some Afro-techno-fusion something or another, and aside from a few hats on the bears, the decorations are at a minimum. Alexander has snagged a booth towards the back, away from a family of four who have clearly never BEEN to this place before - they're actually expecting service, and the parents are growing increasingly frantic as the kids get hangry. Meanwhile, Alexander is checking his phone. He's been here for five minutes, and still doesn't have his coffee. A bored waitress is ignoring the coffee pot in favor of the magazine she's reading.

It's a pretty normal day at the Grizzly.

The door opens, and Yule just heads right on through, his eyes sweeping about. It's a rather amused look cast towards that family, knowing all too well the poor state of their conundrum is only going to get worse, and then? It's that far back booth that he focuses on. He doesn't even bother trying to stop a waitress to order a cup of coffee for himself, figuring why set too high of expectations that simply won't be met anytime soon. "Hey Alexander," He murmurs as he settles into the spot across from the man, head dipping into a small nod. "Good to see you. How have you been?"

"Yule. Hello." Amusement flickers across Alexander's features. "This must become a confusing time of year for you, on occasion." He glances down at his phone again, then sets it aside to give the other man his full attention. "I'm okay. Got most of my shopping done. Odd to have shopping to do. How are you? Will your family get together for Christmas?"

"It's the best time of year, Alexander," And the man sounds ever so sincere about it, a clear love for the holidays, even as Yule quips, "And everyone knows my name, even if they've never met me." Up one brow ticks at the mention of how odd it is to have shopping. "Yeah? Not used to having people you want to buy something for... or you need to?" A clear distinction made there, before his head gives a small tip of acknowledgement, "Yeah. They all want to do some sort of roadtrip this year. Not sure if that's still the plan.. but be it someplace else or here, we will all be getting together."

Alexander looks dubious about it being the best time of the year, but after a moment, he shrugs, accepting it. "I hope you have a lovely one, then, wherever it ends up being." Another of those awkward pauses, before he says, "I seem to have won a, uh, scooter ride. With your sister? That should be, um, interesting." He glosses over the question about buying things for people, maybe because the waitress finally gets bored enough with her article on what your partner's preferred fruit says about his sexual insecurities to bother to pour two cups of coffee, and wander over to plunk then down in front of Alexander and Yule - ignoring both the fact that Yule didn't order coffee, and the fact that there's a family trying frantically to get her attention. Instead, she looks at Yule. "Did you want food?"

"Yeah. Scooter ride and dumplings." A beat of a pause, as Yule considers, "She'll probably have the pumpkin off the back of her vespa by then. Also? You two can swap horror stories. She works the overnight delivery shift for the Thai palace. The things she sees," That doesn't sound overly pleasing to the M.E., his head just shaking a touch before the waitress comes over. "Still thinking," Yule says as to his potential for food to the woman, a quirk of a smile flashed her way before his focus shifts to Alexander, giving him the opportunity to order if he hadn't already... or order again, if she's already forgotten it.

As soon as Yule declines to order, the waitress turns and walks away. Not a look in Alexander's direction; luckily, he doesn't seem to expect anything else, so he must have already ordered. She ambles over to the family, finally, and stares at them while they order. One kid shrieks about wanting an omelette, and Alexander winces - and not from the volume.

With a shake of his head, his attention returns to Yule. "That sounds fun, then." He's not joking. "I don't mind riding with a pumpkin, if I must." Then he smiles, brief and bright. "You're worried about her."

"Yeah. You know what Gray Harbor is like, and in the middle of the night? Jesus." His shoulders lift up into a hapless shrug at that, full well knowing that Noelle will do as she wants. "I think you'd be riding on /top/ of the pumpkin if it's still there," That draws out that ghost of a smile, his fingers curling around his cup of coffee, but he doesn't lift it up just yet. "But. I said I'd tell you about my experiment, yeah? Trying to create a substance that will respond to glimmer usage, like luminol to blood. I... got it to work. Sort of," He murmurs, those brown eyes shifting to watch that family as they attempt to both wrangle kids, deal with the waitress, and hope she doesn't just walk off. "Encountered three problems, though."

"I think I'm too heavy for that, Yule. And I don't want pumpkin in my pants. There will have to be a negotiation on this point," Alexander decides, with a frown. But the mention of the experiment draws his attention right back to the conversation, and he leans forward a little in his seat. "Yeah? What happened? What problems?" He does take up his coffee cup, and sips a bit at it while waiting - with visible impatience - for the other man to continue.

"I'll help her get it sorted before it gets to that point," Yule promises, though there is a clear touch of mirth in the M.E.'s features at the thought of pumpkins in ones pants. "First I tried mundane chemical reactions. Nothing. Not surprising. Then I," This is where it becomes difficult to explain, his brow furrowing, trying to suss out a way that doesn't sound too vague, "concentrated, focused my own glimmer on a vial of water. Normally? I just touch what you'd call spirit, yeah? But I had to try and bind the chemical changes I was thinking about, a physical change to the liquid too. It was... partially successful. The first problem? Was the changes only lasted about five minutes. I think it'd take a lot more tinkering with to get the infusion to last a lot longer." A beat of a pause for that, before he grimaces slightly,

"The second issue? Is whatever changes I caused? It was sorta like mixing too much acid into your solution. The inorganic material I sprayed it on," Here, Yule fishes something out from his coat pocket, putting it down on the table for Alexander to look at. It's metal - probably from the car - but the piece has been corroded, like it was rapidly aged and deteriorated. Oops.

"I appreciate it. I don't wish to be ungrateful to my unknown benefactor, but I do not consent to riding a pumpkin." Alexander's thanks is absent - most him is riveted on the rest of the information, and when Yule pulls out that metal, he whistles under his breath. "Holy shit." He reaches out to pick up the piece of metal, turning it over in his fingers, eyes narrowing to examine it. "You've discovered how to make magic acid, Yule. That's...interesting but a little bit terrifying." His eyes flick up. "You said there were three problems."

"Anything I can do to help," Comes the lazy, humored offer to that absent minded thanks, but Yule's focus is just as riveted upon the now old piece of metal before them. "Yeah. Not exactly what I set out to do. I think the physical binding? Wasn't strong enough. Or too much of the spiritual essence put in. Pretty sure I could fix it and get it right, with practice... or with some help. But," Yes. That third problem. A low breath is put out, and this is the problem that has a frown drawing down on the M.E.'s features, a moment of pause as that particular sensation he then speaks about is recalled. "Someone. Or something. Doesn't like the fact that I'm trying to do this. That forboding presence of being watched the moment I had my initial if fleeting success. Not sure why /this/ in particular drew attention, but it did."

Alexander takes a deep breath, lets it out. "Because it protects itself," he says, quietly. "You ever wonder why this stuff isn't front page news? Why with all the idiots like you and me who can lay on hands like goddamned faith healers, or throw lightning, or toss knives with a thought, that no one's got a fucking YouTube channel showing off their amazing magical powers?" His smile flickers sharp. "It's because it protects itself. Whatever this is, it doesn't want to be recorded, documented, or known unless you stand out. I used to try to take pictures of it. Record sound. Never works in a way that would convince anyone who didn't already want to believe. This," he waggles the piece of metal a couple of times, then puts it down, "is an attempt to make the unreal into something that can be measured, documented, known. I don't think that'll end well."

Yule listens, soaking it all in, before his head dips into a faint nod of undrestanding. "Makes sense. Looks out for itself, whatever it is. But something like this? Is easily explained away, or-" But it's there he pauses, a low 'mmph' coming from the man. "I wonder how particular their attention is. If the intention changes from a more general reveal glimmering use, to the reagant only being useful, and the results seen, by others who glimmer. So the mundane people out ther? Would think it's just water. If that'd matter when it comes to the attention of these things." It's a line Yule isn't ready to give up on yet, but nor is he ready to charge out and toss dice to the wind without a care.

Alexander shakes his head. "I honestly don't know. I've never felt threatened in any point when trying to prove it existed. People just didn't believe me. And the evidence would be ruined. But I never felt a presence. It may be because you're trying to put whatever is the essence of our ability into something, too." He pauses for another sip of coffee. "Stuff that stays on the other side for a while seems to pick up...I guess you'd call it an enchantment. People, too. Apparently a car can be come sentient if it stays over there long enough. And a man who lived there for a while was killed, and came back as a zombie. Not just a dream zombie, but alive but rotting." He shrugs. "So it might be that trying to make an enchantment over here draws attention." He pauses, thoughtful. "I wonder what would happen if you worked Over There?"

"Whatever I do next, needs to be done carefully. Or with a couple of friends, at the least, Just In Case," Whatever it was that the M.E. felt, it shows through in his tone, a touch of dread at the remembrance. "But at the end of the day? Something like this would be useful for /us/. Being able to detect it, understand if murders were mundane or something more was at stake. Could help to prevent some of these issues before they really get out of hand." His hand sweeps along the edge of the table, his opposite finally lifting up his mug to take a small sip as he considers everything the other says, but it is that very last thought that clearly has him intrigued. "Wonder if it would give Them better access to me," Is the concern, but on the other hand? "There might be materials, or catalysts, whatever that might be natural. Like your car, yeah? Or like growing bacteria colonies. Something that would be natural over there, that if we could bring it back, could be used to create a solution to detect glimmer stuff."

"But that seems... improbable, at best, given I've no idea how I'd get Over There to experiment." He adds on, after a beat of a pause for consideration.

"I know how you could," Alexander says, promptly. "I mean. I can't take you myself - that's one ability I don't have at all. But I know a couple of guys who can. And one in particular who's been making a goddamned habit of it." He grimaces. "I don't like to encourage it, because it's dangerous and crazy over there. But," he's curious, "you're not wrong. Even if it could only be used by someone who already stands out, that'd help out a lot just in being able to identify which disappearances or 'suicides' had some help from the Shadows or other actors." He hums to himself, his fingers tapping out a bitchin' drum solo on the side of the table as he studies Yule. "I could ask. The guys I know, they're not just good at moving, but they're also competent as hell if things go south. We can protect you while you work. I don't know if you want to bring anything back, though. You'd need them to do that for you, and...there's always a price, as far as I can tell."

Yule considers this, his head tipping one way and then another as he considers that offer. "Wonder if I could. See how they do it. I definately tapped into something different in myself than I had last time. But," A single finger lifts up, considering, "If I can't bring anything back, will it be useful? Or if I bring something in and it /changes/, will the changes come back with us? If so... well. It's worth making inquiries about, if you don't mind." He concludes, head dipping towards the other man.

Yule and Alexander are in a booth near the back, while a poor family of four has finally managed to order food for their far too hangry kids, though given that the waitress hasn't actually put the order in to the cook? Who knows how long they are going to be waiting.

Whatever carte blanche they've been given to be lackadaisical and rude....most of the servers are still here to make money. And hence Joe working on a rep as a decent tipper. So he doesn't get ignored as flagrantly as he otherwise might, as he takes a seat at the bar, moving stiffly. Warm enough in here that he shrugs off the peacoat he's wearing, and tucks the black watch cap into its pocket, leaving his hair in disarray. No shyness about either the scars or the ink, apparently.

Alexander grins, suddenly. He's all scruff and bad clothing, but the grin makes him look approachable for just a moment. "The great thing is that I have no idea about the answers to most of those questions. It requires experimentation. Don't you think? I won't make you. But if you want, I can ask Easton or Itzhak, see if they're up for it. It's a worthy cause." He pauses. "I said I would show you something, too." He reaches into the pocket of his oversized Army jacket, and pulls out a small box. It's a lovely thing. The metal is delicate edge work and filigree frame, and the sides, base and lid are a slightly cloudy glass. It fits pretty easily in the palm, a rectangle roughly 3x2 inches. "It's supposedly a null box. Will render one thing from Over There inert, as long as it's in the box."

Another sip of his coffee is taken, Yule's eyes shift as another enters the diner, trailing after Joseph until the fellows found his seat at the bar. "Yeah. Worth the inquiries... and experimentation. If I can get this to work? There are other things I'd like to do. Wonder if we can make-" His phone buzzes, and a small, brief bit of Juicy by Doja Cat goes off once, and then twice. Yule? He seems to think this is perfectly ordinary, not notcing in the least as he continues on, "somewhere over there a safe sort of lab. Safeish." But all those thoughts are put aside for a moment when Alexander pulls out the box, his head tipping to one side as he studies it, and it is one word in particular he latches onto. "Supposedly?"

This town is thick with those who shine. It's part of what's kept him here, even after all the warnings with their various levels of veiling. That and the weather - it's been rain and storm since he got here, and trying to face the winter swell in the northern Pacfic is no joke, when you're talking about a little sailboat.

He's pointed that bright blue stare at the menu, to at least figleaf the eavesdropping he's begun to do - murmuring a request for coffee when the waitress sweeps by.

There's an easy nod from Alexander. "I'll try to reach out, then. Might not be until after the holidays, though. I think we're raiding an Asylum that's Over There before that, and," something flickers in his expression, "that won't be fun." An understatement, and the drumming of his fingers becomes louder, almost like he's trying to bash his fingers into something hard rather than just tap out a rhythm, although that quiets when he takes a deep breath. He refocuses on the box. "Supposedly. I haven't tested it. Can't, really. It only works once. And, uh, the guy who gave it to me says people's souls were used to make it, so not to waste it." A crooked sort of smile. "He might be playing me. But there's definitely something about it." His eyes flick over to the bar, resting there for a moment on the new guy, or maybe the ink and scars.

"Raiding an asylum? Don't suppose there have happened to be any outbreaks from there recently," As if that might well explain a few things he's seen in his work recently. Yule? He certainly glimmers, and when Alexander looks over, his own gaze follows, a soft mmph coming from him. "Yeah. After the holidays is fine. It'll give me time to prepare, anyway... and maybe a bit of that attention goes away." His hand hand reached out as if to touch the box, but once the story behind it plays out? A brow arches upwards, and back his hand comes to his side, returning to his cup of coffee. "Sounds like the sort of thing you keep until you /really/ need it... and then hope like hell it actually works."

There goes any attempt to play it cool - Joe comes to attention like a hound that's just caught the fox's scent, the line of his back going taut, rigid with remembered distress. Goosebumps, even, marching over the weathered skin of those scarred arms. Joe doesn't even bother to introduce himself, let alone pretend he wasn't listening. "I was there," he says, quietly, but still pitched to be heard. "I was a patient for.....half a year? I wasn't clear on the duration, a lot of it was a blur." His tone's calm, even flat. Matter of fact, as if it made perfect sense that he come barging into their conversation like the social equivalent of the Kool aid Man.

"Yeah, maybe," Alexander says, quietly, to Yule. "Actually. There's a couple of women who might be releasing people--" And then he breaks off as Joseph speaks up. He studies the man with a blank expression for a long moment. Then puts the box away in his pocket and says, "You should join us." A glance at Yule to make sure it's alright with him, even as he gestures for Joseph to find a place at their back booth. He adds, "I'm Alexander Clayton. I don't know you."

Yule's head gives a small dip of agreement with Alexander, though he seems to have been dwelling on the thought of those potential asylum patients being released. "Don't suppose they keep records there," He murmurs dryly, and now it is the M.E.'s fingers that tap against the edge of the desk. The start of introductions has his reverie shaken, and he slides further into his side of the booth, taking his coffee with him, to make room for Joseph. "Yule Duchannes. And when is it you were there, exactly?" Might as well get directly to the questions, that cup lifted to take a small sip taken from his cup.

Fate? Luck? Spidey senses? Some kind of curse? Whatever it is that makes coincidences happen makes one happen when conversation turns to 'let's raid the Asylum' and - moments later - one Doctor Hailey Stevenson darkens the doorway of the diner. She has the briskness about her of a person that's, "Just picking up," as she quickly informs the cashier. Who wants to know her name, what she ordered, sifts through little receipt papers, and reports back that she doesn't have an order for Hailey for club sandwiches, is she sure she called the right place? To which the answer is, "Ahhm, fifty-fifty?" Then Hailey sighs, agrees to wait, and naturally casts a look around at the patrons herein.

Suffice it to say, her eyes about fall out of her head when they get around to Yule, Alexander, and Joseph back there. It's not even worth a composure check; she's stuck there, openly gawking at them.

He snags the newly arrived coffee cup, then coat and hat, coming over to sit gingerly in the booth. Definitely old injuries, beyond the wounds on his arms. "Joseph Cavanaugh," he says, crisply. "New to town, been here about, hm, ten days. I was there in 2017, roughly the first half of the year." That he might've thrown himself into a trap doesn't seem to have occurred to him.

He glances over as Hailey comes in, and there's another of those moments of breathless shock. For an instant, he looks as if he'd like nothing more than to go clawing right out of the booth and away, but he settles himself again, and observes, "She was there, too. But she wasn't a patient."

Alexander gives Joseph a sympathetic look. "And you ended up coming here? Why? Everywhere else is a better place, for trying to be, um, sane." And then Hailey comes in, and Alexander sort of hunches down more in his seat. And he's not got great posture at the best of times. He wraps his hands around his coffee and takes a sip, avoiding the woman's eyes. "No. She was a doctor. She works at the hospital here, now. Dr. Hailey Stevenson." A pause. "I don't think she means harm." There's something almost reluctant about the admission.

"Yeah? Welcome to Gray Harbor. I'm sure Alexander will tell you to-" Right on cue, there is his answer as the man in question responds to Joseph, a quirk of his features coming to him. That is until Hailey is pointed out, not that the gawking doctor is hard to miss. She's stared at in return by Yule's brown gaze for a few long moments, his mouth parting with his first thought, before it snaps closed as the words means no harm, probably, comes from him. "You sound disappointed by that," Comes his initial murmur, and up his cup is lifted, draining off the last of it, because this? This requires more caffeine. "We just going to sit and stare at each other for a while?" His voice finally picks up, loud enough to easily care towards the woman in question as a faint but charming smile graces Yule's features.

Hailey eventually unsticks. It takes a good five extra seconds, though, even with everyone noticing her noticing them. "Hi Joe." And she peels away from the cashier, walking over with a hand outstretched like she means to offer him a handshake. "How are you? What are you doing here? Did you - " But there are other people at that table, and it makes her pull her hand back before that shaking can happen, dredging up an apologetic smile to flash at Yule and Alexander. "I'm sorry. I'm interrupting. Hi, Mister Clayton. Hi," and she stares at Yule, really really struggling to put a name to the face and coming up short and oh god that makes this awkward so she just ends with, "you."

"I....don't have a good reason. Other than gut instinct and....I gotta find out more about what....I used to be normal. Then I got in a wreck, and all sorts of weird shit started happening to me..." His accent's broadening as he speaks, a southern drawl that sounds bizarre in the Pacific northwest. "Yeah?" he asks, unconvinced. "Doctors usually don't, unless they're Mengele, but....she was there. She treated me for these." He indicates one of the long ridges of scarring with a fingertip.

Joe does rise to take her hand, manners guiding him even if half his brain's frozen with the double shock of two leads on the Asylum. "Doctor," he says, letting his hand fall as she does. "I'm doin' all right." Hey, he's no longer a stitched-up, nodding-off half-conscious wreck; walking and talking in complete sentences, it's a vast improvement. "Just kinna blew in," he allows.

Alexander shakes his head at Yule. "Not disappointed," he claims, but doesn't go into what he might actually be feeling. His shoulders remain hunched, but when Hailey approaches, he says, "Hello, Dr. Stevenson. How is your holiday?" His gaze shifts back to Joseph, lips going thin and pursed. "I'm sorry," he tells the man, quietly. "It's hard, when things start happening and you don't know why. Trauma seems to trigger some people starting to stand out. I don't know why. Or why others don't. It's an interesting question." He slides further into the booth, making room if Hailey wants to join them.

"Close," Quips Yule when Hailey is caught in that realization she doesn't have a name to put to his face, "Common mistake. The L? It isn't actually silent. Yule." Forward he leans as she approaches, eyes narrowing sharply before his pointed question comes out, though it's the bare touch of a smile that softens both his features and the words, "Aren't you a bit young to already be a doctor?"

A soft snort comes from the M.E. at Joe's reasoning as to why he is hear, his voice dropping down to a lighter murmur, "Yeah. Seems to happen to a lot of folks. Myself included, though I was born and raised here." His eyes cut over to Alexander when he offers up what he isn't, and while there are more questions seen in that gaze, they are all stuffed away for now. "Don't suppose either of the two of you recall someone with abnormally long fingers? Fetish for organs? Might have left the asylum recently?" And it's back to Alexander, his shoulders lifting up into a bemused shrug, "I figure I might as well ask, yeah? Don't want another skinless corpse on my table anytime soon. That? Was just creepy."

"Oh good." Hailey says this of Joseph doing all right, not whatever else is being discussed. She hasn't caught the ends of any other threads, even Yule's (admittedly clever) introduction; whoosh, it's floating around over her head somewhere. "I'm glad you're well. Ahm, you were released, right?" The tentative tone acknowledges that this is a weird conversation to be having right in front of virtual strangers, but she cracks on, regardless. "You didn't," teeth on edge, "escape?" Then she breathes out hurriedly and shakes her head, like 'no don't answer that' and remembers how to smile like an almost normal person.

"Sorry. Hi. I'm being rude. I'm Hailey. I'm a third year resident," with a look at Yule, who can't possibly be the first person to ask that question. "Are you looking for someone with long fingers and an organ-fetish? Because, ahm, I feel like you might be shooting fish in a barrel around here." She's not actually looking at Alexander when she says that, though it does appear that way, on account of she's looking at the space he's providing by squishing into the booth more. Alas, she doesn't know what to do with that silent offer, so she just continues to stand there. At least the service sucks, so it's not like she's in the waitress's way.

Well, it'd've been nice if they had all the answers ready to hand him, neatly wrapped with a bow on top. It's Christmas time, after all. But even as things stand, it's pretty overwhelming. Joe finally remembers to tend to his coffee cup, namely, by dumping in an unholy amount of sugar, first, then stirring, spoon clinking against the worn china. "Hell, at least y'all know what I'm talking about....and believe me." There's enormous relief there.

Yule's question gets a shake of the head. "Nah. But honestly, a lot of my stay was one long nightmare, and they did some electroshock on me, which didn't exactly help with my memory." He blinks at Hailey. "I was released," he says, more flatly. "I did not escape. Got here by boat." He beckons her to join them, settling back down and patting the table invitingly.

Alexander's lips tighten at the quip about long fingers and organ fetishes, and he bristles at the apparent direction of Hailey's gaze. He doesn't look back at her, or at anyone else. Just sips his coffee and mutters, to Yule, "Doesn't ring an immediate bell. You want me to do some research? I can." Then, to Joseph, his voice gentles a bit. "We believe you. And yeah. It's nice to believed. Not everyone does, even here in the Harbor. But..." A shrug, then a derail to, "Do you happen to remember a woman named Alice Whitehouse, there? It's all right if you don't."

"You think?" Comes Yule's question towards Hailey about that thought being like shooting fish in a barrel, "I haven't seen anyone with abnormally long fingers," As if the organ fetish is something you run across everyday here, "I was sort of hoping it'd be as unique as trying to find the six fingered man who killed my father, a sword maker." Rolls from the tip of his tongue, as if he were Inigo Montoya himself, the words clearly in jest.

Yule's head tips into a faint nod towards Hailey at her explination, but there is something that doesn't seem wholly satisfied even if it goes unspoken. "Addington seems a good a place as any for your residency. What is your specialty?" It's an understanding smile flashed to Joe when he explains, his head dipping into a small nod, "Yeah. Long shot, I figured. Look, things around here? Are very weird." A soft 'mmm' rolls from the tip of his tongue, as he looks towards Alexander, "I'm poking into things on this side already. If you hear of anything, or happen to snag some records during this raid?" Yeah. That tone says he doesn't really want to guess, or know why they are going to be barging into an asylum, just letting that hook dangle out there instead.

Hailey is never going to read all this 'sit down' body-language correctly; just putting that out there. She'll just keep standing there, briefly knotting her fingers up together before she makes herself not do that and shoves them into her back pockets instead, where they will behave themselves and not fidget. "I don't think it was the electric shocks," she tells Joseph quickly. "I mean, I just think you're - ahm, we're, all of us, really not supposed to remember." With the knitted brow and apologetic shrug. Then, very gravely, she tells Yule, "I do think," since he asked. She nods and everything. And also answers, "Internal medicine. What raid? Are you raiding things?" Collective 'you,' she means all three of them, even Alexander, King of Avoiding Eye Contact.

Joe's expression goes remote, inward-turned, the broad brow furrowing. "I don't expect everybody to. But...." He looks down into the murky depths of the coffee cup. "Y'know, to have someone to talk to about it. That place was pretty hellish, but there were other folks who understood what I meant about bein' changed..." He looks up sharply again. "I think I do. Pretty blonde girl, big blue eyes? She was kind to me."

Then he squares his shoulders and says, bluntly, "Listen, this raid you're talkin' about. I'll go, if you'll have me." Realizing the gestures aren't getting through, he adds, patiently, "C'mon, Doc, sit down, there's room. And I figure you're right. The ECT's just the excuse, but it's clearly some Dark City kinna bullshit."

"I'll keep an eye out," Alexander tells Yule. "Look into a couple of things, maybe. See if anything comes up. And if there are records." And then his eyes snap with irritation, and instead of avoiding eye contact, he's glaring at Hailey. "Who. Who decides that? What you can remember? What you should remember? It's not okay to just make people forget things that they ought to remember." The raid is mentioned by Hailey, and then by Joseph, and he grows agitated. There's a sudden lunge as he slides out of the booth, rising to his feet in a flailing, uncoordinated movement of limbs. "I have to go. I'm sorry." And then he's tossing too much money down for the coffee and barreling for the door, careful only not to touch anyone else on the way.

Yule's mouth parts at Alexander's sudden snap, but instead he just closes it instead, watching the man head towards the door, those brown eyes trailing after him. It's a nudge back to something only a bit weird, rather than all out bonkers that he directs that conversation to after a brief pause, looking first to Joseph, "I think there are a couple of psychiatrists around that know about... things. That look like us, yeah? But even just being around here, you'll find people with similar experiences." That attention drifts, focusing upon Hailey next, "If you ever find yourself down in the basement of the hospital, you should swing by the morgue and say hello. You've already been through your four years of med school, so surely don't need to observe an autopsy, but if you have any questions I might be able to help with sometime? Always happy to lend a hand."

The desire to answer those questions from Alexander is written in the way Hailey rocks between heels-and-toes, opens her mouth with a catch of breath, then exhales sharply when he's just leaving instead. Apparently, she and Yule just had the same reaction. She follows him out with her eyes, shaking her head at whatever thoughts she's keeping contained. The aside, "Everyone says she escaped," falls out of her absently, regarding Violet Whitehouse. A breath clears the cobwebs (kinda), and she waves away the offer to sit - now that someone's actually made it out loud 😃 - with one hand. "I'm just picking up a sandwich, but thank you. I won't, ahm, keep intruding here. Just - maybe really think hard about any raiding you plan to do?"

Yule earns himself a blink. "Do you work in the morgue?" Beat. "Because otherwise that's a really weird place to hang around, just so you know." Someone bring this woman a sandwich so she can leave these poor people alone already.

Joe's openly chagrined by Alexander's bolting out. He even lifts a hand as if he'd snag the departing investigator, but then he lets it fall. Back to Yule, and he nods, subdued. "Yeah? You got any names you could suggest?" he asks, wrapping fingers around his mug.

He cocks an eye at Hailey. "You remember how to get there?" he asks, bluntly. "Since it looks like you no longer work there?" It's all probably more coherent sentences than she's ever heard out of him.

"Is it? Everyone there is such a /great/ listener," Comes the touch of morbid humor from the man, "Doctor Yule Duchannes. Medical Examiner." He finally offers up towards Hailey, a flicker of a smile cast her way. "Maybe," He offers to Joe after a moment, head shifting one way and then another in consideration, "Let me check and get back to you, yeah?" That gaze shifts down to the amount of change Alexander left behind, far more than enough for not just his own coffee but Yule's as well, and given the service? Well, it all seems like enough. "I should be heading out shortly myself. Where are you staying at? I'll drop you a line there if I hear of anyone taking clients."

Blinking, Hailey realizes, "Oh, your name is actually Yule? Wow, I thought you were just making a really bad Christmas joke." It occurs to her as a thing she didn't need to actually say out loud, like, half a second after she says it out loud. So, "I'm gonna go wait for my sandwich over there. It was - no." The question from Joseph interrupts the train of thought that was going to have her moving on down the tracks hastily. "I don't know how to get there. I don't think I ever knew how to get there. Doctor Marshall knows how to get there." Er. "Knew how to get there? But he died." She puts that last bit on sadly, frowning and sighing and everything.

Then cocking a thumb back toward the cashier. "Yeah, I'm gonna go wait over there. It was nice to meet you," Yule, "and nice to see you, ahm, out and about?" She cringes at herself and shakes her head. "Okay then, enjoy your lunch!"

Joe wastes no time in scribbling down his phone number on a piece of paper snagged from his coat pocket, and sliding it over the worn Formica. "Uh, lookin' for a longer term place, so right now I'm stayin' on my boat down at the harbor. The Surprise, berth eight. Better to call, I got my phone on me most of the time." Slowly, slowly, Gray Harbor's getting its hooks in. He looks at Hailey, dubiously, but doesn't press her. He's got at least one contact hopefully.....and he's got a feeling that pushing it wouldn't help.

"I never joke about Christmas," Comes his rejoinder towards the woman, and this? Is without a touch of amusement, completely sincere upon Yule's part. "A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Stevensen. I'll see you around, I'm sure." And with that, Yule slides out from the booth even as he reaches out to pluck up that piece of paper, giving it a look over. "I'll be in touch. And, like I said, welcome to Gray Harbor. It's a weird sort of place." On he goes, stepping through the diner and then out the front door, pausing just long enough to give a wave to the pair before he slips out.

Hailey will just be over here, by the cashier, for like 40 years. Waiting for a sandwich. And finding out that the order never got put in. Eventually, she gives up and disappears out the door, saying something about how she's just going to have to learn how to make food for herself because something something the universe is against her.