2019-12-23 - Just F*ck Me Up On Some Chocolate Shavings

Late afternoon a couple of days before Xmas, the snow's still coming down in flurries but James has seen worse. Used to East Coast winters as he is, this is annoying, but hardly crippling, and he's made his way to the coffee shop in defiance of nature- or whatever passes for nature in this godsforsaken little town. He's in his usual getup, for the most part- jeans and hoodie, but he's got a woolen coat over that that is both too expensive and too big for him. As he makes his way through the door, brushing snow off his shoulders, he pauses to look around and just soak in the warmth of being inside. He sniffs at the air- oh, there it is, the smell of the bean, the aroma of arabica, the redolence of robusta. A smile just about touches his chilled lips as he starts making his way to the counter.

Zoiya quicksteps into the coffee shop, shivering under her hoodie and leggings. She had the forethought to add fuzzy boots to the ensemble, so there is one part of her that's warm. She pulls her phone from her pocket, checks the time, and walks to the counter, wiggling her fingers to the barista in greeting. "Large hot chocolate with some caramel syrup in it please, and I'll take a muffin, any kind will do." She sets down money to pay for it and leans against the counter, waiting for her order to come up. She spots James brushing snow from his shoulders and glances outside where the infernal stuff is still flurrying down from the skies. Once her order is up she moves to find a table, pulling napkins from the holder to set her muffin on. "Evening." She says quietly to James as she passes, nodding politely in his direction.

"Peppermint Mochachino- and you can sprinkle like those chocolate shavings on top of it, right? Yeah, gimme some of those, just, like, go nuts on 'em, just fuck me up on some chocolate shavings, right? And, uh... apple danish. Oh, and cheese danish. Munchies, y'know?", is James' order, as he slaps down a 20 on the counter. "Keep the change." Either he's tipping generously, or just knows that the best way to keep his weird little ass from getting banned from local eateries is to make sure the waitstaff are well compensated for having to deal with his usually stoned self. When Zoiya passes by with that greeting, he freezes in place, eyeing the woman who's got about 6 inches and 4 pounds of ink on him. "Err. Hi?", he replies, still accustomed to the usual NYC 'the only way all 8 million of us can live together is by pretending not to see one another' level of interactions with strangers. He tilts his head. She looks... vaguely familiar.

Meanwhile, Zoiya is trying not to laugh at the whole "fuck me up on some chocolate shavings" line. She settles in her seat, catches James watching her and she smiles again. She takes a sip of her drink, sets it down and starts to shred her muffin with her fingers, picking up small pieces to toss into her mouth. Her phone buzzes as a text comes in, but she ignores it for now, focusing on her hot chocolate, and the present company in the coffee shop. She leans back in her chair, watching people outside pass through the weather, waiting to see if anything interesting happens. Her gaze is drawn back to James briefly, because he looks familiar too. "Didn't I see you at...the gallery?" She finally says, narrowing her eyes as she studies the man. "Ah yes, you were Gina's victim, I think?"

James gives the barista a quick smile as his dessert-masquerading-as-coffee and actual-desserts are delivered, and he turns around to look for a place to sit, just as Zoiya is noticing him once more. When she mentions the gallery, his eyes light up a bit in recognition- before they darken and he stiffens at the mention of that name. "Hush. Don't say that name out loud, lest you summon the beast." He quickly crosses himself.

"Ah, sorry. I didn't know she could be summoned by name." Zoiya draws her fingers across her lips and 'tosses' the key away. She gestures to a chair across from her as she crosses her legs. "Sit with me?" She asks, taking another sip of her hot chocolate. "The gallery, it's quickly becoming one of my favorite places. Wine, cats and dogs, and classes where I can make fun pottery." She attempts not to grin pulling the pieces of her muffin closer. She gestures to his coffee and quirks a brow. "What.. is that thing that you ordered, if I can be so impertinent to ask?"

James nods quickly. "By name, by thought, by deed, and perhaps by other means. She is wily, and unpredictable.", he replies, then blinks at the invitation to sit with him. He hesitates a moment, but seems to decide she's likely safe, at least for the moment, because he does join her at the table a moment later. "Uhm, thanks.", he murmurs as he sets his drink and pastries down, and looks at the drink as she asks about it. "Peppermint mochachino. I'm actually... not entirely sure what it is. I usually just order whichever coffee on the menu has the longest name, because it's pretty much guaranteed to be mostly sugar.", he admits.

"I'm not a big fan of coffee myself, but that's because I'm up half the night and when I finally do want to fall asleep.. I don't want it to be difficult." Zoiya holds out an inked hand, a soft laugh escaping her at some amusement. "Mae." She reminds James, and if he shakes her hand, she keeps it brief. "I'll make a point not to think about .. things, so as not to summon them." She tucks her phone in her purse so she isn't rude. "All I know, really, is that next time I come in for any kind of drink, I'm gonna ask them to fuck me up with the chocolate shavings too, because that just sounded equal parts delicious and downright amusing." She eyes the mochachino and then turns her attention back to the man. "So before the gallery, I hadn't seen you around town. You newer to these parts or do we just not move in the same circles?"

"Much appreciated. And, uh, James.", James says, after giving her hand a quick shake- though he did hesitate before taking it, as if steeling himself for something. He does grin as she mentions the chocolate. "Yeah, it's kind of an industry insider term. Lets the barista know you're in the know, y'know?" He then scoops up a few of those chocolate shavings and pops them into his mouth before taking a sip that leaves some whipped cream on the tip of his nose. "Well, I don't really have a 'circle' so much as a... dot, maybe? Line at best. I'm actually a local, or was, fifteen years ago. Moved to NYC after some... stuff and things. Came back to town a couple of months ago because of other stuff and things. Cue inheriting a house that was lived in for those same fifteen years by an insane hoarder, toss in about 10 pounds of weird in a 2 pound bag, and, ta-dah. Here we are."

"Oh." Mae watches the transfer of chocolate from cup to mouth, and when he gets some whipped cream on his nose, she's kind enough to gesture at her own. "You've got a little.." She peels away one of her napkins and hands it over to him. "You don't have a circle, you have a dot." She repeats grinning before she settles in to listen. "Ah well, I was born in New York and ran away at the first opportunity, here I am after a few years of travel." She kicks her crossed leg a bit, making sure not to bump his under the table. "I have a circle, but we're all strippers so most people aren't part of it, unless they come out to the club a lot." She takes another drink of her hot chocolate and considers the hoarding issue, she considers commenting but she instead latches on to the weird. "Yes well, I'm pretty sure this town is a lot of weird stuffed in a small space, so you've got the right idea, at least?"

James looks a bit confused as she gestures at her nose and such, and then hands him a napkin. By the time it finally clicks for him, he blushes faintly, and wipes the tip of his nose. "Ah, thanks for that.", he murmurs, then starts nodding at the bit about dots and circles, taking a sip of his coffee as he does- coffee which he just manages to keep from spitting out as she mentions her friends are all strippers. "-gah. Right. Yes. Good.", he mumbles, before latching on to the conversational liferaft that is this town's weirdness. "... oy, don't get me started-", he begins to say, then stops. "Hey I know it's not Christmas yet, but, you gotten any gifts this year yet?", he asks, our of the blue, then continues. "Wait, y'know what, here, just to be safe." He reaches into one of his coat pockets, rummaging about until he pulls out a freshly rolled little joint. "Here, take this. Merry Christmas, keep that on you, don't smoke it til'... I dunno. Maybe New Year's, to be safe?", he says, then shudders. "... fuckin' cats." Ah, yes. He's insane.

Mae is about to reach over and wipe his nose for him when it clicks, so she settles back down in her seat and starts to laugh when she notices that he's trying not to spit out his coffee. "I mean, I'm a stripper to so.. " She sits through the lurch of conversation to a new topic and she clears her throat, shoving her mirth down to manageable levels. "You know, I don't see much of it, because I keep to myself and work, but when it splashes out of places.." She shakes her head and the transition to gifts and the joint that she's offered makes her blink a few times. "I actually haven't had a Christmas gift since i was.. seven." She takes the joint, spinning it between inked fingers before she leans down to put it in her purse. "If this is the kind of gift that you just give to a perfect stranger, I can't wait to see what you give out when you know someone." She glances outside when he mentions being safe, as if the source of not safe is out in the snow. Which, to be fair, it probably is. She's looking for cats right now, Hope in particular, but her eyes are drawn back to James after a few beats. "You okay?"

James is able to take the news that she, too, is a stripper, which means he is having coffee with a stripper, which- well, he's not sure what that means, but it's something that doesn't happen every day in his experience, so, at the very least it's worth noting. When she says how long it's been since she's gotten a Christmas gift, his expression falls a bit. "... oh. Well. Merry Christmas?", he finally says, lamely. "And, uh, if I'm being honest, it's probably gonna be the same for the people I do know." He shrugs. "I've got a brand to uphold." A few moments of silence, letting him sip his coffee while she looks outside, and then he blinks at her last question. ".. me? Nah. Not even close. Kinda feel like I'm the only sane person in this town, and that's driving me crazy. But, don't worry. I'm a writer. Crazy just goes on the page."

"Thank you. I think this year it's going to be pretty merry, I'm certainly looking forward to it." Mae glances at her purse and a grin tilts the corners of her lips. "So your brand is presents in the form of pot? I can get behind that, certainly." She leans in slightly, propping her chin in her palm. "I have that feeling sometimes too, mostly at work. Once people start drinking, it's easy to question their sanity." She taps a finger to her collarbone. "I don't always feel sane in this town, but I don't think I'm crazy either. Just constantly amused by the trouble people seem to get into, and the inventive ways they get out." She blinks and her head cants slightly as her amused grin brightens into an actual smile. "You're a writer? What kind of books? You mean, like best sellers and stuff? I just started reading between sets at work. Got anything I can dig in to?"

James winces, as if he'd been dreading that question. "Well, less 'books' and more... 'book'. And it's not really very good at all, didn't sell, like, at all. Trust me, you don't wanna read it. But, uhm, I'm working on a new one, with a co-writer. About, y'know, sort of modern day folklore of places like this town?", he says, then smiles weakly. "Glad you can be amused at it, though. Me, I'm more of a 'react in pants-shitting terror' kind of guy, myself."

"Sorry Pal, gonna look you up now. Might as well just tell me a title so I don't have to dig too hard and describe you to the local librarian." Mae nods at the subject of the new book, pulling out her phone to make a note that she's on the hunt for a book by James. There is a question mark tapped in after his first name, waiting to see if he'll elucidate further. "Well, James." She makes eye contact, a gleam in her eyes. "You can either die shitting your pants in terror, or you can go screaming like a Viking. I prefer the second by leaps and bounds. I don't want to regret any aspect of my life, especially the ending." She takes a drink of her chocolate. "Should give that some thought, mindless rage is a lot more fun than terror."

James gives her a rueful smile at those last words. "I'm gonna go screaming either way. Also, I'm 5'4" and like a buck and a half. My mindless rage is more comparable to a toddler having a tantrum than a barbarian plowing through foes." He shrugs. "I'd rather just, y'know, hobbit it up. Those little dudes know the score. Find a cozy hole to curl up in, get fucked up on some chronic pipeweed, and have breakfast 7 times a day." Nope, he is not giving her any more clues as to his book that easily.

"Seven breakfasts sounds really good. I mean, I'm not going to judge you no matter what path you take, I know what it's like to be judged." Mae leans back in her chair, her hand closing around her cup. She swirls the chocolate inside, watching James while the wheels in her head turn. "Should be kinder to yourself though, might have reserves in there that you aren't even aware of yet." She tilts her head toward the window, but resolutely refuses to look in that direction. "This town will yank them out of you if nothing else will." She finally takes a sip from her cup, and shrugs. "Looks like I'm on a scavenger hunt, hmm? Not going to make this easy on me? I like a challenge."

"It's not a challenge, it's a warning. Really. It's terrible.", James replies, shaking his head. "And, look, I know this town can turn a zero to a hero. I met up with the kids I used to play D&D with back in the day, and they're basically the X-Men now.", he explains, then shrugs. "Y'ever heard of Doop? He basically is a giant green potato with arms. I'm that X-Man."

Mae has had her say about the book, he can try to change her mind, that just makes her more curious. It's the subject of the potato that she focuses in. "So basically, what you're telling me, is that .. if I got up right now and popped you in the jaw? You'd just sit there, take it and grin up at me?" She narrows her eyes slightly, watching his expression. "Not that I'm gonna get up and punch you. I punch when I'm irritated and only on a bag in the gym on Elm." She folds her arms over her chest and studies James in the near silence, the regular coffee shop noise eddying around them. "Guess you'd know yourself, better than anyone else." Is her final conclusion, perhaps to forestall further discussion on it. "Did you like New York?"

James blinks, leaning back a little pulling his coffee towards himself warily even as she assures him she won't actually punch him. "... sit there and grin? What? No, I'm crazy, not stupid. I'd probably throw coffee in your face and make a run for it.", he replies, and narrows his eyes. "So, no punching. I'm a deadeye with peppermint mochachinos." He does seem a little wary now as she crosses her arms, as if certain he's somehow displeased this near-stranger and is going to be punished for it soon enough. "I mean, NYC was pretty ok. I wasn't exactly living large- oversized shoebox of an apartment, shitty job tending bar, occasional dance-fights with the subway rats for a seat during rush hour. 8 million assholes all crammed into a couple of square miles and somehow the place doesn't implode on itself, and I kind of love it for that."

"Can't be that hot anymore, just get me sticky, and that.. I'm actually used to." Mae says this in a cheerful tone, smiling beatifically as his eyes narrow. "I'm not gonna hit you, swear." She tries for reassuring, but she's a heavily tattooed woman wearing make up like a shield. "Yeah, the anonymity is a big draw. Everyone there has their own fucked up shit, so they stay very far away from anyone elses. Here? Gosh, you sneeze and people are sending you soup, dropping by with remedies and cuddling up in bed while drinking your NyQuil. It's.. something." She shrugs and looks away, hoping that when she looks back, he'll be relaxed. "Sure you don't want to give me a tiny clue about the book?"

Last time James was relaxed was probably sometime in 2011. But he does at least stop holding his coffee like it's a defensive talisman, so, there's that. "Look, I can work with sticky. I'm nimble. It's how I survived all the dance fights with the rats.", he replies, then nods in more eager agreement. "Yeah. I mean, I'm not gonna say I'm falling back into my old life from when I was a kid here or anything-", he starts to say, then pauses, because just last week he was literally doing a dungeon crawl with his old D&D buddies. Although in this case the dungeon was real and he got seriously injured by an attack from sentient fruitcake, because Gray Fucking Harbor. "... ok maybe a little, but point is, as weird as New York often was- and it got pretty fucking weird sometimes -it didn't hold a candle to this little middle of fucking nowhere village." Her last question makes him sigh, and he finally just mutters the word, "... Hecker."

"I mean, body glitter and .. other things." Mae says, gesturing at herself with a weak grin. "Every time I talk myself into leaving this place, something happens. I was convinced that I'd be here for a week, three on the outside. Then I got roommates. I broke it off with them, and I was gonna take off, then I met Dylan. Now I own a cabin off Sycamore, and I'm pretty sure I'm kind of stuck. It's complicated and sometimes it's frustrating, but this place feels like home, even when it's trying to kill me." She shrugs a shoulder and glances back out at the snow. "James Hecker. What a name. I'm gonna look you up, because you seem okay. In this town? Seeming okay is pretty much like winning a lottery. I promise not to invoke your demons, and if you're ever around having weirdly named coffee and want company.." She indicates her phone with two inked fingers. "I can give you my number."

James wrinkles his nose. "I know all about being stuck here. I'm pretty sure if I ever leave I'll lose whatever's left of my mind. Only way to stay sane is to keep living in the goddamn asylum.", he mutters, and shakes his head before looking up as she says she's going to research him. And then she offers him her number, and he tilts his head. This is not a common occurrence for James. "... sure. Yeah. Ok, number, yeah, I'll give you mine, but if you call to yell at me because the book was every bit as bad as I warned, I'm just gonna hang up.", he replies, before pulling out his phone so he can enter her number.

"I was born in New York, not a barn. As much of a bitch as I can be, I do attempt being polite." Mae rattles off her number and rolls her eyes. "If I call, it'll be about coffee or me texting to tell you something weird that happened at the club, because.. I don't have a lot of friends, and I'd like more." She chuckles quietly, slipping her phone back into her purse. "I think I go about making friends the wrong way, like.. you know.. threatening to look up a book that they're not proud of, or offering to give them a punch to the face, but. I'm really harmless. For the most part." She gestures to James. "I didn't hit you or anything. I just talked at you, see? Harmless."

"All She Who Shall Not Be Named ever does is talk at me, and yet her words bite and cut like any blade, and deeper still. Don't discount the power of words to fuck your shit right up.", James replies, but then gives a half-smile. "But, you're right. You've been perfectly nice- only vaguely threatening, really, which, as you said, in this town, it's like winning the lottery." He then sends a quick 'hello it me ginger beardo' text message to her number so she has his as well. When he looks back up, his expression has softened a little from something she said. "For real, though- yeah. Weird shit goes down and you need to talk? I'm probably not the worst person to talk to about it, I guess."

"Most of my weird shit is tame, but lots of funny things happen out at the Cabaret. So you'll get treated to that." Mae slips her phone into her purse after she texts back a laughing emoji. "Weird way of making friends aside, you've been nicer than some, and I appreciate that. So, thank you for the Christmas present, and if you and yours are not doing anything for New Year's, text me. I'll get you a couch in the VIP room at the Cabaret and you can watch the circus." She rolls her eyes, and picks up her empty cup, sliding to her feet. "Don't worry about Voldemort, I'm sure there's something that will .. fix all of that." She has a mischievous look on her face. "Not that I'd go looking, nope. I'm a danger noodle. I stay out of trouble until it drags me in." She pulls her hood up and shivers. "Should probably get my ass home before another few inches dump in from the sky."

James blinks as he realizes he may have just inadvertently signed up to receive random late night stripper stories texted at him. "I, uh... VIP room. Well. I. Uhm.. I'll... let you know? Don't have any plans right now, really sort of trying to take life as it comes, day at a time, y'know?" This mischievous look, the mention of Voldemort, the mention of 'fixing' things... he's suddenly tense again. What have you done, James? "Ah, yeah. Stay warm. Don't be afraid to call a cab or an uber or whatever if it gets too cold, yeah? If you freeze to death out there I'm gonna assume it's basically my fault, and no one wants that." He leans back, and sips at the last of his by now rather cold mochachino. "I'll stick around a little longer. Not in a big rush to go back to the Crap Lair.", he says, as he waves her off.

"Crap lair. Sell it and get one of the cabins, they're beautiful." Mae sees the tension, and her voice goes quiet as she pauses, slipping her purse to her elbow. "Don't worry, I don't meddle. If you ever need backup though.." She twiddles her fingers and lets out a brief burble of laughter. "..be well James. Don't be afraid of strip clubs, if you wash your hands after you leave, you're quite safe." She touches two fingers to her temple before she drags them away, the salute irreverent and quick. "Night!" There is a spate of swearing heard when she pushes out the door, but it fades quickly as she hustles toward the forest.