2020-01-09 - F*R*I*E*N*D*S

It's like everyone is still getting over their collective hangovers from the turning of the New Year and no one is out doing anything stupid, or at least not stupid enough that they're not running back to back calls at the GHFD. Her favorite partner in the wind, Bennie is left partnered with a greenhorn, a pimpled youth barely old enough to buy his own cigarettes much less have just graduated out his paramedic classes. He's busy playing on his phone in the lounge area and Bennie is sitting at the kitchenette where the shifts eat the majority of their meals, reading a scientific journal about the latest technological advances of stopping fast bleeders in a combat scenario.

There's always SOMEONE doing something stupid. And in this case, it's Alexander, haunting the building. He walks strangely, his back straight, his gait careful. He looks even more ill-slept than usual, but he doesn't look like he's shivering too much the way he had been. The unnatural cold is lifted, and he's only dealing with the regular winter chill. Which is still substantial, and he's rubbing his hands together as the cops studiously try to ignore his presence. No one stops him as he rambles into the lounge, his eyes scanning the faces, as if looking for someone. When he notices Bennie, he pauses. A lift of his eyebrow, and he starts to move in that direction. "Hey," he says, quietly, and moves to take a seat at the table with her. "Fun reading?"

Bennie looks up in mild astonishment, blinking a moment as if trying to remember if she'd ever seen Alexander in the building. Voluntarily. Coming up empty, instead she trades that surprised expression for a warm smile, wiggling to sit up out of her slouch a bit more. "Hi, friend! Well, I mean it would be if Gray Harbor had the budget to actually implement any of the newer technologies. I'm surprised we're not still using 'bleeding' as a form of care, the transitive properties of leeches aside." She gives a glance aside to her new 'partner' but he's so Crushing that Candy that he didn't even glance up at Alexander's arrival. "You're not here to just cheer me up during a boring shift, are you?"

"Leeches are surprisingly interesting creatures. In 1909, in Louisiana, Richard O'Day, a young tough allied with a minor game, was fed to a pool filled with leeches by members of a rival gang. There were so many that he sustained fatal blood loss within three hours." Alexander stops rambling, and blinks. "Um. Maybe that wasn't what you meant. I don't think leeches liked the waters here in the Pacific Northwest, anyway." He shakes his head. "I'm not. I didn't know you were here. But it's nice to see you, Bennie. How are you?"

"I was actually referring to their proven usefulness when reattaching severed appendages, but that works too! I wonder how many leeches per cubic liter of water would be necessary for something like that." Bennie leans forward slightly, almost hopeful. "Have you done the math?" At the question though, she casts a glance aside to the couches. "I've been. Happier. Did you know Carver's house is just, like. POOF? I went over there to raid the fridge and didn't even find enough for a field of Me's to rebuild it." And by that she means Spritualists, but doesn't come out and say the G word in mixed non-Shiny company. "So at the risk of sticking my nose into the poop-shoot of your business, what does bring you by? You look wrinkly." She indicates her forehead and his worry lines that form when he's making his serious face.

"I haven't done the math," Alexander admits. "I can. If you really want to know." The faintest sign of a smile touches his eyes, but only one of the corners of his mouth. "Yes, I was there when it disappeared. Mister Carver decided to leave town of his own free will. It's not a tragedy. He'll do better outside the town." He then laughs, with brief surprise, at the latter comment. "The poop-shoot? Well. I never mind curiosity. I was actually looking for the Captain. He has a book I want to borrow. And he's being difficult." His brow furrows when she points out the wrinkliness. "I suppose he has reason to be, though. I'm not as helpful as I want to be."

Bennie nods to the notion that Carver imploded the place on purpose, though while he has a touch of a smile she has a touch of a frown. "I suppose that's where Sutton's gone off to then, too. They'll both be better off, though I can't imagine. I got the serious case of homesickness I've ever had at your party. That's the furthest I've ever been from Gray Harbor and I swear my skin was crawling until I got back within the Limits." She on the table towards him, but her hand never strays from its top to touch him. "Alexander, you are literally the most helpful person I've ever met. Even when people might not know they want it." It's compliment! Really! "He's default setting is just: loveable grouch. So. If we were to do the math, can we get a white board if for no other reason than I've always wanted to wear a pair of glasses and stare at one while doing equations? And you have to take my picture."

Alexander hesitates, then nods. "He didn't say specifically. But I saw them together at a party just before, so that's likely. They seemed happy." He frowns at the mention of homesickness. "That's a shame. People are probably happier if they can leave this town." Mind you, he doesn't say that he felt any differently, but then he pulled a knife on the partygoers, so it's probably not a great example to follow even if it was him. He shakes his head. "And I'm not, Bennie. I don't really help with anything. What I touch, it tends to go badly. But it's kind of you to say." And then, her last words tease out a warm smile. "Yes. If it would make you laugh, then we can do that."

"I'm not blowing smoke up your poop-shoot," Bennie says it again, because it amused Alexander the first time, and comedy comes in threes, people! "Everything the veil touches goes to hell in a hand basket - and I'm not talking some cute little Pottery Barn number, but the sort that the wicker gets dry-rotted and the bottom tends to fall out of just when you go to set your cookies in it for grandma. It has nothing to do with whether or not you're in spitting distance of it. So if you don't have recorded empirical evidence, I'm calling bull snot on that one and would ask you to speak more kindly of one of my bestest friends." Her arms lace over her chest and she even gives a HMMPH for good measure. In her head, she probably thinks she looks intimidating. "What book do you need from de la Vega, anyways? If I see him I can ask him for it."

Alexander snickers. "Don't say 'poop-shoot' again," he warns, although with amusement dancing in his eyes. "It's a word unbecoming of a serious, sober professional." As for evidence, he looks around, noting the greenhorn's absorption in the game. Even so, he lowers his voice. "The Kruger case, for one. I'm the one that got the gun. It was thrown out. If I'd found a better way...or just...left the cops alone to do their jobs, maybe they'd have gotten it in a better way, a way where the evidence would have stayed on file. My fault." He rubs the back of his neck. "And there's someone who's been hurting people. Killing them. And I went to try and stop them. Failed. Lost the best lead. Mea maxima culpa. The list goes on, Bennie. I never really help."

Bennie whispers back, but it's in regards to his first statement. "Since when did I become a serious, sober professional?" Seriously, this is Bennie. She probably makes shadow puppets on the ceiling of the rig when transporting patients. "Alright, for one Mister, mistakes happen and your intentions are good. Second, you're implying that anyone can stop them and taking all the blame for yourself, when I guarantee others are trying too. Lastly, you've helped me more times than I have fingers or toes to count on, so stick it. And you know exactly where I'm going to suggest."

"Okay, I might have been overstating the case," Alexander admits, with a brief grin. "You're a delightful, passionate professional, but without an unnecessary gravitas about situations which do not require it. Better?" The rest, he just shrugs to. "It is kind of you to say. But, don't let me be all gloomy gus at you, Bennie. Tell me how you've been doing. I didn't have a chance to track you down at the resort - although I did get my knife back from Easton. I wanted to thank you. For coming. It was a lovely birthday."

"You are perfectly entitled to your gloom, but it's my solemn, honor-bound duty to remind you of the brilliant, amazing person that you are. And you can say I'm just being kind, but there is no way we would have filled up a ballroom of adoring friends for your birthday if it weren't the absolute truth. So there. Irrefutable facts, and your hypothesis has been disproven. Which, by the way, I probably should have suggested something other than it being a Surprise! But I got rather caught up in thought of birthday cake and forgot to mention it to."

And then Bennie finally shrugs, "I'm good. Determined. This time apart from Easton has actually been better for me than I thought. I was work-driven before I met Easton, forgot about even the notion of friends or self-care. Then we dove into things so quickly and became an Us, that we skipped essential parts of a relationship. Now, I'm learning how to balance all those things for myself. So while Easton and I are very much on the way to mending things, I think when we actually have the time to talk, I'm going to suggest we stay living apart and that we actually date each other for a while, because I have these things in my life now that I don't want to get sidetracked for taking the easy way back into things." The next is said softer, "Like getting clean."

"I feel like the beautiful resort and very fancy ham might have had a little to do with that, Bennie," Alexander murmurs, then shakes his head. "And don't worry about it. Most people can handle their friends surprising them for their birthday. There was no reason to think that someone would lose their shit and happened to be armed." His voice is light and self-mocking. "The birthday cake was pretty tasty, I do admit." He falls silent as she continues, watching her with dark, steady eyes. He doesn't relax into the seat; he's keeping his back as straight and still as he can manage. A slow nod. "That makes sense, Bennie. A lot of sense. I don't think any relationship can be made worse by everyone involved having their own...things, you know? Not secrets, I mean, but just being able to have passions and cares that go beyond the other person." He sets his hand down beside hers, not quite touching. "And that's not a bad idea, either." A smile flickered. "But you knew I'd say that. And what I'm gonna say next, probably. If there's anything I can do..."

Bennie says as soft and as gentle as she can muster, which means her words float on a veritable cloud of fuzziness. "We aren't most people, Alexander. I think it's easy to forget that, when we're in such high concentration in Gray Harbor. That? And I feel as if you've been through some serious shit," She used the actual swear word so it holds some gravitas, "That I've only begun to scratch the surface of in my grand knowledge of you, friend. Besides, you were in a whole room of us. That knife wouldn't have done much." She grins then, sudden and bright as she taps her fingers near his. "Did I sound convincing about the whole Easton thing? I've been practicing. It's hard to remain resolute when faced with those abs."

"It's Gray Harbor," Alexander points out, in a riposte. "Everyone's been through some serious shit. I'm not unique. I just never handled my shit very well." He smiles. "And while the power of Easton's abs is, I'm sure, tremendous, I have faith in you, Bennie." More seriously, he adds, "You're stronger than you know. Or, at least, than you let other people realize, sometimes. You've also been dealing with a hell of a lot. For, I feel, probably a very long time. And alone. I admire that - even though I think you should lean on those of us willing to help you out a little more."

Bennie's hand raises away from the table if only to make the, "Let me stop you there." Gesture. "While the fact that you've been through shit isn't unique, the combination of your own personal traumas is. You say I'm strong, but I plaster on a smile to convince everyone around me everything is fine all the time. And it's for completely selfish reasons, Alexander. I'm not doing it to save others around me from my pain. It's so I don't have to deal with theirs. Is that normal? Is that handling things well? It's handling things like me, because of the things I've gone through and seen and done. So yes, you are unique, as is your pain, as is how you deal with it. Because it's decidedly you. And if people can't deal with that, or the fact that you don't take surprise well, or the fact that a fancy room of people who love you is a foreign feeling that you're prone to not trust? Then they can stick they're thumb right up their..." Wait for it. "Poop-shoot. And spin."

Alexander stares at Bennie for a long moment. Then he smiles. "See? You're a smarty." And then she says 'poop-shoot' again, and his lips twitch. He tries to hold it back, he does - but he's never been good at controlling his own emotions, so the mirth breaks through in a burst of genuine, deep laughter, loud enough to startled the poor baby paramedic with his Candy Crush. Once he's surrendered to the laughter, he just lets it come, a deep belly laugh. "Poop-shoot. God, Bennie. You're a menace."

Bennie wrinkles up her nose and makes a face at being called a smarty, but in truth it's a muscle she doesn't flex with many. Sometimes it's easier just to be a 'dumb blonde', just like pretending everything is Just Fine all the time. The sound of his laughter is also a selfish thing for her, because in hearing it, it warms her features and makes her smile more satisfied. She sort of revels in drawing that out of him. "If I were truly a menace I'd be in your lap giving you the biggest hug on the planet. But see? I'm being good, sitting here on my side of the table. You wanna go for a walk? Get a cup of coffee or something from across the street?"

Alexander stops laughing at the dire prospect of hugs and cuddles. "Definitely not now," he says, after a moment. "I got lost with Isabella and Thorne. Got a bit flayed on my back. Hugs are problematic." But he does stand up, carefully. "I'd be delighted to go for a walk with you. And anything that ends in coffee is a good time," he adds, rubbing a hand over his tired features. "I even promise not to dump whatever snow is left down your back." A pause, and his eyes widen, innocently. "Probably."

Bennie's eyes round out slightly at him saying he's recently been FLAYED. "Words, Alexander. We are going to have words." She stands from her seat, shoving back her chair using the backs of her knees to scoot it. "I'm going for a walk, Beaver. I've got my radio."

"Stop calling me that!" The baby paramedic calls back from the couch.

"Oh suck it up, buttercup. You're the rookie. Be glad you even have a nickname, I was called Scut for the first few months when I started. You have no idea how good you've got it." Bennie flashes Alexander a wink, like he's suddenly in on the joke of haze the new guy. She swings her GHFD jacket off the back of her chair and threads her arm into the sleeves with the red cross patch on the right, tugging her ponytail out of the back. "Quick, before he starts throwing a toddler tantrum."

"We've had words, Bennie. Quite a few. In the last ten minutes." Alexander's voice is bland. He knows what she means, but he clearly intends to avoid avoid avoid. A glance over at the rookie as the two banter back and forth. He looks...uncomfortable at the exchange, but it's hard to tell if that's just his hatred of nicknames kicking in or what. He just gives the kid a nod, and a murmured, "Nice to meet you," before he follows Bennie out into the building. And then outside, back into the ice and slush that is a glorious Gray Harbor winter.

Once they are outside, Bennie's simply says, "Stop." Maybe it's so she can pause and zip up her jacket and tug her black fingerless gloves out of her pocket and slide them on. Red mittens are for off-duty, but the use of fingers is handy when EMTing. "All I want to know is it clean, is it bandaged, and do I need to get you a script for painkillers. That's it. You don't want to tell me, or let me fix it for you, that's fine. But I'm not going to just ignore it either." She doesn't instantly feel other's pain like August unless she searches for it, and like Alexander's brain juju, it's not something she seeks out without permission.

Alexander stops. He turns to look at her, head cocked to one side like a dog that's heard a high pitched noise it can't quite identify. He waits, and then his eyebrows go up. "It's clean, it's bandaged, and I don't need painkillers - although thank you for offering them." He smiles. "It's a minor injury, Bennie. Just awkward and painful. Something like a healer stripped a bit of my skin. That's all. It's healing quickly. Isabella, Thorne, and I got swept up in a dream." His eyes skitter away. "It was unpleasant, but ultimately--only I and Isabella were hurt, and our injuries were minor. It's okay."

Bennie gives an unconvinced, "Uh-huh." After he says it's minor but she doesn't press it further. She turtles her head down into the collar of her coat and starts trudging to the coffee place across the way again. "You know, I haven't really used my abilities since that weird invite thing. But I haven't gotten Lost either. There is definitely something to us being punished by the Dark Men when it comes to Glimmer. That or I'm just horrifically over do."

The Blonde catches sight of someone in the park she knows, raising a hand to greet him with a cheery, "Hey Frank!" But the man just looks startled at being addressed and he turns to hurry away and step into a throng of people around the Cider vendor to blend in and disappear. "That's odd. He's a regular at the diner. Not from Gray Harbor though, near as I can tell." Bennie gives a dismissive shrug. "Not that he's ever friendly. Reindeer balls, it's cold."

"Attacked, maybe. Not punished. They don't have the right to punish us for doing anything," Alexander says, a stubborn set to his jaw. "Which isn't to say I try to overuse in foolish ways. But it's...I think it's important to remember that we don't deserve any of this. It happens to us, but we didn't do anything wrong." He moves so that he can just lightly bump her arm with his, thanks to several insulating layers. His head comes up when she greets the person, and he frowns when Frank hurries away. He tracks the man with his eyes, narrowed and instinctively suspicious. "Not from Gray Harbor, but he's a regular at the diner?" A sidelong look. "Hoaquim or Elma?"

"I don't know, actually. He just seems to pop up a couple times a month. Must have business in town or something? Always orders the same thing, a bacon lettuce and tomato sandwich on wheat with a side of extra done fries and coffee, black. I just know I don't usually see him around town or the grocery store or anything, and no one ever seems to talk to him. S'why I figure he's not a townie. Kinda sad really, just sits there, reading the paper. Lingers for about an hour and half and scoots. Maybe he's just lonely." Bennie stops in her tracks abruptly, hand going to her forehead to rub ruefully.

"Maybe. I have definitely sat in a few cafes talking to no one just because I wanted to be next to people, in my time," Alexander admits, with a rueful little smile. But when Bennie stops, so does he. He turns study her. "Bennie? Is something wrong?" A pre-emptive raise of the hand, "and don't just say that you're fine, and everything's fine. If something feels off, I want to know about it."

Bennie's nose wrinkles so much a little 'x' appears on the bridge of her nose. "Just a headache. I must be really overdo for some caffeine. You see this, this is usually when I'd pop one of my handy dandy little Adderalls, because the headaches hit me hard and then I get all fuzzy afterwards. But the first important step about breaking cycles is acknowledging them, right? Though I admit, at your party it almost didn't matter. I almost broke down and took one just so I could keep functioning around all those people. But I was good! Though Easton had to save me a the end there, because woo, was I fading fast."

"We can manage caffeine," Alexander assures her, and starts walking again towards the coffee shop. He keeps an eye out on the crowds, but his gaze darts over to her regularly. "But you're doing it. Not popping an Adderall. That's a good thing." A tentative sort of smile. "A hard thing. But good. And there were a lot of people at the party; I definitely couldn't blame anyone for, uh, reacting strongly. I'm glad Easton was there to help." A pause, before he says, "Do you want me to deal with the headache? I probably can."

"You didn't mean to slam into my brain meats like that, you were just defending yourself, and I gave you permission! No real harm, the headache went away after some aspirin and nap where I probably drooled on Easton's shirt like a fool to get rid of that drained feeling. No foul." Bennie musters a sincere smile. "You are really going to suggest Voodoo'ing me for a silly headache when you're missing strips of skin on your back and you won't even let me kiss it to make it better? You're cute when you're hypocritical."

"Addiction is a chronic issue, not a minor or silly one," Alexander says, looking vaguely offended at the (true) accusation of hypocrisy. "Aiding with some signs of physical withdrawal can aid with the psychological recovery." He sniffs. "And I shouldn't have hammered your brain. I knew you were trying to help. I just...didn't necessarily trust that you were who you thought you were, and so your idea of help might have been...wrong."

"Well when I finally kick them for good, I'll be absolutely counting on your juju. I'm just not popping them like Tic Tacs anymore. I haven't...completely gone off of them. But I'm almost down to my original prescription! I have to wait until I can take some time off work and really concentrate on my...recovery." Hey. Baby steps. "Man, that sounds so weird. Bennie the addict. Hey, wait a second, stop solving my problems. We were talking about you!" She reaches out to yank open the door to the coffee shop and seems to relax as soon as she steps inside. The smell of coffee is very therapeutic.

"It's a good step forward, Bennie. You don't have to jump into the deep end of the pool without a net. As long as you just keep making small steps forward." Alexander's smile is fond as they step inside. He follows her in and breathes deep of the coffee. "Mm. I do love this place," he admits. "Any coffee shop, really. It's not just that there's coffee. But I like watching people come and go, talk about their lives, work on their great American novel, or their overdue homework. Whatever. It's all interesting. And," he leans to bump her again, "you know I'll be available, whenever."

"Did this just become an episode of Friends? I feel like it did. Obviously I'm Phoebe..." And then Bennie breaks down into a rendition of Smelly Cat. Because that's the kind of day it is.