2020-01-22 - Never the Wrong Time for Waffles

Because Bax has a phone and he's allthefuck on the coast? Sparrow gets a call on campus to meet her for an early breakfast, That it is 1 in the afternoon matters not. Breakfast happen when one wakes up and not when the tyrant sun decides it's had enough of darkness.

Bax is already there, coffee #2, phone on table and nestled up in a booth sketching on the 5x7 journal he keeps in his back or cargo pocket. The board is absent as it's still...snowy?! Huh. Weather's weird. Gray Harbor's weird. Bax being on the west coast is weird. All oddities are on a 1:1 scale at least.

Sparrow provides an ETA of might-be-a-bit as she's coming from campus. Like it or not, she's got classes. Might even have one or two more this afternoon, but fuckit. She wants breakfast. Even if it's closer to lunch. She's bundled up when she heads in, backpack left in the car, though her scarf, cap, gloves and coat are all shed by the time she shoves that bundle into the booth opposite Grant and slides in beside 'em. Below, it's a jeans-and-sweater sorta day, a rich violet knit on top of a potentially familiar white button-down with a silver chain--that's new--hanging under the layers, whatever's at its apex hidden against her sternum. "Whatcha workin' on, gorgeous?"

Grant lets his eyes pop up when there's peripheral movement. He misses the bell ding though. His ears might not be in or up. His focus could just be elsewhere. When Sparrow drops into the seat next to him he looks up with the same curiosity one looks at first snow with: fascination and a wonder at what it is doing with possibilities beyond. His leg drops down and he leans over to give her cheek a erstwhile and squeaky smooch. "Heeeey, pretty lady." he looks to his workbook and back up to her with a lazy smile, "Got inspired byyyyy something new so I need to kick over and pick up some different paint later, but kinda a new set Im working on." He pauses, "For me I think. I dunno yet. how's class?"

Sparrow tilts into the kiss without turning toward it, leaving that smackeroo properly centered on her chilly cheek. "By some*one* new?" she counters, trying to steal a peek at whatever it is that Grant's working on. "Saw you talking up Mr. Fancy Pants Pastry Boss at Pride Night. Like. Still there when I left talking." She steals a sip of his coffee while she waits for the server to catch up with them and shrugs. "Class is--" SIGH. "I dunno. Not holding my interest this week. All the snow. All the grey. I feel like all I wanna do is sleep and eat and snuggle up with pretty people and not have to think, ya know?"

A little late to the party, but here at last, comes a Corey. He's wearing his usual dark jeans and sneakers, and a deep red t-shirt with 'Prick with a Fork' printed on it, along with a sausage-on-a-fork graphic. A red and black plaid flannel shirt is over this, a nod to the chilly weather. Pausing by the entrance he then looks around, angling over towards Sparrow and Grant, lifting a hand in lazy wave. "Hey hey."

Grant slides the book to Sparrow. Inside the 5x7 journal there's a few pages, some separated with some bits of tracing paper that has the hard lines, and underneath on the page stippling, and another shading, and another a grey wash ink. All isometric design and a modern art deco design, but with organic texture and gradients. Her guess is a strong one. Her answer is a faint smile and the arch of an eyebrow.

Corey is greeted with a hand wave and a helpful sit here point at the booth seat. Casually he finally answers noncommittally, "Yeah we stuck around a minute before we took off. It..." he picks his words judiciously, "It was a good time. I got ideas, but they're all trying to get out of my head at the same time."

He grins to Corey, "Your sister's uninspired. I think she's wounded." He looks to the twins and offers, "Battle the grey, put something on. I can come over and you can do both your homework and we can fight the mendacity of the Gray." Looking to Corey he says, "I'm buying. Get your coffee and bacon. How are you? How's*fooding*?"

Sparrow beams a bright smile toward her brother as she spots him heading this way, her cheerful wave entirely unnecessary. "Hey there, stranger." Sure, sure, she probably saw him as recently as yesterday, but still. "We," is the detail from Grant that she hooks onto, that particular pronoun suggesting that the pair left together. But she doesn't linger there long, nodding as she flips through the images, sympathetically murmuring a, "Yeah. I know that itch," of the back-of-the-brain scratching as ideas try to scramble out, all too often inarticulately.

As she offers the sketchbook back, she laments, "It's not for lack of inspiration, to be sure. Just having a hard time making anything worthwhile of it. Nothing's clicking, ya know. Got this... uh." Her brow furrows, hung up on the thought, but the server approaches, and it's all dismissed with an, "I dunno," and a bright smile toward the guy taking their orders. "The melba french toast, please. And a coffee?"

"Coffee and bacon sounds good," Corey confirms, ordering the drink, and pancakes with syrup and bacon. "Thanks, man." He reaches out to fistbump Grant, making the obligatory 'explosion' noise should their fists dap. "Try something different? Like, different paint, or chalk, or charcoal, or a new medium, or..?" he suggests, not unhelpfully for a complete non-artist, plopping down into the seat indicated.

Grant blows up that fistbump. Aaaaah, feels like home; his people. Bax looks sidelong to Sparrow giving him that look and makes one sign back to her <<Correct.>> He pauses on the thought for a moment looking at his sketch ideas looking up to Corey. "Technical pens and watercolor, man." Oh yeah Sparrow had that in one. "Pastels and chalk are kinda my mainstay, but I have a lot oooooof line and illusion in my head right now?" He considers Sparrow's difficult chewing on his lip and asks, words and fingers around his pen. "Should show me later. You draw cards and see how you need to un-stick?" With Daisy and Greg bus he offers, "Maybe we need to do a midnight hike. Sometimes that helps me. Let the Weird speak and see what happens with it."

"Should show you the portrait I did of Alfie," Sparrow murmurs on the note of pen and watercolor, line and illusion. When have these two ever not been in sync? "I've got the cards with me if you wanna peek now. Could do a quick'un for all of us." There's a flicker of curiosity toward Corey to see if he's in. "Cuz. I'm not going hiking with the weather all shit like this. It'll be cold and wet and mushy. And cold." The scrunch of her nose speaks volumes for how displeased she is with this winter being so damned wintry. It's not supposed to do this out here. "However," she levels Bax with a look, "I still have a couple tickets if'n you wanna go on a stay-indoors sorta trip." She definitely means drugs.

"Sure thing." Corey's indulgence for things like tarot is a variable quantity; given their parents, and Sparrow's proclivity for it, chances are his tolerance is high, even if his belief in the usefulness of it may not be. But he's game, nonetheless. Towards Grant, he signs with a smile, <<Happy to hike.>> Yes, even in this weather. He did go camping in Canada over the Christmas break, after all.

It must be laundry day, because Joe's abandoned his usual uniform of plain t-shirt and jeans, under the winter garb of navy wool greatcoat, white silk scarf, and black watch cap. This time, the shirt bears the image of Snoopy in profile, aviator helmet on, white scarf streaming behind him, and the legend FLYING ACE. There's a worn paperback peeking out of his coatpocket: Neuromancer.

He heads for a seat at the counter with a slight limp, and claims a seat with a kind of care. Even there, he's settled sort of oddly hipshot, favoring the joint. Leans over to hang up the coat, before snagging a menu.

Grant warms a wry grin to Corey. "Yas! We should. We'll go discover...whatever wants to be found and bring yoooou, Phee, a souvenir." He pauses when she says ticket to ride looking to her, her hands. Nope, not there, Looks back. The look turns to really you have to ask!? "Yeah I want to see the picture of you and Alfie. You know I do." He doesn't answer about the cards but he does work on moving his plates to make room. taptaptap There's your invite Sparrow.

"We can still go on a magic carpet ride. I got nothing planned for later unless..." Unless he does. Things happen. Looking up he greets Joseph, "Dick!" There's a pause and he snappoints. "Phil K. Sorry. Just finished binging Blade Runner."

Sparrow keeps crossing paths with Joe in the most peripheral ways, and she has no problem leaning into this odd sorta acquaintanceship, offering a cheerful wave and a correction of, "Gibson," to Bax's declaration. She snags her coat to fish her deck from her pocket, the rainbow-colored bag far more colorful than the black jacket from whence it's removed. She shuffles while she talks, telling the purple-haired punk at her side, "Not tonight. Weekend. I don't think I can see through the rest of the week if we dive tonight. And I do expect souvenirs." That gets a look to both, certain they'll pick up different kinds of kitsch, brother and BFF each seeing her differently.

Unceremoniously, she looks to Corey and flips over the first card: Death. "Well, I mean. Obviously, you're gonna die, and we're all gonna be supersad." Clearly, she's joking. No way she'd be that nonchalant if she thought her twin might be at some genuine risk. "Or, I guess, something's coming to an end. Transformation time. The right card for winter. All quiet and grim. But we're already on the other side, rising up to the light. So." Shrug. "Think about what you gotta leave behind to be ready for new growth, yeah?"

"Could be the death of my career after I've cooked for my boss. Why did I volunteer my services for the auction again?" Corey whines, eyeing the Death card with a sidelong stare, before looking up as coffee and pancakes are delivered. Om nom nom. "Sure. Souvenirs. You like twigs, right?" He grins, then glances to Grant, then over to the guy he shouted 'Dick' at. "Huh." I mean, the guy doesn't look like a PI, but maybe that's the point.

"Gave me a turn, there, son. I was like 'hell, I don't think I've ever metcha, what'd I do to earn that?'" Joe says mildly, as he turns to look at Grant. "And close, but no cigar. William Gibson. I do like PKD, though. And the original Blade Runner's just about my favorite movie, though 2049 impressed me pretty damn hard, too."

He's got this lazy Southern drawl that sounds ludicrously out of place in the PNW. Sparrow gets a little upnod - they do keep running across each other, usually when Ruiz is in evidence. Small town life, perhaps.

"So pretty, right?" Sparrow says of 2049. "I mean, Ryan Gosling ain't bad either, but I think we kinda lost the struggle that Roy provided in the original." Her expression flattens as she adds dryly, "But we also lost Harrison Ford getting all rapey, so." No big loss there, by her measure. Some scenes just don't hold up well to modern sensibilities, and man is that one cringey!

Corey's read of the card gets a similarly wry look, but she's nudging it out of the way to make way for her stuffed french toast as she murmurs a 'thanks!' to the server. Not that she sees to it right away, instead pulling a second card, this one for Bax. The King of Cups has her grinning as she looks back to her twin, pointing at the card as she tips her head toward Grant. "His new boyfriend had nothing but nice things to say about you at Pride Night, so." No more of that self-doubt nonsense, mister! And that seems the entirety of her read on that card, even if it could have plenty more depth. Off-handedly, she mutters, "And I love twigs." Almost certainly a lie. Probably. Who knows with the Jones girls and their crafty nonsense.

"....wait, what?" Corey blinks at Sparrow's comment, glances to Grant, back to his twin. "Grant has a new boyfriend? And I know him?" he wonders, having not yet connected the dots. He looks down to the King of Cups, not seeming to read much from it himself - then again, that's Sparrow's talent, not his. "Of course you love twigs. Hard to be a bird without a nest, right?" he quips with a lazy grin, then casts his attention back over towards Joe. "Hey. Come on over, you've got good movie taste." There is, after all, a spare seat at the Jones-Baxter table.

Grant leans over and gnaws on the tip of the red head's noggin playfully before casual defiance, "how you know I was talking about thaw book?" He squints. The answer is: because you clarified. Never let facts obstruct a good rebellion.

"Super sad...ooh that better not be your job! We need party mage to bring the snacks, man." There's a pause and he admits, "Besides, he said you were like the least expendible person he's got." Which translates toooo high compliment!? And why does Bax know this shit!? He looks to Sparrow giving her that look but says nothing.

Looking up to Joe the violet haired punk says solemnly, "Yeah Blade Runner 2049 got me pretty hard too. I can't not think 2049 when I hear M83's 'Midnight City'." The grin is easy and the company inclusive to anyone making direct eye contact too long apparently. He looks back to Corey and says "You mighta been discussed buuuut I'm like super proud of your work."

"Don't mind if I do," and Joe's slipping down from his stool, still with that care to his motion. "Yeah, that part I coulda done with out, and K was nothing like Batty," he says, mildly, as he leaves menu behind to snag his coat and come ambling over. "But gorgeously done, and a worthy sequel, I think. All I've seen of Villeneuve has impressed me, so far. I hear he's working on Dune now, which has me excited. I'd like to see a film version that isn't the crazy-ass Lynch movie from the 80s."

Then he's holding out a long hand, first to Corey. "I'm Joe Cavanaugh." A look to Grant. "That's not one I know. I'll have to look it up."

Sparrow squawks when Grant's teeth connect with her skull, eyes going wide before she erupts in giddy laughter. "Cuz you usually pull a bit nicer than that," she quips back with a sidelong look at the zombie. She double-points at Bax when he clarifies on Corey's lack of expendability. Is he getting it yet. "Mr. Immaculate showed up at Pride Night and you know Baxy chatted him up, cuz why shouldn't he." Is that a little pride in her Dream Hubby? Why yes, it very much is. Nevermind that skater punk and master pātissier appear to be worlds apart on the surface. She knows better.

"Think you and my boyfriend might get on," she croons to Joe as he goes on about Villeneuve, the smile which comes with that thought awfully fond. Another card is flipped over while they talk, this one for herself: the Queen of Wands. "Sparrow Jones," she offers as introduction. "Who is getting called out and told to own her motherfucking power and stop being a whiny bitch." Yeah, there might be an eyeroll for the card. Or herself. Whichever. There's another pull, as her phone starts to play the very opening of Doja Cat's Juicy before it gets to any lyrics. This one, the Two of Swords is for Joe, noted with a nod his way. "Conversation or conflict. Mental connection. Potentially tense. But not with these two. They're fucking fantastic."

Deck down, phone up, she gets to her feet, taking one diagonally cut piece of stuffed french toast between her fingers as she wanders off without so much as a 'be right back.' With all her stuff left behind, she does seem to intend to return as she heads toward a quieter corner of the diner to have that phone conversation.

Pause. Heaaaad swivel. Wide-eyed stare at Grant. "You were flirting with Chef?" Corey asks, sounding somewhere between awed and horrified. "Um. Are you actually dating him?" Enquiring minds need to know, because his continued employment and future career path do somewhat depend on remaining in Vyv's good books. "I mean, that's great if she's serious." Totes happy for the couple, if they're a couple, but there's a certain mystified tone, as if he can't imagine Vyv outside of the role of Maītre Pātissier.

Joe's arrival draws his attention back to the present, and he smiles briefly at the guy. "Any Dune movie that doesn't have Sting in a loincloth is fine by me."

Grant looks at his card and picks it up. Fingers pushed back through his hair giving the card a "Heh." Someone's got their shit together! Hell yeah bringing balance to the force, weeeeooooo, Jedi! Or...he pauses and squint at Sparrow, dream wife, and situation peddler. Turning a look to Corey he says, "Yooooour sister is overdoing it again." His hand rubs the back of his neck and he just blinks at Corey. It's really not much of an answer and he helps clear that up by saying, "I don't have an answer for you, Corey."

Bax, you had one job to do and that was be helpful there, buddy. sigh

"I disagree on Sting,
he lifts his arm so Sparrow can scuttle out of the booth and waves a hand to Joseph, "but I'm super looking forward to the new movie. And hey, with the theatre in town maybe we don't have to like go to fucking Canada to go see it." Looking back to the man with the book he offers a hand almost quasi professional, "Bax. Nice to meet you."

Most tarot decks depict the Two of Swords as a blindfolded woman. But this one...a hooded falcon, with a lunar crescent behind it, crossed swords before it. The image is all too apt, more than she can possibly know, and Joe loses some of that friendly glow. There would've been a chance at the Moon - maybe.

The blue eyes bleak, for an instant, before he blinks it away and favors Corey with a lazy grin. "Yeah, amen to that. Cast for the 2020 version looks really solid - it's already up on IMDB." Grant's hand gets a firm shake - Joe's is worn, very callused, as if he'd done manual labor, and that recently. "Pleasure. So...." A look between Corey and Sparrow. "Brother and sister?"

"Twins," Corey confirms to Joe's assessment, sounding happy at him spotting it. He's proud of his sister, after all. Well, most of the time. More than not. Probably. "Anyway. So what did he say about me? Sparrow mentioned something?" he prompts Bax a moment later, sounding exactly like he's nervous about Vyv's opinion of him. Because he is. Such is the life of a student chef. The older guy's mention of the cast list on IMDB has him digging out his phone, to look at it. "Oo. Stellan Skarsgård. Javier Bardem. Jason Momoa. Rebecca Ferguson. Lots of eye-candy."

Grant slouches back in his seat and considers the great wide scope of things, "Well..." His lower eyelids squint trying to remember and his hand rolls casually, "I won't bore you with the art theory, but I told him it was kinda balls that he had to go in so damn early cause the conversation was..." He assesses and admits, "Really good, but he said he had you and trusted you not to burn everything to the ground and since ya know, that was a few days ago and here you are all not-brain-melted? I'm guessing you proved that right. But he did say something about you being one of the few compete people insistent on breathing his air and touching things so I'd take it as high praise." The slow nod follows, "I would say your odds of survival in your field are high."

Looking to Joseph he asks, "What'chu do, Joe? Other than have good taste?" his head tilts to listen and his finger goes up to the buttons behind his ear to ramp up the volume for input.

"Ain't that a piece of luck," Joe says, with a grin. "Gotta bunch of siblings myself, but no twins in 'em. Well, Irish twins, maybe. And yeah, right? It looks real good, the folks they got on board for that one." A nod for the phone.

Then he turns that blue gaze on Grant, as the waitress comes over to take his order. Coffee and chicken and waffles, for the moment. "Me? I'm retired Navy." And he turns his arm, to display the anchor tattoo on his forearm. "Been goin' where the wind takes me - gotta little boat. Decided to winter in Gray Harbor, I'm so damn tired of fightin' the Pacific swell."

There's a nod from Corey at Joe's luck comment, and the student chef finishes off his pancakes and coffee while nodding to Grant's comments, looking relieved. "Thank fuck for that. Be a shame to finish college and be all like, 'welp, time to find a new career'." Then, he's pushing up out of his chair. "And speaking of, I need to head out. Thanks for the invite, Grant. And nice meeting you, Joe."

Grant looks to Corey and says optimistically, "Hey, this weekend lemme know when you want to head out. It's still too cold to camp at night but we can head out in morning. Take a walk about." He's not over glorifying any situation as Sparrow is fond of doing. With a grin that is both amused and appreciative he signs to Corey <<You're Welcome>> Really, he likes taking care of people, especially where facilitating is concerned.

Looking to Joseph he tilts his head, "A boat? You got a schooner? FIshing boat? Trawler? You one of those PAC West yachtsmen?" There's the amused look. "How long you serve, man?"