2020-02-01 - Early Morning Diner Denizens

Despite the winter weather outside of the diner, Yule is dressed in nothing more than a lovely, dark blue sweater with a longer than normal collar that is rolled down to create a stylish cut, a pair of khaki dress slacks, and those familiar ankle high black boots. He's down to one crutch that is leaning against the counter where he has taken up residence, and so far? He's managed to finagle a cup of coffee from the waitress.

His left leg is extended out, the one that has been wounded, but it looks rather good, all things considered. Held in his hands is a folded over newspaper he is browsing leisurely, in no clear rush to get to anywhere today, which is surely for the best.

She looks like she's just finished a run.

Chilly air sweeps into the interior of the Grizzly Den when the door opens and Isabella Reede strides on through, sunkissed expression luminous with perspiration, cheeks flushed from the cold and exercise, and damp tendrils of dark hair clinging to her cheeks. She's dressed in a runner's Winter hoodie, thermal leggings and running shoes meant for snow and ice - there's no knit cap today, ears protected by a pair of fuzzy muffs instead, hands encased in mittens that one could peel back in the event that she needs to use her fingers. And she will need them, because she has called ahead to arrange for takeaway, certainly because she can't make breakfast for herself and Alexander - there's only so much buttered toast and fruit one can eat in the morning before the need for variety asserts itself.

The only other occupant in the diner today is familiar, though, and as she waits for her order, she procures a cup of coffee, smiling as she wanders over to Yule. "Feeling better?" she asks. She does, at least visibly, though Yule can easily detect that much like him, she's strangely diminished - the weakening after-effects of the experiment they performed are still on the both of them.

"Nice mittens," Comes the first stray thought from Yule, a faint smile touching upon his features as he leans an elbow against the counter, turning to better take in the familiar sight of the archaeologist. "Mending well. Have most of my mobility back, just need to let the stitches finish their job." Comes his conclusion as to his physical health. Otherwise, however? That smile falters, one shoulder lifting up into a hapless shrug.

"It's been difficult," He murmurs, but doesn't expand any further than that, a deep breath drawn in and slowly released as he considers Isabella. "How are you holding up? You are.. what, a month out from your trip? A bit more than that, maybe?" His fingers fold over the paper again to its smallest arrangement, placing it down on the surface next to him, "You talked with Minerva at all since?"

"They're handy. You know they make gloves now that work with smartphones so you don't have to take them off during the Winter?" Isabella says in a conversational fashion, sliding on a seat next to him and regarding the man's dark profile with the hooded look of one who is clearly checking him over, and not just by sight. But his words do bring some degree of relief, her face too expressive, ultimately, to hide it when she glances down at his wounded leg and crutch. "I'm glad to hear it, I hope you count that as a win. The military types tend to say that pain is just weakness leaving the body."

Her smile fades at his murmur, though, and she glances down at the dark ripples in her cup. "I've been running every morning to keep my mind clear," she tells him. "And I've been trying to do things I enjoy - reading, analyzing. I visit the ice sculpture Alexander made me every time I come home from exercise to remind me of how I felt when he unveiled it to me. Anything and everything to keep it all at bay. I hope you're doing similar things, but if it's difficult, you can always talk to me?" It's a suggestion and and offer, concerned eyes finding his.

"Let me know when your leg is better, too. If you still need a running partner." The query on Minerva has her shaking her head once. "I wanted to get my head straight before I talked to her. She was angry at herself, for her protections failing - none of it is her fault. But I wanted to give her the time also before bombarding her with...well. Me."

"Yeah. I've seen. What is odd is I've had the opposite problem you had. Well, it isn't even a problem, really. I've been pleasantly warm all winter ever since the Yule Cat incident. No mittens for me." It's that lighter talk that has the stress and anxiety eased as Yule's head dips into an agreeable nod. "We learned things, yes? It wasn't all for nothing, even if we need to be more measured and prepared next time. Speaking of which, did you get my notes about what I'd put into a prep pack? I'm sure there are things yet I'm misssing."

When she mentions how she has been dealing with it all, his eyes flicker to the side. "It's been hard. I can't run. Can't drive the car, because it's a manual. My means of stress relief have really been curbed. But," It's a glance to his leg in consideration, "Driving, at least, should be doable soon. It'll take more than that for running, but I'll happily take you up on that offer once I can."

"Yeah," Comes Yule's thoughts about Minerva, "I texted with her a bit. I think she knows that deep down, like we all know what we saw isn't real. But she's clearly dealing with a lot of things at once."

"I did, they're extremely helpful - though instead of a hand-torch I suggested an attachment to a standard lighter that would produce a blowtorch-grade flame. It'll weigh less," Isabella says; and it would probably be worrisome if she didn't make such substitutes. The young woman has been going on field expeditions for years, just not for this purpose. But now that there is a need for it, she is bringing her experience to bear for the safety and security of everyone else involved, especially with the scare around Anne's injury. "August suggested climbing rope, crowbar or mallet. I suggested a medkit with the standard first aid arsenal along with anti-venom, hydrocortisone and epinephrine, water, some kind of swiss army knife and others. It's shaping up nicely, just need to go do some trial runs with it to test the weight - I certainly can't carry as much as Alexander or August can, and neither can Anne." Who is petite in stature and even smaller than the archaeologist, herself.

"What about reading?" she asks. "Sex?" She lifts her hand up, fingers spread. "I'm serious. It helps. You're a doctor, you know how endorphins work, if you can't go out for a run and you can't drive, you need to get a rush in some other way when it gets hard."

There's relief visible on her when he updates her on Minerva. "She always has been." She takes a quiet sip of her coffee. "Ever since she was a child. Having this...it wasn't easy for her, growing up with it. It's how she lost her eye."

"I need to touchbase with Itzhak to see if he can figure out how to make the chalk grenades. Hopefully he'll be reaching out soon," Yule considers, and then his head dips into a small nod of agreement with her thoughts, "It's possible you might want to consider a heavier pack and a lighter one. Some of the things, like the climbing rope? Only one or two people might need it in an expedition, yeah? But regardless, it is all in your good hands now."

"Yeah, reading has-" And then comes her second suggestion, one dark brow arching upwards, "Yeah. Well, there have been issues there too of a whole separate consideration." One he doesn't seem to be in the means of elaborating on, givne he immediately diverts things into a different direction. "Her fiancee just arrived in town as well, if I heard correctly. I figured I'd swing by and see her in person now that my leg is better. See what she felt, what her thoughts were on how things might be adapted for next time. Speaking of, I'd like to hear your thoughts on it, too. Not that I'm in a rush to give it another go immediately, especially with," His mouth parts, a small shiver coursing through him as some of that clinging, hollow feeling that still lingers upon them.

"I hope so, too. Itzhak's a good guy." There's a hint of a smile. "I don't know him well, but he's an extremely powerful mover - probably one of the many reasons why August and Alexander are constantly worried about him. Shine that brightly and..." Isabella's face darkens, remembering their recent ordeal. She attempts to push the memory away in favor of a generous pull of coffee.

Reading always helps, at least for people like him and her, but her second (and more effective) suggestion and his reaction to it has her brows lifting towards her hairline. "What happened?" she asks - they've talked about personal matters plenty, largely by his encouragement, and their pattern has resulted in her being less reluctant to ask about his business than most of her other friends and acquaintances. A small frown plays on the corners of her lips. "I didn't know that Minerva's fiance..." Was still alive. For some reason she got the impression that he was dead.

Unless...

She reaches out to gently touch his shoulder at his shiver. "I have my thoughts on it," she says, lowering her hand. "I don't know if any of them are accurate in any way, I'm not a scientist, but I've got a few."

"Yeah. Also in need of a guide, so either he or Easton will hopefully reach out. Alexander was going to talk to them." A guide for what he doesn't remember, his eyes dropping down to the coffee held in his hand, and it is only her touch to his shoulder that brings him back to the present. "Long story. But, I'm dating one now, not two. Doesn't matter," His cup is lifted, a long sip taken from it as she begins those words about Minerva and her fiance, a curious look cast her way when she doesn't finish whatver thought was rumbling around in there.

"You were the one that did... what you did, yeah? I am going to practice with Alexander on observing, once I'm back to... normal." It's so weird thinking of that as normal, but only in Gray Harbor. "So until I can better be a supernatural scientist," That has his good mood coming back, a smile gracing his lips for the thought of it, "I'll rely on your own observations, what you think you managed to do. So, feel free to fire away your thoughts."

When it's later than you want breakfast, sooner than you want lunch, and really when you just dont want to cook, the Grizzley could serve as some facsimile of service. At least that's what Leon thinks as there's a whuff of chilly air announcing the big man's entry. Quiet, which was nice, maybe it would be close to timely as well in here. A brief glance and nod are made to the other two at the counter, the locksmith finding himself a seat a decent way down. Sure, he'd seen each of them at differing events about town, but wasn't personally aquainted with either.

He peels off the self-branded parka with the thick hoodie/flannel jacket combo beneath that passed for winter gear. A knit cap is tugged off his head, stuffed in a pocket, along with gloves. The whole lot is tossed across another stool.

Its a suitably small-town sort of mannerisms that Leon makes, not having said a word, but pointing to the rest of the paper Yule had likely abandoned for the small section he was reading. Reading material was more interesting than the bear shaped menu that was pretty much ignored. Must be a habitual sort of person then.

She watches Yule with his downcast eyes towards his coffee, minutes ticking by in emphatic silence. And when Isabella finally says something, it's a straightforward and quiet, "It looks like it matters." There's a prompting lift of her brows there, but she does leave it alone when she takes another swallow from her cup, and misses the curious glance he directs towards her about Minerva's fiance.

"I did. I'm relatively sure I managed to move the objects in a way that amplifies their sensitivity to our talents, but I'm not quite sure what Minerva's role was. I was hoping you'd clarify for what you had wanted her to do. It might help me complete my thoughts there, but with the object destroyed there's really no way we can go back and pick apart what we did wrong so we're going to need to go back to the process to sort out just what could have done it," she tells him. "I do think the usage of all three aspects are necessary for the kind of work you want to perform, though, so we do have all the elements to make it successful, otherwise we wouldn't have gotten this far. We just need the proper formula. Also I don't have enough data to conclude with any certainty whether the object affected us because the three of us were manipulating the object, or because the three of us were in range of the object, because the nullification effect felt localized to our bodies, to me - it certainly didn't nullify the room, otherwise the Shadows wouldn't have been able to breach it. If it was the former, then we were less successful than we thought, if we want to use such objects in any practical manner. If it was the latter? That could be extremely useful, if we can find a way to keep it from exploding. I timed it around...five minutes?" She looks at Yule there for verification.

She possibly would have said more if Leon had not arrived, the archaeologist lifting her head to follow his wake, but ultimately doesn't recognize him. She does return his upnod with a wiggle of her fingers and an affable smile.

"You know what I meant," Comes Yule's return volley about it mattering or not, his head just shaking a touch as the focus of his attention remains upon Isabella. "Minerva, in the past, had done temporary nullification of rooms. No longer than one day. It wasn't meant to strip everything out. More like... a jammer for cellphones, yeah? My hope is what you did would help it last longer. And I think so as well. It's a matter of adjusting the formula, as you say, a pinch more of this, a touch less of that. If only baking this particular cake didn't mean explosions for getting it wrong." Once more there is good humor there, no distaste at all in his voice for the experiences they had, at least not the physical ramifications behind it all, but so too does his voice trail off when Leon makes his arrival.

That motion is watched, and the paper is unfolded, with a couple of sections taken out - the front page and primary news - ones that he's already gotten to. Those parts are slid down the counter towards the fellow in an offer to share, before the rest is folded back up, reading material he still plans to get to when conversation isn't on the table.

"Thanks." is the succinct, suitable gratitude Leon sends the coronor's way, taking the pages and unfolding the front page to browse for any articles that caught his eye, setting to reading as he finallynis able to get an order for coffee and literally whatever burger the waitress felt like getting him, as long as it was beef. Habitual and easy going, apparently.

His phone makes a brief appearance, a check of some sort of stats made, then set on the counter nearby, the constant reminder of his on-call nature.

'Explosions' gets a brief glance, but... This was Gray Harbor and weird people were going to be weird people. Plus they could have been talking about video games. Leon didn't judge... harshly. He minds his business.

You know what I meant.

"It's easy to assume if you don't tell me," the archaeologist points out and while her smile is easy, the look in her eyes is serious. She nudges her shoulder lightly against his own.

Regarding Minerva, the line of her pliant mouth purses faintly, her dark-haired head tipping back. Lashes kiss her cheeks when they fall, to let her own contemplations percolate for a moment. "Oh, no, I thought...I meant if you had her do something else other than that," is Isabella's gradual reply, recalibrating her thoughts on the matter with what Yule had just told her. "And what about you? Did you apply anything? With your own..." Opening her eyes, she gestures vaguely to her temple. "Because if you didn't, I have an idea. Well...a hypothesis."

Speak of the devil and she shall appear. Looking a little harried as she walked in to the Grizzly not long after Leon. "Mother." Esme's tone was exasperated as she walked towards the counter, not really taking note of the others in the diner yet. Cradling the phone between her shoulder and ear as she snagged an order sheet and started writing on it. She may or may not have done a summer or two waitressing here, or just needed some paper and a pen! At least they didn't care much about it here. "I told you it's fine. It was one window. My window at that. I paid for it. Please get over it."

A brief, apologetic look given to Leon in case Esme is disturbing him as she tore off the paper and handed it to the server hanging out behind the counter. "Listen. I have to go. We'll talk about this when I'm home." She finally handles the phone again, pressing the hang up button. "I miss the days of landlines and slamming down phones. Don't you?" She asks Leon, sighing heavily as she leaned against the counter. She's wearing a pair of black slacks and a button down lavender shirt under her woolen trench coat. Her gun and badge just barely in view. On duty it would seem.

"Yeah, well. It matters, but there isn't anything that can be done about it," Yule mutters against that nudge to his shoulder, a small frown curling towards the corners of his mouth as his eyes drop down to stare into the black liquid in his cup before Leon's singular word gets an equally succinct response, "Welcome."

"I didn't. I was just watching, yeah? So we only had two out of three." It all goes rather vague at this point given the proximity of others, before one dark brow arches upwards toawrds Isabella, "A hypothesis? I'd be most intrigued to hear all about it. I have a few of my own after looking at your soup, too." But that all fades away when Esme arrives, and a warm smile graces his lips, Yule's head dipping towards her, "Wilkinson. Sounds like your mom didn't much appreciate your renovation project, huh?" Those brown eyes lighten, a twinkle of mischief cast upon those features of the medical examiner, "Have you had a chance to meet Isabella before? Isabella, this is Esme."

"Sounds like a dinner or coffee conversation," Isabella tells him simply with a smile as the diner starts filling up with unfamiliar faces. "But yeah, that would definitely explain some things, at least to me. But we can talk about that and my soup later." She drains the rest of her coffee, setting it down on the counter with a quiet clack. Esme's arrival to their vicinity and Yule's familiarity has her tilting her head in that direction. It's the badge that she notes first, and the way she's dressed. Clearly on duty, but no uniform.

Proper introductions abound, her smile is a congenial one. "Isabella Reede," she supplies. "Good to meet you, detective."

Theres a snort of amusement as Esme helps herself, a grin of good-natured humor. She was allowed to finosh her conversation withiut his protest, though blue eyes almost immediately snap to the gun. Habit. The badge softens the look easily, however. Her comment is rewarded with a second huff of amusement.

"Not familiar. I always just spiked my Sat-phone. End a conversation real quick." The paper is opened, folded over, perused. His coffee is delivered and he accepts it just the way it is, raising the black liquid tonhis lips for a brief slurp.

Hearing her last name and the familiar voice attached- Esme turns finally to survey the rest of the diner and spots Yule and Isabella. Yule gets a brief once over that has a touch of concern to it but, he seems okay so Esme isn't going to chide him about staying home and resting. A smile, instead, is given to the pair. "Of all things, she is upset that I paid for it. Something about homeowner's insurance and burglary attempts. She'll be fine." Esme gave a wave of her hand.

"That sounds like a way to end a phone call." Esme laughed at Leon's counter to her statement. "Never have had the pleasure of messing around with a sat phone though." She does take a few steps away, towards Isabella and Yule so she can give a proper handshake to the woman. "Pleasure to meet you Isabella. Esme Wilkinson, Esme is fine- promise. We're not on any official business." Then Esme would lean down to steal a quick kiss from Yule, "And how are you doing?"

"You'd think as a detective you'd know that," Yule teases Esme about burglaries and homeowners insurance, but all of the mischief in his features shows there must surely be something more to her story than such a simple explination. The ME returns that kiss, his shoulder bumping lightly into the detectives before he turns better to face everyone. "Healing well," His free hand lifts to give a nudge to the fact he is sporting only one crutch now rather than both, an improvement bit by bit over things.

"Yeah. I'll arrange something," He agrees to Isabella, a certain curiosity in his gaze for what the archaeologist has in mind with this hypothesis, but there is no further press to things. Instead, it is to Leon that his eyes land, head dipping into a small nod, "Yule Duchannes." Might as well give introductions all around while they are at it, after all! "Hope you find something more positive in the paper than I've found so far."

Isabella's own handshake is warm and firm, her smile broadening at the informal address and the quick kiss exchanged with her companion. "I'll hold you to that, Esme." Releasing the other woman's hand, there's a curious glance towards Leon when he's addressed by the coroner. "He's been healing so quickly that I've been trying to convince him that he could run the rest of it off." She has been doing no such thing, but the mischief in her emerald-and-gold irises clearly reflects that.

The waitress finally returns with her takeaway orders, piping hot in the bags. "I better get these to Alexander before he eats the cat," she says with a laugh, reaching out to gather the bags. "Er, not that he'd actually do it - he loves Blue Bell, but I can't cook worth a damn, which means occasionally foraging in the urban wilds for sustenance. I'll see the two of you later, I'm sure. Take care of him, Esme. I still need that brain."

Pleasure was not a word Leon would use to describe government-issued comms devices. Especially when all they were squawking was shitty orders from out-of-touch commanders. Then that specific equipment abuse was not appreciated by your Signals, and it just all became a mess. None of this is verbalized, merely expressed by a lifting of brow and a thin line of his lips.

Yule's introduction is countered with his own, accompanied by a gentle tap of two fingers at his temple that he waves away, a facsimile of a salute, "Leon Gyre." Which would likely explain the parka he'd come in wearing, and the truck parked outside, both emblazoned with 'Leon the Locksmith'. "This is Gray Harbor. You hope." He states vaguely. Hope for better news? Probably. Was there? Probably not. Isabella gets a brief glance as she leaves, a friendly smile. Amicable, but speaks when spoken to.

Esme just gives him an innocent look in response to that mischief. She's a perfect angel, really. "I'll let her lecture me on the pros and cons tonight. I'll be moving into the apartment soon. So, might as well let her while she can." Esme laughed softly. There was a brief glance towards the counter to make sure the server had put her ticket in and then shifted to lean up against the booth to be able to see the trio- preferring to remain standing for now. She gives Isabella another smile when she makes to leave. A fleeting eyebrow raise at the mention of Alexander. Good to know. "It was nice meeting you Isabella. Enjoy your day."

If Esme notices Leon's expression, she doesn't elaborate. Because while she has police training, she has zero military training and also limited exposure to sat phones and what they might be used for in real world application. She would rather keep her mouth shut then put her foot in it! "Every now and then we get lucky." She mused as for the contents of the newspaper.

"Naming your cat after an ice cream brand probably doesn't help dissuade him from considering eating said cat," Yule quips towards Isabella, a soft snort of amusement coming from him as a hand lifts to give a waggle towards the archaeologist. "I'll let you know about when we can meet."

And then Yule's critical gaze falls upon Esme, watching the detective for a long moment of consideration as if trying to pick out just how she is holding it all together. "Yeah? Went ahead and pulled the trigger on the lease, did you? I'd offer to help you move in," But his left leg waggles, a look of pure innocence creasing Yule's features at that gesture before his features sober up a touch, looking back towards the locksmith. "Good to meet you, Leon."

Leon doesnt quite know what to make of the rest that passes between the other three, amd frankly it wasnt his business, but... Yule, such a distinctive name, the sort you remember reading, "Lucky like the coroner caught in that explosion a bit back?" he ventures, a curious tilt to his voice. Leon makes a very Kermit-like sip as he tosses a glance and a smirk Yule's way, a brief down-up of a look making note of Yule's leg, then a brief smile made toward Esme. He shakes his head soon after as he lets out a little sigh from the warm liquid, "Too many wild stories around here. Yet I can't stop reading." He ruffles the page briefly, a prop for the joke, "I'd hate to miss Dear Iggy, yaknow?"

"Yeah. Figure it'll be the best thing in the long run for now." Esme conceded. She chuckled at his comment and gave a shrug. "Eh, don't worry. I'll find some things for you to carry up when you're back to 100." The detective assured him with a tease in her tone. She pulled out her phone to check a couple things before pocketing it and tuning back in to the conversation. She flashes Leon a grin - she'll let Yule handle the stuff about the explosion and all. "Hey now, Dear Iggy is full of great advice. I love having our own Dear Abby." She laughd. "One of these days I'll have something to write in about."

"Medical Examiner," Yule amends friendly enough, "Coroner is a government position. Appointed here, elected some other places. Medical Examiners are us doctors who do the work... though some coroners do that too. And just bad luck on my part... though healing well." His coffee cup is drained, and then a sidelong glance is given to the detective before a faint smile curls to the corners of his mouth, "Met him once. Iggy. In the coffee shop. And you, detective Wilkinson? Still need to let me know what you want to do about a certain offer." Not that he'll be pressing about it for the moment, just a reminder towards her.

"The man speaks the Pizza gospel, I can't argue divinity." he remarks to Esme. Leon wags a finger at Yule, head lowered, lip jutted, a motion communicating that was the word he had read and he accepted the correction from the other man. "If you still got your leg, I'd count that lucky. Plenty of brothers can attest to that." See? He found the bright side, even while he was being snarky.

Thankfully, the first to put his foot in his mouth gets his food soon after and can trade up for delicious... Well it didn't really matter narratively, since he eats it like any military man: like he needed all the calories delivered with the speed of an IV, and just couldn't be bothered with a needle.

"Yeah? What's he like?" Esme asked of Iggy, curious. As the little remained Esme quirked a brow and then smiled again. "Ah, right. I've made up my mind about it. I'll drop by later tonight if you're not busy and we can talk about it?" She offered. "I think mom's making lasagna for dinner so I can bring you some of that too." She finally claimed Isabella's empty seat with a brief glance to her watch.

"I hate doing the food runs." She mused with a chuckle. Nodding to Leon, "Pizza gospel is pretty good. Also delcious. So really hard to go wrong with it." Amusement in her eyes and tone.

"Good guy. In from New York. Likes the Mets, though, so clearly a glutton for punishment," Comes the bemused comment from the medical examiner, before his more serious nature turns towards Leon, head dipping into a nod of agreement. "Yeah. I have no complaints. Another week or two, and I'll be walking around like nothing ever happened. Lucky enough." It's the whole, 'talk about it' that has Yule looking suspiciously at Esme, but there isn't any real frustration there, a wry smile curling to the corners of his lips, lingering briefly as he says, "Buttering me up with your moms food, are you? ALl right, then. Beats more take out. Though maybe I should learn to cook a few things while I can't drive or run."

Esme's remark is answered with a double fist-to-chest tap into a peace sign, clearly a signal he now considered her inducted into his gang. Whatever that entailed. Maybe he was just trying to communicate his approval without being so rude as to speak with his mouth full. Which it was. Unquestionably. Yule gets a simple nod, much easier to understand.

"Cool. Maybe I'll run in to him some time." Esme nodded. "I'm going to need to brush up on my cooking stills too. Living at home again has kinda spoiled me." She mused, looking over again as her name was called out - order ready apparently. She stood up, moving to place a kiss on Yule's temple and flashed another smile. "Alright, I've got a starving group at th precinct waiting on me. I'll see ya tonight." Heading over to the counter to retrieve the two bags.

"It was nice meeting you Leon. Maybe I'll see you around. And also if I need new locks." Esme game the man a smile as well. And a laugh at the gang sign. "You boys have a good day." And then started to head out!

"Be safe," Comes Yule's comment towards Esme, even if he is the one of the pair of them that is clearly hurt. "Good to meet you Leon. I should start hobbling my way to work," He offers up with a touch of amusement as he picks up his crutch, tucking it beneath his arm. Cash is placed on the counter to cover his coffee, and the half of the paper that he still has? Is tucked into one hand before he makes his way off.