2020-02-05 - Reacquainted

Isolde really wasn't much of a drinker. Socially maybe, or when she was stressed. Also, Pourhouse wasn't somewhere she came regularly after she and Alexander got into the bar fight a few months back. There was a mental note made to check in with Alexander even as she claimed a spot at the bar. There'd been another brawl here just a couple days ago - though it sounded much worse than the one she'd been involved in. Thankfully, it was a different bartender working tonight than had been around the last time.

So she ordered a beer and tried to relax. Isolde knew she needed to get out and meet more people. Be social! It was important. Especially now that she was living on her own. Heck, she still hadn't met her neighbors even. In any case, tonight was for potentially meeting new people! Her long red hair is pulled back in a ponytail and she's wearing a pair of jeans with a black, long-sleeved shirt.

A distinct lack of thunderous motorcycle engine accompanied the presence of one thickset man by the name of Nicolas. He'd only been in town for a few days, but the one place he'd been showing his face regularly was The Pourhouse.

He sat on the wide leather seat of the overtuned monster of a Harley Davidson he affectionately called 'Lola' with the dim glow of a cellphone pressed to his ear. Whatever it was was a short conversation, and in a true air of being disconnected with the times, he clapped the classic flip-phone closed against his denim-clad thigh.

A few moments later, bald head, olive-green hoodie beneath a thick leather vest, and the thud of heavy black boots made its way through the entryway of the bar and Nicolas puffed his whiskered cheeks out with full force of a heavy exhale as he made his way toward the bar.

"What's good?" he queried openly to the general area of the bar, nobody in particular and generally one that went ignored by the masses as he took his seat and interlocked his fingers atop the bar, a slight upnod at the bartender, "Lemme get some of that fancy Pacific North West tap shit ya'll got and some wings?" and with that his darkset eyes perused the bar with curiosity until they found their way to glance over the copper haired woman.

Isolde tipped her head ever so slightly to the side as someone else came in to the bar. Wild blue eyes peeking at him out of the corner of her eye. She hadn't seen him in here before...he must be new in town with the way he spoke.

When he asked What's good Isolde couldn't help but respond with, "Not much. The groundhog says. Six more. Weeks of winter." And winter in Gray Harbor was a dreary, miserable thing. She turned to look over her shoulder, towards the doorway and then back to the man. Studying him for a moment. "You shouldn't stay here." Spoken more like a sincere warning than anything else.

The bartender rolled his eyes at Isolde's comment. Maybe he wasn't the one on duty but he'd heard the story plenty of times. "Don't mind her." They mumbled to Nicolas, sliding him a mug of some kind of microbrew sitting on tap! It isn't going to be the best brew out there but it certainly isn't on the low end of the spectrum.. Then the bartender went to put Nic's wing order in.

When the bartender's back was turned it was Isolde's turn to roll her eyes at him. It looked like she wanted to say something too but instead just took a long sip from her bottle. "...Who are you?" She asks, directed towards Nicolas.

The meaty joints at the tips of his fingers steepled downward against the bar as Isolde spoke, and he pulled thickset black brows upward in a curious look toward the woman, "Hey, what's six weeks right? I've survived worse for longer, y'know? Rain stings like a sonofabitch though" - he accentuated this statement with a gentle, squinty-eyed wince and shook his head.

He cast a glance aside toward the bartender when he spoke, and then back toward Isolde once he'd finished. Just in time to catch her roll those expressive blues and he couldn't help but jut out his chin and crack his lips in a bright-toothed sort of shit eating grin of amusement at it.

His hands seperated from their interlocked posture, one coming to crown atop the rim of his beer mug and slide it, and the coaster attached to it, closer. The other extended toward Isolde, palm up, open, and unfurled like the pitted leather of a catchers mit, "Nicolas - People just call me Nico, or Nicky though. Sometimes 'that big guy with the neck tatts' or I guess 'Saint' if you're this one smartass bartender who usually works here..." Nicolas rolled his own eyes at that one, "What about you?"

Isolde thinks on this little nugget of information for a moment and then gives a sunny smile. "You're right. Plenty of bad things for a long time." The smile dims a little. "Though sometimes here is worse than others.." A shrug of her shoulders. Maybe that was true of any place. Somewhere was always going to be worse than another. She leans in some to capture his unfurled hand in a brief shake. "Nicky." She tries to peek at his neck to see if she can catch sight of the tattoos. A thoughtful little noise as her brain perhaps tries to process some things. "Hm?" She let her hand fall away from his and retrieved her beer again. "Isolde. Izzy." Looking a far cry from the homeless mess in a raggedy flannel she used to be.

"I don't come here much. I'm on their. Watch list." She mused, taking another sip of beer. "Where from?" A beat of pause to internally sort her words before clarifying, "Where were you before Gray Harbor?" Those blue eyes studying him again, a touch curious, perhaps as if trying to place him from somewhere else.

"Probably all the rain. Say it makes people all depressed and shit. I kinda like it though" Nicolas admitted, and while he bright smile faded, it maintained a sincere upturn at one side of his lips at that with a bit of a nod when she told him her name, "Well, there ya go lady. Somethin' good for the day" he added with a bit of a half-hearted laugh that he cut short, resulting in a simple 'hah'

As far as tattoos, his neck was blasted with a series of tightly interwoven black and grey ink, a large detailed cluster of roses, the word 'FAMILY' and another scripted word that couldn't quite be made out from the angle on the other side of his neck. From the looks of it, the ink disappeared past his collar and likely continued - betting that he was covered in it would be a safe one.

"On their watch list, huh?" he mused, retrieving his hand from their shake and wrapping it lazily about the glass of his mug, tapping his fingertips along its side in an absentminded pattern. "Don't take this the wrong way or anything, Izzy, but somethin' tells me you're on a lotta' dudes watch lists, know what I mean?" he arched a brow at that and then canted his head when she asked where he was from, "Cali - San Diego mostly, but I been up and down the Cali coastline at one point or another, Lompoc for a bit..." - the location of a federal prison - "...What about you? Local native?"

No way to follow the ink because of his clothing. It might look vaguely familiar but, in her mind a lot of things were still fuzzy, jumbled and mixed up. So, for now, Isolde let's it go. Trying to wonder if she's seen him somewhere before. Isolde blinked at his comment, a blank sort of look before the rest of her mind caught up and she laughed with a touch of pink on her cheeks. "Dunno about that. Something, something. Don't stick your dick in crazy?" She asked and started giggling again. "Sorry." Is murmured as she takes another drink and then sets the glass down with a contented sigh.

Her brow quirked a touch at the mention of Lompoc but it faded. "Been to California a few times. Okay place." Isolde nodded matter-of-factly and then shook her head. "Not native. No. From all over really but originally. Portland. Oregon." The red-head offered up. "Came here earlier. In the...summerish time. Reconnected with an old friend and decided to stay." Her elbow rested on the bar and her head in her hand. "What brought you here?"

The moisture from the base of Nicolas' glass stuck the cardboard coaster to the base when he went for a drink, a dropped about halfway through a hearty gulp just prior to him almost spitting it out - almost - when Isolde mentioned not sticking a dick in crazy. Rather, it resulted in a beer laden upper lip and a brief cough that transformed into a laugh. He then promptly sat his glass back down on the coaster.

"Lady, if that mattered, the saying would have never been made. Hindsights 20/20, we live in the moment" he laughed and he raised a hand, dragging his thumb over the dense whiskery growth of his mustache to purge it from beer.

"Work? Opportunity to get away from Cali, start fresh, ya'know?" he paused, and extended his index finger to point at his beer mug, "And beer. Pretty good beer. I like the water, port town and all that, and fuck tryin' to afford to live in Seattle, it's a happy place medium. Somethin' about this place just kinda, I dunno, felt chill. Good, bad..." he shrugged, "Piqued my interest."

His dark eyes scanned Isolde for a moment, a moment of squinting as if assessing her, "I kinda get the same vibe from you. Like we've met before or somethin' y'know? Is that weird?" he flashed his palm, "Like, not trying to be a fuckin' creeper or anything, but like, forreal though"

Isolde grinned a bit more when he laughed. "It is." Agreeing about the hindsight. "Live for today? Cause you might be gone tomorrow?" How many times had she thought that over the years? That every day might just be the last one she got to live? That the bad things would finally catch up with her? Isolde shook herself from her reverie and smiled again. "It is a very gray place. More bad things than good but the good things will be more when winter ends." Maybe. Probably. "Interesting though. Always interesting." Is confirmed.

Her brow quirked and then she nodded, giving him a little wobble of her hand. "Not weird. I've met lots of people. Don't remember a lot of them though." Through the bad things and the drugs, her memory was certainly never the best. "You...motorcycles?" She tapped her chin lightly. "I remember motorcycles in California. A short time."

"Exactly" Nicolas affirmed her 'live today, gone tomorrow' and paid homage to that fact by taking another big drink of his beer. An eyebrow twitched when Isolde mentioned it being very gray, and he couldn't help but smirk, "I mean, it's called Gray Harbor" he remarked and strummed his fingers against the glass again.

His gaze lingered at what seemed like no place in particular, her shoulder, maybe the bar, it wasn't really sure, but whatever it was he seemed to snap out of it when she mentioned motorcycle and he shook it off with a light "Hm?" and inclined his chin toward the door, "Oh. Yeah, totally. Normally you'd hear me coming. Some people bitch everytime I show up here the last couple days, but I was out on my bike takin' a phonecall when you walked in..."

Niky canted his head a bit, and his dark eyes squinted once more, "I'ma be honest, Izzy, I'm not sure the kinda places I hung out are real hot spots for cute redheads. Not unless she was doin' a favor for her next fix if you get me. You seem alright enough..."

He took a moment, and made no attempt to hide the fact that he was really and thoroughly going over her, head to toe. "You ever hang out in places like that?"

"Because it's so Gray. That's how it got it's name." Isolde proclaimed ever so seriously. But then a smile was cracked, kidding, mostly. She had no idea why it was called Gray Harbor but it sounded like a good reason.

If Isolde minded his thorough examination, it didn't show. She picked at the label of her beer bottle, deciding how she wanted to answer and then finally, nodded. "Seems like forever ago but...yes. Places like that. Because the pills kept the bad things at bay." A sharp breath drawn in and Isolde straightened up in her seat some. "But no more pills now. I'm...I can control it now. Better." Though there were still times when she wished she still had some.

"Maybe it was there then." Usually this was probably the slightly awkward part where one wondered if they'd done more than cross paths but Isolde didn't seem to be wondering about it. At least not right now. "I didn't go all the time. Only when I really needed them." Which was still more than 'occasionally'. "...I have people now though. That won't let me do that stuff anymore. They are good things." The people, likely.

"Shit, lady" Nicky drew out and then took a long drink of his beer, it was nearly finished in the three or four big drinks he'd taken throughout the conversation, but he seemed the type who could probably stomach more than one or two and be fine.

"Do what you gotta' do, ya'know?" is all he had to say in regard to 'used to' and the pill talk, a half-somber nod and he tugged the edge of his lips high to one side against his whiskered cheek at her talk of people, "That's good. Always good when you got people. If that works for you, it works" he added and leaned back into the stool his was sitting in, a thick palm patting down the padded leather of his vest and slipping a hand inside the left breast.

What was produced was a rounded edge card of faux black steel and orange lettering. A business card of some variety, and he slid it across the bar, "My cells on there if you ever need anything. Sometimes people fuck up. It's not Cali..." he clicked his back teeth and shrugged slightly, "But I'll drop what I'm doin' and see what I can do, y'know?" he mentioned, or perhaps eluded to something less above board. The card simply read 'Nicolas Melosa-Amaya, Master Welder, Fabrication, Repair, Drafting and Design' and a cellphone number.

"I think maybe, if I squint my eyes real hard, I can remember seein' that hair and them eyes around a few times. It's been awhile, but you aren't exactly what I'd call cookie cutter, huh? Easy enough to recall if a guy tries hard enough" he smiled at that, and glanced toward Isolde's bottle, "Buy you another?"

Isolde accepted the business card, studying it for a moment and then the man who had given it to her. She could read between the lines, more or less. Make some assumptions. "...Thank you Nicky." She says finally, pocketing the card. "What kind of welding do you do? Erm. Make. What kind of things do you make? With the welding?" A curious question - maybe with plans to follow up with more specific questions after she has an idea of what actually a welder can even do (besides the obvious basic things). There's another grin on her lips, easily navigating through a revolving door of emotions. "Only cookie cutters here are in the kitchen." She confirmed with a laugh.

"Mm," Isolde looked to her nearly gone drink and then nodded. "Sure. Thank you." As she knocks back the rest of her bottle and slides it to the other side of the bar so the bartender can dispose of it. "Your tattoos. Looked a little familiar but, I've seen so many tattoos. Sometimes. It's hard to remember who has what and where." She looked down at herself a moment and then back to him. "No tattoos for me. Yet. Not sure what I want. Maybe a frog. Tree frogs are super cute." Rambling just a little bit because tree frogs were the red-head's favorite animal.

"Sticking around a while then? See how things work out?"

The thanks didn't get a reply per-se, but it did get a flash of his eyes and a bob of his head, the kind of bob that you gave someone of understanding the situation on more than just a passing level. A few moments after Isolde knocked back her drink, Nicky finished off his own and sat the glass down with a hefty thunk, off the coaster and on the bare wood of the bar.

"Tree frogs, huh? I can see that" he mused, nodding his head a bit and looking her over as he did, as if invisioning a bright green frog tattoo somewhere on her to be seen. "I think you just got a new nickname, Izzy" he smirked and fished a slender black wallet from his rear pocket by way of tugging at the sturdy metallic chain which draped across his hip, withdrew a couple of creased bills and tossed them on the bar.

The question about welding caught his interest as he stood halfway up to slip the wallet back into his pocket, "All kinda of stuff. I do a lot of bullshit boat repair, hull work, stuff like that for the little commercial boats in town. Occasionally do some fabrication for car parts, weld up mufflers, that kind of stuff. Every now and again someone just wants to pick my brain about how to make a project work that involves welding, so I'll help draft up the specs for them on how to make it work..." he shrugged, "I do a little bit of mechanic work, mainly for bikes on the side, but I'm a far cry from a real mechanic shop" he smirked and as he sat back down on the stool, he glanced toward the clock, "Fuck it's gettin' late."

"I do?" As to having a new nickname and Isolde chuckled. "I like nicknames." Considering Itzhak had like 4 or 5 for her, that's probably a good thing. "What is it?" This so called nickname. Looking ever so slightly intrigued.

When he started talking about welding, Isolde continued to look interested. If not mildly fascinated. "I'm not handy like that. Though, I can fix door knobs!" Which is absolutely nothing like welding. "Could you make a frog?" She asked. Of course this is what she asks. "how much would it be? I want to do a garden I think. Or, maybe just to decorate my little front stoop thing."

Isolde's gaze followed his up to the clock. "It is!" A little surprised at how the time flew by. She lifted her bottle up towards him. "Toooo new townspeople...and hoping I don't wake up under the boardwalk again." Isolde flashed a grin. "Thanks again for the drink." Before taking a long pull from it.

Nicky quirked a brow and nearly his head at Isolde when she said 'What is it' and he smirked in laughable amusement, "Frog" he said matter-of-factly as if it was clear as the sky was blue. He smiled, flashing a white array of teeth, if not a bit cockeyed and favoring one side.

While she spoke, he gathered himself from his seat and stood upright while she spoke of making her a frog, he furrowed his brow and nodded a bit, a sign of attentive listening to the points she made, "Sure. Yeah. I could make you a frog..." but when the mention of price came up, he shook it off, "Don't worry about it. I haven't done anythin' artistic in awhile. Call it a housewarming gift" and with that, he let a brief beat pass and he puffed his cheeks out, tipping his chin at the clock.

"Why don't I buy you that drink another time? Call it a raincheck so we have a reason to meet up again sometime, that and your frog. Besides, I mean..." he smirked, "...we just got re-acquainted and you're pretty and all, but I dunno if I wanna let you get me drunk and try to take advantage of me just yet, y'know?" he teased her and gave her a content little smile, "Take it easy, Frog. Gimme a call later in the week" and with that, he made his way toward the door.