2020-03-11 - Someone Else's Paperwork

It's a calm mid-morning, so a little coffee does a body good, warming away the snowy outdoors. The ever present advertisement of his self-branded van parked outside, Leon has set himself up at a table a bit back from the door. The breeze that usually accompanied ant new entrance into the shop would be bothersome to the small set of paperwork he seemed to be filling out.

A lump of a few layers of jackets is hanging from the back of the chair he's taken, the built man clad simply in a long sleeve and some carpenter pants. A mug of black coffee is nursed every once in awhile as he checks some things on a laptop, and continues writing carefully on the forms. Handwriting was neither a soldier's, nor a locksmith's forte, so its clear by his methodical pace he was having to go slow to keep it legible.

Through the door slips in Gina, her dark purple hair loose and hanging down, wearing her usual winter coat - long, dark-grey and close-tailored coat that almost resembles a robe, pushing the hood back as she walks in. Completing the That's So Gina look is the black-and-silver smoky eye and dark blue lipstick, because of course, why not. She looks her usual cheerful self (not super cheery) as she checks her phone and heads towards the counter, to order her coffee.

Motion. That's how most social folk hunt notice new folk. Leon glances up at the new entry to the shop, the purple hair catching his attention for a few beats before he politely returns his eyes to his work. He sits back a moment, the pen in his hand fanning back and forth gently as he thinks.

Did he know this one? Maybe he got the description when he was asking around for business owners that needed lock work. He'd probably even seen her, as a rare diner patron. But... still that was a difficult thread to tug. It bothered him, but... Well he had decisions to make... He sighs, looking at the menu on the laptop, all Irish dishes. His foot taps in annoyance.

Text-text-text-can't-even. That is the exact process going on with Gina. Something she's responding to has apparently pushed her to eye-rolling and a stifled sigh before she shoves the phone back into a pocket and grabs her order - some fancy froofy coffee-concoction with foam art and two pastries. She takes the items to sit down-- right at Leon's table. There's no hi, no smile, no real... asking for permission or anything silly like that. She just sits down as if he and his laptop weren't even there, focused on tearing apart pieces of her pastry. Just-- as natural as can be. Has Leon somehow turned into air? Better double check.

There's a raise of both eyebrows from Leon, though no widening of the eyes. Mild surprise. A hand is lifted briefly to tug one of the forms he'd had spread on the table from under her pastries' plate. Hopefully there was a plate. Jesus H Christ, he'd worked on that form for an hour, please be civilized enough for flatware.

He tries to at least keep the sheet clear of crumbs. There's a whole host of mental dialogue that seems to go on behind those blue eyes, not sure to make of his table's newest squatter. He stares across at the purple-haired gremlin diner owner.

"Hi."

There is, in fact, a plate! A small one, on which the pastries are daintily torn to shreds - looks like a cheese danish and an almond croissant. She's very tidy about it: maybe just a few croissant flakes and a bit of an almond slice falls atop the form.

The tug on the paper has the plate move slightly towards Leon, and Gina pauses in her shredding to glance up at him - just her eyes, her face is still lowered - to give Leon a long, measuring look that clearly and emphatically says 'Seriously? Dude.' You know, as if HE is the unreasonable one here, interrupting her time with her pastry. But then he's saying hello, like a friendly person, and in a tone that clearly couldn't care less, she responds. "Hey." Before looking back down. And then seemingly only then notices his papers. "Those yours papers?" WHO ELSE'S GINA. She lifts her plate so he can tug them back, casually apathetic. Gina's so nice. Look at her not even mentioning how he rudely put his papers down hours ago where she was going to sit.

The look gives Leon pause. He'd seen the exact type of look when food was threatened beneath the nose of hungry soldiers. It was a good way to lose a finger. Or at least end up with four identical puncture wounds, neatly in line, in the back of your hand.

Slowly, he decides to brave it as the plate is lifted. He shakes the flakes and almonds off onto the floor, brushing the page with his hand before setting it in a stack with the others.

"No." He lies sarcastically, attempting to hold a nonplussed look on his face when he noticed the slight darkening of a spot on the page, probably from the almond. "But I figured by the time I found the owner, they might not be in the mood for breakfast."

Crisis averted, he can take up his coffee to sip, still not sure what to make of this, looking over the rim of the mug at her.

Gina's gaze goes back to her plate, and she finishes tearing a nice pile of croissant-danish shreds. Plucking one with her venom-green painted nails, she pops it into her mouth before having a sip of coffee, not seeming to mind Leon's gaze - if she even notices it. Another bit of pastry, sip of coffee, before she asks, "So you're the returnee Gyre kid." It's not a question, but a statement, and a slightly... amused one? Gina's tone is-- ambiguous, and often sounds like there's some unknown extra story only she knows. "Heard you were back in town to do business."

Ok, surprise number two. Leon didn't get recognized often. People didn't seem to make the connection to his parents or even question whether he was townie or not. His wrist is rested on the table edge as his mug is gently set down, striking the leaned back pose of quiet contemplation. His eyes narrow, though show no anger. It was a curiosity, even more now than just Gina's appearance.

"Not a lot of locksmiths close by." He answers, back-footed, but shrugging as he tries to muddy on, "Seemed like an easy need to fill."

He was glancing all about Gina now, trying to place her and why she knew him, but it was just escaping him. "You knew my folks?" he asks. There was a decided flatness to his voice, the suggestion he was ready or at least expecting a rather negative opinion of them, at least by his measure of Gina. Only the dirty drunks ever had something nice to say.

Gina seems completely at home in her stolen seat, sipping her coffee and plucking dainty pieces of pastry to enjoy through the conversation. There's also still that... tone to her voice, the ambiguous one. Sarcastic? Joking? Serious? Sly? It's really not that Gina sounds apathetic, so much as it's hard to nail down what she DOES sound like. "People have a thing about doors in this town." She comments, "You'll get by."

At the question about his parents, there's only a light lift of one shoulder that falls once again, "Knew of. Heard more when you rolled into town. It happens." Someone always ferrets out the story. "Just heard the Gyre boy was back as a locksmith. You're the only person in here I don't recognize." After all, it's a small shop at an odd time of day-- and his van is right outside.

His eyes narrow about the door thing, the line suspicious, though probably exactly how she meant it to sound. Leon does take a quick glance around the shop and... Well, he couldn't really fault her logical conclusion. His bottom lip puffs just slightly as he nods, an expression of acceptance.

"I gotta admit I'm kinda surprised. They were dead going on a year or two when I came back. That's basically how I found out myself." he admits, seemingly open about the fact they hadn't spoken at least for a long time. Still, Gina hadn't really answered the burning question of the hour, so he attempts a polite conversation prompt.

"I'm Leon." he says as he offers his hand across the table, at the very least reminding her had a first name, at best she'd return the gesture.

Gina doesn't seem at all surprised by the lack of familial relationships. Nope. Just sip on that mug. "I've only been back maybe two years or something. You'll adjust back soon enough, I guess." She doesn't sound particularly invested either way.

There's a flick of her gaze towards the hand extended to her, and her own free hand lifts... and wraps around the mug for extra warmth. Mmm, warm coffee mug really helps to warm the fingers. "Gina Castro." In the way of decades and differing age groups, there's a big chance he doesn't know the name. In the way of small towns, however... maybe he does, along with all her reputational baggage.

There's a bark of a laugh, both at the handshake denial and finally as things click into place. Yes, the name connected everything for him. He did do research after all. The Grizzley was a 24 hour joint though, so he hadn't inquired about their locks.

"Goddamn, the reviews on your place are a rollercoaster ride. I think I spent like half an hour reading them." Another short chuckle as he raises his mug to his lips for a sip, then cant really wait to comment, as he feels he needs to go on to not leave an awkward air. "Mmm. Great food though when you're patient." Ok, that sort of sounded like a compliment, of the myriad things that were said about her and the diner.

His chuckling trails off, "Settling in or down, it hasn't been the worst." He lifts a chin toward his laptop, "You don't go to a lot of local events, do you?"

That comment about the Grizzly's reviews actually causes... a thin, slight curve to Gina's dark lips, barely perceptible. After a sip of her drink, however, the little smirk disappears back to looking like the same expression she's maintained the whole time. "People get a little extreme about their waffles and coffee." She says mildly, as if the food was in question instead of the iffy customer service.

As for the question about the local events, she says simply. "I hate most people. Not really going to bother to go to events unless there's something that'll entertain me at them." She sounds so /casual/ about her misanthropy, too.

Another snort of amusement is issued fron the locksmith, "Alright, that's fair." He looked like there might have been another question he was going to ask but the idea was abandoned, reaching to pull the laptop closed. He leans back into his seat again, turning the coffee mug on the table idly.

"I feel like the logical question then is, 'If you hate most people, why run a hospitality business?'" Though, as he raises his cup to his lips and tilts his head back and forth, he may have worked out an answer mid question, "Discounting you may be somewhere on the S&M spectrum."

Gina raises both brows at Leon's poor attempt at logic. You can just SEE that she finds his entire logical chain...quaint. And there's another one of those little small shrugs, before she has a few more pieces of pastry, "Gotta make money somehow, and I hate being told what to do. Diner makes enough to get by, and I don't have to put up with anyone else's bullshit. And it proves my point there's no need for some half-assed fake as fuck smiles and constantly kissing ass to run a business. Do your shit and do it right, get paid, end of story."

Stepping into Espresso Yourself, a brunette with a model-like figure in a pair of black skinny jeans and a pink cashmere sweater comes in with her grey winter coat opened. She can't seem to stay away from the coffee house. She is not deterred from meeting new people, despite her attempts at meeting people during peak hours being interrupted by a sudden influx of text messages and calls she needed to deal with. So she enters this time, during off peak hours it seems, to order another light roast caramel flavoured coffee, black as usual, because there's no need for the extras. She grabs her coffee and sits down at a booth with her comic book buried in her paperwork, hidden not because she's ashamed of the comic, but rather, because she really should be reading the paperwork.

Leon doesn't seem offended by her expression's derision of his guess. Maybe he just thought he'd try some wild ass bullshit to get a rise out of her, as muted as she came off.

"I can't fault that. Usually you take that attitude in trades, but if you make it work..." The rest didn't need to be rehashed. Maybe he'd gained a little respect for Gina. Or maybe she just miraculously got away with being a brat. She was still sitting at his table, after all. "But if you've got this revolutionary business idea, why here? Gotta be easier places."

He peeps the girl walking in, because he's male and its genetic, ok?! Theres actual studies! But her secrets remain untold.

It's true. Gina gets away with a lot by sheer virtue of... not asking permission and not caring? Being Gina? Dark blue lipstick, purple hair and a long, dark grey wool coat that looks a whole lot like a robe in the dark? Her excellent smoky eye? The fact that to those who glimmer and gleam she's one of the local lighthouses? All of the above? Either way, she only pops another piece of danish into her mouth with those venom green nails, one elbow on the table as she holds up her coffee mug. "Gray Harbor's where my bones will rot." Gina says, ever so casually, as if that's just a simple, obvious explanation. DUH, Leon. "Quiet's in me already."

Another sip of coffee, her eyes following his to glance towards Katherine at her arrival. Her eyes pause a little extra long on that paperwork, before her gaze goes back to Katherine's face, comparing it to some mental gallery and finding it insufficient. Without looking away from Katherine, she adds a little more to her explanation, "Because one way or another, some people can't escape. Even if they weren't here before." And then her eyes return to Leon, and she smirks, as if there was a secret tucked away in her sleeve, before she continues in a perfectly audible tone - she's made no attempt to lower her voice for any of this - "Hard keeping track of all the new people that show up in town these days. Or the ones who come back."

Katherine's attention drifts towards the sounds in the coffee shop and the conversation that was audible and not made to be quiet or kept between the people having it. The purple haired woman's words seem to strike a chord with Katherine, about not being able to escape, even those who hadn't been in Gray Harbor before. Is that what's happening to her? She puts her paperwork down, the comic within its pages. She doesn't want to insert herself into the conversation that the other people were having but she can't help listening. "Have you guys been in Gray Harbor long?" she asks the folks at the nearby table, curious about what the purple haired woman has to say. She looks fascinating.

Leon squints at Gina's comment about her bones. Such Spook. "You're one of those women that celebrates Halloween all year long, aren't you..." Katherine's comment gets a look, answering, "On and off about 19 years." A conspiratory grin is given to Gina, seeing if anything could get a rise out of the woman. He was sure to be dissapointed. He is sipping his coffee when something starts to buzz. He rolls to one side, fishing into his pocket to drag a vibrating smartphone. The ringing stops, a notification sounds. He swipes through an email and groans, peering out the window toward the snow. "So much for that." The laptop and papers are gathered up, neatly stowed in a bag as he starts to get to his feet with a rumbling sound of protest, "Nice meeting you, though, Gina." His jackets are retrieved and shrugged into, zipped up, his bag pulled over a shoulder and his mug set to the return rack congenially. To Katherine, he offers a business card. With Gina being all mysterious and suggestive, there was a good chance this lady was new. She might need a Locksmith.

You know, if the branded parka and the van parked right out front weren't a huge fucking advertisement already. "Name's Leon. Nice to meet you, too." But unfortunately, that meant he was headed out into the cold. With a final wave, and a gust of chilly air, he's out the door.

"Not really into Halloween. Don't see why anybody's a fan of parents trudging their asshole kids around the neighborhood to harass people with candy." Gina comments mildly, sipping more of her drink. But her attention goes to Katherine next, and her question-- looking unsurprised at the sudden question. "Twenty three or so years for me. You're not a local." It's not a question, more of an observation. She spends the time Leon takes collecting his gear and introducing himself to Katherine to enjoy a few more pieces of her pastries. "So why do you think you're here?" Another slight curve of her lips, her tone...ambiguous. It could be sarcastic, or joking, or teasing, or wry-- it's so hard to decipher her tone and expression, it's as good as being expressionless.

"Nice to meet you," Katherine calls out to Leon's retreating back before she looks at Gina again, feeling a little uneasy at her line of questioning. "Truthfully, I'm not sure why I'm still here, but I'm not in a hurry to leave." She pauses for a moment then she introduces herself. "Kate Kennedy." She extends a hand out for Gina to shake. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Gina holds up her free hand, "Been eating with this hand." She says, waggling her fingertips as her reason for not shaking- and punctuates it by picking up another piece of danish and popping it into her mouth. Of course, the hand holding her mug is clean and immaculate-- but holding her mug, so. "Gina Castro." No indication on whether it's good or not to meet Kate. "We get a lot of people that float by and decide to stay. Town charm." Dryly said, considering the cold, grey weather and economical decline.

Mildly put off by Gina, Kate pulls her hand back as she listens to the woman talk about the town's charm. There's a lot more to it that Kate isn't willing to simply divulge to a stranger for the sake of small talk. "That and it's only a couple of hours from Seattle, so it's not too bad if I need to be in the city for some reason." She tries to remain casual and cool about the interaction.

Gina's still got that little subtle smirk, and the mug in her hand is getting low on whatever tasty drink was ordered. Her plate only has a few bites of her tasty food left, too. "Yeah, I head out to Seattle for concerts once in a while." Gina adds- really, is it just a quirk of hers, that it sounds, just a bit, like there's an unknown layer of implication to the words? "So you've been in town a while? Or still new?"

"Been in town since late October last year," Kate says casually, "Still feeling my way around." Kate looks at her half consumed coffee and decides it might be best for her to actually focus on work at some point. "Well anyway, I should probably head out. I still have work to do. Just came in to grab a coffee."

Gina's smile grows, just a fraction, slightly more-- sarcastic? Taunting? Amused? Six of one, half dozen of another. She finishes off the last of drink, setting the mug on the plate. Very little blue on the porcelain, too. A+ lipstick! "Good luck in Gray Harbor, then." Gina comments, pushing herself up away from the table. "Made it this far, after all." And then she's taking her plate and mug to the counter. Just like that. No nice, clean goodbye or nice to meet you.

Katherine takes her coffee in its paper cup and steps out of the coffee shop, headed back to her apartment, her home office. She still has work to do after all.