2020-04-02 - Home Harrowing Home

Wednesday afternoon. 3:30 pm. Why isn't the librarian at ... say ... the library? It's a mystery. For whatever reason, the path of the day has led Harper Price to a sandy spot on the rocky beach. But in order to get sand, one must set up one's blanket recklessly close to the tidal line. Is the tide going out? Maybe Harper's playing with fire. In surf form.

It's unusually sunny for this time of year in Gray Harbor, and it's a relatively balmy 61 degrees. In the sun. When the wind isn't gusting. In old jeans, a red, fitted tee shirt, with a grey sweatshirt tied around her waist, Harper is settled atop a beach-worthy, plaid, wool blanket with her legs stretched out in front of her, crossed at the ankles. The hand not holding up her book ('A Discovery of Witches', Deborah Harkness) is propped, palm down, a bit behind her. She wears a pair of oversized sunglasses and her raven hair is held up and back away from her face in the play of the ocean breeze with a tied headband made from a rolled, red bandanna.

To say she is reading is to say it's a nice day. It's all how you look at it. For the time being, her hardback book is resting face down atop her legs with her thumb holding her spot while she watches the waves flow and recede, the seagulls dive bomb some tasty thing that's washed up down the beach a ways, and perhaps that ship far, far in the distance on the horizon.

And isn't a librarian reading on the beach on a lovely, if a bit on the cooler side, day a wondrous sight indeed? James, for his part, presents an equally iconic picture. A lone man, standing atop a rock, beard shifting a bit in the breeze, gazing out into the ocean, adrift on a sea of his own thoughts.

Iconic, perhaps, except for the fact that the man barely crests 5'4", is wearing jeans and a dark hoodie that just reads in big white block letters: 'YEAH, NO.'. He also appears to be not so much gazing at the ocean, as glaring at it, eyes squinting against the sun in a distinctly 'fuck off, ocean' way. Oh and there's a lit joint dangling from his lip, which he takes a long toke of.

"... I'm watching you.", he mutters to the ocean, exhaling a small cloud of smoke that is quickly torn to shreds by the breeze, which is now presumably also high.

Somewhere in there, something about the lurking figure of James off to one side catches at Harper's peripheral vision and she turns her head to look at him where he stands atop his rock and offers the sea fair warning. It knows what it did. The librarian's lips curve to a slow smile and she tips her sunglasses down to watch the man more overtly. "Why don't you come over and keep your eye on the Pacific while sitting on my very comfortable blanket?" Harper's voice is loud enough to be heard, but not overly so. So there's that: Harper inviting people that very well could be strangers to join her on the beach. It's a very Harper thing to do.

Geoff comes strolling down the beach with an apparent purpose, the man dressed in a pair of jeans, a tea and a hoodie left unzipped, while in each hand is a to go hot beverage cup and looped around one wrist is a plastic bag. However what would probably catch the most attention is the shiba inu pup that runs along at his heel and frolics in the sand.

Upon spotting Harper he beelines to her with a broad grin "Hey babe, hope I didn't make you wait too long." glancing to the other man he arches an eyebrow "Whose your friend there, I don't think I've seen him around." And already the tattoo artist is making himself at home claiming a seat beside Harper, the puppy hopping and leaping and eager for her attention and praise.

James turns- well, more like lightly jumps, as Harper calls out. Bit of tunnel vision at the moment, perhaps. Probably because he was keeping an eye on that ocean, lest it try anything funny. Which, to be fair, in this town, wouldn't be entirely surprising. He looks curiously at Harper, eyes widening, then narrowing, as if trying to place her, before, slowly but surely, her words manage to wriggle through to his consciousness, and he blinks, tilting his head, as if really considering her question. He seems to come to the conclusion that there really is no good reason why not, and is about to say that, when Geoff and the puppy arrive. The man gets a quick nod, but his eyes linger on the puppy. Again, his eyes narrow, and he watches it gambol about with a slightly suspicious look. He may have found a reason why not- no, no, James, be good. People are being nice at you. You're supposed to be nice back. Not everything is a trap. Not even that puppy.

Probably.

As if realizing that it's been a solid thirty seconds since the invitation was tendered and all he's done is tilt his head, squint, nod, and glare, James shakes his head a bit to clear it, and tries on a smile for size instead. This one's a little too wide. "Oh, hey! Uh. Well, safety in numbers, right?", he says, then his left eye twitches. "I mean- very kind of you, if you don't mind the company, yeah?" He then takes another hit of his joint, to steady the ol' nerves, before heading over. Look, we're not saying Harper invited a stoned-out twitchy random beardo over to hang out or anything, but, well, that sure as heck is what it looks like.

Harper's invitation to James widens as Geoff crests a rocky hill and heads in her direction, a mother-freaking adorable shiba inu puppy in full cavort around him. "You got away!" She announces this to Geoff and the beach at large while looking at Geoff. She makes it sound like he was being held hostage. Make her wait too long? Nope. There's no doubt she is delighted to see the man.

About to look back to James to further extend her invitation, Harper is accosted by a mass of energetic puppy-ness. She pushes her sunglasses up atop her head and puckers her lips for the puppy as if it would know body language of that sort. The puppy -- whether spontaneously or by some strange means of communication -- licks Harper's cheek. Once. "Brilliant. My favorite humanist got free, too. Good afternoon, Erasmus." Harper speaks to the dog in the same tone of voice she used with both men. Friendly and conversational. For its part the puppy is happy with the greeting and goes about further exploring rocks and sand and detritus along the tide-line.

Harper's attention filters back to James, smiling even more warmly now, and curious about whether he'll respond to her invitation. It still stands. Unfortunately she missed the startlement with the arrival of Geoff and Raz. If asked, Harper would both reassure and warn James that Geoff and Erasmus are most definitely a trap. She reaches over and tugs on Geoff's nearer jeans-leg as if that would get him to take a seat beside her on the large blanket that much sooner.

To Geoff she murmurs, "I think I know that ... interesting fellow. Remember the older kid who hung out with Byron and Tobin and Kevin when we were in middle school? He looks like the spitting --" Harper pushes to her feet and offers a hand to James when he gets closer. "If I minded company, I would have chosen to read someplace more private. I'm Harper." She immediately slides into: "Hey, so ... you look a lot like this guy I knew, well, some of my friends knew, back in middle school. Your name isn't --" She searches for it. "Jim or Jake or something like that, is it?" Harper absolutely invited a stoned-out, twitchy, partly-random beardo to come share her blanket. Infer what you will from that.

Geoff opens up the plastic bag, in it are a collapsible water bowl for the puppy, a bottle of water with which he fills it and more enticingly two small to go boxes. Opening them up he sets them down on the blanket, reveal toasted ravioli and fried mushrooms, the man having come baring gifts. With a wolfish grin he comments to James "Don't let Erasmus there get to you too much, she'll worry your shoe and then muse over the nature of free will. You know, puppy things." Turning his head he leans over and presses a kiss to Harper's cheek "Hey babe."

Geoff eyes the other man thoughtfully before commenting back to Harper "He does look slightly familiar....Did I stab him in prison?" snapping he tries to pu his finger on just what it was "Oh yeah, Jimmy two thumbs, was trying to put the screws to me for the AB and then I just shanked him when he to get me." rubbing his chin he muses over the fate of Jimmy Two Thumbs.

"James.", James says, taking Harper's offered hand to shake lightly. "James Hecker. Last of his name." He pauses, as he takes his hand back, and looks off to the side. "... which, all things considered, is probably for the best right now." He tilts his head, considering. "I grew up around here til' I was 17. Been back a few months.", he explains, then gives Geoff a slight smile at the warning about the puppy. "S'ok. I just have a thing about small fast-moving things. Or, large fast-moving things. Or really, just sudden movements in general." He shrugs. "It's the town." And then mention is made of getting stabbed in prison, and he blinks. "I, ah, don't think I've been to prison, much less shanked in one, but, to be fair, I'm really high right now, so, I really can't guarantee I haven't."

"James," Harper echoes. "Right. That sounds ..." James Hecker. Last of his name? That earns a quiet roll of laughter from Harper. "Harper Price. I think we know people who know us both." She gestures to plenty of remaining room on the blanket. "Please join us. I've got some sliced veggies and some blueberries and sliced kiwi. And it looks like Geoff brought some absolutely sinful treats, too. We'd be happy to share any or all of it."

Harper draws back her hand after a friendly but inobtrusive shake, and kneels back down on the blanket, sliding to one hip to lean a bit into Geoff. Erasmus, the female shiba named after a male philosopher continues to explore the fascinating terrain of the beach. So much to take in. From her bag, Harper pulls out a container of washed blueberries, another of the green fruit, then a larger bowl filled with celery sticks, baby carrots, sliced cucumber and bell peppers. She reaches for one of the beverage cups that Geoff delivered and smells queryingly at it with a winsome bit of a smile and an uptipping of her brow.

"So James Hecker, last of your name, this is Geoff Turner, best of his name." She pauses as the sea wind gusts, lifting a hand to draw her hair away from her face. "We both grew up here, too." As would have been evidenced by her roundabout introduction previous. "Welcome back to Gray Harbor. Mind if I ask what brought you home?" She reaches over and plucks up a few blueberries to pop into her mouth without abandoning what looks like a genuinely inquisitive expression that simmers in her sparkling brown eyes. Geoff's commentary about Jimmy Two Thumbs draws at some more of that almost too-good-to-be-real laughter from Harper. No time like the present to gauge James' sense of humor.

The cup is definitely full of artisinal hot chocolate, with maybe the faintest note of caramel running through it. Picking up one of the ravioli he takes a bite from it and chews on it contemplatively, his attention turning to the Shiba who is now stalking a crab on the shore as if somehow the crustacean might have missed the pooch crouched two feet away. Raising his hand he rubs lightly at Harper's back "Welcome back man, great to have you." with a laugh he offers a friendly smile "Not to tell you how to live your life, but you might want to keep your head about you now that you're back. Never know what's going to come up."

"Same thing that made me leave town in the first place.", James replies, as he takes a seat near the edge of the blanket, making sure to leave room for Jesus. Or at least room to make a run for it if needed. "Death in the family." He realizes how that might have sounded, and tries to fix it, smiling sheepishly. "It's ok, I didn't particularly like my Uncle." Yeah, that's much better, James. Geoff's words draw a slightly more natural smile from him. "Dude, that's exactly the reason I try to stay nice and mellow. This fucking town'd kill me otherwise.", he says, then looks back towards the city, away from the sea. "Offense meant.", he tells it, before turning back to the other two and glancing down at the food, all of which looks very good, if dangerously healthy. "Thanks, but I wouldn't wanna intrude on your lunch any more than I already am, yeah? Besides, I came prepared. I am an experienced stoner, and I know what my body needs when the munchies hit. Which is right about..." He digs into the big front pocket of his hoodie, and pulls out a bag of Funyuns and a Twix. "... now." He starts opening the Funyuns (... sorry, ladies, he's taken), and glances back at Harper. "Huh. You know, ah, Byron, by any chance? Or Lilith?"

Death in the family. A story Harper is far too familiar with. "I lost my mother and then my father," she replies candidly after James finishes his addendums to his initial statement. Among others. "But I stayed. There's something to be said for soaking in it." The smile has faded, but the alert interest remains. "I'm sorry about your Uncle either way," she adds. "The gruesome nature of Things here sticks around like a racist relative. You put up with them. But sometimes it means an extra bottle of wine with dinner. And thick skin." Harper manages to sound both warm and blunt. It could be superficiality, a coping mechanism, or she could actually be more 'off' than she appears.

Jesus (or hay-soos as Harper calls him) has plenty of room on the blanket. Harper lifts the hot chocolate for a slow swallow. "Mmmm. Perfect. Remind me to interrupt your work more often, Turner." To the ability of the town to kill a person, Harper nods once, twice slowly. "It does have its murderous charm." She flickers a glance to the ocean. The tide is definitely coming in. They have perhaps 20 or 30 minutes before the sneaker waves reach the blanket. "Challenging the Pacific is definitely one way to go," she observes thoughtfully.

Healthy food it is. Though the two warm items Geoff brought are a bit more decadently savory. James' Funyuns remind Harper to reach for a mushroom. "You really have a lingering concern about intruding, James Hecker," Harper observes. "You needn't, but far be it from me to tell you what to do." A teasing bit of a smile returns. "Does the pot help?" she asks bluntly. Does she know Byron and Lilith? "Yes," is her warmer reply. "They're friends. It's been a few months since I was last over helping them clean up after an ... incident. But I do. And, if my memory is correct, I think you might have been part of their gaming group. Is that correct?"

Geoff nods slowly as he listens to James as if he certainly understood the place that recreational drugs had in the fight for survival (he doesn't) "Yeah I know Byron and Lilith, saw him just the other night. It's been an age since I last hung out with Lily though." As he says this Erasmus comes trotting up to the blanket, proudly holding a squirming crab in her mouth, showing the humans just what sort of hunting she's capable of. Leaning in, Geoff ruffles at the dog's ears and praises her for such a fine haul.

"That and the love of a good woman are the only things that do.", James replies to Harper's question about the pot, and he grins, then shrugs and looks off into the slowly approaching ocean. "Yeah, I wasn't really given a choice. After my parents died, uncle shipped me off to stay with distant family in New York." He takes a bite of his Funyuns, and then looks back over at the pair of them as they confirm they know B&L. "Oh, cool- yeah, I used to hang out with them a lot when we were kids. We played D&D together, so, feel free to never let them live that down, yeah?", he adds, with another grin. "They're helping me drag all the trash my Uncle left in the old house out so I can put the place up for sale."

Harper considers James as he gives that drugs-and-romance response. James stares at the ocean and Harper looks to Erasmus with the floundering crab. "Razzy. You are sublime. Go clarify some butter and we'll talk." The puppy wags her tail a few times. "Yes, we did see Byron. I hope he's recovered from those claw marks." Harper reaches up with the hand not holding the hot chocolate to gently pat high and on the center of Geoff's chest as she mentions clawed skin.

"Choice is really the only thing a person has left in those situations. I'm sorry to hear you didn't get any. Since I lost Dad when I turned eighteen and there wasn't anyone else around, the state had to let me have my own choice. I'd say I'm glad I stayed -- and I am -- but I have no idea what life would have been like if I'd gone somewhere else. It really doesn't even feel like an option. It's like Gray Harbor owns me in some not unpleasant fashion. There are defining reasons to say, and really very few compelling reasons to leave." Harper sounds as though she both understands the implications of what she's said and that she still means it. Make what conclusions from that that you will.

"I definitely don't let them live it down. Problem is: it's not good fodder if they're proud of it." Harper's smile warms once again. "So you're living in your passed uncle's house and you need help de-trashing it? James, last of your name, I know we've only just met, but Geoff and I would be happy to be two more bodies helping with your task if you want us. We're hard workers, but ...if you want to run our names past Byron first, I'd totally understand." Now Harper reaches for a slice of kiwi, setting her cup down on the blanket and leaning her shoulder back against the front of Geoff's nearer shoulder.

Geoff gets a call from work and has to run. He kisses Harper on the cheek and collects the puppy, then takes his leave.

James wrinkles his nose at Harper. "Trust me- much as I hate it here, I wish I'd never left. It's so much better out there. So much better your brain scrambles." He shudders. "Think I'm stuck here for the foreseeable future. I can't go through that again." He blinks as Harper offers their help with clearing out the house. As Geoff heads out, James turns his full attention on Harper. "Well, that's, uh, really good of you to offer, but I feel like I'd be doing you a disservice if I ddin't warn you ahead of time it's a real shitshow in there. Wait-", he says, and fishes out his celphone. "Here, check it out." He opens up the gallery app and queues up several pictures of the inside of the house. All of them are kinda terrifying- the place is a hoarder's wet dream. Literal mountains and piles of junk and trash and just stuff piled up everywhere, little paths carved between them.

Harper's brown-eyed gaze skims over James' face at the nose-wrinkling, taking him in entirely. "I think I hear what you're saying. But it sounds like you have to live through it to really understand the enormity of the experience." He backpedals a bit through her offer and she simply cants her head faintly to one side. "Shitshows are our speciality," she replies with mild amusement. The librarian reaches for the phone itself when pictures are offered. She flips through a few and hands it back without having snooped further. "It definitely looks like a mother of a mess," she agrees. Leaving it off there, she implies that the offer hasn't changed with the added information. "That kind of job? You want a good group of people tackling it at once. And Geoff and I are definitely people. The 'good' part is more of a beholder thing, I think." A bit of a conspiratorial smile. "Is it distressingly forward of me to offer my number?"

"It is, but I'll get over it.", James quips back, and hands her his cel again. "Go ahead and add yourself, yeah?" He leans back. "Also there are roaches. Possibly a Roach King. Which I'm increasingly certain is an actual thing. But, more importantly, yeah, I can't do it alone. Hell, it's all I can do to just exist in there. All that stuff, all those damn memories... it's like living in a minefield. I'd go insane before I even managed to make a dent in a single one of those junk piles.", he says, matter-of-factly.

Harper's laughter is quiet, mingling with the sound of the surf and the gusty wind. "That you will. I have confidence in you, James." Harper once more reaches for the cell phone and flips through a few screens until she finds contacts. 'Harper Price' is entered along with her own cell number. Then she offers it back to James. She's not so bold as to demand his number. Surprise! The librarian does have some tact. Sometimes. Maybe. "Marvelous. I've always wanted to meet a Roach King. I hear they put on fabulous soirees." A more playful smile. The woman is consistently amiable. Some might even say ruthlessly so. "How long have you been living in those hallowed, haunted halls of memories?" Harper nods slowly to the last. "It's not a job for one person. And if you're a person who is connected to the piles in some way, that makes it even more difficult. All the time and history and memories and emotions tied up in so many things. Completely overwhelming, I'm sure." A wave slides up to two feet away from one edge of the blanket. Harper either doesn't notice or doesn't mind.

"Yeah, a lot of people do. That's a lot of expectation to put on a semi-failed writer, you know.", James replies in a deadpan to her confidence in him. "And I've been there since October. I mostly just keep to my bedroom. S'the only clean room in the house. Or I stay at Diana's. But I hate imposing on her, y'know?" Yes, because accepting an invitation from the woman who, against all odds or sense of reason in the universe, loves you, is an imposition.

"So much expectation," Harper commiserates with a small grin. "Since October. It's definitely time for a cleaning party. And you have good taste in friends." Harper may be biased. The grin fades to a faint frown at the mention of him keeping to his bedroom. "I don't know who Diana is, but I have a feeling you're not imposing on her at all."