2020-06-02 - Sitka Grand Opening

Everything about the Grand Olympic Casino is gleaming, including Sitka and its adjoining piano bar, Eighty-Eight. Despite that, there is warmth to the decor and general atmosphere. It's past the prime dinner time, approaching 9 o'clock. Although there are some late diners on the restaurant side, the piano bar is the place to be.

There's a pianist at the piano (notably not the general manager, who is himself a competent pianist) playing upbeat but still atmospheric jazz standards. The general level of dress is slightly above what it will likely settle out to - more New Year's Eve and less 'Saturday on the town.' But then, this is a special occasion. Although the casino has been officially open for awhile, and the restaurant has taken a few reservations, it hasn't been publicized to let the kitchen work out all the kinks. But now, they're officially open - and there's sparkling wine and passed appetizers to celebrate.
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The food is heavily local-inspired, with a bias to seafood and local game. Some of the morsels being passed show off what's on offer on the restaurant side rather than strictly the finger foods and small plates the cocktail bar will offer on a regular basis. The bartenders are mixing up classic cocktails, with regionally-produced spirits, bitters and interesting recipes. There's an oyster bar where a wide selection rest on ice, and a staff member shucks them in front of the crowd and serves them up by the each. All in all, it's certainly an elevated experience for Gray Harbor - the home of a diner where you can't even get service.

The man of the hour, Dante Taylor, is not easily within view. He's been around during dinner service, flitting in and out of the kitchen and behind the bar. But given the fact that people are starting to party in earnest at Eighty-Eight, it's only a matter of time before the host makes an appearance.

A statuesque woman makes her way into the piano bar, blue eyes sweeping it discerningly. Vic's tall figure is wrapped in curve-hugging black leather. The dress has spaghetti straps with a sweetheart neckline, and falls to the knee, while having a higher back panel than one would expect in such a garment. Her hair is swept to one side and falls in thick waves, her makeup includes a red lip, and her heels are strappy, pushing her easily over six feet in height.

She heads for the bar proper, because monied affairs like this require alcohol to get through. She orders straight up whiskey, not putzing around with any of the fancier cocktails. Anyone who's been subjected to her bartending skills at TiBS know she hates those frou frou drinks that take effort to make.

Elias is all in black and red, from the black suit and tie to the black shirt, red vest with black brocade pattern, and matching pocket square. His glossy dark curls fall to about his chin, softening his otherwise sharp and angular features. The silver rings on his fingers go along with the silver cufflinks and tie tack. Armed with a glass in one hand, he lingers not far from the bar, watching with a little smile as the guests for the opening mill about, enjoying observing the turnout from his vantage point.

Cris arrived a little early, and despite his best efforts, he still looks like a body or security guard at this little shindig. He's near the wall in the piano bar as if his mere presence is holding up the supports of the Eighty-eight, hand clasping opposing wrist in front of him. At least he dressed for the occasion, wearing a three piece suit, the black tuxedo jacket and vest with black satin edges against a pale violet shirt with a little chain that connects and weights its collar points to keep it as neat as his tie tacked skinny tie. And yes, he's eyeing everyone like they might step out of line.

It is one of those rare occasions where one finds that Devlin does clean up nicely. No jeans and grunt style tshirt this time. Devlin is wearing a nicely tailored charcoal sports coat over muted blue shirt. The satin tie is a burgundy color with a tie bar that shows polished silver senior parachutist badge. His slacks match the sports coat and show off a light burgundy leather belt with a simple silver belt buckle. His brown shoes are well polished to the point of having a mirror finish.

On Entering the new casino, Devlin makes for the bar to start the evening, ordering a top shelf single malt to start the evening off.

It's been a good day for Jeff Jackson. He got out of prison, moved into a new (for him) trailer, met some new folks and may have found some part time work. Additionally, there was some kind of grand opening thing the internet told him about. What a great thing to check out and maybe get a drink to celebrate freedom. As he makes his way through the casino he's impressed with how nice everything seems to be. By the time he gets to the piano bar it's all he can do to not gape like someone who's never seen anything fancy before. After getting an eyeful of the interior of the establishment Jefferson makes his way towards the bar proper, moseying up to it and giving the people nearest his position polite nods before he tries to flag down a bartender, "Buffalo Trace, if you got it." A wad of cash comes out of his pocket and he peels off a twenty to pay for his drink.

For a few seconds he looks over the people who got to the bar around the same time he did, noting that they seemed to be better dressed than he is. Still, he hasn't been kicked out yet. With a little bit of a smile he asks those nearby, "When did they open this casino? Do you know?"

In a different scenario, the tall Englishman who crosses the room might be mistaken for a nervous groom on his wedding day. Dante is on beeline for the bar, looking distracted. He stops by the hostess near the entrance, then forces himself to slow as he approaches the piano bar. When you wear a three piece suit on a daily basis, that doesn't leave a lot of room to dress up. Still, he's managed it. He's in an immaculately fitted black suit with satin lapels, a black button-up with a touch of sheen and a black bowtie. Each bit of fabric is a slightly different texture or level of black, so the details don't get lost. It nips in at the waist, and his trousers are slim. His shoes are likewise black and classic Oxfords with a hint of silver on the sole. He stops to inspect one of the trays and the server brings it down into his view. "Good, good. Can you tell chef she can start on the second wave, please? Cheers, cheers."

Vic gets her whiskey and takes a large swig of it before she turns to regard Jefferson, with one brow arching upwards slightly. He may be newly out, but she's mostly new to town, so his face isn't familiar. Not unless he ever got arrested in Portland prior to 2015. "Couple weeks ago I think. There was some chatter about it around then."

Cristobal gets an upnod from the woman. Business 'associates' one might say. Well one usually won't say because that will likely get one punched.

The opening of the Grand Olympic had brought several investors and business types to Gray Harbor. Many of them are here on the invite from Byron Thorne in his continued attempts to lure in business to not only his investments, but for the town as a whole. So with this grand opening of one of the more highly anticipated establishments within the casino, of course the business man and entrepreneur is here with several of his associates and friends from abroad.

It's not surprising to find Thorne donning a well-tailored and expensive fancy three-piece suit in a dark slate hue with a deep amethyst tie. Just like with the casino's grand opening, he's all smiles, showing his moneyed friends around, a glass of champagne in hand. When he spots the man of the hour at the bar, Byron leads the group in that direction, though he gestures towards the piano as he does so, "If any of you have an urge to tickle the ivory, you'll find an audience here for your endeavors. Just make sure to get some practice in before you volunteer." This erupts in a bit of laughter from those around him.

"Ah, I'm sure some of you know the name Dante Taylor." He says, making some form of introduction, "Especially those of you trying your hand at writing yourselves." He wide and friendly enough grin is given those at the bar as well, being cordial and stuff.

Devlin replies to Jefferson, "Pretty new, I haven't had to make a run here," there a slight pause, "Yet." His tone implying that he knows it will happen one day. He takes a moment to look over the others at the bar as he inhales the aroma of the good scotch, savoring the the scent before he sips at it. "Ah.. yes.. " clearly very pleased.

There is a subtle shift in Cris' form as Vic gives him an up-nod. He raises his hand, scratches the side of his nose with this thumb nail in a subtle 'I see you' gesture and then goes right back to standing like a bouncer ready to haul someone off if they get rowdy, even though this is NOT the strip club and it's NOT his job. His eyes flicker over to the man of the hour, looking tempted to snag Dante away from work mode and thrust him into partying mode, but there is Byron approaching dripping dollar signs as he walks. Better to stay put for the moment.

"I was... Out of town until today," Jefferson replies to Vic with a little bit of a nod. "Gotta get back in the swing of things. I mean, I remember when the gambling around here was limited to poker in my buddy's basement, playing for quarters. Now..." he trails off and gestures to their surroundings. "Can't beat a spot like this." As his drink is served he takes a sip, nodding his head approvingly. His attention turns towards Devlin and he nods, "Haven't made a run? You're dressed nice for an armored car guy. Maybe a..." He looks the other guy up and down again, "Cop, maybe? Lots of ex-military guys go in for that stuff, right?"

Dante spots Cris just as Byron is making his way up. The writer-turned-restaurateur tosses the bouncer a wink, then puts on his best thousand-watt smile for Byron and company. "Mister Thorne. So pleased you could make it." He offers his hand to shake, and then looks politely to the entourage, waiting to be introduced. If there's one thing he knows how to do, it's glad-hand. That partially comes from English society, but partially from networking at writing event.

Good conversations make for long dinners. Sparrow and Rhys are slow abandoning their table in the restaurant proper to join the festivities at the bar, but they're certainly eye-catching when they do. Especially Sparrow. That short, spaghetti-strap dress was made to draw attention, its large sequins catching the light and glinting a rainbow of shades from darker reds and greens to brighter pinks and blues. The purple hair doesn't hurt either. While she keeps one hand curled about Rhys' arm, the other lifts to waggle a wave toward Cristobal where he's holding up the wall near the piano before those digits lift toward her lips to blow a kiss to Elias near the bar. With a tip of her head toward her date, she wonders, "Trust me with your drink order?" with the sort of smirk that says she'd be willing to bet he will.

Ironically for Jefferson, the ex-cop is the one on his other side in the leather dress. Vic snorts softly and tosses back the rest of her whiskey, signaling the tender for another one. "Personally, I prefer the poker game in the basement crowd. The drinks are cheaper, the antes won't cost me an arm and a leg." She smirks at the men, and takes her fresh drink to go peruse the free finger foods, the real reason she's here.

Byron is surrounded by six men in suits, but he does his best to introduce each of them to Dante. Some of them are fans of Taylor's work and one even asks if he can have an autograph at some point, when the writer's not so busy.

"Are you in this sleepy little town by the Bay for a book?" Says one of his those fans. An investor from L.A. "Your non-fiction really made me want to go out and explore the weird, you know?" Like it's a cool thing. As a fake aside, one hand lifted to 'hide' his mouth, he asks aloud, "Got any spoooooky dirt on this place yet? I'm still considering whether I am to permanent place here. You know, for atmosphere and chill."

As the business types all chat and shake hands with Dante, Byron's own gaze sweeps the area. Gray Harbor is a small town, so most faces are familiar ones, especially for someone like him who grew up here. Eventually, Thorne will bring up, shaking Taylor's hand while placing a firm palm on the writer's shoulder, "Congratulations. This place /looks/ great. Knew it would create a lot of buzz."

Ruiz would be easy to miss in the crowd of well-dressed WASPish socialites, if he was either well dressed or the least bit WASPish. Unfortunately, the Mexican's gone and decided that a black sport jacket thrown over a faded tee and snug black jeans, which are tucked in turn into heeled calfskin boots, constitutes snazzy. And it really doesn't. If he didn't scream COP to anyone in the know, he'd probably scream criminal, with the quantity of ink scrawled up his arms - briefly visible when he goes to reach for a drink off a passing server's tray with a murmured gracias. He's taking stock of who's here while he does so, dark eyes flitting keenly from face to face, pausing longer on some than others.

Itzhak is around here somewhere! The new suit he's wearing is sleek, slim-fit in gently iridescent blue-black, paired with a waistcoat of nubbly gray silk, a crisp white shirt, and a black tie subtly patterned in slightly shinier black. The shoes are new too, which is great, because he's never been seen in fancy shoes before. These are brogued wingtip derbys in black, with cherry-red toes and cherry-red leather peeking through various details. An enamel snake pin is on his lapel. He looks great, but seems distracted, fretful, his violin in his arms so he can fidget with it.

Saluting with his drink, "Right on one count.. missed the target for the other count. Paramedic, everyone's best friend once the lead takes a break from flying." Devlin sips his drink. "Alot to be said for a basement game or one in the barracks." He snags a little finger food from a passing waiter. "More fun.. hopefully friendly.. till you are at someone else's post.. then time to avoid the fun and play like you mean it." He smiles, "Had a friend worth bank rolling till the jarheads put his ass into intensive care." He shrugs over a drink as he shakes his head a little.

"Ah yes, it started out as a nonfiction book in my Dark Heart series. But I found it's given me more inspiration for a new horror novel. It is quite atmospheric," says Dante to the one fan that Byron brought. "And it gets me out of my English town rut, you know. Widen my audience." The staff is very good, because without even asking for it, a bartender delivers him an Old Fashioned.

He leans in when Byron addresses him. "Well, you provided some fine, fine bones. I've only put a little flesh on them." He makes a little more smalltalk with the investor-types, then politely excuses himself. He makes a bee line for Cristobal, then leans in to kiss him on the cheek. "Hello darling. You look smashing. But please do stop holding up the wall. Ah, Sandra," he waves down one of the servers. "...this man drinks on the house. And so does...hm. Have you seen Elias about?"

"Yeah, me too. I just had to see what changed in town since I went away," Jefferson says to Vic with a little bit of a shrug. "Plus, I don't know if the game's still going on." His attentions turn to Devlin and Jeff grins, "I was never good at spotting cops. Nice to meet a paramedic, though. Haven't ever had to call one of you guys for myself, lucky enough, but I appreciate the stuff you do." Then he grows a little more serious, "Sorry about your friend. I never liked the idea of hurtin' somebody just because they beat you at a game."

It's a Gray Harbor miracle. Or just a rare chance to attend a schmoozy, jazz-imbued cocktail hour in swanky new digs. Harper isn't particularly dressy with her hair pulled into a smooth ponytail at her nape, wearing a lightly beaded, champagne-hued dress that leaves her shoulders bare. She pauses to accept a flute of sparkling wine from someone carrying a tray, then begins a slow circuit of the space itself, enjoying the music and the opportunity to openly watch the who's-who of Gray Harbor rubbing elbows and engaging in potentially witty repartee.

Vic nabs something tasty-looking off a passing tray, pops it into her mouth, and then proceeds to stalk the waiter with the tray to snag another, prowling after him like a predator who is very, very hungry. She gives off that predatory vibe normally, but right now she's really famished and that morsel of food was delicious. She grabs another, just as she crosses paths with her favorite nemesis, Ruiz. She mumbles something his way through a mouthful of food. It might be his name. It might be 'fuck you'. Who knows?

Elias gives Sparrow a little smile and a lift of his glass in her direction from where he lingers by the bar, watching. He drifts from his spot, making his way through the crowd, and greets one or two others that he recognizes among those gathered, but he seems content to remain on the periphery for the time being. He watches Dante and Byron for a moment, and then as he heads over toward Cristobal. He smiles a little bit to Harper as he passes nearby and murmurs to her, "You look lovely tonight." No particular witty repartee, just quiet greeting in passing.

Cristobal's mouth pulls to the side in a bit of a smirk as Dante tosses a wink his way, looking less like a hint of amusement and more like a mischievous promise. His eyes try not to linger though, straying away from the business men gathered around him like a flock of well monied sheep. The sight of Sparrow giving him a little wave in that dress makes him stop in his tracks, a finger hooking in his collar and giving a mimicked 'is it hot in here' gesture back. With a slight jolt of surprise, he realizes Dante has actually managed to sneak up on him, his hand going out to stray at the other man's hip as he's cheek kissed. "It might fall down if I move. That one contractor looked a little shady." The pot calling the kettle black, of course. "I think he's lingering in the shadows near the bar." He nods toward where he last saw Elias. "You should've picked some more gregarious arm candy for your grand opening."

With connections being made and quite a few of his fellow investors being impressed that they were able to meet Dante Taylor in person, Byron's work here is mostly done. Taking a sip from his champagne glass, his eyes flicker over to Itzhak and Ruiz. "Now if you will all excuse me, I have people to greet, but feel free to mingle. I'll be a text message away." Pulling away from one group, he offers up a shit-eating smile over at the pair he'd just spied, "Rosencrantz and de la Vega. It's great to see that you're enjoying what the Grand Olympic has to offer." He's not judging Ruiz on his attire. People can wear what they want. Mostly.

"Well, I did until you asked me that," Rhys replies to Sparrow, smirking back, "...eh, what the hell. First round's in your court." He's in a plaid charcoal suit tonight, three piece and with nice shoes, which hopefully makes up for the fact that he skipped out on a tie this time. The pale purple shirt coordinates well with his date's hair, though! And contrasts nicely with his own, for that matter. He greets various people they pass with grins and a small lift of his free hand, plus a little upnod here and there. Vic gets one of the latter; so do Byron and Dante, but he's not inclined to interrupt either investor-wrangling or boyfriend-greeting just now, so it stays at that. "Am I supposed to let you go off and get them alone so I'm suitably surprised?" he asks Sparrow.

August is in his plum and silver-lavender number, which is a cut above most of his other suits. He's here to enjoy himself at least a little, given the last few days he's had, on top of a ghost showing up to harass Eleanor in his own goddamned cabin. (He's still mad about that. He's also proud of himself for not breaking the mirror.) His Glimmer remains oddly dimmed, though not so much as before.

He heads to the bar to get a beer--a pint of something brown--and meanders towards Dante and company. He raises his glass to both Thorne and Dante. "Everything looks fabulous, you two. Now I've got a nice place to take Ellie to for special occasions."

All the boozing and schmoozing gives Ruiz ample opportunity to observe the procession of eye candy in attendance tonight. The bonbon gift-wrapped in the red dress who winks as she passes him by. The brunette in the sleek ponytail and champagne-coloured, figure-skimming number whom his dark eyes rake over as he prowls past, drink at his lips. Then Itzhak Rosencrantz in his new suit, clutching his violin to him for dear life, who gets the longest look of all. And he's still watching him when Vic steps in close and mumbles something at him. A slanted look is sent her way, an almost-flash of teeth at her. "Perdón?"

"I'm plenty gregarious for the both of us," says Dante. "Come on. As much as I enjoy the mystique that there's someone famous here and you're their bodyguard, you're making some people nervous. Have a drink." He takes Cris' hand and tugs him inwards a little. "Have a drink, have a drink. Sandra, have Julius mix him up something classic with tequila, would you?"

He turns when August approaches, offering the man a smile. "Ah, thank you, thank you. And that was the intention. This town deserves to have a place to come and celebrate or just escape the world for awhile." Their terrible, terrible horror-filled world. Before Sandra the server can get too far, he says to her, pointing out Elias. "Also make sure that young man gets a glass of champagne and anything else he wants. Thank you."

Harper swings around to gift Elias with a small, capricious smile. "Charming man. Do feel invited to say more just like that." She toasts her glass to the author and looks him over. "Not so bad yourself, Weber." She flickers a glance around. "Where's your dashing date? Or are you casting a net tonight?" With a gaze that speaks to genuine interest she watches Elias while sipping some of that effervescent wine. Her brown eyed gaze slides from Elias to Cristobal, inquisitive. Ruiz prowls past; Harper half turns to watch him watch Itzhak.

Seeing August comes by the bar, Devlin greets, "Hey there August. Looks like a good party." And then back to being social for him. He replies to Jefferson, "He man cheated that time. Otherwise, I would have done something about it." Devlin smiles a bit in a way that could leave one wonder what Devlin might be capable of. He glances over towards Ruiz and hmms as it appears that he is interacting with Vic.. a possible bit of entertainment perhaps?

Sparrow's eyes go wide with feigned innocence that she can't even begin to sell while the grin inspired by that gesture from Cristobal lingers on her lips. "Now I'm not sure I'mma live up to the expectation of deviousness," she murmurs in answer to Rhys. Which might make one wonder if she's suddenly scheming up something a bit more wicked than whatever she initially had in mind. "If we really wanna dramatic about it, pretty sure I could coax a tie off of one of these suits and blindfold ya?" Though the upward pitch of her eyebrows implies she might actually be game for giving that a go, she doesn't wait for an answer, already starting toward the bar proper with her hand still snug on Rhys' arm, even as she orders a sazerac for each of them, no mystery at all.

Grabbing a couple of snacks from a passing server's tray, Jefferson chomps down on them quietly, watching the room carefully. There's a lot to look at. A lot of people. Slowly, trying to be nonchalant about it, he puts his back to the bar and leans against it, pulling his arms in towards his body a bit so as not to take up space. Slowly, he brings his glass back to his lips for a drink. Looking over at Devlin again Jeff nods, "Well, might have had it coming in that case." Then his brow furrows, "Did you say August? I was told to look up someone by that name, works with gardening and stuff."

Vic swallows down the appetizer she shoved in her mouth and chases it with another slug of whiskey to clear her throat. "I said 'what the fuck are you wearing?'" she glances Ruiz up and down and his sincerely not jazzy enough for a piano bar grand opening outfit. "Jesus Javier, even I put on a goddamned dress." Pause. "Which I cannot fucking breathe in. Goddammit." She adjusts the leather hem a bit with a scowl and looks about as cheerful as she does when bartending. Rhys gets his nod returned. Itzhak gets a looking over, remembering him and August as well, from that weird ass ghost at TiBS.

Cristobal moves stiffly at first as Dante tugs him into the fray of socialization, "Fine. I'll drink." Not that he wasn't planning on it already, but he had yet to start. Maybe whatever Sandra comes back with will make him look less like he's ready to knock heads together. In an effort to look casual, he shoves his free hand in his pocket, greeting August with his new nickname of, "Garden Gnome." In a low rumble, eyes on the proprietor of the Branch and Bole momentarily before it shifts to drift over Ruiz and follow his line of gaze to the fiddling fiddler.

Itzhak historically speaking can work a room and party like it's nineteen ninety nine, once sufficiently lubricated. He's in the process of trying to get that lubricated, but he's not making a lot of headway; a half-empty glass of champagne at his elbow, and that's it. His hands are on his violin, pizzicato-plucking the strings. There's a lot of gorgeousness to look at, men and women beautifully dressed, but he's got his curly dark head down over his instrument. But when Ruiz comes in, he lifts his head to look at him...and looks at him, eyes sliding ever so slowly over him. That makes him smile a little. And Byron comes over, and Itzhak jerks a little upnod at him. "Thorne, how's by ya. Hey, I know we ain't got a chance to talk yet, we gotta do that."

Byron was merely doing his rounds, greeting familiar faces, making sure that everyone was enjoying themselves. He had stakes in the casino as a whole and Sitka was a part of that. From out of the corner of his eye, he spots August's arrival, his attention being further drawn when the man offers up congratulations. Grinning brightly, the entrepreneur says with laughter in his voice, "I was just here to sign off on some paper work. The concept and everything, that was all Mister Taylor." He then quickly adds, "Great to see you here, Roen."

With Harper and Elias being so near, along with everyone else apparently, he smiles just as brightly to the pair of familiar faces, " Harper, Elias. Did you take the ferry over or did you drive the half mile?" He's always curious about how people actually get the floating establishment. That's when he notices someone he needs to speak to off in the near distance. His other business partner, Rhys. If anything, he'll make eye contact, meaning that they need to talk, but look, Itzhak brings something up that he'd been thinking on. "For sure. I... might need my car looked at. Got into a bit of an altercation recently on the road."

For now, Devlin wanders away from the bar, drink in hand while skillfully balancing some finger food beneath the drink glass. His free hand used to snag various interesting goodies from passing wait staff trays and also to take bites. He passes by small groups, the man that does not appear to have a group for the moment. His gaze seems to take in both the people that are here and the decor of the bar and casino. He takes note of some slots that are in view at the edge of the gambling floor and just shakes his head.

"I'll consider the invitation," Elias says to Harper with an amused smile. "I can clean up when the occasion calls for it, and I figured this is the occasion. I'm here as we all are, to celebrate Dante's opening." He gestures with his glass in the man's general direction, noting the direction in which her gaze turns. He smiles, practiced and easy. His drink is tipped back and finished, glass set on a tray just in time for a glass of champagne to be handed to him by one of Sandra's minions. He lifts the champagne in Dante and Cristobal's direction, takes a swallow from it, and then turns toward Byron at the sound of his voice. "I took the ferry," Elias says, "It was a pleasant enough ride over. Relaxing." Then he says, "Pity. That car is far too pretty for altercations."

Ruiz downs a swallow of his drink, flicks his eyes over the sleekly-attired fiddler once more, then slides his gaze away slow to meet Vic's blues. Predatory intensity is matched, pound for pound, and he even has to lift his chin a fraction to make up for the slight difference in height; she's taller than him. "Yeah, well, I wore a fucking jacket. What more do you want?" He also wore prada boots worth a few thousand dollars, so there's that, too. "The fuck are you doing at a party like this, anyway? Got some business lined up, hmm?" His eyes go a little hooded at the hmm, creasing up with crow's feet at the corners. He's peripherally aware of Byron passing nearby, and Roen too, and gives both men an upnod in greeting. Devlin, as well, gets a brief glance of recognition.

"Who is Mr. Taylor, then? Because it's quite stunning," Harper says to Byron, sweeping her glass around to indicate the space. "Tell me Rosencrantz going to play and I'll bring you muffins every day for a week, Byron." she reaches over to tug at Byron's expensive sleeve with a sparkle of a smile. Elias speaks and Harper turns her smile back to him. "There really was never any doubt about your abilities, my friend. Just the hope of one day being there to see it. I suppose that would make this evening 'one day'." She then lowers her voice to inquire, "Is Dante Mr. Taylor? Because the man deserves all the best praise for this achievement. It's so beyond Gray Harbor." Ruiz walks those expensive boots closer to where she's standing to address Vic; something he says quirks the librarian's smile. She looks back between Elias and Byron. "I think I'll go pester Rosy before he starts to play."

"Don't go back to holding up the wall, all right? I'll be right back." Dante gives Cristobal's shoulder a squeeze. Just about then, he's delivered a drink called a Swiss Cartel, which is a Negroni with tequila.

As he crosses the room, he grins at Elias and looks with approval at the delivered drink, then heads towards the piano. The player stops tinkling away, and a server delivers him a cordless microphone. He steps up on a bit of a raised area towards the window, just past the grand piano.

"Ah, hello, hello. Good evening, ladies and gentleman," says the Englishman into the microphone. It's loud enough to cut through the din of chatter. "My name is Dante Taylor, and I am the general manager here at Sitka. God. Is that really what I am? How the bloody hell did I get into this?" He smiles and shakes his head. "For those of you who know me, know my actual profession is as a writer. But I am an aggressively social creature, and this town has captured me in her claws. It seemed a good fit to bring a place like this to Gray Harbor." He pauses, sips his drink, then sets it aside on a nearby table and exchanges the microphone to his other hand. "I wanted to first off, thank Mister Byron Thorne for his vision for this town and this casino," he motions towards Byron. "It takes a man with love for his home to invest this much in it and want to bring new people to its shores. I also wanted to thank Chef Stephanie Johnson and her team, who have been working for weeks now perfecting our menu." He pauses and motions to the staff and back towards the kitchen and then applauds. "I can confidently say you'll find the finest food not only in town - no offense to the Grizzly Den Diner." A good-natured eyeroll. "...but in the region. It's truly extraordinary." Then he stands, looking at the grand piano. "I admit to wishing to indulge myself. Would you all hate me if I plonked a tune away on this remarkable instrument?"

"Pretty sure you could," Rhys replies to Sparrow with a grin, "but I think it might lower the tone." He allows himself to be aimed barward with no resistance, sauntering easily along with her. "Maybe later." He seems entirely content with her choice of cocktail, as well, so apparently the trust was well-placed. He's just taking the first sip when his gaze catches Byron's and reads the meaning there, brows lifting a touch and followed by a slight nod. Okay, they can talk later. Another glance around is more appraising, taking in the room and crowd as a whole. "Came out pretty nice, didn't it?" he murmurs to Sparrow, falling silent as the place's most direct manager starts to speak.

"If it were business, I wouldn't be in heels and a dress, and you wouldn't see me, Javier," Vic points out with a smirk. "I'm here for the free appetizers." And as secondary muscle to make sure the event goes smoothly. Most people have an inkling Monaghan has his fingers in the Casino, so it's not a big surprise some of his people are around to keep an eye on things.

"Why the hell are you here? Doesn't seem like your kind of scene either. Or are you here to arrest people?" she asks with a smirk and a flash of her own canines at the cop. She frowns. "I think the waitstaff is on to me, they're avoiding me so I don't mug them for those little pastry things with the beef in them." Scowl. Scowl. She pauses while Dante makes his speech, and looks like she's about had her fill of fancy shindigs.

"Might?" Itzhak echoes Byron, squinting at him. "Altercation? What, someone decide ya face is too pretty?" His fingers don't pause on the strings, picking out something that might be 'Bad Romance'. "Well anyway, I'm redoing the shop, but bring 'er on by." He glances back at Ruiz, finds him squaring off with that ill-tempered bartender from Marshall's place, and his eyes go narrow and hard. That schnozz of his can smell trouble. Then Dante's on the mic, and Itzhak turns his head to focus on him with one ear, but his eyes? Still on Ruiz and Vic.

Byron may have started stag, but eventually, Lilith shows up to decorate his arm. Wearing a little strapless black minidress, the lower skirt has subtle layering and flare to it by the hem, but up until the hips, it's curve-snug with notable play up to décolletage, clearly designer despite the fact there's not that much dress. She's accent decorated with her full set of Piaget diamond rose jewelry, delicate pieces that sparkle on the light, and flashed up with tall red strappy heels and red lipstick. She's also trying to sneak slip her way in and through the crowd to come up and kiss a certain tall, dark, and handsome on the cheek.

"Sorry. Had an issue." Lilith tells Byron once she's finally made it over to his side, clipping her phone away in her clutch purse before looking around at the bar with consideration, then Byron's glass, "I'll have whatever you're having, m'dear."

"Of course," Elias says to Harper as she begins to make her way away, and instead turns his attention to listen to Dante as he gives his speech. When he mentions playing a tune on the piano, Elias lifts his hands in approving applause, presuming that the crowd will do likewise, to encourage Dante, indeed, to play something.

Itzhak adds, calling at Dante, "Play somethin' willya Taylor!"

"Oi, no heckling, Rosencrantz," says Dante, sotto voice into the microphone. "Or I'll goad you into accompanying me so I don't make an arse of myself."

"Excellent crowd," August agrees with Devlin as he departs the bar. "And great to see you here. Don't be a stranger."

He bobs his eyebrows at Dante. "An excellent idea." Even if August is still contractually obligated to hate the casino. He can like parts of it, right? Right.

He grins at Cris, meanders over towards the fidgety Itzhak. "Hey. How you holding up." He tracks Itzhak's concerned attention on Ruiz and Vic. "Mmm. They look like old friends." 'Friends'.

Managing even with his balancing act of food and drink, Devlin manages to make some polite applause for Dante to play. He nods to August, "You know me.. workaholic at times when we are short."

It's not so many steps for Harper to end up beside Itzhak. She speaks low on the edge of a breath. "Rosy, Rosy, Rosy... you really shouldn't wear things like this. Think of the collateral damage." She pauses to glance toward the man at the microphone, her question answered. Voila. Once he finishes speaking she looks back to the fiddler who hasn't yet had enough to drink. The violin is out. "What flavor are you going to beguile us with tonight?" A gesture with her glass toward the tuned instrument.

"Keep heckling, Rosencrantz," Rhys suggests brightly. Some threats just need to get fulfilled. And he needs to get to have a nice cocktail and appetizers while they do.

Armed with a drink and abandoned by Dante, Cris glances back over his shoulder at that wall. That oh so welcoming wall. But, this is Taylor's night and he's here to support him, not the structure, so he starts to make his way around the room, prowling closer to the piano as Dante gives his speech and then threatens to play, ending up near Elias. "Not sure if we're supposed to work out some kind of rotation." Though the grumble sounds good natured at least?

"You threaten me with baked goods all the time." Byron says with a laugh to Harper. "Not that I'm complaining or anything." Though, when she asks about this Mister Taylor, Thorne turns his dark eyes Dante-wards. "Dante Taylor? He's a horror writer. He also does non-fiction regarding the folklore and other dark stories from various small towns. So no surprise that he's found his way here, I'd say." He eyes then alight on Elias, brows raised, "You're telling me." About his car. "It was... something."

However, Itzhak fishes for more detail in a subtle enough way and all that Byron can do is murmur, "I'll explain at the garage."

Then Lilith joins him and he leans in to give her a peck at her cheek when she decides to do the same, one of his arms wrapping around her waist as he takes those few steps towards the bar, just as Dante starts to speak. "Glad that you made it. I hope that this issue wasn't anything too harrowing?" When he asks this, he turns to Lilith, studying her features to gauge her state of mind. "I've got champagne, if that's what you're knackering for."

During part of Taylor's speech, Byron's not about to correct the man on particular things. Look, the casino was opened. That's all that mattered right? To this, he lifts his half-filled glass of champagne up as a toast to Dante and Sitka.

"Later," Sparrow agrees with certainty, like that little bit of mischief might now be written in stone. Her glass gets a little tink against Rhys' on its way up, no words given to the toast, but that might be because the official speech of the evening is starting up. Her eyes are on Dante, but that doesn't keep her from leaning in--and down, what with those heels tonight giving her about six inches on the short ginger--to murmur, "It did, yeah. And I think I like keeping the company of someone who draws as many looks as I do." Oh, sure, they were a different sort of look, but she caught them. Even if she hasn't a clue what they mean. It's new and interesting all the same. With a lift of her glass, she adds a, "Hear hear!" to her date's encouragement to Itzhak, a bright smile turned his way.

"Don't threaten me with a good time," Itzhak yells back at Dante, smirking. Which smirk kinda fades as he glances at August, then back at Ruiz. "Yeah, 'friends'," he mutters to him, "friends like Spy vs. Spy." He half-rises to tell August something in a low murmur, then he resettles, patting the strings of his violin to quiet it. And there's Harper, and he looks at her, eyebrows up. "...Things like this?" That makes him check himself out like he needs to be sure he's still wearing pants. "Uh, well, Taylor put me in this, so blame him."

Chuckling in obvious amusement at their continued banter, the cop retorts to Vic in a low murmur, "Si arrestara a la gente aquí, no estaría en prada y con una chaqueta deportiva." Then downs the last of what remains in his glass, before sliding the empty atop a passing server's tray. "Another, please," is spoken with that warm, smoke-smudged intimacy, as if he's asking for another thing entirely. The girl pauses a moment, then smiles, and goes to fetch him one from the kitchen.

Ruiz's gaze returns to the fiddler's invariably, and he watches him for a good few seconds while Dante gives his speech. Then, "Disculpe," to Vic as he brushes past, and prowls on over to the musician.

August tilts his head at Harper as she says that to Itzhak, proceeds to give him a Look. "Yes, the restaurant may never recover," he murmurs around a sip of his beer. The good humor fades at whatever Itzhak says, and August just stares. He sighs after a second, indicates the half-finished drink when a jerk of his head. "Need another?"

"Right. I am going to go home and put on sweat pants and drink beer. This place is way too fancy for my taste," Vic notes, wrinkling her nose a bit. Ruiz knows better. The former undercover cop can play any role she puts her mind to, but she is clearly just being herself right now. Maybe she should pretend more. Herself kind of sucks. She drains her whiskey glass and sets it on a passing waiter's tray, rude-like. Then she's sashaying her way out to go back to her trailer and into something more comfortable.

Dante hooks the microphone into the mic stand over the piano and tinkles his fingers across the keys. "How about this? I'll play something short, and then I'll try to keep up with Itzhak, how's that?" And then with a grin, he starts to play. He's quite competent and seems even more so because he's chosen a song he knows very well. It's 'They Can't Take That Away From Me.' He has a good voice too - well-suited to jazz standards, with decent control and warm tones. He's also a good performer too, with appropriate flourishes across the keyboard and lifted notes at just the right time. As promised, it isn't a long song. Then he leans in to the mic. "Itzhak? Come on then. Just play something we've practiced, yes?" He chuckles.

Elias glances over a little bit in surprise when Cristobal ends up near him. He looks the other man over with a faint curve to his lips and says, "You look fantastic tonight." He then takes another sip from his champagne before he leans over and murmurs something to the man standing next to him. He then lifts his glass a little bit in a quiet salute before he withdraws, setting the glass on a tray and making his way toward the exit.

"And don't you ever expect I'll stop," Harper murmurs the playful threat at Byron. Lilith shows up looking like a million bucks and Harper whistles quietly. "Lily, you do sparkle better than anyone." She turns back to Itzhak after a long look at Dante over there at the piano.

Harper's smile is secretive when she turns it back on Itzhak. "Things exactly like that," she agrees. "I'll be sure to blame Taylor. After I meet him." She takes another sip of her sparkling wine, breathing in the faint scent of rosin from his bow. Ruiz approaches and Harper half turns toward him without moving quite away from Itzhak. "Captain," she greets simply. Dante's playing definitely strikes a chord with the librarian. As Itzhak is drawn in to perform, she takes a step back. Not her spotlight.

Finishing off a few more items of finger food, Devlin then finishes his drink. Setting it on a passing waiter's tray where other empties have been collected then Devlin turns to see what happens at piano for now.

When the general manager guy starts talking into the microphone Jefferson shuts up to watch the guy speak about how good the restaurant is. The ex-con nods his head a little bit as if agreeing with him. When someone starts to clap at the idea of playing the piano Jeff joins in, trying to enjoy the party as much as he can. He picks up his drink when the applause ends and finishes it off.

His attention bounces between the other people in the bar. He peels himself away from the bar he's been resting against and heads towards one of the servers with a tray of food. Taking some from the platter he wolfs them down quickly, not really noticing where he is in relation to the rest of the room. Right by the cop in the fancy shoes, who he may accidentally bump into as he steps back and drops a pastry into his mouth. After taking a second to chew he says, "Sorry about that, man. Not used to everybody crowding around like this."

Cris no doubt had some clever retort to how he looks, but that gets cut short as Elias leans in to murmur to him. His expression darkens, realizing the man is slipping away and divesting him of any satisfaction of response. A muscle in his jaw starts twitching, the hand at his thigh curling tight into a fist. The only thing he has to take it out on is the booze he still grips and despite it being a mixed drink he drains it pretty damn fast.

"Everything is fine, took me longer than I expected to get out and then get ready. Just a snag up with counting the safe and reallocating before I left for the night. Also, I had to do my hair, I had it up all day. It was a to-do." Lilith explains to Byron, tipping her head toward his champagne glass with a silent 'yes, please' on the drink front. She leans some into the arm wrapped around her waist and strikes a sudden pose for Harper nearby, grinning with flash of red lips and neat teeth, expanse of leg popped out for a couple of beats, "Thank you, lovely."

When the attention turns over to where Dante and Itzhak are preparing to play and perform, though, she looks forward and murmurs, "See, if they're performing, I'd like to think I'm showing up just in time, regardless." Then, lowering her voice some to nearby Byron, she wonders, "Your day go okay?"

"Miss Price," Ruiz returns easily enough, snagging the librarian's gaze as she steps back, and the distraction's apparently enough to cause him to nudge Jefferson with a shoulder. And spill a small quantity of his drink. He quickly pulls the glass up and back, glances down at the damage, then back up at the older man with a slightly squinted, possibly irritated look. It takes him a full eight seconds to manage, "De nada. It's fine." A passing waitress seems to spot the situation easily enough, and offers him a napkin to dab at his shirt with. She, at least, stops short of doing the dabbing herself.

"Just imagine how many I'd get if I were wearing that," Rhys murmurs back with a little tilt of his head to Sparrow's dress and a less-little grin. Almost certainly lots, though probably not because it would suit him nearly as well. He doesn't seem the least bit bothered by the current height difference, but to be fair, there's upsides to the angle he's currently got. Neither does he seem inclined to explain what the looks he is getting mean, but hey, she didn't ask. Let him pretend they're the kind she's getting a while! He looks quite pleased when the music starts, even if they do have to wait awhile before the violinist actually gets looped in too.

Finally Devlin snags one of the passing Champaign glasses to slowly sip on. For now, not holding up a wall so much as working his way around the room, while keeping attention to the piano. His steps are smooth and fluid, seemingly in time with the music.

When Harper compliments Lilith on just how she sparkles, Byron position Lil in front of him, both of his hands at her hip after he deposits his mostly empty glass onto some random clearing tray passing by. With a fond smile, his dark eyes staring into her bright blues, he states, "She's right. You look beautiful. Brilliant like always." Leaning in again, he gives her a proper kiss on the lips, before all of their attention is pulled towards Dante and Itzhak as it looks like a performance was going down.

This is when he shoots a glance over at one of his fellow business men, the musician of the group. Yes, there's an amateur mystery writer as well as an amateur musician, hoping to be able to play in front of an adoring crowd. Hell, one of them is probably an amateur comedian.

"No weirdness today, thank goodness." He says in response to Lilith's question, turning back to her now. She seems alright, so he won't pry further.

Sparrow gives Rhys a Very Thorough Considering at that suggestion. Whatever lascivious twists and turns her thoughts might take, she arrives at a reasonably safe destination of, "Pretty sure I could rock that suit." When the music starts, her hips shift and shimmy to the familiar melody while her attention drifts over the crowd, taking in all the familiar faces, all the strangers. She catches that quiet interplay between Cristobal and Elias, gaze tracking after the latter for a few seconds before flicking back to the former. Should he look her way, he might catch a half-smile and a curiously cocked eyebrow, but she doesn't abandon her perch by the bar just yet.

Itzhak becomes absorbed in Dante's playing, leaning forward, fancy black-and-cherry shoe tapping in time. Violin tucked under his arm, he applauds him and whistles obnoxiously. Very belatedly, he answers Harper, "Jazz, gonna do some awesome 1920s stuff. That's my cue." Getting up, he plucks his bow from the open violin case. Then he pauses, as Jefferson bumps into Ruiz. "I know you?" he says to Jefferson, eyes going narrow again. "I don't think I know you." So how dare he accidentally bump Ruiz, obviously. He sets long inked fingers to Ruiz's shoulder, leans in to tell him something, then he's swaggering up to join Dante at the grand piano.

"Ey, yo, welcome to Sitka opening night!" he says into the mic. That accent of his, Jewish and New York, abrasive enough to scour a pan, rolling up and down with the cadence of Yiddish. "I'm Itzhak, which, pretty sure everybody knows. Me and Taylor gonna play you a song by Django Reinhardt, who's a guitarist but Taylor's doing it on piano. Called 'Minor Swing.' I got the violin part by the great violinist Stephane Grappelli." He swings his violin to nestle under his chin with a flip of his sinewy wrist, and glances at Dante, tapping out the tempo. "A'ight, let's fuckin' do this!" And his bow comes down, launching into sweet and sparkling notes.

Cris will not stalk out of here and get into a fist fight. Cris will not stalk out of here and get into a fist fight. Cris will not stalk out of here and get into a fist fight. It's a mantra he's clearly repeating to himself as - only perhaps not in third person - as he prowls to the bar instead and sets up next to Sparrow and her date. He hunches over there, pressing his elbows into the top and clamping his hands in front of him like he's saying a silent prayer with his head bowed as he tries to regain control of his composure. "Mezcal." He orders when someone approaches from the opposite side, even if he doesn't raise his head to look at them. "I tried." Is said as an aside to Sparrow.

"You sure, man? Let me get you another drink," Jefferson speaks to the fellow that bumped him. "I just got back to town and I gotta make all the buddies I can, you know?" There's a little smile at that before he turns his attention to Itzhak, "I don't think we've ever met. I've been out of town for a few years..." Then the guy's heading off to join the pianist.

"Don't worry, he's just like that," August assures Jefferson. "I'll get drinks, I was heading to the bar anyways." He watches Itzhak head off to perform, raises an eyebrow to Ruiz. "Patron?"

And even though they've practiced this piece, Dante is not as in his element as he was with the first jazz standard. There's no vocals, so he can concentrate on his playing. And he needs to, both to keep up the tempo and the flourishes of the 1920s jazz piece, and to do justice to Itzhak's very talented violin playing. There's some visible strain on his face as he works through some of the more complicated flourishes and bits, but he also smiles at other bits when they go particularly right. It's a very upbeat and racous sort of party song that should knock off any lingering stuffiness.

And it leaves the Englishman oblivious to any drama that's happening in another corner of the room.

The place was crowded, but Byron does catch the little exchange between Jefferson and Itzhak right before the violinist takes the stage. He might recognize Jefferson from back in the day. That's probably the only reason why he's attentive to the guy's presence right now. Either way, eventually, his attention is drawn back to this jazz that they are about to be treated to. Being a pianist, himself, if you can call it that, he appreciates great music and hopes to learn more some day.

Devlin makes his way back towards August, "Pretty interesting shindig.. would enjoy it more with someone." He shrugs a bit, "How are things on your end going?" He sips at his drink, "For me.. a lot of ess ess dee dee... and over time."

Sparrow brushes the knuckles of her drink-holding hand against Cristobal's hip when he murmurs those words her way, the smile she'd been wearing a moment ago muted beneath worry she's trying not to let manifest. "It's not worth worrying over tonight, gorgeous," she answers with a little tilt his direction. Softer, she adds, "And you are looking absolutely fucking gorgeous tonight. In case not everyone with working eyes has told you that yet."

Very Thorough Considering is returned, entirely unnecessarily, before Rhys agrees, "Pretty sure you could." He bumps Sparrow's hip with his once as she half-dances, with a subtler movement of head and shoulders to the music, just noticeable. Maybe it's a matter of checking out what's caught his companion's attention, but he seems to notice that little interaction as well, even if there's no similar questioning look from that quarter. More of his attention goes to the performance in progress until Cristobal arrives beside them. He gives the guy a half-smile, faintly sympathetic at the clear stress, and a friendly enough, "Evening."

August is studied for a long moment when he weighs in on the cop's particular temperament. The tip of Ruiz's tongue is pushed against the inside of his cheek, and then released eventually, and he nods. "Sure. Patron would be great. Thanks." Jefferson's even flashed a quick, if wolfish little smile. "Sin daño, sin falta. It's fine." He brushes at his tee a couple more times, and then his dark eyes travel back Itzhak's way as the man puts bow to strings and begins to play. Gets him every fucking time. "Don't think we've met," he offers to Jefferson, glancing back to him. "What're you in town for? Guessing it's not the, uh, ambiance."

"Yeah, well." Cris mutters as he drags his drink off the counter and then turns to watch Dante and Itzhak do their thing with a mildly far-off look. At least he looks mildly more human and less raging bull when he faces the crowd again. "The pair of you look like sugar coated tamarand." He toasts Rhys and Sparrow together.

Looking over at August, Jefferson gives him a nod, "Gotcha. Just want to make sure it's all cool." He's almost tired when he says, "Not a big fan of watching my back all the time." With a shrug to himself he looks towards the players again, trying to nod his head along to the music. Apparently he possesses no rhythm. "This place is really alright. Not my usual sort of spot, but once I start making some money it'll be nice to come back here."

When Ruiz starts speaking to him again Jefferson nods to the fellow and says, "Jefferson Jackson. Call me Jeff." He even extends his right hand to offer a shake. "I used to live here a while ago, but I spent some time away. It's nice to be back here, got a trailer for myself, looking to pick up some work."

Itzhak sways, smirking while he plays, tapping along to the beat. (Super unprofessional for a classical musician, which is one reason why he ditched being a classical musician). He pauses his playing so Dante can rock the piano solo, watching the other man's fingers on the keys avidly. Whatever mood he's in is lifted by music, at least while he's sunk into it to the exclusion of all else. Then it's his turn to solo, and he rips it the fuck up, playing with an edge of savagery that usually he lacks, his teeth bared in a silent snarl. The guy is definitely taking something out on his poor rental violin. Then the two of them rejoin, climbing musical stairs to the end of the song, wrapping up with a flourish each. Itzhak lets out a "HELL yeah!", grinning, and thwaps Dante's back.

Taking champagne glass in one hand, Lilith puts her hand down against one of Byron's at her hips while leaning up to meet the kiss proper, commenting on his reply with a weighted 'good' in murmur. She keeps his hand underneath hers to pet fingertips in curl at the back of his knuckles with turn of attention to better see the duo playing, head tilted a bit with subtle lean against company's taller, suited frame. And she's quiet instead of conversational for the time being, giving the music its due attention, though she does comment aside at some point, "You know... now we don't have to go into one of the cities with a lengthy drive just to have this kind of ambiance. I liked the excuse to do so, but this is nice and convenient."

Then she's quiet again for the tempest playing of the strings up until close and flourish.

Dante is out of breath, hands cramping and face contorted by the time the song ends. He startles at the thwack with the bow, but laughs from the end of an adrenaline rush. He mock-faints, then stands up, applauding the other man. He reaches out to shake his hand and to murmur something to the violinist before he takes up the microphone again. "Thank you everyone! Please continue to enjoy. I return you to Michael at the keys." He slides the microphone back into the stand and the previous pianist returns to the seat. He keeps with the up-tempo to keep the energy of the room up, even though it can't match the electricity of the previous performance.

Then Dante reclaims his drink and starts to look around the room for someone. His brow furrows and his lips purse when he doesn't spot whoever he's looking for.

As the men adjacent to where Harper stands collide and then converse, she finishes off her wine and sets it on a tray that is walked past with a murmur of thanks and slides her attention to the performance across the intimate space. A thoughtful smile touches her lips as the music flows through the room. It's a complex enough pairing to hold the librarian's attention. The savage turn at a solo fades her smile, but not the animated gaze she locks on the musicians. Then it's over and Harper applauds with delighted awe.

August nods at Ruiz, then Jeff, pauses in the act of going to fetch drinks to chat with Devlin. (Sorry Ruiz, you're waiting for that Patron.)

"Not much for solo flying, eh?" he says, one eyebrow going up. He grunts about the overtime. "I bet. And summer's coming, so we'll have the tourist crowd." The drunken boating tourist crowd, who love to get injured in horrible, easily-avoided, under-the-influence incidents. "Pretty okay on my end." Okay, not really. But it could be worse. (It's Gray Harbor, it could always be worse.) "Getting better," he adds, because that's true enough. He nods at the bar. "Gonna go grab some drinks for these folks. Be right back."

Where he puts in his order, then leans on the bar nearish to Cris. "Hey. Sorry I didn't get a chance to say hi earlier." He eyes Cris' outfit. "Enjoying yourself?" It's the kind of question which allows an answer of 'this suit is fucking uncomfortable and I can't wait to get out of here'. He watches Itzhak play while waiting for his order.

Sparrow's smile teeters between sympathetic and helpless when Cris looks, though it brightens right on cue for his compliment. She gives her sequined hips a shimmering little shimmy as she agrees, "We are tasty," almost as if it were an invitation. It's all in the eyebrows. "Do you know Mr. Evans?" It's not quite an introduction. With a little tip to glance past Cristobal, she offers a friendly, "August," to the man on his other side, and though she looks that suit over approvingly, there's no spoken compliment and no lingering attention. She finishes the last of her drink to free up her hands so that she can applaud as the song rises to its dramatic ending, a little hoot added in for good measure even if this isn't the appropriate venue for that sort of cheering.

Itzhak laughs out loud at Dante's pretending to swoon. He shakes his hand, bow and fiddle both held in his other hand because his hands are big enough to do that. Whatever Dante tells him makes him nudge him, muttering back, then hiking his eyebrows at him like 'so there', saucy af. When he saunters offstage he seems to be in, at least, a somewhat better mood. Returning to August and Ruiz and Harper and Byron and whoever else is hanging around, he slings back into his chair and picks up the champagne flute to down it. Fiddling is thirsty work!

Seeing that August was on the move, Devlin comments, "I can walk." as he nods to the bar, "You look like a man on a party mission for friends."

Cris reaches over to give August a rough, if amiable slap on the shoulder. "That's alright, I've been running 'em off all night. I guess I forget to turn on the charm when I'm not trying to get into someone's pants." He leans over slightly, lowering his voice for August, "C'mon, we both know Dante dressed me. At least I got to choose my underwear." Not that he's not spiffed up against his wishes, he's actually kind of looking quite smug about being the arm candy tonight. He tilts back away when Sparrow asks if he has met Rhys. "I. Am going to refrain from the first thing I wanted to say, and just go with no, I haven't. Nice to meet you Evans. Take care of this one." Sparrow being 'this one', of course.

There's a bit of a delay as Dante searches around the bar after leaving Itzhak with a wink. Then there are a few words to exchange with staff, and a new drink to get his hands on. Then he's sidling up to Cris, Sparrow, Rhys and company. "Hello hello hello. That was terribly indulgent wasn't it? And I'm not going to bloody apologize because it's my place." A toothy smile. "Hello Ms. Bird. You're looking lovely. Have any of you seen where Elias has got to?"

The addition of the violin ramps up the excitement even further. One can sense that the crowd is really getting into the lively melody, which ends in a loud applause. Byron's clapping as well, alongside everyone else. "No, having this casino here won't take away from us leaving town for any number of reasons." He starts to say, attention turning slowly back to Lilith once the performance is done. "There are a million reasons to want to get out of town." He doesn't whisper this, even if he's here, trying to get some of his business friends to put Gray Harbor on their maps.

When Itzhak comes to join them, he continues with the applause for a moment longer. "You guys were incredible. Maybe one day, I'll try my hand at musicianship. Until then, it's just me practicing alone at home." Or with Lilith's presence now.

Harper watches Itzhak cross the space from piano to chair and offers him a slow smile. "That was unexpected. And spectacular. Will you hate me if I call you a diva? I'd wave the frond fan and everything." She nods in tacit agreement with what Byron says.

"Someone has to get the drinks," August asides to Devlin. "Anyways, now Ruiz can get the dirt on the new guy and I can introduce you to Cris." Which he does, gesturing at Devlin. "Cris, this is Devlin. Paramedic." He pauses, looks askance at Devlin. "Or are you an EMT?" He seems aware there's a difference, which is something?

He snorts at Cris' murmur, chases it with a grin. "I didn't pick out but one suit I own either. Other people bought me the rest." He bobs his eyebrows, leans forward so he can see around Cris. "Hey," he says, giving Sparrow an upnod. "How's things? School going alright?" He gestures at Devlin. "Devlin, Sparrow. Sparrow, Devlin."

Ruiz seems mollified enough, at least, with the performance to make waiting for his fucking tequila less objectionable. In fact, he's looking positively lost in it by the end of that savage little refrain, and poor Jefferson's left with his hand out, hanging in the wind for a few moments until the cop draws a breath and claps it in his own. Grip solid, weathered knuckles decorated with gang-style ink, he's either an ex-con or has some interesting side pursuits. "Javier de la Vega. Not a townie, myself, but a few here are. What sort of work are you looking for?" His dark eyes track Itzhak on his way by, with something like restrained hunger.

"Sweet and delicious," Rhys agrees, though his doesn't so much bring invitation along with it, just amusement. "Looking slick tonight," he notes in return, giving Cristobal's suit an approving look and returning the toast, polishing off the last of his drink. Frees his hands up for some enthusiastic applause when the performance finishes, though he refrains from the whistles karaoke night sometimes gets.

"Also known as Rhys," he adds when semi-introductions occur, though he and Cristobal have almost certainly met before. He's willing enough to let it be otherwise right now. "And will do, as long as she lets me." Dante gets a full grin as he joins them. "Mr. Taylor. You've done a great job with the place."

Answering, Devlin says, "Paramedic.. a bit higher on the food chain than an EMT." He offers Chris a hand, "Devlin McCloud, The guy you really do not want to meet on a professional basis but on your bad day, you'll be glad if you do."

Just because the met doesn't mean Cristobal quite remembers Rhys, perhaps that was in the comment he bit back earlier. Though for now, he's on his best behavior. "I think my presence was enough to make him not present." Cristobal answers Dante as to Elias' whereabouts, reaching over to straighten the man's bowtie after that little passionate display at the keys, though the touch to the lapel is just for touching sake. "Devlin. Nice. I'll keep that in mind, your job I mean. I like knowing all the civil servants." That smile the Paramedic/EMT? is given is a little dark and twisted, like it's backed with some illicit intent, as he shakes the man's hand.

"I'd like something where I get to work outside. I like working with plants, gardening and stuff," Jefferson replies to Ruiz, his own grip pretty firm. "Spent enough time inside, if you know what I mean," his eyes flash down to the other fellow's hand tattoos. "Never got any ink myself, though. Plenty of chances, just never trusted anybody enough to put something permanent on me." He notes Javier's look towards Itzhak and presses his lips together as if considering things.

Itzhak smiles at Ruiz as he goes by him, knowing damn well those dark eyes are on him, and that little smile is as ferocious as his solo. Aw yeah. Who's bad? When Harper asks him if she might call him a diva, he snorts a laugh. "You wouldn't be the first to call me a diva." He swipes his forelock away from his face with the back of his wrist, nods to Byron. "You oughta. I'd love to play with ya." His bow gets put away, but his violin stays out, so he can continue noodling with it. Something to do with his restless hands. "Where'd Roen run off to?"

Sparrow's lashes dip devilishly low as Cristobal censors himself, not one little lick of curiosity expressed for what goes unspoken. "Cristobal Cruz," she offers to complete the circuit. "As fascinating as he is snarly." She feigns a snarl, nose crinkled and lip drawn up, but it just looks silly when she overdoes it like that. She's back to smiling when she extends the invitations to, "August... Roen?" She's heard his surname a few times and thinks she's got it right. Hopefully. Maybe. "Just finished finals. So glad it's summer." Well, summer break, anyway. "Reading anything interesting?" With the addition of the paramedic to the line, she offers, "Rhys, Devlin. Devlin, Rhys," parroting August's cadence, then appends, with a press of her hand to her own sparkling chest, "Potential chemist of no particular benefit or threat." Beat. "In any professional capacity."

When Dante makes his way over, Sparrow's smile brightens further... briefly, muting again at Cristobal's answer to the question about Elias before she confirms softly, "He took off for the night," as if it's no big thing. "But that? Definitely the best kinda indulgent. The sort that indulges the rest of us too. Fantastic."

"By all means, do so. Seeing you on the piano with that little surprise you pulled on Christmas has conditioned all of my lady parts into 'stop and stare' each time you're on the keys. You should take more time to take advantage of that trigger response, mm?" Lilith nudges against Byron while speaking, and she looks at the man with sheer affection for the memory, despite her dry teasing. Draining her champagne flute, she leans to drop it off on the bar edge and beckons for another, looking at Itzhak and his instrument for a considering moment.

Then she gets curious, "Did you pick the violin or did it pick you, somehow?" Lilith looks at the musician/mechanic directly while waiting for her replacement drink and absently plays with a curling piece of her hair, "I always wonder that about musicians. How it happens when someone is so passionate about it, where was the drive or draw from? Do you play other instruments too?"

Dante frowns as Cris explains where Elias has gotten off to. He settles one hand in his pocket and sighs. "I'll talk to him later." Because for now, he's got to keep playing host and keep an eye on everything. He cranes his neck as Cris straightens his bowtie. "I'm reminded of why I hate bloody neckwear." The man wears three piece suits daily, but something on his neck bothers him.

He inclines his head at Sparrow and murmurs a warm, "Cheers," for her compliment. "Mister Evans," he lifts his glass to Rhys, "Glad you could make it. Love the suit." And that's not something he says unless he means it, clothes horse that he is.

The if you know what I mean pulls de la Vega's attention back to Jefferson, and he flashes the man a quick smile that's all crow's feet and a dimple smudged into that skewed mirth. "Mm," is all he says to that, like he has every idea what the guy means. A glance at his own hand, fingers briefly fanned out. Phoenix, skull, something else that might be an infinity symbol or might be a fish. Letters. The hand's shoved back into his jeans pocket. "You should talk to August Roen," he tells Jefferson, which the guy's probably only heard about eight million times already. Dark eyes meet blue for a moment, and he hitches his chin the way the arborist went.

"Paramedic," August echoes. "I remember being told something like, EMTs save people, paramedics save EMTs." He gives Devlin a small, wry smile for that one. He nods at Sparrow's pronunciation of his name, seems amused by her claim of being no benefit or threat. "Good to meet you, Rhys," he says, dipping his head.

And there's the ordered drinks: something floral and fruity in a chilled cocktail glass, another beer for himself, and a Patron for Ruiz. "If you'll all excuse me, I can feel de la Vega getting antsy from over here." He makes his way back towards Ruiz and company, nodding a greeting here and there as he goes.

Harper flickers a glance down the bar past Byron and Lilith to the others she doesn't know grouped there having an interesting conversation. That glance settles upon August and tracks him back over to the men near where she stands with his unlikely trio of beverages. "Good evening, August," are her quiet words.

"Coming from you, that means something," Rhys replies to Dante, inclining his head slightly, and giving him a grin. "Thanks. And you know, if you take the tie off, we'll probably all forgive you." Says the guy who gave one a miss tonight in the first place. Handshakes are offered to any and all of the newly introduced, along with a cheerfully genuine-sounding, "Nice meeting you all. Always surprises me how may folks in town I don't know yet, lately."

"Did violin pick me?" Itzhak asks Lilith, eyebrows tipping confusedly. "You mean, like, did a truck loaded with radioactive violins run me over and now I have violin superpowers? I wanted to play ever since I was a little kid, but my family, we couldn't afford an instrument or lessons. Had to wait until a nonprofit program had room for me, that was when I was fourteen. Which a lotta people say is pretty late in life to start violin, but eh, it's only late if you wanna be like Hillary Hahn or Ray Chen or whatevah." Uhoh. Someone asked him about violins. Brace for impact.

There is a low volume alarm sound that comes from inside Devlin's sports coat. He just sets his half finished drink on a passing waiter's tray and then pulls out his phone. Frowning as he sees the number, he answers, "McCloud here." He listens for a moment, seemly oblivious to what is going on for a moment. "Ok, give me 30 minutes. I'll be there." He smiles to August, "You can say that, August. Me.. their part of the team. But I have to run. Someone else called in sick.. And once again.. off to save people from their personal versions of stupidity.. or the stupidity of others." With that, Devlin pivots smoothly and takes off at a ground eating stride managing to flow through the crowd towards the door with graceful ease.

"That guy's August Roen?" Jefferson asks Ruiz, more or less rhetorically. "I was told to look him up by a couple of folks. I think I'll mosey on over and introduce myself." There's a little nod when he looks at the other man's hand again, but he doesn't comment on it any more. When August starts making his way back towards the little group Jeff lifts his chin at him and says, "Mr. Roen? I'm Jefferson Jackson. I was told to hit you up by a few people since I rolled into town." With a little bit of a smile he says, "I'm interested in working with plants and heard you had a couple of businesses in that area. I plan on picking up some stuff to plant a vegetable garden tomorrow, too."

Cristobal reaches over and baps Sparrow lightly on the nose as she imitates his snarl, "Ferocious, Paji." There is an up tick of Cris' chin when August excuses himself to play waiter to others, his eyes sliding back to Dante, "Yeah Taylor. Take it off." Amusement finally reaches his eyes, making the dark blue irises shimmer slightly in the mood lighting of the bar. He leans back on his elbow, as if preparing himself to watch a strip show. Even if it's just a bow tie, that look is taking off more than neckware.

August blinks at Jefferson as he's intercepted. "Well. Good to meet you, then. How about we..." He nods at the group he was moving towards. As they go, he says, "I've got a horticulture shop with some alottments, if you're interested in one. Arboriculture business too, if you're looking for work. It's that time of year, and all." And then they're back to the group.

The Patron goes to Ruiz, and the yellow-tinted cocktail drink with the curl of lemon to Itzhak. "You'll like it," he promises Itzhak. "Hope you're playing more, that was great." His own beer looks to be a lager of some sort or another, which he has a drink of.

He nods at Harper, settles against a table. "Evening, Miss Price. Enjoying yourself?"

"Oh, all right," says Dante, while side-eyeing. "The investors are gone, I think." He reaches up and tugs at the knot of the black bowtie and slides fingers through it. He folds it up and disappears it into his pocket, then reaches up to undo the top few buttons. Suddenly he looks both more relaxed and more like himself. He takes a sip from his drink and then looks at the assembled. "So. Be honest. Does this place have a chance of attracting the people who actually live in this town? Or must I rely on out-of-towners popping down from Seattle?"

Harper watches the drink delivery with a smile, inwardly turned smile. She swings her weight from one sparkly shoe to the other. "I'm doing quite well, thank you--" In her purse her phone buzzes. "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen." She kisses her fingertips and blows the violinist with all the fans a playful kiss before reaching into her handbag to pull out her phone and heading out of the happening lounge.

"In the flesh," Ruiz replies with some bemusement. His hand stays in his pocket, like he's got no intention of it continuing to be a conversation piece. Then a curt, "Nice to meet you," and he's peeling away, glancing at his watch, and seeming to decide it's almost time for him to turn into a pumpkin. That is, until August finally shows up with his goddamned drink. "Sobre el tiempo," he murmurs to the other man as he accepts the glass, though not without fondness.

With an amused grin, Byron shakes his head at Lilith, "That makes me want to keep it in the privacy of the apartment. But now that you've alerted me to that... I'll see what I can do." He's mainly teasing, the smile on his lips widening. At Itzhak's little funny tale about radioactive violins, Byron has to add in, "If you were from here, I'd say... yeah. That's probably what happened. You're a New Yorker though? From what comic books have taught me, that kind of shennanigans can happen over yonder on that coast as well."

With everyone joining August, Byron does the same. In fact, he's here for a second serving of whatever everyone's having. Which looks like a variety of things. "Patron, eh? That's some good stuff right there." When Rhys and Sparrow draw closer, he gives them both a friendly smile and a nod, "Evenin'. I hope that you're both enjoying yourselves." It's only then that he steps forward to give Rhys a business handshake, before leaning in to whisper, "We've got a bit of an issue. I'll give you a call tomorrow."

Sparrow's teeth snap at the nose-boop from Cris, though she's inches away from catching anything. Barely a second later, her eyes are wide with innocence as if there's not an ounce of ferocity to be found in her. She tilts in toward Rhys at the compliment from Dante, fingers sneakily restaking their claim of his arm. And the well-dressed man to which it's attached. See, Rhys? They were totally those same sorts of looks! "Wonderful," she assures Byron for his well-wishing. "What's a girl need besides booze and music and beautiful men?" Though she flicks a look down at Dante's loosened collar, she restrains herself from even the quietest wolf-whistle. Barely. The little lift-and-knit of her eyebrows might even read best behavior is hard for all of the second-and-a-half that it lasts. It's a distraction, really, an attempt to divert her curiosity away from Rhys' business, the more genuine attempt at playing polite.

"Sure. Sure," Jefferson says to August as he falls in with the other fellow and heads back towards the group. "I was going to plant outside of my trailer. My front yard's big enough for a little plot so I figured I'd try to knock one out when I had some free time, get to grow some of my own food and keep myself busy." Then he'll nod his head a few times, "I am looking for work if you're hiring, but I do want to be up front with you about something before I start filling out applications, or however it works nowadays. Maybe some internet sort of things."

As Byron approaches the group Jefferson looks at him for a moment, as if remembering his face from somewhere, and then gives him a polite nod. "How's it going?"

Itzhak accepts the drink from August with a quirk of a half-smile in thanks. He tries it. "...yeah, that's awesome. Whew, strong, too." Which is all to the good, as he takes a few more sips. "Taylor asked me to come play here as often as I want," he tells him, "probably he don't want me hogging the stage on opening night though. I frikkin' love that suit, by the way." And he raises the glass to Byron. "All the best superheroes come from New York. Present company included." He's pretending really hard he did not hear Byron and Lilith discussing the effect Byron's piano playing has on Lilith's, uh, lady parts.

"I suppose I was thinking a violin tends to be inherited or inspired from some movie scene, but I like the radioactive truck flair all the same. You should embellish and go with that next time, see how far you can get them going. This is a place where all nonsense flies, isn't it?" Lilith says to Itzhak after a quiet half-laugh, watching Byron move over to greet other company while casually draining her second flute of champagne.

Then after a beat, she tells Itzhak, like she's share divulging to trade for his own telling, "I first started going to dance classes when I was little because we had a VHS of Flashdance, sooo."

"Alright, that's it." Cris downs the last of his Mezcal. "I've behaved long enough." There is a quick flash of a wink for Sparrow in parting before Cris is going to snag Dante's hand. "I'm going to need a private encore. Before I let you back out to play with your friends." And then the bouncer is dragging the Brit off into the back depths of the club.

Ruiz isn't headed out just yet, in any case. He's got a glass of tequila that ain't gonna drink itself, and a Jew in a suit that needs to be admired a little longer. And, "Nice fucking playing, by the way," once he manages to sidle in close, and lean half into the fiddler's space so there can be no question whom he's speaking to. Byron gets a little murmur of hola in greeting, and Lilith a somewhat wan smile. They parted on not the best terms, last they spoke, after all.

"Absolutely," Rhys assures Dante, "I've been saying this was an empty niche since I got back here -- the restaurant part, at least. And I'm pretty sure in this town we haven't yet saturated the places to drink area." The tie removal gets an approving nod, one that eases into an upward one toward Byron as the man approaches. "To a potentially illegal extent," Rhys replies to him, "Don't tell the captain over there." He meets the handshake, brows lifting slightly at the whisper, and gives the taller man a slight nod. Calls will be tomorrow, then. Playing polite or not, he doesn't pull away from Sparrow, remaining solidly claimed for the time being. His free hand lifts in farewell to Cristobal and Dante, and he glances over to his date. "Still want that tour?"

"Night, Miss Price," August says to Harper as she departs. He adds to Jefferson in an aside, "Librarian. If it's a book or in a database she can find it for you."

He sniffs at Ruiz. "Excellence can't be rushed," and preens a little in his suit, enjoying the compliment from Itzhak. "My favorite. It's been a while since I wore it."

He arches an eyebrow at Jefferson, giving him a thoughtful once over. "No worries. I don't do any sort of formal application process. I don't get that many applicants. You can come in, we'll talk, see if I've got work you're comfortable doing and if my other employees won't drive you crazy. Sound good?"

With Gray Harbor being a small town, Byron usually doesn't think introductions are necessary, but he will ask once he steps back from Rhys. "Have you both met my girlfriend, Lilith Winslow?" By now, his own glass is newly filled and he turns back to the bar to fetch it. That's when his gaze meets up with Jefferson, the friendly smile still on his lips, as his dark eyes continue to study the other man, "Doing great actually! How about you? Enjoying your time here at Sitka or the casino as a whole?"

He then extends a hand to shake, "Byron Thorne." But most people in Gray Harbor tend to know him. His name is almost as famous as the Addingtons are in town.... well, almost.

Continuing with the introductions, he states, "And this is Rhys Evans, my partner in crime." He jokes. Yes, it's a joke! "One of them anyway. He then looks over at Sparrow, "Your name is Sparrow right?" They've been to the same events before. Small town too.

"Yeah, that sounds good to me. I'll probably swing by some time during the day if that's okay with you," Jefferson says to August with a grin and a solid nod. "Hopefully I'll be a good fit."

Then he's shaking hands with the new arrival, "Nice to meet you, Byron. I'm Jefferson Jackson. Jeff." Then he chuckles a little bit, "My first time in here and I really like it so far. I'm not too big on gambling, but I like the food and drinks here." His head turns to that he can focus on Rhys, "Very nice to meet you, too." He offers up his hand to shake.

Itzhak raises a finger at Lilith, like, ah! "I grew up Orthodox on the Lower East Side. Jews, we gotta huge violin tradition from the Old Country. I grew up around Jewish violinists. From when I was real, real small. Watchin' some ancient little old Jew pick up a violin and--" he needs to gesticulate so badly that he tucks his violin under his arm and makes urgent hands at her, drink swooshing around the glass. "And the voice of God would come outta that thing." His eyes go shining and far-away. "And I was like, man, if only I could do that. If only I could sing with the voice a God." He hitches one shoulder, sips the drink. "So that's what I decided to do. I play mandolin, too," he adds, belatedly, "'cause it's tuned the same as a violin, G D A E. You just gotta learn the strumming."

Oh boy, he sure does go on, doesn't he? It's like Lilith pulled a jackpot from one of the casino slot machines. When Ruiz sidles closer and leans in, though, Itzhak's attention goes right to him, and he leans into him in turn, smiling that wicked little smile. "Yeah? You like?" Tease.

Sparrow mutters, "I haven't stolen anyone's ties yet," to Rhys at the mention of potentially illegal enjoyment of the evening, as if the potential for petty cons was all the mischief on the docket for the night. The mention of the captain earns a look over toward Ruiz, a soft smile turned that direction before introductions are happening again. "Ms. Winslow," is not unfamiliar, but she dips a hip in an unconvincing approximation of a curtsey all the same. "Sparrow Jones," she confirms of her own name. "Phil for short. We met at Thanksgiving." At the Kellys'. Half a forever ago. She flashes a smile toward Jefferson, but that offer of a tour from Rhys earns a bit of nodding and a little nudge closer. "I do, Mr. Evans. Maybe with a drink to go? I'll even let you pick this round."

Lilith doesn't seem to mind Itzhak gushing and going on. She did ask and she seems to have asked to truly know, not as conversational room fluff. She's not much of a bother with all that beyond where social graces call for it, being attached to Byron as she is. So while he's talking, she's listening through the noise of the room and bar and watching the man speak with a little slip of smile.

Her glass lifts to de la Vega's approach, though, to accompany a tip of her head, then she tells Itzhak with a lopsided smil and a quick bat of a wink, "Nevermind, I like that story better than radioactive trucks. It makes you glow. Stick to that. And one day, play your favorite thing to play in the whole wide world for me?" Then she hears her name with Byron and she's not sure who she's supposed to be flashing a smile of introduction toward. With a few quick focusing bats of her lashes and turn, Lilith puts down her glass and waves a little, "Hello, hello. Faces I know, faces I don't!"

After a look around, though, the woman starts to slip over toward one of the hallways toward the restrooms, "Excuse me a moment."

"Me gusta mucho," replies Ruiz, fingering lightly through the fiddler's hair, just for the briefest moment. Then, once he's finished taking his fill of watching the lanky man, he finishes off his drink, pulls away, and bids farewell to the little group that's gathered near the piano with a murmured, buenas noches. His empty glass is handed off mid-prowl, jacket's collar and cuffs given a little tug as he moves off with a clipped report of those expensive heeled boots.

"'s why I didn't wear one. Head you off at the pass," Rhys informs Sparrow knowingly, and the grin escapes again as he moves to shake Jefferson's hand. "Jeff," he repeats, filing that, "Pleased to meet you." He studies the older man a moment as if trying to place why he looks familiar (or which famous actor he reminds him of, whatever), but it passes quickly. Lilith gets a tip of the head and a, "Ms. Winslow," before he nods to Sparrow's mention of Thanksgiving. Just what he was going to mention! "Been a while since, though."

"I think we might be able to arrange that," he nods to Sparrow's suggestion, "If I can't get away with temporarily stealing glassware around here, what's even the point?"

"Phil..." Byron repeats that name with a slow nod when Sparrow mentions it. He's not one to hold up someone getting a tour of the casino, so giving the pair some room, he says with a grin, "Well, enjoy the rest of the evening. There's quite a few other restaurants and some boutiques to check into. As well as the pool on the top floor."

Returning to conversation with Jefferson, he repeats the man's name quietly in his mind. Jefferson Jackson. When told that this is the man's first time, Byron's gaze lifts to give the entirety of the room a once over, "We haven't been open long, so you're really here at the beginning of it all. There's a lot to do and see here. I'm sure we'll snag some Seattle-ites down here at some point.

When Lilith excuses herself, Byron's gaze quickly follows, he scans the crowd to check for the security detail that he'd put on her. At least one of the two is a woman today. So Lilith won't have privacy even in the restroom it would seem. Then Ruiz stalks off the way he does.

"So Jeff, what do you do? Out of curiosity." Byron's making small talk now.

August nods at Jefferson. "That'll do fine." He finishes off his beer, says to everyone, "See y'all around," and heads off to go catch a ride home.

"Like I won't just find something else to take," lacks any lascivious undertones. Sparrow doesn't even look Rhys' way while she says it, no attempt made to peruse his person for other personal affects to pilfer. She offers no clarification in regards to what Phil might actually be short for, but her brows to arch with decided interest at the mention of a pool as if Byron has spoken some magic word. Her tour guide is given a Very Meaningful Look. It might even mean please please pretty please.

Sparrow gets a little wave from Jefferson, who looks around himself a little bit as if suddenly realizing where he was at. He has to shake his head to dismiss whatever it was he was thinking about before he can once again focus on the conversation. Ruiz is given a nod and a friendly sounding, "Take it easy." Rhys will receive a grin from Jeff before the older guy turns his attention towards Byron, "Yeah, I'll have some fun exploring it, but that'll probably be another night. I'm worried about spending too much time out on the casino floor without a steady income." And then he shrugs, "Don't have a real job yet, but I'm working on it. Have some savings I'm living off of until I can find something. I don't have a great resume so I figure I'll take what I can get."

"Maybe," Rhys allows as to Sparrow's likely theft, "But it'll be a lot more interesting to see you try." Is that a challenge? That might be a challenge. The Very Meaningful Look gets a smirk and arched brow in return that could potentially be translated as if you play your cards right, which surely is fair enough in the middle of a casino, right? It turns into a grin that looks a lot more likely to consider obliging just on the grounds that it'll be fun, and he inclines his head to the remaining members of the little group. "Enjoy the rest of your night," he says, settling a hand in the small of his date's back and steering her toward the bar to get a start on enjoying the rest of his.

Sure, the Grand Olympic Casino was ritzy and all, but Byron knows just how much of a flagging economy Gray Harbor had been suffering for years now. Leaning an arm against the bar counter, he lifts his glass for a sip, pondering something. "Where were you before Gray Harbor? In a town like this, I won't say that it's easy to find work, but everyone's in need of a handyman or someone with skills of that nature."

Every so often, he'll glance over his shoulder towards the restrooms, to ensure that nothing weird was going on suddenly. He's lived in this town long enough. In fact, as Byron tends to do, he studies the newcomer once more. This time, not to place him from where he might have known him before, or seen him before, but to check on something else. To see how brightly his light shines. "So," He starts, between sips of Patron." Yes, he ordered a glass for himself, "How long has it been since you've been back?"

Eventually, Lilith comes back from the hallway to the restrooms while fluffing an arranging hand through her hair, lipstick bright and refreshed. Slipping through the crowd with little 'excuse me' murmurs and side turns, she comes back to where Byron is speaking with Jefferson, flashing a quick little smile before explaining in brief to Byron, "Mm, crowded, sorry. But that's a good thing for all involved, now isn't it?"

Moving her hand into flat of pet against the front of Byron's suit jacket, she looks more fully at Jefferson with that smile, "Hello." Then she does a double take at what's in Byron's hand to drink, "... is that tequila? I can smell it, I think."

At Byron's question Jefferson lets out a little chuckle, then takes a deep breath. When he speaks he does so with just the smallest hint of reluctance, "Prison. I was doing a stint for possession with intent to distribute." His own light is there. Not particularly bright, not too dim, either. "I've been gone for a while. Just got out on parole today, moved into a trailer and started exploring town again. It's changed a lot in the last few years." Then he shrugs, "I'm hoping to find something where I can work outside, but I'll take whatever I can get. I'm told lots of restaurants hire ex-cons for their cooks and stuff, positions where they don't handle money."

As Lilith approaches them and gives him a greeting Jefferson returns it with one of his own, "Hey. How's it going?"

While he's good at hiding his emotions, more often than not, Byron feels that tension slipping away from his shoulders on seeing Lilith step out from the women's restroom unharmed. When she rejoins them, he flashes her a smile, "Missed you." Awww. His gaze flickering over at his glass of Patron, "Yeah, you want some?" Thorne, himself, is good at regulating how much he drinks, usually. It's Lilith he needs to keep an eye on!

Prison? He ponders. Now, Byron Thorne's not one to judge too much. Despite his wealth now, he came from a meager background himself. "Outdoor work, eh? There's a lot of places that would hire for outdoor work. Including the Addington Sawmill...Hell, Addington House," The museum, "could use a groundskeeper, maybe."

"Did you? Good." Lilith tells Byron with a charmed bat of her lashes at being missed, tinged with teasing, coquettish flair for effect, "And no, thank you. I can't shoot tequila with this dress on, trust me." Considering she's close to spilling out of the strapless top and the lacking length of the little black designer piece (and the way she is on tequila) maybe that's for the best. The brunette tends toward loud and boisterous and wardrobe incidents might actually be an issue, depending. She does, however, look a touch amused about him choosing that particular drink, though, "Also, I'm waiting to take advantage of you when the desert drink does you dirty."

She does, however, opt for another glass of champagne with gesture, and while waiting, she listens to the two men converse, "Shame I didn't catch you to rent my old family trailer out. But I still have some things to move out of there, regardless." Lilith certainly doesn't look like she came from a trailer park at the moment, brunette designer barbie doll that she is right now. But all the same, she seems a little less uppity than the other women sauntering by in their named expensive tailored outfits, "I own the pawn shop on Elm if you need help furnishing or decorating and don't want to step into a Bed, Bath, and Beyond." There's a twitch of her lips with the last bit, as if needing to step into that place is torture and is entirely the joke.

"Yeah. Got caught up in a police sting," Jefferson says with a bit of a wince. Not the most pleasant experience. "Used to drive the hell out of a Ducati, but the law seized that. I've still got to get myself a new vehicle, thinking a Toyota, something reliable. I suck as a mechanic." Then he'll nod a few times, "Thanks for advice. I'll check those spots out, too. I don't mind working in the cold come winter, either, just don't want to be stuck indoors if I can avoid it."

Jeff's attention swings over to Lilith once again, "That's too bad. I had help getting the one I'm in, since it's really hard to arrange for that sort of stuff when you're doing time. Beats the hell out of a halfway house, from what I've heard." There's a soft, almost sad half chuckle. "I'm just glad to have a place of my own again. It's rough having roommates you don't get to choose."

"You just want me to get drunk enough so that I'll throw you the keys to the Wraith." Byron says with teasing to Lilith, leaning in close with this smirk of a grin.

"It's a good thing Gray Harbor's not a large town. Some folk here don't even own a car and walk everywhere." He then muses as he nurses his drink, returning part of his attention back on the stranger. "But a car's always good. Especially, with how much it rains here." And with Jefferson being a Gray Harbor native, he should know that it rains here 75% of the year it seems! Sometimes bordering closer to 80%.

"Either way, congrats on getting out of the slammer. Here's to your future success in whatever you decide to do. Whatever legal thing you decide to do." He clarifies in jest.

Lilith snap points at Byron's supposition about driving the Rolls and eyes her own glass suddenly now that she knows the possibility is on the table. There's a marked difference suddenly in the way she's just tasting it with sips instead of actually tipping the third glass fully up like she might other times. Then while he's leaned in close with the comment, she comes in for a kiss and faux bites at his lips with a little 'zoom' noise afterwards.

It's a brief interlude of cutesy play, though, as she's taken to looking back at Jefferson with a vaguely thoughtful expression for one reason or another. Then she lifts her own glass with toast, following suit with Byron's words with some of her own dry humor, "And here's to not getting caught when you get an undeniable urge to piss on the law."

"I don't mind walking, but you're right about the rain. Plus, having a car is like another level of freedom, lets me get out of town if I need a break or to just take a cruise," Jefferson sighs wistfully. Then he grins at Byron, "If you need a driver for that Rolls hit me up. I used to be hot stuff behind the wheel." Then he inclines his head in a mock bow, "Thank you, thank you very much. It's damn nice to be out, that's for sure. Only thing left to do tonight is get a cigar, smoke it on my porch, and watch the rain come down."

Lilith's remark gets a grin from the ex-con. He nods his head and lifts his glass to return their toasts, clinking glasses with them both, "Cheers, guys."

His gaze lowered to stare idly down into his drink, Byron also says, "A car is useful when you need to get the hell out of town. Those moments tend to come up every so often." He subtly brings up the dangers surrounding Gray Harbor. Dark eyes lifted to peer out across the way at Jefferson, "Just make sure not to make any pit stops before you're out." It's all said almost gravely in a serious manner. That is, until he bursts out into a wide grin.

"I own an apartment building," A luxury apartment building, "and have co-ownership of this place. I'm sure, if you're hurting for work, there's somewhere that we can fit you in." Taking another small sip of tequila, he considers, "We should be heading out soon, before I lose the capacity to drive." When he says this, he shoots Lilith a sly look. "I'd hire a driver but I actually like driving my car. It's a smooth ride.But I'll keep you in mind if I'm left stranded with too much too drink." Which is almost never since he's a moderate drinker.

"... I really wanted french toast and old fashioned candy, okay." Lilith tells Byron defensively, after he tells the other man about the hazards of pit stops, roughly. She's sure to nod along seriously to that bit for whatever reason, like it's a problem to actually get out of town when you really want out of town... but you know. Probably not worth getting into. Besides, she's kind of pushing her bottom lip into the barest of pout sulks at Byron's comment about leaving and driving capacity.

Then, suddenly she gets her phone from her purse clutch and checks the screen, shooting off a message with flash of fingers afterwards. Replacing the phone, she tells Jefferson, "Nice to meet you, good luck. See you around, I'm sure."

"It was great meeting you two," Jefferson tells the couple with a happy smile. "I figure I better hit the road now, too. I've got a lot of ground to cover tomorrow looking for work." There's a big smile on his face, he seems genuinely happy. "I'm sure I'll see you two around town. If you need something and I'm around feel free to hit me up." He polishes off his drink and sets it down nearby, then shrugs inside of his sport coat a little bit to make sure it's as ready as it will ever be to take the ferry back into town.

Finishing off the remainder of his tequila, Byron reaches into his pocket for his wallet, to pay for the drinks and to leave a sizeable tip. It's when he's returning his wallet to his pocket that his phone starts to vibrate on his rising to stand. Fishing that out now, he quirks a brow, before giving Lilith this devilish look, a wry smile on his lips. "I swear..."

Turning back to Jefferson, however, he lifts a hand on the man's departure. Unlike Jefferson, they have a car to drive in this dark Gray Harbor evening.