2020-06-04 - Dying Will Not Kill You

Thursday morning, though not early morning. Maybe going on eleven; Vyv and Bax had an eventful and lengthy evening the night before. And not in ways either of them are likely in any hurry to repeat, either. The chef refuses to look nearly as tired as he probably is, however, and is helped in this endeavour by his attire, a very blue windowpane check suit with a blue and orange gingham-like shirt, darker blue knit tie, and orange/white/blue plaid pocket square. He looks very much as he normally does; by contrast, Bax has one hand quite thoroughly bandaged, which is less than standard. Vyv swings the door open, holding it absently for the skater, and glances about the very slight bit necessary to spot Nicole. "Good morning, Ms. Stein," he greets her, and points to Grant, or perhaps more specifically the decided roots pushing the purple out. "I need you to fix this."

"Yo, Nicole!" He's tired, but otherwise in a good mood. As a habit he goes to high five her with the bad hand and pauses offering a hug instead. "I've worn your last work with pride. I brought your hair back to have your way with it." Looking around he thinks about it for a bit and shakes his head, "Don't care what colour you do it up with. Enjoy it. Saw Sparrow's new colour though. That came out great." From anyone else that might be flattery or small talk but from the select few it's an artist's high five. "Also? If you run into any weird books? Tell em you are not interested. how you been?" Yeah. He's feeling a little better after some sleep and a lot of aspirin.

Dressed in her finest uniform of all black; black wide-legged trousers paired with a black chiffon blouse, underneath which is a black camisole, accessorized with a pair of black leather boots; Nicole relaxes in her own station. Slouched down in the chair, one foor resting on the... well, foot rest, the other dangling in the air as it bounces to the beat of music, she has a magazine resting on her thighs as she waits for her next client.

Little did she know who would be coming in.

Mr. Patisserie himself! He of the impeccable style, the to-die-for tasty treats, and the accent that could melt icicles, Vyv Vydal! And with him, well, one of her two (currently) favorite purple-haired clients. Bax.

Quickly, Nicole pushes to her feet and walks towards the counter, setting the magazine there. She looks to where Vyv points and her smile turns into a bit of an admonishing frown. "Grant! How could you do this to me! Your hair is like a calling card to my abilities man... It's been too long." Given free reign, she arches her back slightly, crossing one arm over her torso, lifting her other hand to let a finger tap at her chin in thought. "Hmmm... color. Well, Sparrow's always looks great. Woman could probably even pull off the dreaded canary yellow I am not fond of." She doesn't inquire about the hand straight away, or the fact they both look possibly a little tired. This is Gray Harbor... one learns not to always ask, for fear of finding out. "Oh... weird books? Like, weirder than the ones in that library? I will keep an eye out. Come!" She starts to walk towards the chair she just vacated. "Let's take a look before we get to washing.... " Looking to Vyv she asks, "can I get you anything? Water, tea, coffee? Though it might not be quite up to your standards..." Reaching for a folded up smock, she shakes it out. "Me? Oh, I've been fairly good. Not too much to report lately. I suppose that might be a good thing. Looking forward to some beach trips, I hope." It is then she eyes the hand and glances between the two men. "How have you too been?" she asks, almost cautiously.

"I might care," Vyv volunteers, tone casual, but apparently he doesn't care enough to make any immediate dema-- suggestions. Willing to wait and see whether he's going to feel like complaining. Well. About that.

Nicole gets a small smile for general greeting, and it gains a level at the chiding to Grant. Yes, how could he? The topic of weird books he looks less pleased with. "Weirder than in either of the libraries I've run into," he confirms, and probably isn't including Gray Harbor's standard one in that. A quick flicker of a glance ensuring he hasn't missed non-shiny people about to overhear, and he adds, "This one seemed inclined to, mn. End the universe? Destroy its world, at least." That may or may not be the main reason he does not like this book, but it is not getting good review either way. Zero stars.

"Coffee might be nice if it happens to be handy," he says as he follows toward the chairs, claiming the one next to it to settle comfortably into himself, legs crossed. Well, no one else is using it, right? "Not much of a trip, is it? To the beach, I mean. Pleasant, though."

Grant wades over and drops into the chair trying to keep his hand up to not bang it into anything and then just sets it in his lap to avoid having any more of a speech impediment. Thankfully his hearing aides recharged, though shortly he'll be removing those again relying on lip reading. "Yeah, you always care, tho. You both work it out."

He holds up the hand looking... well disappointed. it takes a lot more than a book to hold back Grant Baxter at least. With a sigh that tries to be impartial he assesses, "Weeeell a book went and pissed off a bunch of little mer-things and started raining hell down on em and this squiggly fish, pretty cute, asks us hey can you help us out?? And since a seahorse kept me from drowning once I was like yeah sure. Never wrestled a cyclone before. Then a couple of us got... sucked through space on the far side of time and Vyv blew up the book for actin' a chump and I got impaled... Also found a new Thai place. Pretty killer." yeah because for him this is totally normal Or he's just lucid dreaming again and convinced it's all real. He is disappointed and at the very least, has some feelings on this situation.

"Everything on the other side of Space feels real mean lately. Wonder if someone did something and it's scared."

While Grant gets settled in the chair, Nicole heads over to her temporary coffee station, which is at the moment one of the other salon stations that was not in use taken over while construction takes place. "How do you like it?" she asks, getting a clean mug from the cabinet and setting it under the Keurig spout. "I have some flavors too. Um, mocha, vanilla. I kind of like this coconut one..." Looking over her shoulder at him she frowns. "Weirder than... oh. Oh, no. No destroying worlds." With a glance towards Grant again, she asks, "did it close on your hand? You gonna be okay?"

But then he starts talking about what happened. She turns to face them fully while whatever flavor Vyv picked brews. Her arms cross over her chest as she listens, her frown deepening. She must be at least somewhat used to his story telling, as she doesn't seem at all confused by it. Disturbed, yes. Confused, no. When he finishes, she takes a deep breath and says, "I was going to say that a trip to the beach seems significant when you spend nearly every day on one of like, three or four streets, but.. now I am a little unsure if I actually want to go to the beach." Pause. "Thai place... "Okay, that part she has a harder time linking to mer-things and squiggly fish, so she just nods. "Was it good?"

She turns to finish making Vyv's coffee, however he likes it, then starts to walk back to deliver it to the well-dressed man. "I haven't been on the other side much, though I've not often heard of it being nice, for sure. Why would it be scared? Seems we should be the scared ones." Handing off the coffee with a smile to Vyv, she returns to Grant's hair, running her fingers through it as she looks in the mirror towards him. "I do like the purple, but if you want a change..." A glance towards Vyv and his clothing. "Perhaps a royal blue? Or a deeper shade of blue?" Vyv gets an upnod then as she says, "good job on blowing that thing up. Sounds like a wise idea..." Then to Grant. "Sorry you got impaled though. I um... you gonna heal quick?"

Vyv may attempt to be helpful when it comes to post-removal communication. Might depend how busy his hands are with coffee at the time. "Most of the world would be vastly improved if more people cared more about things," he replies to Grant. "Though preferably with the sense to agree with me." As far as opinions on coffee, though, he watches as Nicole heads to her Coffee Station, taking it in, and answers her question with, "Fairly strong. Plain and black is fine, thank you."

Bax probably wasn't lucid dreaming this time, since Vyv doesn't appear to be inclined to contradict his summary. Just to look faintly amused at it. "Well, it oughtn't have been acting a chump, then," he murmurs, and that probably gets a spot on at least the list of top 100 things that sound really bizarre when he says them. A bit louder, "It exploded into shards of some sort of dark rock. One got distressingly intimate with his hand." Does that make it his fault? He doesn't seem to be feeling guilty about it. A tiny pause. "The Thai place is separate. And rather good, yes. Don't let things put you off the beach, though, this wasn't anywhere near it. Sea creatures notwithstanding."

Oh good, coffee. He accepts it with a light, "Ta," and wraps both hands around the cup. It's a bit chilly out today, for June. He gives Grant and his hair an appraising look when Nicole makes her suggestions, and notes, "Purples and blues are good. Deeper, perhaps, yes. Somewhere in the navy to midnight range, maybe? Though it is approaching summer." This matters in some way, it would seem. "...and thank you. I can't take all the credit, mind." He'll take a fair bit, though. And a careful sip of the coffee.

Grant murmurs with a wry grin that's not put out by the true statement of, "Well you will anyways, Vyv. Thought we'd make it easy on you. It's been a rough week and it's Tuesday." It's not... his sense of time is worse since the black hole which is a feat in and of itself. He lets Nicole do what she needs to do to get his hair stripped to take dye. There's a pause and he offers, "Cyan? Like an electric aqua blue. Electric Ocean. Man I..." He looks down and turns his hand and sighs, resigned. "Hopefully soon. I am guessing surfing's out a bit." Damn. It's starting to itch and he's trying not to think about it. Occasionally one eye twinging when his fingers try to move. Is that a high pitched wound of regret. Nope. Nope, not coping to that one. "Yeah it wounded pretty pissed at Lyric. She does that. You ever need a nice person to go angry Nanny McPhee on something she's your chickie." Eyes closing he settles in asking before looking for the answer. "Where you think all those doors go?"

"I mean, I kinda prefer they agree with me. But, perhaps we wouldn't disagree about too much." Except maybe the proper way to dress and act at all times, and apparently how to take one's coffee, though Nicole makes it just as he requests.

"Chump." A simple statement, an echo of Vyv's word use. After a brief pause she nods and says, "if someone or something does not want to be exploded, it is wise to not act like a chump, just in case." She makes a mental note about 'dark rock', looking again towards Grant's hand when it is mentioned. Vyv does not seem guilty, and Grant does not seem to feel need to place blame. Nicole herself figures it could probably have been far worse.

"I really like the beach, like, beaches, in general. But local beaches are starting to make me think otherwise. Sea creatures and me man... " She shakes her head, then asks, "these ones, they weren't speaking French, were they? But yeah, that's kinda why I am hoping for a trip to a further away beach." She smiles, returning her attention to Grant's hair. She taps him on the shoulder and gestures with a hand to follow her to the sinks instead, to get to work on that process of stripping and such. "Cyan? I might steer more towards the electrib blue and away from the aqua a bit. The green tone might not be the best for your skin tone. But it is your hair, in the end, so you do have to be happy with it." She looks over to Vyv and tilts her head. "It is near summer, yes, so you are thinking lighter for the season? Could do a softer shade than he has now. Lilac? Or go full silver. That might be hot."

"Lyric? Angry Nanny McPhee?" She looks around as if to consider what doors, before she imagines he is talking about the doors whereever they were, and not here. That thought brings her gaze back to Vyv as her fingers work into Grant's hair.

Vyv must not be too disapproving of Nicole's choices in work uniform and coffee, as he answers, "Perhaps." His suits probably wouldn't properly flatter her anyway. "I suppose not much caring but just doing it my way is a passable alternative," he agrees to Grant, one corner of his lips quirking upward. "And it's Thursday, darling; I'm not sure if that makes it worse or spreads the roughness out over more days so there's less for each."

Nicole's issues with the local beaches have him cocking his head a bit. "What's wrong with your man and the beach? Unfortunate swimsuit decisions?" He probably doesn't actually think so. "These fish certainly weren't speaking French, however. Some odd fish language, I suppose." A sip of his coffee, and he somewhat reluctantly rises again to move sinkward with the pair. Well out of range of getting splashed, but near enough that he needn't raise his voice. Cyan as a suggestion gets a hint of a nosewrinkle, though not an immediate veto; still, a firm nod at Nicole's recommendation on spectrum position suggests a similar opinion there. "Mn. Not that much lighter, I think. Feels a bit more spring, ending up in the pastels. Less that it ought to be lighter than it is now, and more that perhaps navy-to-midnight's a bit more wintery." Another sip of coffee, considering. "A bluer ocean inspiration could work, yes. More an azure or a true blue. Or staying in purples, perhaps the berry-plum area."

He nods slightly to the remark about Lyric. "Mm, yes, credit where credit is due. I suspect it would have been substantially more difficult to succeed without Ms. Bates. And didn't you and your spaceman end up chipping in as well?" He says it like he's fairly sure the answer is 'yes', but to be fair, he was a little bit distracted at the time. "...well, last night's door went from that plane to that labyrinth area. And then it went elsewhere, but there's no way to know where. It may have simply ceased to exist."

Grant tilts his head up to watch Nicole and Vyv and Nicole, Vyv and manages to do damn well having the mirror to work with. He follows up Vyv's comment on unfortunate swimwear choices with almost saying something, pausing, and then changing course for Nicole's sake with his 21 year sage-like world wisdom, "Normally I'd say like bothering with one but I've surfed the Harbor. Definitely do not want to put anything out there you will miss." Not actually terrible advice turns out.

"They were speaking the language of Archipelago. EAC and Mediterranean and Atlantian have totally different emphasis." He's tripped on fish more than once." At trying to recreate the battle Grant's brow furrows trying to remember. Hey bluey blues seem a go. That might mean indigo or denim even. She's got sharp taste. There's trust enough here. Still he answers, hesitating as if not trusting himself and words drift a bit, "I... I 'unno. I remember reaching out, being pulled apart. I remember time being pulled apart and ... it's complicated... and not. If I told you what happened it'll sound stupid. Maybe we did. I dunno... but yeah royal space blue might work. Good recc." That was not the recommendation but it is now. Credit all around.

Because he's nos he's got to ask. It's in his DNA really to be nosy and just ask. Maybe that's the Baxter genes talking. Who knows. "Nicole, what happened to you at the beach? Or why did it bite you>" One can only assume that it had in Gray Harbor.

Nicole could rock that suit! You know, if it were tailored to her curves. But anyway...

"Oh, no... not like, my man has issues with beaches. Like. Man, me and beaches, or sea creatures, whatever. Like, yeah, sea creatures and I have a history, man." She smiles at Vyv. "Pretty sure my man would look good no matter what he wore. Though, knowing him he'd rock a pair of cut off jeans and call it a swimsuit."

"Ooh..." Nicole says as she begins to rinse Grant's hair. "I like berry-plum." She peeks at Grant's face. "What do you think?"

A turn of her head takes her gaze back to Vyv. "Spaceman?" Pause. "Oh, so the doors... I see." She nods at Grant then and says, "like, you don't want a French speaking crustacean using his big old claw to.." Then, she uses her fingers in a scissors motion.

She then starts putting the color into Grant's hair. She decided to mix the ideas and make it a deep space purple indigo. Perhaps it was the talk of spacemen that inspired her.

"Oh like, I went to that fish shack? Not whatsherface's the truck one that comes about on occasion. Anyway, went there with a friend and next thing you know, French speaking Crustacean army was storming the beach attacking people. Lilith got hurt by a... walrus? Or was it a seal. I was busy fighting off shrimp-a-pults. All the shrimps. My friend had little marks all over from them. There was a crab general yelling about revolutions and stuff. How people eat sea creatures so now we would be eaten! But uh, none of us were eaten. We managed to fight them off."

If the suit were tailored to her, likely. But as it's tailored to Vyv, well... "No one looks good regardless of what they wear," he counters idly, "Admittedly, some people do get closer than others. But there's no scenery so beautiful it can't be spoilt." Chances are decent that cut-off jeans don't make his 'likely to flatter' list, but if so that argument can be had another day. Grant's rejected solution to this issue, and Nicole's addition, get a nod and rather deadpan, "Mm. Liable to spoil any outing, though I suspect English or Latin or Swahili would be no better. And even bar a particularly unpleasant case of crabs, one's surely risking a hit to one's hydrodynamics at best."

He sips his coffee, mulling the colours, or possibly the variety of sea creature languages Grant professes familiarity with; either way, it's certainly the skater he's considering. "...Spaceman," he confirms to Nicole slightly belatedly, "Or so Bax here declared. You'll have to ask him for any more details." Something about the way it's said suggests that now he's got time to think about this again, he might not mind some himself. He looks faintly pleased by the agreement on the appeal of berry-plum, and watches with quiet interest as the various suggestions get blended into something potentially nebulesque. The combination thus far appears to pass muster.

"It probably won't sound stupider than shrimp-a-pults or chocolate swan attacks," he remarks to Bax, adding to Nicole, "Pleased you all managed a full victory. Seafood needs to know its place." And speaking of seafood places, "I do wonder where Ms. Velez has got to. Every time I turn around it seems like someone else's left town without notice."

Grant sits still and for the most part listens and offers, "Apparently I've done my part to prove this to be true." Why he's proud of this who knows. Thoughtfully he also informs Nicole, "Now Sparrow's not the only person of science we know." But now there's people-eating shrimpies. Arching an eyebrow, "Well I'm glad you weren't eaten. I mean you're cool but also they'd close the beach so double suck." He cares and stuff. It is his Dream-Wife's future spouse's safety at stake!

As Spaceman is reiterated there's a goofy, almost wistful smile. "Someday, that'll be me. Officially and not just Star Stowaway." He turns his head, he shouldn't but does and proud of Joseph's conquest to get paid to go up there, "He's an astronaut. Suuuuper cool. Taller than me though." There's a slight frown as if wondering if that's the hurdle keeping him grounded as if reaching it was an act of jumping up and tagging things. After considering his habit of doing this without being 6" taller he lets it go.

Frowning slightly he considers the Julia Velez situation and frowns slightly. "Man I hope they didn't drag her back to the hospital."

Nicole gives Vyv a tilted-head look of consideration. She doesn't appear to agree with his statement that no one looks good regardless of what they wear. She does nod though, that scenery, no matter how beautiful, can be spoilt.

There is no further talk about what color or colors should go into Grant's hair. Nicole steps away to go off and mix the colors she plans to use. When she returns, she simply begins putting in the dyes as she listens to the two men. "I swear," she says as an aside to Vyv. "They had catapults that flung the shrimp at us. I know it sounds fairly nonsensical, but it's true. For a long time, I felt so confused by what happened. I kept talking to Dylan, my friend I was with, trying to make sure I didn't just imagine it all. I was so naive. I've come to understand more, but often still feel like, well, I know nothing about all the stuff that happens. Slow learner, I guess." She shrugs, grabbing a different color. Hair is colored and sectioned off in foil wraps, making Grant look a bit space-like, if not like an astronaut.

"Who is the astronaut? I've heard about him here and there but, not sure I met him. "

She frowns then as Grant casts his hope for Julia into the air. She has learned enough to know that when some people talk about the hospital, they don't mean Addington Memorial. "I hope not too."

Vyv is quite definite about his assertion, and looks unbothered by the consideration, particularly as he's giving Grant a half-smile at the time. "Mm, yes, you're a boon to research," he confirms, just enough fondness sneaking into the tone to suggest this may qualify as teasing, whatever the truth value of Grant's claim to be a frequent test case might be.

"Oh, I don't doubt you," he replies to Nicole, gesturing vaguely with his cup, "The chocolate swan attack was one of my own experiences. I wasn't even at the shop at the time. There was--" He pauses, head tilting as he regards her. "No, you know. You were there, were't you? Massive birds to ride. Absolutely nonsensical, yet true. But one has to admit they do sound rather stupid, so Bax probably needn't worry how telling us what happened from his point of view might sound." His eyes narrow a little as he takes another sip, considering. "It does seem an odd choice to hurl fellow-combatants at one's enemies in battle. Kamikaze shrimp." A pause. "Seafood for lunch, perhaps," he decides. "But I'm honestly uncertain how much anyone truly understands of what goes on around here."

As far as the spaceman, the note that he's an actual astronaut seems to be a mild surprise, as the chef's brows lift a touch. "I'd not met him before," he answers Nicole, "but he said his name was Joe. About my height, dark blond hair, mn, late forties or so? Good cheekbones. Knuckle tattoos. Sounds southern." He shifts his weight, getting more comfortable as he watches the dyeing, and notes to Grant, "There've been female astronauts. I'm sure they've not all been taller than you."

Regarding Julia, he merely nods agreement that this possibility sounds, at best, suboptimal.

Grant is so damn proud of himself much in the way a corgi has no common sense to know when making an offense against fashion should be a bad thing. Does he have bad days? Few. Very few. There's a grin that hits his eyes as Vyv catches on. A slight laugh and his free hand signs YES. "Joe Cavanaugh. II was having like a total meltdown and Sparrow tried to pimp me out to him for a waffle." It could be a joke or that he just doesn't get overly worked up about his boon companion's antics.

"It was a shit day and he talked to me a bit about Space withdrawal. It's a real honest to gods thing turns out and not just by brain weasels trying to scoop slam me on that one. Soooo when we go back he said let him know if we find a way there. I said I would. He's really pretty damn cool. Knows a lot of stuff about boats too."

Looking at Nicole in teh mirror so he doesn't move his head there's a slight frown. "The Other Hospital is a bad news bears place, yo. Also I think seafood for lunch sounds totes boss, man. Nicole, you want us to bring you the breaded fried remains of your many tiny enemies so you can snack on victory? I don't mind pickin it up for ya."

"Oh!" Nicole nods to Vyv. "Right.. chocolate swan. I was thinking something else entirely... Granted, that whole, well, it didn't go well for me." She laughs and shakes her head a bit. "One thing I have learned is... no story I hear from people here is too weird. I mean, weird, yes, but also probably true to some level at least. Like, at least to the person telling it."

Once she has all of Grant's hair in the foil wraps, she nods towards him in the mirror. "Shrimp for lunch would be great. Now, we'll let this sit a bit to set in."

Vyv's brows go up at Grant again. "For a waffle? I certainly hope you were going to get at least the majority of it. You have better business sense than to bear all the energy expenditure and let her take all the fuel." He has another sip of his coffee, watching the careful application of the colours, nose wrinkling just slightly at the scents of the chemicals. Though they could surely be far worse.

The matter of 'space withdrawal' is filed away somewhere, and 'snack on victory' gets a small smile half-masked by the next sip of his drink; he inclines his head slightly to Nicole in agreement with her remarks on the stories. "I believe a great many things here I mightn't have a year and a half ago," he agrees, "It starts getting a bit odd, if I think about it too long. But I know what I've seen and experienced and the evidence suggests most of the rest is probably accurate as well, for most relevant definitions of 'accurate'." The sight of all the foil is faintly amusing, from the way he eyes it, but no comment on that. Simply, "That race didn't go particularly well for any of us, really."

Grant holds up two fingers. "Waffle each. I mean to be fair our WaHo has super mondo good waffles." At the compliment to his business acumen (which he is totally taking as a compliment). An eyebrow arches working at following along with the conversation. A slow, wide and easy grin forms at the stories shared. "Yeah like ..." He picks his words thoughtfully and carefully, "we get like tourists and stuff? It amazes me how like... not normal some of this stuff is. Then people move here and it's like-" There's supposedly a gesture of 'fingers exploding apart' as if to emphasis BOOM! or mind blown, on in this case a sharp wince because he forgot his hand is stitched back together.

Yeah, that'll remind him quick.

"Wait-" Now here's the distraction he wanted, "There was a race?"

Nicole laughs and shrugs a shoulder toward Vyv. "Honestly, you all got so far ahead of me, I didn't get to see what happened towards the end." When Grant asks about there being a race, she nods to him. "Yeah, well, sorta. One of those things you wake up from knowing it was way too weird to be real, but also knowing it was really damned real."

"It is all kind of mind blowing though, yeah." She frowns and gestures to his hand. "You okay?"

"Well. I suppose a waffle each is a good start. But if you're going to do more than half the work, surely you deserve more than half the proceeds. Work on your negotiation." Another sip of his coffee, and Vyv makes a bit of a face at the mention of the end of the race. That wince from Grant delays an immediate answer, however, and he watches the younger man for a moment before advising, "Careful." You know, in case the pain didn't remind him sufficiently.

"There've been three races," he goes on to answer, "or at least, three I've been pulled into. Dessert-based tracks. The first two were driving races, in candy cars." A slight pause. "I won those." Purely a fact, in case Bax might have wondered. Certainly not because he's at all proud or smug about it in any way. "The last one, though, involved riding massive birds of various types. I was on a huge albino peacock, personally. But at the end, the chocolate lava cake below us exploded upward and took us all down." Another small pause, and with the irritation of memory, "That was when I couldn't taste sweetness properly for a week afterward." This, Grant may well recall.

Grant slowly grins at Nicole's telling of the race. "Man that sounds like a trip. Sounds like fun, but I like going fast so." She asks about the hand and he looks down distantly murmuring, "We are but a world orbiting many worlds and one is on the back of a large creature in pain needing to get free so she doesn't die. A city. They call to us for help cause we cna... move and interact with like forces and stuff in ways they can't. Kinda like Thor and Loki when they visited Iceland or whatever in Thor: Ragnarok. Last time though... I dunno."

At Vyv's annotation about better pimping for pastries he murmurs with a wry, lzsy grin, "Well when we're back at your kitchen we'll work out a snackual favour economy and chart it." The eyebrow goes higher though trying to picture Vyv racing food. So far this tracks. Looking to Nicole he asks, "Tell me he had a little flappy Snoopy scarf and everything?" The damage however causes a wince and a frown, "Well, thankfully you got that back. Wonder how that all fits in though. Ya know? You ever think there's a message in all of ti?"

"Now waffles sound good..." Nicole states, clearly not having had lunch yet. This talk of food is starting to get to her. The details on the races they have taken part in don't help. "I never win... but I take pride in failing spectacularly." She smiles bright, pretending to buff her nails on her shoulder. Pretending, because her hands are covered in gloves still. "I had some sort of stork that was very unhappy with me trying to ride it. It dumped me on my ass and I tried to fly y damned self instead."

"He is as impeccably dressed in dream races as he is in real life. And of course, his candy cars are always the very best looking. Probably the best tasting too, but I never tried to eat one..."

The rest of Grant's words get a very thoughtful look. "Man... that's all super deep. Like Horton Hears a Who, a speck of dust on a flower fluff carried by an elephant that walks a planet... " She frowns then. "The creature carrying the world might die? How does a creature carrying a world get freed without the world dying too?" Another frown and a small shake of her head is given. "I don't think of that often, if there's a message in all of it. I kind of think there has to be... but what it is... I might not want to know."

"You'd enjoy these," Vyv tells Grant without the slightest doubt, and eyes both of them briefly as he adds, "Should we end up in any others, do not attempt to eat my car." It probably is delicious, he doesn't say aloud. He doesn't need to. The remark on his attire gets a quite small but quite genuine smile, and he inclines his head slightly to Nicole in acknowledgement and thanks; it's enough to have him confirm to Bax, "There's been a scarf, yes. It has been known to flap a bit. Though not precisely little, and I wouldn't personally take Snoopy as the referent."

Grant's suggestion as to when next in his kitchen has the corners of his mouth quirking up again, and a slight tilt of the head. "I wonder," he muses with a glance to the bandaged hand, "if there's such a thing as snaxual healing." He may be up for that chart, but takes the last sip of his coffee as the topics get a bit more serious, and gets a bit more so himself. "The city's not the whole world, as I understand it. Theoretically, if we free her, the citizens can go elsewhere in their world. But I believe the world as a whole is... difficult, presently. Survival will be much more work, outside her boundaries. But when the tide comes in, things will change regardless, so they might as well take the opportunity to handle it intentionally now."

He considers, fingertips tapping lightly against the empty mug. "For there to be a message, there'd need to be a source. One or more beings intentionally arranging things... and intending to communicate with us. Mn. I'm not sure I'm convinced that's the case. But on a smaller level... lately we do appear to somehow be being tipped for assistance in places our talents are both unusual and directly, immediately useful. How, I coudn't say."

Grant grins a bit wider. Usually this might be more high octane a response but healing is exhausting and he slept like a pile of bricks was stored on him so there is the response of being terribly pleased. "That sounds pretty fly." Looking back to Nicole he says, "Twenty bucks if you bring back pics." The eyebrows waggle, but sadly the Veil protects its own.

"There's absolutely a thing called Snackual Healing, right Nicole? If there wasn't sad people wouldn't eat chocolate. It's important! nicole tell em. Pretty sure one of our movie nights we had this very conversation and we were going to declare Corey a saint of snacks and then I realized I cannot actually do that. So he was declared that week's snack pope of the curch of cheesecake... man...hungry again." Perpetually.

"Whaaaat if the source..." His eye twinges as he tries to move his hand again. Damn. Forgot. "What if the source is us? Like maybe a collective consciousness manifested from the anxieties of the peoples of a place." There's a pause and his head shakes, "Nevermind. Cities would be like big big holes then. What is the Space There is just an eco system like... I dunno nature here? Reflexive, not with a plan per se."

"I would be afraid of what might happen to me if I dared try," Nicole admits to Vyv. Probably not fearful of candy cars themselves, but what he might do to her if she tried. Looking down towards Grant in the mirror, she murmurs, "the scarf was flapping because he's a very good candy racer." Looking back up towards Vyv, she comments, "of course there's 'snaxual healing'. Isn't that basically what Comfort Food is?" She quiets then, listening to the man talk about the world and the city within it. Silently, she taps Grant's shoulder to gesture him to move back over to the sinks, helping him lean back there so she can begin the process of rinsing the dye from his hair.

"I think there is a source... but I am not sure I want to know what the source is... You know? But at the same time... I do, so I can ask them why." Nicole is often very full of questions. Not always so politely uttered as a simple 'why' though. She looks down towards Bax at his ideas about the source, a thoughtful hum escaping her lips. "I mean... you might be onto something though.. Certainly worth considering. But maybe not fed off our anxieties, but... something."

There's enough subtle amusement underlying the dry "Good," that admission gets to suggest Vyv's joking... though there's also a quiet hint of satisfaction that further suggests 'but probably not entirely'. What with the discussion of comfort food and the like, as he follows the pair back to the sink for rinsing (which he stands soundly out of the way of any potential splash from, than you), there's a hum nearly under his breath of a few bars of what is probably, in this case, Snaxual Healing. "Yes," he allows once he's settled in again, "I suppose that probably does qualify," and adds to Grant, "Church of Cheesecake sounds unnecessarily restrictive. Though then again, restrictive does generally seem to go with the remit."

He watches the excess colour streaming away in the water, thoughtful. "It's easier to imagine it as a sort of ecosystem. Actually, it's a bit difficult not to imagine it as one, possibly connected to ours, or at least, the... unusual Gray Harbor-y portion of ours. Some sort of push and pull and..." a flick of his attention from the water to the skater's face, just briefly, "balance, between the worlds perhaps, perhaps between things within them...?" Another absent tap or two against the empty mug. "Certainly it seems the dolorphages feed on our anxieties and such. But it seems unlikely to me they're the source. Just a predatory species within it all. Still... I wouldn't be shocked if our psyches did influence forms in that side of the world, somehow."

Grant warms a smile. Balance is good. Really he's ridiculous when he's damn happy. Then again he spent an entire truth or dare night doodling in Inquisitor Sparrow's Answer Book to entertain those reading it eventually. Or maybe just her. He's pretty generous like that. Stillhte idea of balance in the chaos and difference is a pleasing one.

"Yeah like there's an over population? Nature creates a virus to balance it. There's too much of a thing, its ecology shifts to deal with it. Nature will overcome man. I'm just thinking, given the evidence and stuff? We're maybe the catalyst and it's an echo of that ecosystem just trying to ...I dunno? Level out? Protect itself? Maybe it's protecting itself from us and we're the weird. We are the Maestros man." Though the hearing aides come out he can try as he may to read lips and with the mirror and Vyv staying facing him like he has the courtesy to do, or in eyeshot? That's hella helpful. Looking back to Nicole he offers, "I know you and Phi left but coming back you've got to remember that much or notice. You aren't crazy. We're real."

"I do like cheesecake," Nicole admits. "But I might be more apt to go in for the Church of Cookies. At least there, there's some variety." She is mostly focused on Grant's hair at the moment, or at the very least, pretends to be, as a lot of what the two men say seems to go a bit over her head. She's not a dumb person, but she is also not that deep into philosophy to ponder some things. Grant might even see her mouth the word 'dolorphages' with her brows knit together. However, she does add, "balance is important, I think, in well... kind of all things. At least most things. Maybe we're simply out of balance and until we are able to get back in it..." She lifts one gloved hand, gently waving it about chaotically (though without a splash of dye water) as if to indicate 'all the crazy things'. She nods down to Grant. "I notice. I no longer think I am crazy..... well... not for that at least."

"First Church of Crust, Delectational," Vyv suggests, setting the cup down on the nearest counter to free his hands up for signing. His signed vocabulary is still fairly iffy, but he's gradually getting better at glossing and actually getting reasonably decent at finger-spelling now. Which is handy, 'cause that joke isn't going to work as general concepts. Still probably helps to stay where Grant can most easily read his lips, though.

"Humans have a tendency to be catalysts in any ecosystem, it seems. So yes, that may well include when it comes to Maestros and interaction with things on the other side... Weird isn't necessarily a one-way street. Although I suppose a truly one-way street would be fairly weird." Alas, as he's not the one who sees the mouthing, he doesn't elabourate on the odd word, though he does nod to her addition. "Balance is virtually always important. Even where it doesn't seem to exist, the fact that it's missing is rarely just incidental." A small pause, and an equally small half-smile, a brow lifting. "What do you think you're crazy for now, then?"

Grant mumbles back to her, "I dunno what the deal with door hinges are either. I'm rolling with it." Nicole and he might be on the same page here with this one. Vyv asks the hard questions and Bax is paying attention but right now while it's dark from being damp he's imagining space hair here in final form. Nicole's a people painter. Pretty spoiled for a guy with a book impaled in his hand last night. "It's okay to be a little crazy. Sparrow and I get our best ideas from there." And the worst but he's not here to talk about those!! "Speaking of which, I need to talk to her about her book. But seriously, defending yourself from a cannibal shrimp cocktail is not crazy. That's judicious planning."

Nicole can sign most of the alphabet! And 'thank you' but otherwise, it is not a language she has mastered. She does, at least, mostly remember to stay in view so Grant can read her lips. Mostly. "I take it.. Mestros is something other than just masters of music or whatever?" All the color rinsed, Nicole grabs a black towel to start drying Grant's hair. She pauses, so Grant can look at her if he wants, and smiles to Vyv, "why, everything else, of course!" Laughing, she starts drying his hair again. When finished, she asks Grant, "want me to blow dry, or are you airdrying? And yeah... defending myself against shrimp-apault attacks seemed a good idea at the time. Still does..."

Turns out a good jumpstart for learning ASL is a natural knack for languages and a hard-of-hearing boyfriend. Who knew? ...well, probably anyone that's posited to, actually, but hindsight is 20/20.

The mumble regarding 'door hinges' gets a brief confused look that clears to a slightly exasperated one and a sigh. "Dolorphages," he says more slowly, finger-spelling it for Grant's benefit. "Dolor, pain or sadness; phages, eaters. Technically it's mixing Latin and Greek, but if 'television' can get away with it I don't see why we can't. And it's a good deal clearer than," he adds some ominous forboding to his tone, "'Them'." A small pause. "Mr. Clayton's word. I approve of it." And while they're on words, "'Maestro' is what they tend to call us over there, at least several of the times I've been pulled over. Those skilled in the Arts." Something about it suggests the capital 'A'. "Which is to say, things psychic. The telekinesis, the telepathy, the healing. No one's given me a better vocabulary for it, so I might as well use theirs." The small-a artist probably doesn't hate that metaphor for it all, anyway.

He gives a slight smile at the idea of everything else making Nicole think she's crazy, and eyes Bax a beat before agreeing, "Ye-es, I can see how Everything Else might leave one feeling that way." Just throwing the arbitrary caps all over the place today. "Really, though, I continue to fully endorse any and all self-defense against aggressive seafood, with or without trebuchets involved."

Grant is kind of half dry already. he flaps a hand more keen on the colour than he is hearing about door hinges, that is until he is corrected. "Nicole, yooooou are an artist. I want you to know this is your hair and I'ma try to take care of it." Brown eyes stare at Vyv while he speaks of people that eat fear and such, blinks, and states slightly aghast, "That sounds terrifying." 1/10, do not recommend!

Looking up to Nicole he offers a sympathetic look. "Everything Else makes me feel pretty crazy too and... what I can tell you is sometimes? We might be. We can only do the best we can though in any situation we're in... and not wet ourselves. That's sometimes like a part of it. There was this one time with this egg that erupted in broken glass and ichor and-..." There's a pause and a deep breath, "Well it was bad and may have woken up punching my roommate. So yeah ya know sometimes shit makes us a little crazy but the rest?? Eh if it's working for you learn to use it. " Shoulders rise and fall, palms turning up, "I don't even know if it's mystical like...it just...is. Like math, or cake, ...or time travel." There's a pause and he glances to Vyv and then to Nicole confiding, "Okay all cards on the table? Cake's a lil bit mystical."

"Dolophages..." Nicole repeats. "So.. pain or sadness eater... like a vampire of sorts." Pause. "So wait... we are the Maestros? Fancy...." Though she says that, she doesn't sound like she really thinks that is a great thing. "I suppose there is worse to be called." She is still fingers-in in Grant's hair. "You like it? I like the combo. Almost makes me want to color mine." She looks from the mirror down to Grant, smiling sympathetically. "Some of those Dreams are doozies, aren't they? I think I have had Joey wake me up by looking to see if I was alive so often I've become used to it." She chuckles a little but then frowns. "That one... that sounds horrible." She does agree on one point though. Emphatically. "Cake is fucking magical. You can pay me in Vyv cakes anytime you want." She winks over towards Vyv at that.

"We are the Maestros," Vyv confirms, with a touch of a drawl to it. For his part, he sounds faintly amused about the appellation. Hey, not like he's allergic to 'fancy', anyway. "...and I have quite definitely been called worse. Though not, to my recollection, over psychic abilities. And yes, as I understand it, the dolorphages are a bit like vampires of negative emotion. People refer to them as shadows or dark men or simply 'them'. I don't believe I've ever seen one, but I'm assured they're about and we make delicious meals. The advice is not to use one's abilities 'too much', though no one's been able to define 'too much' for me in a way that doesn't boil down to 'when they notice you, it was too much'." A pause. "Which isn't particularly useful." Irritation settles just so naturally into his voice and expression.

He waves it away with a vague gesture, though broken glass and ichor (and possibly the waking up punching people) don't make him look a lot happier with the world. The mystical qualities of cake do better at that, particularly when seconded by Nicole, and the pair of them get a small smile that's brighter around the eyes. "Do you know, I think we might be able to reach a fair trade there if desired. The colour looks lovely." And that's probably two compliments. "When do you think it'll need touching up?"

Grant looking up to Nicole he signs as he speaks, "Maestro makes sound move. We influence other things. Orchestrate stuff. Seriously try it deliberately, but don't overthink it." There's a pause and the eyebrow goes up up up looking back to Vyv with a wry grin. "Oh I'm sure you have." Has he heard this? Well he does know all of Vyv's employees longer than he's known Vyv. Something about Tyrant of Tarts or some such. He was busy trying to figure out how one stuffs a donut hole at the time. Important business you see."Yeah that information was as useful as you'll know when you know. Now it's not inaccurate but it's also not like... a good compass." The smile turns up to Nicole "You kick so much ass. I'm diggin this hard." The question of how long until it has to be touched up gets a grin "Well when you notice, Vyv, it's been too much time." Smart ass. At least he's topical about it. "Nicole you have any more crabs need shucking holler. I got your back."

"Not too much, just enough," Nicole says to Vyv, nodding. "I mean, it's come in handy when I've done things... I mean, at least when I knew I was doing them? It's all kind of like telling an addict, here's an array of drugs you can use, just don't do too much. You will know it's too much when you OD and are getting a shot in the heart and or your stomach fucking pumped...."

She clears her throat. "I mean... pardon my language. But, yeah." She for a moment forgot to wear her professional workplace face.

"Um... depends, really. Usually, about every 6 weeks is good." She eyes Grant's hair. "Sooner if it fades or grows fast... you know, give or take." She chuckles then nods after Grant's comment, then looks to Vyv again. "Or... when you notice." She whisks off the protective cape from Grant and says, "I sure will. Crustaceans of any sort. Maybe some errent ents too. Who knows where life will take us! Thanks for coming in guys."

'Tyrant of Tarts' is probably still not in the running for worst. Hell, Vyv might almost be tempted to put that one on a business card instead of Maītre Pātissier. For a fraction of a second, anyway. That grin of Grant's regarding his surety about things the chef's been called gets a sidelong look and brow-arch that would make a stellar example of haughty disdain if it weren't rather undercut by the tiny upward twitch at one corner of his lips. "Are you, now." The other corner curls a hint as well.

"No, precisely," he agrees with them both, another nod. Still signing for Grant's benefit. "'Take the left turn two miles before the church,' that sort of thing. Except that I suspect in this case the church keeps moving around, as well." He makes a gesture that hopefully isn't saying anything in particular in ASL, since it's really absent waving away of that topic, and the timing option of 'when he notices' draws a smirk. "So we'll just set up a standing appointment Thursday mornings then, shall we?" Is that a joke? It's probably a joke. A fairly good indicator is that it's followed by a slight narrowing of his eyes and, "Mn. We'll schedule six, then. And I'll just drag him in earlier if he manages to grow it out like it's some sort of race." Despite the 'him', the latter sentence is said directly to Grant, and the little smirk's still lurking. To Nicole again, "Yes, though, thank you. Much better. And may life avoid taking any of us to errant Ents or combative crustaceans any time soon." He steps away, giving Grant room to get up and starting to head for the till.

Grant soberly looks up to Nicole and says, "never need to do that to someone. It suuuuuucks and it is so not like Pulp Fiction. And then they hurl on you. It's awful." There's an experience he will never entirely walk away from. The sly imperiousness is noticed immediately and Grant is all too amused by what is, somewhere vehement shit-talking. "Excellence begets outrage man. Haters gonna hate."

From the travel case in his pocket he puts his hearing aides back in then turns them on together. He watches as he's spoken of like a pet project but hey, he's not fool enough to argue when he's winning in this situation. Nicole, however, gets a generous hug and a $20 tip from his own pocket. "I am better for knowing you. You are such a bad ass. I really appreciate the short notice shit."

Nicole moves up to the counter where she keeps her appointment book, old school style. "So, I should pencil you in then for... six appointments roughly every six weeks then?" She looks at Grant, then before turning to Vyv, her eyes going directly up to his hair. "And what about you, oh stylish one?" Grant's commentary on Pulp Fiction style Hypodermic Plunging has her looking at him with wide eyes and an arched brow. "I certainly hope to not need to do that to anyone..." Taking the payment for today's services and spotting the tip, she smiles at Grant. "Hey, thanks man. You are bad ass too."

Judging by the lift of his brows, Vyv also hopes never to need to do that to anyone, and possibly not to have to think about situations in which Grant would. Did. Or perhaps the ensuing hurlage. At any rate, he's happier to give the following remarks a slow inclination of the head, hands spreading: indeed, haters just gonna hate. What can ya do?

Happier to deal with the payment, too, though that seems just par for any course, with a reasonable tip included despite Grant's own. The younger man gets a glance complete with questioning brow at the schedule proposal, though barring some clear and immediate disagreement, there's only a moment before he decides, "That should do, yes." The glance to his hair has him blink, then smile slightly again. "I've always thought this colour rather suited me." A pause, considering. "But I suppose I'll likely need a trim, mm," a flicker of his eyes to the nearest mirror, "next week. Tuesday evening?" Given he's presumably been having his hair cut somewhere already, this can probably be taken as proof he approves of her work thus far.