2020-07-13 - Botched Hit

(TXT to Isabella) Alexander : Can you pick me up from the station? Police station.

(TXT to Alexander) Isabella : The police station? What happened?!

(TXT to Alexander) Isabella : I'm on my way, give me 10 mins.

(TXT to Isabella) Alexander: Shootout at the casino. No details on the phone. I'm okay, not arrested.

(TXT to Alexander) Isabella: Do you need me to bring a med kit?

(TXT to Isabella) Alexander: No. There were paramedics, and it was just a graze.

(TXT to Alexander) Isabella : Alright. I'll be right there.

The police station is being bathed in a steady fall of rain. Alexander is standing outside, in the rain, of his own free will. Apparently he wasn't arrested for anything, and one of his arms has been bandaged up, but he doesn't look significantly injured. There's blood on his t-shirt, but since it's a black metal band shirt, that kind of works for it. He keeps an eye out for Isabella's jeep, but otherwise seems locked into his own thoughts. When the jeep appears, though, he musters a smile and walks through the rain towards it, and waves his good arm to catch her attention.

If the color isn't visible in this dark and rainy night, it's Isabella's driving style that would give her away. The Jeep careens recklessly around a slick corner in an audible squeal of rubber tires, shredding against the concrete underneath it. If she's concerned about making such maneuvers while closing the distance between herself and a police station, it's very clear that the driver doesn't give a damn.

The Jeep squeals into a stop, the doors unlocked - and whenever Alexander opens the door to get inside, Isabella's green-and-gold eyes find his in the collected shadows of the vehicle's interior, expression tight with worry.

"Oh, thank god," she breathes, when she realizes that save for a visible bandage and a graze, he isn't injured. She unbuckles her seatbelt briefly, just so she could throw her arms around him and holds on for a moment or two. The rain doesn't deter or disturb her; he knows her fondness of water very well, fingers burying into his wet half-curls.

Alexander hugs back as soon as he slides inside, although more strongly with one arm than the other. He rests his face against her hair and breathes in her scent. "Hey," he murmurs. He pulls back enough to smile at her. "I'm okay. We're okay." He peers at her. "Are you okay?" And then his eyes twitch back towards the police station. "We should drive. I don't want us to be here."

"Stop fussing," she grumbles, though she doesn't really mean it - Isabella enjoys, rather than suffers his fussing, it's just that she doesn't tend to admit it out loud. He knows though, he's an empath. There's a flash of a quick smile before she threads the seatbelt back on her once releasing him, latching it securely. It isn't long until the Jeep is peeling out of the station in that same, reckless speed. He doesn't want to be there, so they won't.

"I'm alright, now that I've slept enough to put a hibernating bear to shame." That's all she has done in the last few days; sleep, and eat, and exercise in an effort to replenish what the Dream had taken from her. Even her lingering restlessness since her return is abating, somewhat, whenever they share a bed at night. "I'm glad you're okay, what were you doing in the casino?"

In the rearview mirror, the station drifts further and further away - and quickly, given the way she drives.

"Just...trying to keep an eye on it. For Byron. And Easton. In case something happened." Alexander fiddles with his hands. "Not that I was of any use when it did." A longer pause. "Be careful for the next little while, okay? This...people tried to do a hit on Felix Monaghan. I was there. Monaghan..." he reaches for his arm. "I'm alive. But I saw things I shouldn't, and really obviously. I can't guarantee there won't be," a pause, "consequences for that, and Isabella, I don't want them to become consequences for you."

It doesn't take long, especially with the way Isabella drives, to get back to 13 Elm, and after that initial explanation, she doesn't say much and with good reason; whatever the tale implies, it seems to hold a few sensitive facts that even she's not comfortable discussing out loud. As usual, when it comes to crime, she's relatively out of her depth.

She parks the Jeep in front of the driveway, and while Alexander knows that questions are forthcoming, she doesn't ask them until they're inside of the house and she can close the door behind them. She peels out of her jacket and hangs it up; dark hair clings to her sunkissed face, her usual messy topknot weighed down by all the rain from outside, swirling in dark patterns against the back of her neck and her collarbones framed by the straps of her tanktop. She nudges her sneakers off her feet, and sets it carefully to the side.

"Sit down, I'll make you some coffee," she murmurs, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Why don't you tell me what happened, what do you mean there was a hit? How did you get caught up in it?"

Alexander is the first out of the Jeep, and he scurries to be the first to the door. Apparently he's SERIOUS about that being careful stuff, because he stops, and sweeps the house with his mind before /he/ opens the door and /he/ walks in first, frowning at everything. And once the door is locked behind them, he shakes his head at the offer of coffee and points at the sofa. Conveniently in a space that doesn't have an easy sightline from the windows. "You sit. I'll make the coffee." He slouches towards the kitchen, turning on only the minimal lights needed. "I was just there. And I was an idiot. There's not much to say - Monaghan and some of his people were at the casino parking garage, and someone tried to hit him. Three, maybe four gunners, a van. There was a brief fire fight. One of Monaghan's guys went down, and all of the attackers."

If it makes him feel better about what had happened this evening, Isabella doesn't argue it. She glances at the windows and her two fingers lift, banishing the drapes and letting them cascade down the glass panes to obscure them. In a small house like this, it's child's play for her and her reach - small exercises to assure herself that everything is in working order, or at least, that things aren't more broken than they were before.

"How were you an idiot?" she asks, as if uncomprehending - in a way, she is, when she's often convinced of his intelligence. But her slender frame folds into the couch that he points out, brows drawn forward in concern.

Alexander and Isabella are inside, although Alexander has turned on only the minimum of lights necessary to see, and he's put Isabella in a place where she can't easily be seen (or shot) as a silhouette through the now shaded window. He's making coffee with the French press. "Because I heard gunfire and I went to see what was going on. And then I got involved. I should have just fucking let them kill each other."

Joey knocks on the door shifting his weight from one foot to the other, tapping his toe against the heel of his other boot to de-soil them, and then back again to do the same. Any other day he'd roll up like thunder and square off with the world. This is a small sign of him being beat down a bit. Still he's there. He looks marginally cleaned up anyways. Well he kinda washed his hands. he got as far as washing his hands. Now he knocks again. Yeah it's a bad day but here's to being kinda responsible about it.

Alexander is working the french press, and there's suddenly a knock at the door at this hour. Isabella rises from her position on the couch, her hand coming around the small of her back to hook at the weapon that is ever-present there, whenever living in Gray Harbor. She moves for the door to peek out the peephole.

"Joey Kelly's here," she tells the private investigator; her expression says it all whenever he glimpses it. She hasn't formed a full picture of what happened yet, but the question is clear on her features - do they let him in?

"Isabella, don't--" Alexander bites it off; he knows he can't stop her from doing anything that she decides to do. When she says who it is, a lot of very complicated expressions flit across his face. It settles to a sort of resolved resignation. "Yeah," he tells her, quietly. "He can come in." But Alexander moves up, clearly intending to be the one who lets him in. Just in case he's misread the possibilities, here. He also shakes his head, slightly, with a glance towards her hand sneaking around to the small of her back.

And when the door opens, he says, "Come in, Kelly. It's wet out there, and I'm making coffee." He doesn't turn his back to the gym owner, but backs towards the kitchen to grab a third mug. "What do you take in your coffee?"

Joey is watching his shoes and looks back up when the door knob turns. Eyebrows, glance, then the head follows. He is looking Alexander over for damages. There is silence and definiately a guarded expression but a slight relief in the sag of his shoulders when Alexander wordlessly invites him in.

Hands held up to show he's...well whatever. Unarmed? Maybe? A gesture of non-hostility. Hey. Um... Black is fine. It's fine." Looking up to Isabella he lifts his chin asking her, "Wanted to talk to you. Not.... " the hand comes up, "not like that. Hey, Isabella."

"Hey, Joey," Isabella tells him with a small smile, somewhere behind and to the side of Alexander and aligned against the wall. There's something almost apologetic in her features. "Pardon the mess, it was a rough evening."

He would probably know that, though - Alexander had warned her about Joey's allegiances when he first showed back up in town and put up a gym.

The door closes again, and she moves to the living room to take a seat at the couch that Alexander had pointed out to her, glancing expectantly at the two men.

There's an accompanying sag of Alexander's shoulders when Joey makes that confirmation. He nods, shortly. He's not damaged much; there's just the bandage on his upper arm, and blood on his shirt. He goes back to making coffee. "Glad to hear it. Sit down." A pause. "Sorry about the guy. The big cheerful one. I'm sorry he's dead." He's the worst at giving condolences, but it seems sincere. He glances towards Isabella, and offers her a brief smile, before looking back at Joey. "Are you okay?" His eyes flick over him, checking for other wounds. Then there's coffee and he juggles the three mugs into the room to offer to each of them.

Joey takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly and falls silent taking the condolences to heart. "Thanks. I'm sorry too. Andre was... a really good guy." There's some emotion that tries to get buried in professionalism. There's a sniff to keep his composure but he looks tired as shit. "I'm um..." There's a pause and he pauses, full stop. And maybe because it's because he only lies through omition or because they've reached an understanding between them, he answers honestly. "Not really. Been better man. Worried about you. " He takes the coffee with an upnod as a thanks. "You're an idiot you know that? You shoulda bailed when you had the chance."

She reaches out to take the mug from the tray, taking a quiet sip of her coffee. There's a small smile directed at Alexander, before Isabella's eyes swing to Joey.

"Were you there, too, then? The shootout at the casino? Alexander was just telling me that there was a hit against Monaghan, some people in a van?" There's a glance at the investigator and then Joey. "Is this connected to the dangerous outsiders that ended up at Gray Harbor, recently?" The ones that may or may not be connected to Thatchery's death, is what she means. At least she's kept apprised, otherwise she'd be floundering in the dark, with dangerous dealings lingering around Alexander like a cloud.

Alexander is not a tactful guy. But he's also not particularly cruel, and Joey is - weirdly enough - some sort of friend. So he doesn't point out that the really good guy has killed a whole heap of people. He just nods, and moves to take a seat near Isabella with his own coffee. A smile flickers to life at the worry. "I'm an idiot. Yeah. When I heard the gunfire, I thought that maybe someone was coming for Byron. I didn't see the actual parties involved until I was already involved." He takes a sip, then nods to Isabella. "I think so." A pause, then he says, "I was tracking some of them. They've been hitting various places, testing response times. Figure these were the same ones who killed Thatchery. They're definitely making a play." A pause. "Since I'm already in the shit, Kelly - did Monaghan order a corrupt cop to burn down the game store? If not, some of your guys are either moonlighting, or they've been flipped."

Joey arches his eyebrows and bobs his head in a nod falling rather quiet looking to Isabella. "Yeah, and... probably was? I dunno as we have no one left to question so..." And part of that is his fault. Ish. Looking up to Alexander, Isabella, and back there's a sympathetic tone...for Joey. It's still Joey. If Gravel can feel concerned this is what it'd sound like. "THat's not stupid. I thought someone was taking a run on B too. Or...Felix so... Not the first time something like that's happened. You get money in your pocket you become a target... you scared the shit out of me, man."

Taking a deep breath he says out loud, because Alexander's not an idiot and Isabella is smart as hell, "No. None of us ordered a hit. I have a pretty strict rule about leaving civilians out of things. That asshole in the garage? I don't give two shits about him. You? This...town? Things are bad enough without assholes shitting all over it."

Looking to the two of them, embarrassing as i is he offers up, "They stole my car, whoever they are, and did the hit on the former Chief. Tried to pin it on me. I. Did not. Do that. That's why I was at the funeral. So... I'm gonna talk to my people. See what we can figure out. Please be careful how far you stick your neck out." While he likes being a stone cold professional the fear creeps up on him, "I got few friends left man. Another one went in the ground today and almost two. Don't care for it man."

"Wait, is Byron in trouble?" Isabella is suddenly alarmed, eyes widening as her gaze bounces between Joey and Alexander. She shifts closer to where the latter ends up resting up until her thigh rests along his own, cradling her cup of coffee in her hands. And then she hears about a game store burning down.

Her gaze is steady on Joey when a few explanations roll out, tightening her grip on her mug as she waits for an answer - she seems to believe the Kelly, at least, when he indicates that none of their men had anything to do with it. "I'm trying to stay out of it, I'm not as knowledgeable about the criminal sphere out here as some of my other associates, or...other things about Gray Harbor, if not just for Alexander's peace of mind." Her lips press into a thin line. "That will probably change if they try to make trouble in our house." And there's a pointed glance to the gleaming hatchet hanging by her expedition pack by the door.

Alexander shakes his head at Isabella. "No. Byron's fine. He wasn't there. I texted him after being questioned at the station, just to make sure. He's fine. Probably going to stop by to check on you sometimes soon, since he was out of town while you were," a pause and his hands tighten on the mug, "gone." He looks at Joey. Just stares at him with that flat, intense expression; the one that says he's wishing he could pry open a skull and figure out what's going on deep in the target's brain. Finally, he says, "I'm sorry. For scaring you. Thank you for intervening as you did." His lips twitch, just once. "And you're reading the dictionary."

A brief nod about the car. "No one thinks you killed the Chief, Kelly. Not unless they're complete morons." His lips twitch. "These people pay enough attention to know who to try and point the hounds at, though. You need to be careful, Kelly. They're gonna want to remove Monaghan's supports, if they can't remove him. Which you know." His shoulders hunch and he opens his mouth, then closes it. Then opens it again, to say, tonelessly. "I recognize that I'm a loose end. I accept that, although I admit I have no intention of going quietly into any good nights. The only thing I ask is that if there's consequences, they don't fall on anyone but me."

Joey pauses when Alexander notes her being gone and murmurs, "Glad you're back. Both of you." He knew about Ruiz. At the thanks he lets it roll off as best as he can much in the way the man giving it likewise tries to duck out on gratitude. "Yeah, well, comes in handy for yelling at people. I still fucked up though. You almost got hurt worse. AND we have no fucking answers." That's weighing on him.

It's Isabella's words that really stick out at him. Drinking his coffee he holds the cup at rest in both hands and looks to her, "Isabella, you have my word I am doing everything I can to keep pepople from bringing dumb shit onto your porch." There's a faint flicker of a grin, "For their safety. You know also yours. But... that's why I'm here."

His jaw tightens and eyes close. "Yeah. I know they're gonna make a run on me. I mean someone's gonna eventually. And yeah you know a bit more than anyone's usually comfortable with but, ya know, that's the breaks of it. I really... want to make that go away. Not... you... just that." Rubbing a hand on his jaw the enforcer admits, "Can really use your help on this if you're up for it. You can get to some things couple my people can't."

While she was gone.

"He was in France with Lilith, he asked me about thin points there - good man, wanting to make sure nothing could ruin his get away," Isabella says, though the words are absent, green eyes and their amber chips watching her lover's profile and the tightening knuckles around his mug. Her hand detaches from her own, to brush against his nearest set of knuckles, and presses a soft, reassuring kiss at the side of his face, murmuring something against his curls by his temple; too low for Joey to hear, but he probably doesn't need to anyway.

"If you're a loose end, it seems to me that you're the one who has to be careful, not me," she mutters, frowning at Alexander.

Joey's softer remarks has her smiling faintly. "I'm glad I'm back, too." Followed by the appreciative grin that the enforcer recognizes certain things about her that some people tend to forget. Most of the time, trouble is trapped in there with her, not the other way around. It could also simply be bravado, but the young woman has managed to pull off the seemingly impossible before, and seems confident in her ability to do so again. "I appreciate that, Joey," she says. "But really I'm more worried about Alexander than for me." Because of course she is - all the more stressed by the fact that Joey is asking Alexander for help.

And of course he will. Her expression is resigned - at this point, she doesn't even stop the private investigator from doing his job and helping his friends, that and this is his wheelhouse. It's her faith in the investigator's own abilities that allows her (grudgingly) to be permissive without much grousing.

Alexander takes another sip of his coffee, studying it instead of either of the other two, although his eyes close and he leans into the touch from Isabella, laying a hand briefly on her knee and squeezing. "Byron's a planner," he says, in agreement. And he smiles at her, sidelong. "When am I ever careful?" he asks, with a touch of rueful self-mockery. It's brief, though. His eyes go back to Joey, and after a moment, he nods. "I don't like the body count these assholes are racking up. I really don't like your fucking boss, Kelly. But if I have to pick between a townie asshole, and some son of a bitch who wants to come into town and blow shit up, then I'll pick the townie every time. And I like you. So. Yes. I'll help."

Joey itches the edge of his jaw thoughtfully with one thumbnails. In truth Andre's blood is still in the corners of his nail bed here and there like a bad reminder. "Alexander, if anything like that does come up, and i'm prepared to tell Felix we got a non-issue... you'll know and you'll hear it from me." A pause later he likewise promises, "And we'll figure it out, man."

His head tilts at an angle shaking his head, "This town man. They got no respect for it." There's a long pause and a hitch in his voice in the bitterness betraying the emotion buried. "Andre wanted to be a unicorn when he got older man. I never had the heart to really tell em we're grown ass fuckin adults. " Sniffing back his feelings, he swallows and chuffs a laugh, "I'm a miss that sunnova bitch... today's just... shit." Taking a deep breath he looks back to them and says, "Just remember if you can tell shit to move at all? Tell the gun to throw the safety back on. Confuses em. Buys time. Better than the shot going wide and hittin things it do not need to." He swirls his coffee and takes another drink.

"Look I need to get a shower and burn these clothes. Just... I wanted to make sure you're okay. Both of you. Let's keep it that way. If you can get me the info on that store thing that burned down or whatever I'll have people start looking."

The squeeze on her leg gets Alexander a quiet smile, though her attention just fall on Joey again. "I'm sorry you lost your friend," Isabella says softly. They're on the wrong side of the law, but there's compassion in her, still. The investigator's townie loyalty isn't lost on her, and honestly, that is expected also.

"And yeah, I'm alright - Alexander is also, and hopefully we can keep it that way," she acknowledges, draining her coffee. The safety trick does crack a small grin over her lips; by looking at her, Joey would know that she's thought of it already, and has done it before. "Thanks for looking in on us. And you take care of yourself, and Nicole, too."

Alexander is, as mentioned before, a terrible liar. So although he nods at the promise, there's a certain resignation in the gesture. Like he believes Joey will try, but doesn't ultimately put too much faith in it having an outcome he's going to be thrilled about.

His sympathy about Andre is more pure. "Today is shit," he agrees. "Go home, and take care of yourself. Grieve, wash, and try to rest. Things are getting complicated." He sits the coffee down, and leans over to kiss Isabella on the temple before he stands up. "I'll walk you out. As for the store - you can start with Harvey Liu. Cop. Tried to put some pressure on the store owner, something about credit card fraud, before the fire happened. Looked into him - has debts, some interesting associations with your people. But if you say he's not working for you in this..." He lets that hang as he moves to the door.

"Either way, let me know what you need, Joseph. I'll do what I can for the duration of the investigation."