2020-07-15 - Beer and Questions

It's wet out. No one's surprised, it's the PNW....but it's enough of a mess that even a salty sailor like Joe opts out of taking his Surprise out of harbor. He sails for pleasure, after all, not livelihood. So at the moment, he's parked at that place at the bar that he's more or less signed his name on, nursing what looks like an Irish coffee. He's in white t-shirt, jeans, boots...and over the shirt is a Hawaiian shirt, though rather than hibiscus blossoms or palm trees, it has a very retro pattern of 50s geometric motifs in dark teal, on a background of aqua blue. Worn loose, presumably to conceal the gun he's wearing.

Alexander has been walking. Which means he looks very much like a drowned rat when he enters, his dark hair plastered flat to his skull and his face and neck, his t-shirt and jeans sodden, his black work boots squelching a little - although they are clearly the part of this wardrobe best suited to this weather. He does not have an umbrella. There's a moment where he stands just inside the doors, scanning the interior like he's casing the joint. His eyes linger on the bar, and he frowns at not seeing who he might have been hoping for, and then his gaze skates on, before coming to rest on Joseph. The older man is stared at too long for politeness, until a couple of tourists who would ALSO like to come in out of the rain clear their throat loudly behind him. Then he ducks his head and skitters in, towards the bar to place his order. A bit of a bandage pokes out from under the short sleeves of his t-shirt.

He's used to being looked at...or was, back in the day. A lot of that old job was PR work, trying to convince the American taxpayer to throw more money NASA's way. But these days, in retirement....not as much. Sensing the pressure of scrutiny, he's turning to look, then nodding an amiable greeting. "Hey, Clayton," Joe says. "Come take a load off. You look like twenty miles of bad road." No real sarcasm there, only commiseration. He doesn't look as if he'd gotten rained on, far from it. As cool and collected as ever.

Alexander gets his beer; he's not an adventurous drinker, so the bartender has the bottle for him by the time he reaches to pay. He hesitates for a moment, then jerks his head in an ungainly nod and moves to sit across from Joe.His gaze seems to catch on the place where the gun is concealed as he approaches, and his eyebrows rise. "Hello, Cavanaugh. I feel like twenty miles of bad road, so at least my outside is an accurate reflection of the inside." He reaches for the label, peels it off, and starts to shred it into very neat, very thin vertical strips. "How are you?" His gaze falls back towards the hidden gun, then up to the other man's face. "Everything okay?"

That glance is caught, and there's a flicker of a smile in return. I know you know, etc. "I'm all right," he drawls, lazily. "Things been pretty quiet for me personally," he says. "Well, 'cept for the Chief's funeral, that was no Sunday school picnic." Unlike Ruiz's feral energy or Itzhak's crackling potential, he's relaxed, with that almost languid calm. He wears the gun with an easy unselfconsciousness, but then, he wore one for years. It's nothing new. "What's got you out here, lookin' like that? You from here, why you out in the rain with no coat on?" Neither mockery nor censoriousness, just a kind of gentle sympathy.

"No," Alexander agrees with a frown. "It wasn't. Zombies are always irritating. They have a tendency to keep trying to eat you no matter what you do to them. And I didn't like the music." These are vitally important facts to share, clearly. He slumps across from Joseph, watching him as his fingers slowly reduce the beer label to a pile of shreds. "I always look like this." A pause. "Sometimes worse. And I forgot my coat. It only gets sodden, anyway. I drank too many...mudslides? Last night. August made them. They were good." It's rapid fire information, topped off with, "You seem to have recovered from what Megan did. You didn't get kidnapped to anywhere, did you?"

The mention of mudslides makes Joe's lips purse, makes that gleam come into his eyes. He's clearly suppressing a smile. "Yeah, I like that song okay, but that situation's pretty much spoiled it for me," he says, mildly. "Coulda done without the zombies, too. Mudslides'll getcha, 'pending on how they're made. They can pack more of a punch than you'd think for somethin' that tastes like a milkshake."

The mention of Megan makes him cant his head. "Not lately," he says. "And yeah, all that came back at the Asylum. Guess I really did need to go back, prove to myself that I could leave."

Alexander bobs his head. "They were strong. And don't let the town spoil good music for you, if you like it. Otherwise, it'll probably start trying to do it more, and that way just ends with getting lost into a screaming musical dream where the members of Iron Maiden are trying to kill you so they can make instruments out of your bones." Something like a smile flickers briefly in his face. "I speak from experience."

Then it's gone, and he's just nodding again. "Keep an eye out for her. But it's good. That you have actually walked away from there, for good." His eyes flick down towards Joseph's wrists, and he reaches for his beer to actually take a drink. "Closure helps."

"Yeah," he says, ruefully. "I got the sense They'll go for you anyway They can. I don't intend to let it spoil music for me. Hell, Rosencrantz wouldn't let that happen, anyhow." He speaks of the fiddler with enormous fondness. "Yeah, They already ruined one of my favorite movie series for me, the fuckers."

He's never bothered to conceal the scars, never shown any sign of self-consciousness. "Yeah," he says, softly. "Maybe that's what I came here to do. What about you? How you been doin'?" An impulse to ask how his woman lets him out like that in public, but then....none of his business.

Alexander's expression softens noticeably at the mention of Itzhak. "Yes. It would be hard to hate music with Itzhak around. He plays beautifully, and he clearly loves it. I wish he played metal, but I feel like he would be disappointed if I suggested an electric violin." His eyes go warm and bright for a moment with his own fondness. "Which movies?"

His head tilts to one side, and he follows the first question up with another. "Will you stay? Now that you've done what you wanted." There's a pause at the questions in turn, and he shrugs. "Got a gun held to my head. That was a new experience. I didn't enjoy it. But no one has shot...no one has shot me fatally, yet. So I'm okay?"

There's a funny warmth in his face, a tenderness there. "I think he has one," he says. "And I bet he'd learn a song or two for you. He's hardly a purist when it comes to what he'll play, right?" Then he takes a sip of that coffee, snorts, and eyes Alexander over the rim of the glass. "Aliens," he says, with a hint of grimness.

The question about him staying only makes that warmth return, edged with a kind of ruefulness. "I'll stay. I got things to keep me here, now." At the mention of the gun to his head, the brows go up. "How'd that happen? And I been shot, nearly fatally, I don't fuckin' recommend it."

"I don't want to impose," Alexander is quick to say, and offer an idle sort of shrug as he takes another pull off of the bottle. He stares blankly for a moment, then nods. "Oh. The ones with the face-eating things in space. Yes. There's a lot the Shadows can do with something like that. I'm sorry."

He looks down at his bottle. "You should go, though. Take the Interim Chief with you. And Itzhak, if he'd go. This is a terrible place, really." Another drink, although each one is barely enough to wet his lips. "Um. Walked into the middle of an attempted assassination. Stupid of me. Irritating.Why are you wearing the gun, if you didn't know?"

The sailor's blue eyes are level, as he looks at Alexander. There's that sympathy there. "Yeah, those, exactly. We had a hell of an adventure in that world. Me, de la Vega, Rosencrantz, and Roen. Fuckin' weird, I'll tell ya."

A tip of his head. "Should? Absolutely. But you know de la Vega won't go, not yet, and Rosencrantz and I won't leave without him. It's a rough place, I admit, but there's somethin' to it.....the great and secret show, as an author called it." A beat, and he stares at Alexander. "Assassination of whom? An' why'd you walk in on it? No offense, but you don't strike me as a....natural combatant. I'm wearin' it 'cause someone gave it to me and told me to wear it, 'cause of what's been goin' on."

Lilith was going to get coffee, she was, but decided a beer would be better. All the same, she treats the building and environs like the coffee shop-- she has a messenger bag slung over her shoulder with her laptop inside, etc to be at the bar with beer and work. Despite the gray summer day, she has a sea blue romper on that's short on hemline, embroidered with white decor on the trim. Lace up silver sandals tie in crisscross up over her ankles, but she's also wearing a light smoky gray sweater cardigan with a hood on it, tugged over her wavy, loose hair until inside.

Once inside the doors, she pauses to dig for a hair clip before twisting the dark, humidity lambasted hair up into lazy updo, eyeing the actual bar itself beyond the tables. She might be looking for Bennie, in part, just to check on the woman if they go passing, but she sees Alexander and Joseph instead, drinking and talking. Adjusting her purse and laptop bag, she makes her way over to interject with hellos.

"Hey kids." Nevermind both men are older than her, "How's tricks?"

Alexander smiles. It's minimal, but a real smile. "Fucking weird is pretty much our third unofficial town model, Cavanaugh. At least you had a good crew to go through Hell with." He thinks over Joe's words. "The great and secret show. I like that. It's beautiful. What's it from?" His eyes stutter to the door as it opens, and his smile grows a bit more visible as he sees who it is. "Lilith. Hello. It's good to see you. You're alive, and that's also good."

To Joe, he shrugs. "A deeply unpleasant person. And I walked in on it because I'm a fucking idiot who hears gunshots and goes in that direction rather than away." A tilt of his head again. "What would a natural combatant look like to you?" A glance back to Lilith. "Do I seem like a natural combatant?" he asks her, solemnly.

"Well, hey there," he says to Lilith, lifting his glass. "We been introduced, right? I know I've met you. Lilith," like he's confirming this. "Good to see you."

His smile's thin, faintly edged, in contrast to that general easy good nature. "Right, right," he allows. "I was lucky. It was goddamned weird. I even went back, had a second Dream about that world, that place. Betcha another one comes." He sound sanguine about it. "'s the title of a book by a horror writer called Clive Barker. Barker's writing tends to be overdone and pretentious, but he can sure turn a phrase.....and I think of that one a lot, when it comes to Gray Harbor." Then a grin for that last set of questions. "De la Vega. Rosencrantz. Some of the other folks I've met. Your immediate instinct when it comes to a problem isn't to fight it. It is for them."

"I am. You too, are alive, and I heartily approve." Lilith says to Alexander with a vague twitch of her lips that threatens smile, she's accustomed to the man's greetings and gives it right back to suit. If she's imposing, she doesn't seem to much care, it's a bar and bar rules, right? Also she's being asked a question, so it's basically an invite. Dragging out seating with a foot, she nods solidly to Joseph and puts on a slant of a smile, hand waving around in small gesture to the room, "Sure have, but look at this, no crowd or assripping to distract from conversational talking this time."

Alexander might notice with that casual, indicative wave of hand exactly what's on her finger. It's not near so large as the cursed ring she wore once upon a time, but it's acceptably notable size all the same, sparkling with light. A pear-shaped brilliant solitare diamond is affixed to a platinum band.

While settling, she catches the tail end of what they're talking about, but it's Alexander's question she considers with a squint and holds up a finger before ordering a Dos Equis with lime and salt dressing the bottle. After taking a drink and visibly thinking of how to answer, she shakes her head a tiny bit, then gestures with her bottle at Joseph's answer, "That. But also..." Angling her seat with turn and scoot, like this is bound to be good for an analogy, she explains further.

"But it's more like... if one of those survival guys went all savage. Not Bear Grylls, though. Who's the polite Canadian one, Les something? So yes, in some sense, deep down, you're prepared to tooth and nail. And we should be at this point. Why?"

This might be the time that Alexander, knowing both people, might be moved to reintroduce the two of them. If he had any social skills. But he doesn't, so he just watches them handle it with a sort of blank expression, and takes a drink of his beer. "That's odd," he tells Joseph, after a moment. "Sequential Dreams in the same 'world'. I don't think it's happened to me, much. Interesting." His lips pull down into a brief frown when horror is mentioned, but he murmurs, "Clive Barker. I'll remember that," all the same."

Then, he says, "Untrue. I just lack their protective coloration." He takes a sip of his beer as Lilith sits down. Her contribution is blinked at. "I...don't." A pause. "Guys like Itzhak, or the Interim Chief, project a certain aggressiveness so that they don't have to fight. Dominance plays for social interaction, likely because their cohorts have internalized a very particular form of performative masculinity which demands a certain sense of power if you don't want to be harassed or assaulted. I never learned how to do that. I don't project." He frowns, thinking about it, then shakes his head.

Proving that he's paying attention to other things, though, he glances back at Lilith. "Congratulations. When did Thorne propose? The trip?"

Joe listens to Alexander's assessment. "There is that," he concedes. "I've had to learn to do the same, but I could afford to abandon it, since I no longer work in a field that needs it. But no, you don't," he agrees. A bob of his head. "Yeah, sequential Dreams," he agrees. "Which I didn't know could happen, either, but then, there don't seem to be a lot of hard and fast rules about how those work."

"I know, right?" he says to Lilith, grinning. "I think we even live in the same building. I'm in Bayside, 303." She might well have seen him around there. There's something rueful in his expression, as he admires the ring. "Congratulations."

"I did the whole aggressive attack-the-world by presence alone as a defense or deterrent for a long time. It's occasionally useful, but... the world is meaner than one man or woman can ever be, even outside of here, and it's important to know that. If you don't know how to pick your battles about it, you're a hot-head to detriment or a thug." Lilith doesn't say how she got that particular dominance skill that works on a certain amount of personality and presence (and temper, possibly). She doesn't look or act like ex-military, though, and it's a little rich that she's implying she's not that aggressive person anymore.

They've possibly both seen the violence she seems to bloodlust for in the moments when it matters. Byron probably has his hands full with her little lively ass, especially since he went and put a ring on it. Which... she seems to have forgotten until Alexander catches on and inquires and the congrats is expressed by Joseph. Her lashes bat a few times before she looks at her hand and finger with a suddenly girlish smile, "Oh! I forgot. I'm engaged. Thank you, thank you." In fact, she takes a moment to admire the ring on her finger like the novelty it probably still is, "Yes, he did it in France during my birthday trip... on a dinner yacht... in Monte Carlo, at night, under the moon and stars because... he's Byron."

If she has opinions about sequential dreams, she's holding them for now, but the subject seems to pull her attention back from the ring once it sinks in. Instead, she looks at Joseph with an 'ahhh' about the apartments, "Right, right. I'm at the pool a lot, I prefer swimming over running these days, but you know... running is important too."

Because Gray Harbor, of course.

Alexander nods. "And, it's a small town. People knew to avoid me before I was out of elementary school." He studies Lilith for a long moment, and nods, slowly. "You don't need protective coloration. I remember. You're dangerous." It's not meant to be an insult, or a compliment; it's clear he's just making an observation of fact, as he sees it. He smiles as she smiles. "I'm glad for you both; I think that you're both very good for each other." He looks back at Joseph, and tilts his head to one side. "You're in Bayside? It's a good place, and hasn't had a murder in a while." That? That he sounds vaguely disappointed by.

Now Joe's looking dry again. "Yeah, I'm about the same." And that is indeed where she's seen him - faithfully in that pool, in rashguard and board shorts. "I should run more, but....fuck it, it makes me hurt like hell when I do." Another look at the ring. "Sounds romantic," he says, gently.

A nod for Alexander. "Yeah. Seems like it'd be safe enough, and I do like that indoor pool situation. Got tired of livin' on a thirtysix foot sailboat. I spent enough of my life livin' in real close quarters to be glad of space to spread out."

"Well, here, yes. But I was away over a decade until last year. In Miami, I wasn't dangerous." Pause, "Actually, that's not true, I generally always had a handgun in my purse." Lilith points out to Alexander before she thinks for a long moment and drinks from her bottle. Knitting her brows some, though, like something is nagging her, she swallows the beer down after a brief swish around in pensive fashion, "I probably could have hurt someone to lesser degrees, though. I just didn't think about it. But maybe that's why I was so good at..." The woman doesn't finish that sentence, though, she trails off with thought and decides, "I'm pretty sure the whole huge Bermuda Triangle is a blob of witchcraft, though, so maybe not coincidental. If you think about it, it would make sense and Miami is pretty close."

"We'll lap race and abuse your body thattaway." Lilith decides for Joseph, then, as if she's going to make a point of stalking him at the pool to make this happen for kicks, now. That and she likes to have someone to swim with and has no friends in the building, Byron prefers his morning runs and strength workouts. However, when Alexander points out there's not been a murder in the building and sounds all like he does about it, the woman coughs to one side to cover a laugh, "I almost made a joke about how there was hardly any murders in the building these days, but... maybe too soon." She sobers up pretty quickly after the 'too soon' bit, which it apparently is since she can't even laugh at her own dry, dark joke. It was a serious problem not that long ago, seems.

"A sailboat, though? So isolated. You hate people that much? Fish are jerks too."

"I just walk everywhere," Alexander says. "You could try that," he says, his clothes and hair sodden and sticking to him, and not exactly looking like the walking was a Good Time. But at the same time, the very toneless quality of the offer doesn't quite mask the amusement in his eyes, a combination of teasing them and mocking himself at the same time. More seriously, he says to Lilith, "I think you were always dangerous. Just not in the same ways, maybe." A nod at the mention of the gun, although he grimaces with a moment's distaste, and he perks up at the mention of Joe's sailboat, staring at the man for a long moment, even though he doesn't ask any of the questions that are clearly behind his eyes.

The talk of murders - which Alexander started, of course - distracts him and makes him ask Lilith, "I hope Thorne hasn't taken too much stress after the casino thing?"

Something about the way she threatens abuse makes him all but snicker into his Irish coffee. But all he says in reply is, "Sounds good. 'll put me on my mettle." Not that he doesn't look like he's in excellent shape for his age. "I'll keep an eye out for ya." A little breath for the 'too soon' and he reaches over to rap the bar with those inked knuckles. "Maybe it be never," he adds.

The question about the sailboat makes him snort, that rueful look coming back. "Not so much hate..." he says, slowly. "More like...balancin' out twelve years plus of ship deployments, where even officers are packed in cheek by jowl. Privacy, solitude, silence....I haven't had as much of those as I'd like. Admittedly, though, I coasted nearly all the way here, so I was seein' people pretty much every day. Not a lot of true blue water. That said....I do like it when I do it."

To Alexander, "I mos'ly walk everywhere myself, even though I got that bike now. I like that the town's small enough I can. Admittedly, most of the places I go are close to Bayside." Namely....this bar and his little boat on the harbor.

"Deal on the pool, then. And... I do like boating. But living on one, I don't... hm." Lilith considers it for a moment, the idea of Joseph living on his sailboat, first head-shake before it turns into consideration and weighing with a tilt of her dark head. She carries on conversationally, "I mean, you wouldn't know it from looking at me around social engagements, but I don't have much patience for actually talking to most of the general public, either, sooo... isolation might be better than having neighbors. I grew up in the trailer park here and my shop is on Elm too-- it's possible I just like the noise of people, but not the details. You learn to block out random drunk domestic battles, rogue firecrackers, and the occasional gun shot or lawnmower right outside your window."

Mmhmm, Lilith looks like a million bucks sometimes, as suits Byron's side, but... she probably didn't have to explain in detail for a person to know she's far from the fancy pants that might be expected based on recent appearances alone. Her conversation is too blunt and casual and not rife with empty fluff for politeness sake to be from money, herself. Not that Byron is either, but... speaking of Byron?

Lilith's hand wobbles to and fro at Alexander in answer to his inquiry, a noise kind of low in her throat as she swaps out beer bottles with the server for a full one, "You know how he is, more or less... if he's overstressed about it, he isn't going to much let on. Efficiency and managing the situation comes before stress, for him. I just tend to know his ticks and tendencies." Her tongue clicks once before drinking with bottle pull, continuing, "He's the man for the job. The main problem seems to be damage control, schmoozing the investors into feeling as if their investment is secure. Mostly... I just let him 'go hard' until it's time to intervene and make him 'slow down' for his own sake while deep in bullshit."

"I sort of liked living with people, back when I did. I like having space now, but I don't necessarily want to be alone." Alexander's voice is quiet, his eyes tracking the conversation back and forth. "Dorms are a pain in the ass, though." A bob of his head to Joseph. "It's a good town to walk in. You should go out to Gray Pond before the seasons change again. People go out there on weekends, have picnics and all of that. The Park is also nice. Except the carousel occasionally turns evil and haunted. But avoid that, and you should be fine."

He considers Lilith. "You're nice, though. And good at talking to people." A brief sigh for the true words spoken about Byron. "Mm. Well. Make him be careful? And you be careful, too. Local businesses are getting harassed, and these guys aren't...gentle. About anything."

"Some of the neighbors I've had, the open ocean is vastly preferable," Joe says, in that dry voice. "I'm used to living in small spaces without much room - a thirtysix footer unshared is a lot roomier than a stateroom on a carrier unless you're the goddamned admiral. It's a blessing to not have to talk to people. I spent so much time havin' to do that." His grin is crooked. "I'm a hardcore introvert who spent more'n twentyfive years in careers designed to just be hell for people like that." He shrugs.

To Alexander, he says, gently, "What? You got that look like you wanna ask me somethin'." A shake of his head for the carousel. "Of course it does. I don't know that I'll be able to be surprised by much of anything, after this town."

"I suppose they're free to harass me, but... it's just a pawn. Yes, there's cash locked up and valuables, but that doesn't seem to be the MO. I'm sure it's fine. And I don't live in the loft above anymore if there's an overnight break-in. I suppose I should rent it, eventually, now that I'm up and hitching myself to a man and his wagon."

Cool as can be, Lilith lies about three times in those two sentences of carefully constructed phrasing. It's not just a pawn, there's not JUST business cash reserve there, and it's probably not fine. But almost none of the town publicly knows that. Not to say they expect a pawn to be fully on the level on Elm, but... Lilith's shop is never fucked with by people that LIVE in town, it's generally known as a bad idea for certain other reasons. In fact, when the place had broken glass and she was away, some good samaritan patched it up with cardboard and drew a dick on it. Elm community watch!

She seems happy enough to let Alexander eyeball or inquire whatever of Joseph then, busying herself with beer and pensive on the sly.

Alexander shakes his head to Lilith. "No, that's not what I mean. Might be robbed, but that's not the purpose. They're working on taking things over; burned down one business who, I think, refused to play ball. So just be careful, Lilith?" He stares at her for a moment, dark eyed and solemn. "And call me if something happens. I'm just down the street."

His gaze shifts back to Joseph. "I was just wondering if you liked what you've done. You talk about it and it seems sort of ambiguous. How you feel about it all."

"That's good. I mean, that you live in Bayside, rather than over a business..." Joe's voice has gone somber, thoughtful. Reluctant to admit what he knows, though a few of the dominoes have fallen for him. Aware, now, that those he's close to are involved, on so many levels - no longer the blithe innocent he was, sure that the only risks were the exotic ones of Dream and Veil. One doesn't wear a blocky little Glock against the depredations of shadows, after all.

His smile turns....almost wistful. "I loved it. Every minute of it. I sacrificed a lot to do it, and it left me broken at the end, but....the ride was worth it. I was part of the greatest peacetime endeavor in the history of humankind. I set no records, I didn't achieve any firsts, but I'm still among the first thousand humans to leave the planet." Joe gazes down into the depths of his cup. "I did what I set out to do."

Lilith twists her lips and opens her mouth, clearly about to tell Alexander she can handle any out of town thugs Highlander style, but... after intaking the breath to start, she closes it. Instead, she nods solidly and gracious, murmuring comment that seems to be a reminder for herself as much as agreement with Alexander's offering, "... I'm admittedly not very good at taking bullets." The woman plays power offense far more than passable defense. She's a bit of a glass cannon, built like a brunette barbie and she can only take out one at a time--she will admit her limits, even if being hot-headed at the time of crisis often sees her acting limitless, "Only takes one."

Then she tacks on to Alexander with a slip of empathy in her tone as she side-eyes him, "Don't think I have to tell you that, though, considering. Alive is good."

After nodding quick agreement to Joseph about the change of living situation totally being a one-up, she looks between the two men while trying to catch on to what's been done. She heard 'ship' and 'close living' prior, sure, but that generally just kind of reads as Navy, not... a whole goddamn astronaut. Suddenly, she pauses her bottle mid-drink and catches on with the answer, staring at Joseph with some serious fascination, "Wait. Ship like... spaceship? Holy hell. Really?"

Alexander stares at Joseph like he's trying to reach into his brain and pull out the man's life. Proving that he does, in fact, have something like tact or consideration, because from the feel of him, he might be able to do just that. Instead, though, he just stares, until he inclines his head. "I bet it was beautiful," he says, with a quiet sort of yearning in his own voice.

Then he looks away, back to his beer, and the pile of nervous shreds he's made out of the label. He scoops them into a neat little pile before giving Lilith a sidelong look, and nod. "Alive is good. Bullets are not good. Two important facts to keep close to your heart, no matter how dangerous you are." Then he grins a little, when Lilith pauses mid-drink.

"I've taken one, it ain't no fun at all," Joe says. "Take a lesson from Uncle Joe and don't get your ass shot." He flicks a sharp look at Alexander. "Who's 'they' in this case?" he wonders. He knows, knows a little, anyway, courtesy of de la Vega. But that's a far cry from knowing how far it's all spread.

Reads Navy, he does. A sailor with an anchor tattoo on his forearm. Though the other forearm does read 'cosmonaut' to those who know Russian. He raises his gaze from his drink, blinks at her, mildly. "Yeah. Two Shuttle missions, one station expedition. I came in from the Navy - and when you do that, you're still considered part of your branch of service, in terms of rank and pay. You're just....stationed in Houston, doin' what NASA needs."

There's an equal longing in his own voice, "It is. There's nothing like it. To see it....." He trails off, and then there's that twist to his mouth. "Honestly, the only thing I'm pissed about is that I didn't get to stay long enough to be involved in the Artemis missions. I was dyin' to set foot on the Moon." He's apparently serious.

"It's really not, but my bullets were pass through grazes... no digging bullets out. In fact, it's possible that only Byron has shot me, but... I can't really remember. And that's kind of screwy. I remember getting smashed by a whole elephant seal and surviving, though. Everything in me just crunched at once, but it's possible I have a rubber coating that made the blubber bounce off for the quicksave."

Everything about what Lilith just said is fucked up, especially out of context, especially with how casually she says it. Might as well be discussing that time she got something grossly daring off of the bar menu. That said, she doesn't really stop staring at Joseph while making conversation, save for the time she looks aside at Alexander like... can you believe this shit? Astronauts, WHAT?

She is clearly holding back a barrage of stupid questions for everyone's sake because she loves to know how things work. In fact, she's so interested, she's pissed on principle on Joseph's behalf, all audible sniff before another swig and pass off of empty bottle to exchange for water, "I'd be pissed too. Bitches." Oddly, Lilith feels a little guilty after calling NASA a bunch of bitches because space exploration is difficult and fascinating. So she compensates.

"There's a really good podcast about the Apollo 13 missions that came out recently. Just throwing that out there for your earbuds if you haven't heard it. Thirteen episodes."

"Having your head blown off is very unpleasant," Alexander agrees. "Although it's actually marginally less painful than having it cracked open with a baseball bat. That takes longer to die, so you feel more. Drowning's the worst, though. Everything burns, and your body fights it even while your mind knows that you're fucked, and kinda wish it would just stop already. Fire is--" he breaks off, and licks his lips. "Unpleasant. Smoke inhalation isn't bad, though. Definitely die by smoke if you have the option."

He breaks himself out of morbid reverie and bobs his head at Lilith. "I remember. Byron wanted to hunt it down and kill it." And the rest he seems to accept as just life in Gray Harbor. Which it is. He stares at Joseph some more. "If you meet a young guy by the last name of Baxter, tell him what you were? He would really, really like to meet you."

He laughs a little, softly. "Not their fault. In fact, if I'mma be angry at anyone, it's Roscosmos. 's their equipment problem made my last landing so damned bad. I'm ....there's honestly no point in bein' mad about any of it. Space flight's fuckin' dangerous.....and I didn't end up in a smoking hole on the steppes of Kazakhstan, which is the important thing. Yeah? I'll have to look for it. I met two of the three guys on it, in fact - Lovell and Haise're still with us."

A beat and he wonders, "Elephant seal? In a Dream?" Surely it must be, but then...people in this town have gone some insane places. Might've been in the real world. Then he glances back at Alexander. "Tends to have purple hair? I met him. I....don't know that he knows what I did, though. I kind of have this assumption that Rosencrantz has spread it all over town as a matter of principle, but that's not necessarily true."

Lilith looks at Alexander with a vague lift of her brows and a tiny 'huh' of noise, "You must have the recurring ones where you die a lot. In mine, I kill people I don't want to kill a lot." Apples and oranges 'round here in Gray Harbor, different flavors of poison fruit. The woman's head shakes a little bit, it doesn't really occur to her he might just simply know this through crime forensics knowledge or whatever. Nope, her mind goes straight darkside with commiseration. But then she nods to the seal bit with confirmation for both men and quirks a fondly amused smile despite herself.

"... he still wants to hunt it, I think. It's his white whale now, but once that man gets something in his head, I wouldn't call it impossible. Might want to get a club now for some proper clubbing action, that call for assistance might come some day."

Knocking a straying and falling piece of hair behind her ear with sweep of hand, she starts looking at Joseph in that vaguely fangirl way again after he mentions meeting Moon Men so to speak. But then she explains some of that fascination, maybe, words a touch self-deprecating, "I wanted to go to MIT and be a mechanical engineer so badly. Didn't happen. Working at NASA though, if I had...?" She sits very still for a moment, before going dismissive, indicating Joseph's words prior about what went haywire in his own experience, "But, you know. Life does those things it does."

"Town gossip," Alexander says, with an apologetic look. "Many local women find you unusually attractive, and my mother knows most of them. Sorry. But I don't think Baxter listens much to that. He likes space. I think he's having Dreams like you. A connected series? He keeps talking about going back to space and resettling people. He had an interplanetary atlas that definitely wasn't for our universe." This is fine. This is a normal, happy conversation. "He's a nice kid."

He blinks at Lilith. "Oh. No. I...when people are murdered, I try to find out why. I read them. If I can." He huffs out a breath. "I think that's a bad idea. But if you figure out how, you know I'll help." He looks down at his bottle and realizes it's empty. "I should go," he announces, abruptly. He slides out of the seat. "Don't die, Lilith, Cavanaugh." And then he's fishing out enough for a tip, and walking out, without so much as another word. But he does continue to squelch.

"s what I did," he says. "I mean, I went to MIT, got my degree in aeroastro engineering. I figured if aviation didn't pan out, I could at least work on systems, spacecraft design, things like that. But it all worked out pretty much like I'd hoped, up to the very end." Then Joe's finally done with that drink, and rummaging for his wallet. "I'd better get on home, got a bit of work to take care of..."

Alexander's return to bluntness has him pausing in the middle of taking care of his tab. "Goodness," he says. "That I didn't know. I mean...the gossip. Yeah, I've definitely talked to him about it, now that you say...." A shake of his head, and he finishes dealing with the money. "Good to see you again, Lilith. I will keep an eye out for you around the pool."

Lilith waves at the two guys and sits with her water for a moment in pensive quiet after saying her farewells, "See you guys, be safe, you know the drill."

Then she gets out her laptop to start browsing photos of her and Byron in France and she thinks maybe she's right where she's supposed to be, despite it all. Eventually, she orders another beer or two before kicking out of the door into the gray drizzle too.