2020-07-18 - Conversations on a Rock

It's a warm, wet summer evening, and the tourists are out in force. There are families and groups of students on break at bonfires, with a few brave souls doing some evening swimming. Alexander is sitting on a big pile of rocks away from the main groups, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. His eyes are turned towards the lights of the casino on the water, and he's got a double scoop of chocolate softserve from the boardwalk in one hand, licking at it idly while he...does whatever the hell he's doing. It looks like he's creeping on something. Possibly the casino. Possibly the Harbor as a whole. He's an accomplished creeper.

Accomplished creeper, meet accomplished wanderer. Walking on the beach is how August clears his head when the memories are bad, and healing Joe like that yesterday qualifies. He'll wander back towards Espresso Yourself once Ellie's done for the night, but for now, he's walking the beach, an old, scratched and dented Hoh Rain Forest alluminum water bottle swinging from one hand. He's in dark gray cargo shorts and a black slub tee, and has a red and white camp shirt tied around his waist. Tevas, in defference to the weather and the occasional wave that washes over his feet.

He meanders towards Alexander once he spots him, follows his gaze to the casino. "Hey you." August looks tired and worn out, though for the moment at peace.

There's the faintest brush of Alexander's mind against August once he gets within a certain distance, although the investigator doesn't turn until August speaks to him. It seems he's still on alert. But when he does turn, it's with a smile. "Hey, August. How are you?" He peers through the evening gloom. "You look like you haven't slept." He takes a quick bite of his ice cream, shivers, and then makes room on the rock in a silent invitation.

August returns the light inquiry and welcome with one of his own; he's been pushed to his limit by...something, and is out here trying to ease the sore spots in his head and his heart. "I've been better," he admits. He accepts the invitation, grunting as he sits. "Slept a little, but...not much." He runs a hand over his face, eyes the casino.

A frisbee lands nearby, and a small, furious dog churns up sand running to fetch it. That distracts August from the casino, and draws his eye out to the tourists. He's scanning them warily. "You out here keeping an eye on that thing?"

Alexander studies August, his smile soon dying into a concerned frown. "What happened?" A pause. "Did someone harass your place? I've been dropping by the coffee shop, and everything seemed okay there." After a moment, he offers over his ice cream. "I don't have cooties." A shake of the head at the question. "No, not really. I'm thinking about what to do next. The casino just makes a decent focal point for thought."

August turns his attention back to Alexander when he sees the motion out of the corner of his eye, smiles and leans in for a lick-bite of ice cream. He swallows it, appearing to genuinely enjoy the feel of it. "Thanks," he says, uncapping his bottle for a drink. "And, thanks, for keeping an eye on Ellie and them." He sighs, shakes his head. "Nothing at my place, no." He licks his lips, studies the rock under them. "And they'd sure as shit better not show up now."

He's quiet a few seconds. Then, "They grabbed Joe. Beat the shit out of him." Another drink of water to wash that ugly memory out of his mouth. He sounds casual, but Alexander doesn't have to use his Glimmer to feel just saying that is bringing back visuals that make August want these assholes to show up at his shop, to give him a reason.

Alexander's eyes widen. "Cavanaugh? But--" And then his expression changes. He investigates crime for a living, after all. His shoulders slump. "Because he's associated with Javier." A nod. "That makes sense. Is he in the hospital?" A wave of his free hand. "I know you would have healed him, but a professional working over requires a lot of healing. Is he conscious?"

"I did what I could." August's voice is low and bitter. "Which isn't much, anymore, but it let de la Vega get him somewhere, kept anything from getting irreparable." He looks askance at Alexander. "Not Addington Memorial, though. They'll just come at him there. So." His attention shifts to the casino. "We drugged him up pretty good so he wouldn't be hurting, but he was conscious for a few seconds."

He fiddles with his water bottle. "I wonder if it's random chance they picked someone not strong enough to just start maiming them until they fucked off. Someone like Itzhak, or you," he shakes his head. "They wouldn't stand a chance." 'Strong' might be a substitute for 'perfectly willing to kill a handful of people in broad daylight' here. He laughs, mirthless and cruel. "Love to see them pull a stunt like this on Lilith."

Alexander grimaces. "I'm sorry, August. Cavanaugh seems like a nice person, and he didn't deserve that. No one deserves that." Although he still seems rather remote from it all - maybe because he doesn't really know Joe, or just because he wasn't there, and didn't see. Or he's seen too much. He does add, quietly, "It's a mistake. To think that your abilities will protect you from people, even mundane people, who truly wish you dead and have firearms. Itzhak can't catch bullets. Lilith isn't faster than a trigger pull. Not always. And it only takes once." He takes another bite of his ice cream, but there's not a lot of pleasure in it. "Is there anything I can do to help? With Cavanaugh. I'm not much of a healer."

"Oh, it's not immunity or even much protection, for sure. Wasn't saying it was." August points at Alexander with his water bottle. "Remember, I was in a siege with these powers, I know what they don't help with. Which is a lot."

He takes to watching the kids playing frisbee with their tiny, furious dog. "They're no substitute for being able to handle being attacked by shitheads with guns, definitely. And they're not going to save us all of the time, even most of the time. But when you can break their gun in their hand and yours still works just fine, it's a hell of an advantage. They'd be stupid to come for someone strong enough to make it costly to engage with them. But," he nudges Alexander, "you feel free to debate with Lilith if she's faster than someone's trigger finger. I'm not going to ask for a demonstration. Guns are expensive."

He makes a low sound about Cavanaugh. "It's okay. He'll be alright with some bedrest. de la Vega might have some stuff he'll want you to read, though."

"I took Lilith down with a syringe and stubborn idiocy. She did tear open my leg, but I was close enough to cut her throat. Without using my abilities on her." Alexander smiles, a crooked and strange expression. It's a mark of the trust he has for August that he doesn't flinch at the nudge, just tenses a little, then relaxes. "Admittedly, those were unusual circumstances, and her decision making and threat analysis wasn't at the top of its game. And she was distracted half murdering Miss Jones and Thorne. But some decent intel and a dart gun would work. And Cavanaugh was carrying a pistol, last time I saw him."

Alexander winces at the mention of Ruiz and reading things. "I will. So he doesn't have to. I don't know if I'll tell him what I see."

August grins a little. "Due respect to Lilith, you're a sneaky bastard. And she wasn't nearly as strong as she is now." He tilts his head at the dart gun and intel comment. "I guess that's the real question. Do they know what we all can do? Is one of them like me, able to see what people can do, and strong enough to push past those of us who could avoid it? Or have they been watching us, taking notes?" He licks his lips at the possibilities there. Who's played their cards close to their vest? (Not him.) Who hasn't? (Most of them, in all honesty.)

"He'll no doubt read 'em first," August drawls, ducking his head. "But you're stronger than him, you might get more fine detail." A grimace to match Alexander's wince. "Not that you're going to want it, I expect. But there might be...useful information."

"Thank you," Alexander says, solemnly. "I don't feel like one, these days. But thank you." He takes another bite of the ice cream, then another, meticulously whittling it down so it doesn't melt all over his hands. "They've been watching people," he says, without hesitation. "Stewart said they had to be tailing Monaghan long enough to know his pattern," his gaze drifts back to the hotel, "and that Stewart and Kelly weren't supposed to be there. They've been watching Javier long enough to know he's involved with Cavanaugh, and would have had to hit him outside the apartment. Thorne's security isn't a joke. They had to have had some sort of leverage to get Thatchery out into the woods. Doesn't happen without intelligence. At least one of the ones who jumped me stood out. Not much, and it wasn't empathy - he couldn't banish my illusions."

It's a dry recital, but Alexander definitely stops, and winces, when August reminds him of that fact. "I'm not much stronger than him. Not really. He'll get enough out of it to do what he plans to do, I'm sure."

"So this is a long term thing," August murmurs, sounding thoughtful. He sips from his water. "Muscling in on places without protection, no doubt planning to flip the ones that do..." He blinks, frowns. At a few things. "Stewart?" The name isn't familiar to him. He promptly moves on to, "Guys who jumped you?" He flicks a glance over Alexander, obviously looking for injuries to heal, or at least fuss over.

Alexander nods. "I can track back incidents largely tied to them a few months back, at least, now that I know to look. And it's smart. Brutal, but smart. They're looking to take over, so they're running an attrition campaign. Testing defenses, assassinating leaders - or trying to demoralize them. Cavanaugh, at least one incident with a stolen car." He frowns when August asks about the unfamiliar name, and quickly shakes his head, "Forget I mentioned it. Not a name you need to remember."

Another bite of his cone, and he's actually reached the cone now, so there's a crunch. After he's swallowed, he says, "It wasn't major. I was looking into things, a group tried to dissuade me. I wasn't badly hurt."

Tone dry as Eastern Oregon, August says, "Right," about forgetting 'Stewart'. Well, the less he knows, the less anyone can try to kill him for, right? Right. Sure. And there are, indeed, no lasting wounds to see to, so August grouses a little, then turns his mood on something more deserving of it. "But, one of them had the Art. So it stands to reason others do." He scratches his beard. "Think that plays into this? That it's not just about," he waves a hand at the casino, or maybe the harbor, "location location, but also the Veil, and how close it is?"

Alexander gives August a /look/. It's the sort of look that says don't say I didn't warn you, but he says no more about it. And Alexander's only sign of recent injury is the bandage on one arm. "Probably. I haven't put eyes on the leader, but the one thing that makes Monaghan mildly tolerable is that he doesn't stand out at all. Which means he doesn't think about abilities, he doesn't use abilities, and he doesn't choose his people for abilities. If that's different, with this person, then that's...bad, August. That's very bad."

August trades Alexander's look for one of, 'it's not my fault I'm friends with people who've all found light sockets big enough to stick their heads into'. That fades to something more somber. He grunts, has a bit more water. "Yeah. If they know about the Art--and if whoever is running things can use it themselves--that's a big problem. Especially since, doing what they're doing is right up the Their alley. They'll be happy to see all of this going on." He grimaces. "Hell for all we know, they're like that acting troupe. In league with Them."

Alexander thinks about it, then shakes his head. "I don't think so. If they were in league with Them, Monaghan would be dead. Just drag him into a Dream and watch his mind melt, if you didn't want to kill him yourself. But the Shadows will like pain, and misery. So--you can probably assume that their users aren't having nightmares like we are. They're feeding the beast, one way or the other." He sighs. "But I don't think they know what they can do, yet. They're tactically minded, but I haven't seen any evidence they've been folding their abilities into their tactics. Yet. The leader is smart. If he has abilities, he's practicing them, and he's keeping them in mind."

August mmmmms, picks at a spot on the rock. A small flake of something shiny (quartz, maybe) comes off between his fingernails. "Well. Here's hoping you're right about Them not being...directly involved." Tangential involvement is just as bad, as Alexander points out. August will pay the piper for healing Joe, be even worse off than he is. Meanwhile they'll go on business as usual.

"Yeah, I don't think they do either," he murmurs. "Because," he looks askance at Alexander, "Monaghan would just be dead. He'd fall over from an ischemic stroke, or have a really bad unexplainable car accident." His eyebrows bob; this is just what he can think of on the spot. They both know there are hundreds of options.

Alexander thinks about it. At times like this, his posture is alert, not slumped, his eyes bright and lively. Times when he's talking about crime or murder. "No. Not like that. Maybe the accident, but not anything that could be taken for natural. These guys would prefer to take over - I suspect that's why they're not burning down places that actually turn revenue for the underground, but instead made an example of an independent. Which means they need to prove to the underlings of the current org that they're the strongest assholes in town. He doesn't need to die; they need to kill him. And most of those guys don't stand out. It'd need to be something they understand - if he disappears, he has to show up with a bullet in his brain later. Car bomb is more likely than accident, betrayal more likely than medical emergency. If there's any doubt about their supremacy, the rest of the organization will just consolidate and push back while someone else rises into the power vacuum."

August listens to all of that, as attentive a student as any professor could hope for. It's easy to imagine this is how he got through college, with an intense focus in every single class. He had to, not being someone for whom rote learning comes quick and easy. In some ways it's a shame he was discharged from the military; that sort of hands on, active training is what he's best at. He fought hard to get through to his PhD.

He bites his lip. "Think that means Monaghan can't afford to just have them disappear, then? Otherwise," he shrugs, spreads his hand, "all anyone else sees is a place that got its ass kicked, then conveniently didn't get taken over. Seem ripe for another group to show up swinging their dicks."

Alexander nods, with a brief smile. "Got it in one. Which is why gang wars get so fucking awful. The home team has to make a show of strength. It probably will be deniable - shootout with cops on his payroll, or just 'unknown group found murdered in hotel' or something like that." A pause. "Also, I'm pretty sure they just pissed off a good portion of the home team. I doubt any of the local criminals will now accept a retreat or surrender. And," he hesitates, "the Interim Chief has made his opinion on the matter entirely clear. They will receive no quarter from law enforcement."

"This is why I lived in the woods for ten fucking years..." August grumbles on a sigh. He shifts, offers his water bottle to Alexander. Ice cream is nice and all, but some cold water to wash it down on a warm evening is often better. "They pissed off the home team when they burned Control Pad." His tone is flat. "Local businesses might play ball to avoid getting gutted in the mean time, but they'll only do it as long as they have to. The second they can safely refuse to cooperate, they will." And oh, how August is tempted to refuse to play ball anyways, out of hand. He knows, though, it wouldn't be him who caught flak for himself and Finch and Ignacio kicking out anyone stupid enough to show up. It'd be Finch's grandmother, or Eleanor's employees.

And if that happens, well. Then it gets ugly.

"Monaghan better get this sorted, as soon as fucking possible."

"Which, if they win, and especially if they can absorb the existing infrastructure, is never," Alexander points out, bluntly. "No more than the businesses paying protection to Monaghan can afford to resist him now." He accepts the water bottle with a brief smile, and takes a sip, then hands it back. "Thanks." He just grunts at the idea of Monaghan sorting it. Then takes a breath, and leans over so that he can gently bump shoulders with August. Deliberately. It's his equivalent of a fierce hug, really. "I'm sorry you're involved, August."

"Mmmm, well, Monaghan's been...nice enough not to lean on anyone who doesn't owe him in some fashion." Such as August himself, or Eleanor, and so on. He sighs heavily. "And this town's economy being what it is, that's only a few of us."

He reacts to the grunt with a snort and a helpless, sad little laugh. "Look, I know that basically means de la Vega has to. But I like to think Monaghan will get his people to step up and put in a little elbow grease, if only to save himself." He likes to think that, because the alternative is what--these new assholes who maim indiscriminately? Hell no.

"I'm...tangentially involved. Maybe useful, since it means I won't be tempted to...do shit that won't be helpful." The sorts of things people like he and Lilith do when they get rageful. "But I can keep an eye out for shit, maybe get you all through it alive."

Alexander's eyebrow quirks, and he smiles, just a little. "Sarcasm," he points out, gently. Like August hadn't been the one who said it and already knows. "But, you're not wrong. If I have to choose, I will take the devil I know." He goes silent and looks away at the mention of Ruiz's name. "Just be careful, okay? And...be good. You're a good person, August. Don't let these people make you forget that. Please?"

"'Choose'," August echoes, and makes a face. But he knows that Alexander is aware there's no real 'choice', not really. Not for people who aren't directly involved in the situation. They're just along for the shitty ride.

He smiles, realizing belatedly his shoulder was bumped, resists the urge to return the geture. A little shuffle of the foot closest to Alexander is the only indication he's thinking of it.

Then Alexander calls him good. The smile falters a touch, and August looks away. "Yeah," he says, almost inaudible aganist the sounds of familes packing up to head home for the night. "I try to be. Just, sometimes..." He's thinking of something and somewhen in particular, eyes unfocused in that manner of a specific memory being replayed. He rubs at them to dispel it. "Anyways. I'm not planning on going all OG." He dredges up a bit of a smile again. "Ellie wouldn't tolerate it, for one thing."

"There's always a choice," Alexander says, quietly. "If we wanted the other guy, it wouldn't be hard to tip the scales in that direction. Easier than fighting against it, actually. I know more about the current infrastructure. Existing trust could be betrayed. Staying out of it entirely is also a choice - I don't matter unless I decide to matter. And even then," his mouth twists in rueful self-mockery, "I don't matter very much. I decided not to be a neutral party. It might be the wrong decision. But I can't help but get involved." He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly, then admits, "If I weren't worried about Isabella, I'd be enjoying myself."

Then he leans again, a slightly longer shoulder bump. "Sometimes you want to hurt people because they deserve to be hurt. Because they hurt others. Because there's a hot ball of tar inside of you, burning you up, and the only real way to stop it is to spill it out on someone else." A pause. "But don't. And if it feels like you can't stop it, come to me? Or Itzhak. Or Eleanor. Someone who can remind you."

"I know there's a choice, I'm just being contrary because I hate all the options." August returns the nudge this time, smiling a bit more. "And you matter a lot, stop talking like you don't. Or I'll make you sit here and listen to me go over how you do. Itzhak hates it when I do that."

He toys with his bottle. "I feel you, on the concern for Isabella." He's quiet a few seconds, then, "It's less tar, and more...like a volcano. And it looks dead and quiet and like nothing's going to happen there. Except then someone tries to hurt Eleanor, or Itzhak, or any one of a lot of you and it's," he snaps his fingers, "instantaneous. I can't let it happen and I know a few ways to make sure it doesn't." He looks askance at Alexander. "Not that I wouldn't mind having someone talk me down, so, feel free to sit on me if I get like that. I'll appreciate it."

Alexander blinks. "Oh." He thinks about that for a while, then inclines his head. "They're not good choices. I wish we had others." He doesn't say anything to the affectionate threat, but the tiny lines at the corners of his eyes deepen when the shoulder nudge is returned. He finishes off the rest of the cone, having forgotten it long enough to leave chocolately smears over his fingers. Then licks his fingers like no one ever taught him any manners. "I'll help however I can, August. I'd rather not sit on you. But I will, if it's necessary." The only hint of his humor is a subdued twinkle in his eyes as he gives August a sidelong look.

"Yeah--wish we had other choices in a lot of things, truth be told." August offers his water bottle again, shifts on the rock and pulls out his phone, which is buzzing with a new text. He swipes out a reply and pockets it. Alexander might catch a glimpse of August's icon for Eleanor, which is...a red coffee mug with an espresso foam heart.

"You help plenty by being here to talk about it." He seems to catch that glint in Alexander's eye, and takes mock offense. "And I'll have you know I'm extremely comfortable for sitting on."

Alexander smiles when he sees the icon. "How is Eleanor?" he asks, quietly. Then smiles a brief but sunny smile at the last. "Nah," he drawls. "I bet you're bony in places." It's light and teasing, that subdued humor come out in full. "And all hard in others. All that landscaping work. You need more fat to be good for sitting."

"She's doing okay. Better, I think, now that she's trying to work on how to deal with...that thing." August, for his part, looks a little unsettled for mentioning it, yet shrugs that off. "Like it's helping her find her confidence. And," he just barely resists the urge to shove Alexander, but oh how he looks like he wants to, is imagining it in his head, "excuse you, muscle can be perfectly comfortable for sitting on." He pats his stomach. "Firm like a good mattress, just enough give. And the parts of me that are bony and hard aren't for you to sit on, I'll have you know." He sniffs once, daring Alexander to gainsay him.

Alexander nods. "Deciding to face something is good. I still don't know about...helping it. As opposed to destroying it. But committing to a decision, whatever that is? It helps. It always helps." And then his smile becomes a grin, as he adds, mock-solemn, "And I don't know if they told you this, Roen, but that part isn't supposed to have /actual/ bones in it. You may need to see a doctor."

August shifts, preparing to ease off the rock. Unlike the hypothetical firm mattress he might or might not make, the rock isn't particularly comfortable, and his back has things to say about it. "I've not heard a single complaint yet, so maybe everyone else is just behind the times." He bobs his eyebrows, nods towards the coffee shop. "Time for me to go meet Ellie at the shop. You want to come with, get a cup?"

Alexander laughs, short and low, but genuine. But he shakes his head. "I appreciate the offer, but I have some thinking to do. Be careful? And please give Eleanor," and yes, he emphasizes the name just a little, "my regards. Don't die, okay?" There's more emphasis, and worry, there than there usually is, even as his eyes turn back towards the casino.

August mmmhmms at Alexander's stated preference to sit on an uncomfortable rock and stare at the casino that August is still thinking about dragging into the Harbor with the help of some seaweed. "Will do. And, I won't." He hops down tot he sand, points his water bottle at Alexander. "Same for you, yeah? No dying. You're required to bring at lease one of us in on any and all 'plans' or 'ideas'." He grins, maybe to ease some of that order into teasing. Then he's off across the sand, heading towards Downtown.