2020-07-20 - One Rainy Night

The rain keeps what might have been a blazing hot Mid-July day from becoming a scorcher while also keeping the majority of Gray Harbor residents inside. It is Monday and early afternoon. Some of the lunch crowd lingers, but it's not exactly the time for a big bar crowd. It is slow. Perfect for idle conversation instead of fast paced weekend shenanigans.

Beth sits alone at the bar wearing an airy white blouse with long cuffed sleeves tucked into a pair of linen shorts with navy and cream stripes. Beige brown platform sandals are hooked into the spindles of the barstool next to her as she peruses the selection of beers from behind her glasses. It may not be a particularly hot day but her long dark hair has been pulled up into a high slightly messy ponytail to keep it off of her neck as well as keep it from frizzing from the humidity.

Vic has only been employed at TiBs for a short while, hired by Easton shortly before he vanished somewhere on the other side of the Veil. She was a nightmare bartender for a bit, but since he poofed, she has started serving the proper drinks to customers. She still doesn't smile much, or do a whole lot of things one expects of a bartender, but no one can complain about what they're served.

The amazonian woman is in slim-fit jeans with a white tank under a black button down left open. Her hair is in a ponytail, caught somewhere between light brown and dark blonde. Her dark, cold blue eyes sweep the room constantly, every entrance, every face. It's more like she's a bouncer than a server.

"What can I get you?" she asks Beth as she approaches where the woman sits, wiping her hands on a bar towel which then gets slung over her shoulder.

Beth's eyes flick upwards when she hears Vic's voice, absorbed in the menu to the point that she didn't hear the bartender approach, and she looks over the woman briefly before offering a small but friendly smile. "I'll have the IPA on tap." She says as she puts the menu down. Her phone is picked up but this seems mostly so she has something to do with her hands as she puts her thumb over the lock to unlock it without actually pulling up anything.

"You're new-ish, right?" She inquires with that same little smile and a tip of her head that spills some tendrils of dark hair over her cheek. She reaches one of her hands up to push her hair back while her other hand taps through her phone without really looking.

Vic gives the woman a tight smile at her order and the follow up question. She moves to pour whatever IPA is on tap this week into a clean glass, and sets it on a coaster in front of Beth. "Something like that. Moved down from Hoquiam recently," she explains. Her hands are wiped again on the towel as she hovers there in front of the new person. "You new to town?"

Beth puts down her phone to pick up the glass. She brings it to her lips and has a decent swallow before putting it back down on the coaster. "Hoquiam? You might as well be a local then." Vic's question draws another smile to her lips, this one wider than her previous one, and she shakes her head. "Oh gosh no. Born and bred. Only left for college, really." She reaches down for her purse on the floor and takes a business card out of it to offer to Vic. It says 'Lawson Funeral Home' in appropriately somber print along with 'Beth Lawson - Funeral Director'. "Here. My dad is always trying to get me to make sure everyone in town has one. Then he says something super morbid like 'Just in case'."

"Not a Hoquiam native. Portland," Vic corrects. She takes the business card, one brow arching sharply at the business listed. "Your dad must do a pretty brisk business in this town. Seems like someone is dead in the news every couple days. Weird for such a small town, isn't it?" she asks. "Sorry about the new to town thing. I just haven't seen you in here before."

"Portland, huh? Always liked it there." Beth says easily. She nods her head absently in agreement. It's as if they were discussing the weather and not the suspiciously high amount of tragic and untimely deaths in the town, "We have a disproportionate amount of violent deaths when compared to the rest of the state. It's true." She picks up her glass to have another swallow before putting it down. She smiles and shakes her head. "It's fine. And I'm not in often because my dad is retired so I'm at work a lot."

"Hm," is Vic's comment on the disproportionate number of fatalities in the city of Gray Harbor. "So, those guys who shot up the casino and died, are they from here or are those bodies being sent elsewhere for their funerals?" she asks curiously.

The question surprises Beth. She looks more carefully at Vic's face for a moment before she says frankly, "I haven't received any of the bodies. Either the medical examiner hasn't released them yet or..." She shrugs a shoulder. "I try to keep my nose clean and not ask too many questions when it comes to all that. Wouldn't want to ruffle any feathers." Her last words are said in a quieter tone. She glances down at her phone again as it beeps but whatever is displayed doesn't hold her interest for long.

"Just curious if this was local people angry at each other, or something else. I like to go to the casino now and then, and a shootout in the parking garage makes me a little nervous," Vic says. Lying through her teeth. But she does have a tiny bit of information now. They don't have the bodies at the funeral home, so they are likely still being held at the morgue. Since the goons likely had no ID on them, it's not likely they'll have somewhere else to send them other than Potters Field.

"I've never seen locals /that/ upset with each other before." Beth observes just a little dryly as she reaches for her glass to wrap her hand around it, but she doesn't take a drink just yet. "I haven't been there yet. The place seems to have very bad luck." She lifts her glass then to take another drink.

"It was fine the few times I was there," Vic notes with a faint smirk. She's clearly excluding the elevator full of dying Veil fish. That was not fine at all. "The piano bar is nice. But this time of year everything is packed with tourists so, less relaxing than it could be."

"Still-" Beth insists with a goodnatured smile to make it seem like she's sort of joking, "I like to gamble in places that are lucky." Her beer is more than half-drank at this point. She reaches for the beer menu to find her next selection. Her phone is absently left on top of the bar in front of her. "But I hear you about the tourists. Seems like it's been a draw for them."

"I guess it's good for Gray Harbor to bring in the tourist dollars," Vic says flatly. Bad for everything else though, from traffic, to souls for Them to feed on. This place is like a damned Hellmouth out of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. "And most of them tip well so I shouldn't really complain." Except this is just a cover job, and her real one pays far better than TiBS. "So, what's your poison for drink number two?" she asks.

Beth lets out a noncommittal sound in regards to the tourists. Which to be fair it's not like locals often enjoy tourists. She scans the menu a little longer before she says, "You know I think I'll have the same. Nothing else is really catching my eye at the moment." She puts down the menu and rubs a hand over her face idly. "How'd you end up in Gray Harbor?" She asks in a making small talk sort of way.

Lured by promises of booze he doesn't have to pour, Ruiz rolls in off the street and dusts a few flecks of cigarette ash from his fingers as he clears the entryway. The bartender on duty tonight gains a slanted, vaguely displeased look from the cop, but he heads over anyway to place an order. "Tequila, por favor," is murmured low, without an accompanying glance for the brunette as he digs out his wallet.

Vic works on pouring Beth another IPA, pausing for a moment at the question, formulating an answer. "Just needed a change of scenery. My house comes with me, so it wasn't all that tough of a decision. Landed here, and a job fell in my lap so, here I am for now." Not lies, just not specific truths. She sets the fresh beer in front of the woman with a faint smile.

The arrival of the interim Chief of Police has Vic's eyes narrowing in return, those two glances of displeasure like a pair of predators circling one another. The order gets a glass set in front of Ruiz and a bottle of Patron put in his reach. He's still pouring his own booze tonight.

"Your house comes with you...?" Beth asks, slightly puzzled, before her eyes widen ever so slightly as it clicks. "Oh so it's like an RV?" She glances to Ruiz as he sits down and nods her head politely in greeting before she looks back to Vic. Then to Ruiz before going back to Vic. She tries not to look too curious as she picks up her fresh glass and takes a swallow.

Seems like. The thunk of the bottle being set in front of him has de la Vega's dark eyes ticking up, finding Vic's blues just long enough to give her a look like, really? A flick of a crumpled note, go fetch, and then he makes to pour himself a drink. "Miss Lawson, buenas tardes. Es bueno verte de nuevo." He tips his glass toward the woman, then takes a drink.

"Not quite that big and fancy, just an airstream trailer. But it's mine, and it's freedom if the bug to travel bites me." Vic is talking to Beth, but her eyes are fixed on Ruiz. That oppressive sensation descending on this corner of the bar? Yeah, that is tension. Or maybe she's just having a nicotine fit. She sweeps up the crumpled bill and rings up the first glass of tequila for him, setting the change on the counter. "I guess you two would be acquainted, with your respective jobs," she notes.

Beth sort of looks between the pair again with a slight questioning look on her face. Still, it's none of her business. "Chief Ruiz. How are you? Awful rainy out." She says in return with a polite smile before looking back to Vic. "I imagine we are both quite acquainted with a good many people because of our lines of work." She takes a swallow from her glass and puts it down but keeps her hand wrapped around the base of the glass.

Speaking of rain, the door opens again, and the soaking figure of Alexander tromps in. His dark hair is plastered down his cheeks and back of his neck, and his t-shirt is sticking to his skin. His jeans squelch. He looks, unsurprisingly, disgruntled as he stands just inside and drips a bit, sans umbrella. His eyes scan the room, going first to the bar - the hopeful look turning into a frown when he sees Vic. It only grows when he sees Ruiz, but it doesn't stop him from approaching the bar himself. "Miss Lawson. It's good to see you," he tells Beth, quietly, slipping onto an empty stool and staring at Vic. Staaare.

The word Chief attached to any permutation of his name gains something like a wince out of the cop. It's not like he asked to be field promoted to top brass, after all. The questioning look, however, finds no answer in the bristly man. Just a sniff, inked knuckles rubbed against his nose briefly before he murmurs low, "Javier will do. Captain de la Vega, if you insist on being formal." Then he downs another swallow of his drink, and digs his phone out when it starts to buzz. "I'm about as well as you might expect." Given the givens. The GHPD is not having a banner year.

"How's Kelly doing?" he murmurs to Vic. "Heard he had a little pow wow recently." Of course he heard. And then there's that familiar voice behind him, and his big shoulders tense slightly. But he doesn't turn to look, or to greet him.

"You keep staring at me, and I'm gonna charge you admission," Vic notes to Alexander, staring right back at him. Stare. Stare. "You ordering something, Drippy McSquelches?" Ruiz gets her head rolling on her neck to look back at him. "He's worried about his family and his friends after being shot at in a parking garage, Javier. How do you think he is doing?"

Beth's head turns when she hears the squish of wet footwear and the sound of someone settling into a stool on her other side. "Mr. Clayton." She says, and she favors him with a warm and genuine smile. "It's good to see you, too. I still owe you a drink for the favor you did for me earlier this year." Her eyes flick from Alexander as he stares at Vic and her brow raises ever so slightly but still she doesn't pry. Instead she looks back to Ruiz, "You can call me Beth if you'd like." She then adds with some humor. "You can all call me Beth. I'm super informal like that." To Vic she says, "Put whatever Mr. Clayton wants on my tab. And Javier's next tequila is on me, too. I think cops aren't supposed to pay for their own drinks. Or maybe that's just coffee and not booze?" She shrugs her shoulders and waves a hand dismissively as if to say it doesn't matter.

"This bar doesn't have a cover charge. And my name is Alexander Clayton." He says it like he's just making sure she knows both facts; there's no offense. He also doesn't stop staring. "Bennie's not here. But I'll have a beer. Whatever's in a bottle." He blinks a couple of times at Beth's offer, and ducks his head. "You don't have to pay for my drinks, Miss Lawson. Gratitude is uncomfortable." A pause, before he adds, "Are you doing okay?"

When Beth calls Ruiz by name, Alexander's eyes go in that direction, and at least now he's staring at the cop rather than the bartender. "Interim Chief." His jaw tightens.

Well, turnabout's fair play, and the cop concedes to Beth providing her first name with a sound in his throat not unlike an abbreviated chuckle. He keeps his gaze on the bartop, and turns his glass slowly in place. Ten or fifteen degrees at a time, until it's made a full circuit. And then he drinks, with a pull of his adam's apple. "Captain de la Vega," he corrects again, a little more sharply this time. He doesn't return Alexander's stare, though he does lift his eyes briefly to Beth, and crook her half a smile. "Gracias, que amable de su parte." Vic? Just gets ignored, at this juncture. It's safer for everyone, this way.

Ok, this one is a weirdo. Vic moves to retrieve a bottled beer from the cooler and sets it on a coaster in front of the soggy Alexander, before looking to Ruiz and arching a brow as if to ask, 'What's with this guy?' At least he was staring at her face, unlike the majority of customers. "All right, well, my shift is over so, I'll leave you all to it," she quips, eyeing Ruiz once more before she takes her bar towel and stalks into the back.

Beth gives Alexander a side glance before she laughs. "Okay. Well, why don't I buy this round to be friendly?" She nods her head affirmatively that she's okay. "Oh yeah. I've been alright. Very normal people problems ever since." Whatever that means. "How are you? Besides for...?" She motions at him to indicate that he is wet. And since Vic is walking away there is not quite a bartender on duty. She does a quick look around before saying to Ruiz jokingly, "Don't arrest me." She stands up to lean over the bar and grabs a clean bar towel and hands it to Alexander. Ruiz just gets a laugh. Probably because she's on her second beer at least and she probably doesn't have a clue what he just said. "No problem, I think."

Alexander blinks, following Vic's progress back to the back. "I don't know her. Who is she?" It's not asked of anyone in particular - or, at least, he's not looking at Ruiz at the moment, who might be who the question is addressed to. But his expression softens after a moment, and he inclines his head to Beth. "All right. I'll buy the next. And I'm glad. It's good to have normal people problems." Although then, he hesitates. "No one's harassed the funeral home, I hope?" He shows no worry at Beth's leaning over to serve themselves, and takes the towel to start toweling himself off. "I'm alive. It's okay."

Well, it didn't take long for the don't arrest me jokes to be trotted out. And Beth's not even drunk yet. "Didn't bring the handcuffs tonight," Ruiz points out glibly, idly watching as Beth leans away to snag the towel for Alexander. Then he clears his throat and returns to his drink, still avoiding looking at the other man who's still drip-drying nearby. "Her name is Vic Grey," is supplied after a slug of his tequila that leaves the glass empty, prompting him to pour out some more from the bottle the aforementioned helpfully left sitting there. "Friend of Kelly's." Alexander may take that as he wishes.

"You mean you don't just carry them on you all the time?" Beth retorts to Ruiz's response. She settles back down onto the stool and shakes her head at Alexander's question. "She seemed awfully interested in where the guys who got shot up at the casino ended up." She observes with just a hint of suspicion in her voice. "Nah. I mean occasionally we'll have stuff like kids daring each other to go down into the basement or teepeeing. Nothing off. But I don't work with a radio downstairs anymore I can tell you that much. Or anything with a speaker, really." As she has a drink of beer she gives Alexander a side glance and a sympathetic look when he says he is surviving.

"Victoria?" Alexander asks, this time glancing sidelong at Ruiz. "The former detective. Yes. I know the name, now." And he doesn't particularly like what he knows, judging by the way his eyes narrow at the back. It looks like he might say something more, but then he frowns, and turns his attention to the windows facing out towards the water. He frowns, and shakes his head. He leaves the bar towel draped over his neck after drying his hair and face. Apparently everything else can just drip, and that's okay. He takes a sip of his bottle, and tries to smile at Beth. This time it just looks odd. "I'm sure she has people she can ask, if she really wants to know. You don't have to tell her anything. And...I don't blame you. It's dead, though. I'm very sure. Promise."

"Try calling her that," Javier murmurs, corners of his eyes crinkling in momentary amusement. Then he eases back in his chair with his drink, and downs another sip of it. Watches Beth's profile a few moments while she speaks, then the bartop again. Anything to avoid having to look at Alexander, it seems.

He opens his mouth after that comment on carrying his handcuffs on him all the time, like he's this close to making some completely inappropriate sexual joke. Then seems to think better of it, and just goes for more tequila instead. It's no fucking fun being the acting Chief. Though he does have to ask, "Teepeeing?"

"Isn't much to tell her. ME still has them. They'll go to the commercial funeral home in Hoquiam, probably." She says commercial with a faint wrinkling of the bridge of her nose in disgust. She smiles at Alexander when he promises her it's dead. "I know." She finishes off her beer and lifts her hand to order another. If she notices Ruiz and Alexander are avoiding each other she makes no indication of it. Instead she turns her head to give Ruiz a surprised look, "You know. Kids get toilet paper and throw it up into the trees? You've got to have angry old people coming down to the station weekly during the summer complaining about it."

"Alright," Alexander says, with apparent seriousness. "If it's her name, it's what I'll use." He's also not looking at Ruiz - his attention is alternating between the beer bottle and Beth. The talk of handcuffs appears to soar over his head without even ruffling his hair. He also looks mildly surprised at Ruiz not knowing what teepeeing is, and tilts the beer towards her at her answer. "Halloween is bad for it. But I guess with the funeral home, it happens more often. But it's good that the bodies are going to Hoquiam. Not that you're not very skilled, Miss Lawson. But it's just better."

Teepeeing. Teepeeing. "Oh." It took him a minute to clue in. He seems distracted, and rifles fingers through his hair before knocking back the last of his drink and pushing his empty glass away. Another crumpled bill comes out to pay for it, tossed atop the counter next to the half-full bottle of tequila, and he starts pulling to his feet with a glance at his watch. "He's right, you know. Probably better you don't have to deal with these ones." Including one body with a bullet that ripped through its eye socket in the most unpleasant manner possible. A bullet that happened to come from his service pistol. Maybe he's thinking about that as he pauses, and finally glances at Alexander for a couple of beats. Or maybe he isn't.

"Oh, I have no idea if they are going to Hoquiam. That's just my guess because I charge more money than they do." Beth picks up her fresh glass but doesn't drink from it just yet. "Because Hoquiam sucks. They're factory funerals. No skill when it comes to trauma reconstruction. The city isn't going to pay for me because I'm like paying for the Four Seasons when a Motel 6 will do." It's all said in a practical yet slightly prideful tone. Noticing Ruiz is up from his seat she says, "It was good to see you again."

Alexander looks in Ruiz's direction when the cop stands up, and he's still looking when Ruiz looks back. He meets his eyes, and there's raw anger there, but also worry and a keen hurt. He says to him, "August said that you had something for me. Regarding Cavanaugh. Bring it by. I'll look at it." Then he turns away, back to Beth. "You'll probably get one of the bodies, then," he says, after a moment. "He had friends. They'll want him taken care of, I think." He takes a pull on his bottle, and watches Beth and Ruiz.

The anger's taken in stride. The hurt, too. The worry though, that makes Javier glance away. He adjusts his ballcap on his head, flashes Beth a quick smile that seems a touch perfunctory, and starts patting himself down for his cigarettes. "Not sure what he's referring to, but I'll ask him. Hasta luego, Alexander." Then he's prowling for the door without further ado.

Beth glances to Ruiz as he looks at Alexander to witness the non-verbal exchange before she averts her gaze. A final nod is given to the police....chief? Captain? Then she looks back to Alexander and her expression softens. She looks like she may ask him something like 'Who is he?' or 'What happened?'. She doesn't. Instead she lifts a hand to get the bartender, "Get us both another." She requests before settling back onto her bar stool.