2020-07-30 - Second Hand Shopping is a Playdate

Secrets of of the Attic; a new enterprise selling old goods in an alley off Elm Street. Not the kind of place you go to if you want to burn money. Not the kind of place the thrifty go to either, because the vast majority of the goods in here is junk or so horribly out of fashion that not even the hippest retro kids want to be caught floating in Gray Pond wearing it.

It's not the kind of place you'd expect to find a tall, reasonably well dressed foreigner studying the exhibition in the window speculatively at all. It's not that he looks like a million dollars; it's just that apparently he is possessed of some kind of sartorial sense, and really does not want to buy the polka dot skirt or the polyester fake-cravat shirt in bright orange. Ah, the 1970s, they came, they went, and to date, no one misses them.

Lyric walks up from.. probably not too terribly far away. Her house is on Elm Street! Wearing a pair of cut off jean shorts, certainly not cut so low to be considered Daisy Dukes, she looks presentable enough were it not for her red long sleeved t-shirt with white writing that claims, I Can Get You on the Naughty List. The sleeves are pushed up to her elbows. Her feet are covered in royal blue Converse trimmed in white.

As she approaches, she tosses a grin in the direction of Ravn, walking up to stand beside him at the entrance. While she stands, she bounces a little on the balls of her feet. "Ready?" Eyes drifting over his current attire then the display of oooold people clothes. "We'll find something good, don't worry." More tongue-in-cheek as she tries not to laugh.

The Dane turns around at the sound of the voice and raises one gloved hand in a lazy wave. "Hello there! Well, we did need to find something for me to wear to a strip club and to a night club, though possibly not the same item for both. I just got suggested a casino last night too so... I'm guessing I have quite the shopping list. Shall we? I almost wish I'd brought a proper camera."

"I have a cell phone, does that count? I need something for that one place. The cocktail bar. I bet you'll find somethin' in here for the strip club for sure. Especially if you wanna dance on amateur night." Lyric is totally teasing but she leaves it at that as she reaches for the door handle and tugs open the door, stepping just inside while holding it behind her for him to come in too or take the door.

"I bet they have roller skates. We can go full-on disco." An impish look accompanies the claim this time though before she turns to look at the racks and rows and shelves of clothing and nonsense items. "Lead the way, we'll find lots of fun things, I think."

"Me. Dancing on rollerskates. In a disco outfit, in a strip club." Ravn's smile extends to half a mile across at the mental picture. "Yeah, I've got a couple of older aunts I definitely have to send that picture to. Framed and autographed." He follows Lyric inside, looking around curiously in the fashion of someone who's not really accustomed at all to this kind of shop but quite open to the idea.

Sidestepping a basket of Legos (Build your own Millennium Falcon!) with all the white bits missing, a stack of old comic books of which some still have covers, and a curious arrangement of hand painted wicker baskets, he gravitates towards the clothes racks though ultimately, it's the white haired girl who sets the pace. Mostly because Ravn clearly is not certain what the pace is.

"Do you have a lot of family?" Again with the family, but Lyric does seem genuinely curious. "You need big hair then. And star shaped sunglasses. Shiny jacket? And bell bottom pants with big white shoes with tall clunky heels." So she's not a fashion expert. At all. Walking with him towards the racks of clothing, passing that same set of Lego's, she momentarily pauses by them and with a grin she bobs her head. "Next idea! We buy up ALL the Lego's in town. Every one of them. Then we build ourselves a house with it. With Lego furniture. It'll take ages but it will be fun."

At the racks she reaches into the depths and shadowy recesses only to tug out a leopard skin mini-dress that looks far too small to be decent on any adult. Or child for that matter. There are strategic cut outs everywhere. Lyric finds herself giggling, completely unable to imagine anyone wearing it. "I say we start Christmas shopping now and buy random things and give them away as a secret santa." So full of adventurous ideas. Kinda.

Junk is sometimes interesting, and Alexander's budget doesn't extend to anything /better/ than junk. He's also been banned from at least one thrift store in town, so look, he takes what he can get. Now, he's slinking in the front door like a guy who's planning to knock the join over, shoulders slumped and his hair disheveled. His outfit is unremarkable: a faded Iron Maiden t-shirt under a old green Army jacket that it's too hot for, and worn blue jeans with non-artistic holes here and there. At least it's all clean.

He starts heading towards the clothes, then stops as he sees Ravn and Lyric. The latter, at least, is somewhat familiar. Ravn gets that Look. The look of the small town person who has just met someone who is not local. Mildly suspicious, immediately defensive.

Ravn's grin only widens; he's very obviously highly entertained. The leopard dress gets a raised eyebrow -- not so much the dress itself, though hideous and viscose it is, but the cutouts. He pauses a moment, looking at it, envisioning it on somebody... and reaches a mental conclusion. "I think that's here because it's owner got arrested for public indecency."

Whoever he is, the stranger, he's clearly someone Lyric knows, at least to the extent of swapping grins and jokes. His social layer, from his appearance, isn't much different from Alexander's; the turtleneck and blazer are a good fit, yes, but they are not new. He's got a laid back air about him on the whole -- someone who's either a very snappy dresser low on money but doing his best with what he's got, or some art director or hipster favouring a low key style for shit, giggles, and possible environmental awareness.

The other thing he seems to be is oblivious. Alexander is not the first local to give him the Lookover, but he's either quite expecting it from any new face, or he genuinely doesn't notice in the first place. Maybe innocent people still exist.

"I think you're right." After several moments, Lyric removes it from the hanger and drops the hanger back on the rack. "Park will love it." Done and done. It's going to be purchased. "So, nothing for me yet, but there's still tons of options." With the dress over an arm she starts sliding hangers over, checking out things as she does. There's a pair of double knit reversible slacks she eyeballs with amusement.

Lyric was totally not kidding about the Lego's and when she looks back towards them she notices Alexander and his approach. A friendly smile and a wave before she greets the man. "Hi Alexander." She knew enough about him from all sorts of Dreams and things to know his name and a few other things. Paths had intersected fairly often.

The look from him to Ravn is noted and she grins, opting for an introduction. "Alexander this is Ravn." Doing her best to say it like he does, which isn't Raven at all! No V in there! "Ravn, this is Alexander. He doesn't like his name to be shortened." That's all.

"Miss Bates," Alexander says in return, looking startled for a moment to be addressed. But then he offers her a brief smile - it's a weird, plastic sort of thing. "Hello." A long pause as he stares at Ravn. "How are you doing?" His dark eyes reorient on her as she explains, and he bobs his head, once, to agree. "Nicknames are unacceptable. Thank you for remembering." A glance back at Ravn. "Ravn. I don't know you." Maybe he doesn't mean it to sound like an accusation, but it totally does. His pronunciation is surprisingly good for the name, though.

"Few people this side of the Atlantic do," the other man replies good-naturedly, revealing an accent that is most assuredly European though at least it's not pronounced enough that somebody ought to subtitle him. "Pleased to meet you, Alexander. Lyric is helping me look for a blazer -- and anything els else that catches our fancy."

He quirks an eyebrow at the latter and asks, "Bates, is it? Like the motel? This town gets better every day, I swear."

The foreigner is clearly one of those. An outsider who's heard bits and bobs of Gray Harbor's story and thinks it's all tourist clap and urban legends. Good grief.

"Lyric," she corrects Alexander from using her last name. His smile may be plastic but she returns a genuine one in return. "I'm doing great, thank you. It's good to see you again." Casting a surreptitious look towards Ravn to see how he was taking the other man's approach and demeanor, smiling to herself at the reference to the Bates Motel.

"Yeahh, Bates. The When I moved here, no one prepared me for the colossal, frickin' face-dive off a cliff that living in this crazy town really is! Bates." A quote from the movie, from Norma Bates.

When your wardrobe consists mainly of blindingly colorful hand-me downs, pants that don’t quite fit, and ashes, its time to go shopping. Still a little light on liquid assets, that means Abitha was going thrift shopping. The aforementioned color worn today seemed to be a bright minty green tee, a white circle on the front containing a golden shooting star. She wears the sole pair of jean shorts that survived, since being around town meant actually looking presentable, and black leggings covering her legs as usual. Her white Addidas still looked a little grey.

She walks through the door with a duffel over one shoulder, only lightly loaded, as she seemed to have hit a few places already. Her arm is raised to run the back of it across her forehead, and she was happy to note in the window reflection Sparrow’s eyeliner choice was pretty amazing at resisting sweat. She stops just inside as she sees two faces she knew, and a new one. There’s an intake a breath, a steadying, then she starts to wander and browse.

"A blazer? Here?" Alexander examines the disco rejects critically. "Maybe. But it might be made out of naughahyde." He drifts towards a hideously ugly sweater with a clown on the front, proving that his advice about fashion is not to be trusted. He reaches out and pokes the clown's nose, thoughtfully. A glance back to Lyric. "Good to see you, too." It's toneless, like he's reciting a line, but his next smile is a little more natural. "Face-dive off a cliff is about right," he murmurs. "You shouldn't stay," he adds, to the European, just like a gatekeeper in a rural horror story, all solemn and creepy and everything. The authentic Gray Harbor experience!

He falls silent when Abitha enters the store, tracking her with his eyes.

"You're the first to say that," Ravn acknowledges while running his gloved fingertips down the front of a viscose and cotton shirt in a truly horrifying shade of lime green. "Everyone else tells me I'll be staying. I didn't think I'd be here more than a night before I found a ride to Portland but that was four days ago and I somehow seem to already have found work. All I need is a place to stay that isn't somebody's couch, and I'm practically a native. Only need to get the 'live here for seven generations' part down, I think."

The shirt is returned to the rack; the man clearly either has some standards, or he prefers to dress in all black because he's so colourblind that doing anything else would be social suicide -- but if that is the case, then the lime green shirt somehow managed to offend him in spite of it, which is really quite impressive. He glances back at Lyric, rummaging through colourful items of clothing and asks, "Somebody asked if I was going to stay at... Seaside? Seaview? Something with sea?"

"Don't stay there! That's the murder motel I told you about!" Lyric pops that in there right away. "But then if we went with that, you can't stay anywhere in town mostly, so it's a good place if you wanna live in a motel. You should get a roommate or something and share rent. The trailer park is good, it's where I lived a lot of my life except when I had to switch homes. I ended back up there when I was eighteen though."

Eyeing the lime green shirt when he puts it back, she reaches for it and holds it up to herself. Decisively, she removes the hanger and puts the shirt over her arm with the dress there before looking back to Alexander with a lopsided smile. "I told him that people who leave mostly leave involuntarily.." Dead.

It's then she notices Abitha and she offers a wave and a cheerful smile despite the subject at hand. "Hi," she greets over there. "Sorry about your shop, I heard it burned."

Abitha had enough time to look at the first few things on a rack in... concern? Who stocked this shop? A glance or two in the direction of the others who were conversing would make her eyes meet Alexander’s briefly, then slide away. Then Lyric is actually greeting her, so she might as well be polite.

“Hey,” Abitha’s own greeting is offered with a weak smile for Lyric, “And yeah... Thanks.” It was genuine, if a little tired. Her eyes do track to Alexander again, expression going a little deadpan. “You can say ‘hi’ too, Clayton, instead of staring.” Jibe delivered, she eyes Ravn now as well. And his ’fashion’.

“Do the dire warnings ever work?” They didn’t on her. Look at her now. “Who’s the new blood?”

"The murder motel isn't particularly cursed or anything," Alexander says, with the hint of an actual, amused smile. "No more than the rest of the town. But it's a lousy place if you have the money for anything better, and there's crime. Might end up seeing something you didn't want to - or that someone else didn't want you to. Not a great plan." He looks not-particularly-politely skeptical about the goodness of the trailer park, but doesn't speak out against it. Instead he nods to Lyric. "He stands out. He'll probably stay. The warnings," a glance towards Abitha, "never work. But he should leave."

"Hi," he tells Abitha, solemnly, seeming to accept her jibe as permission rather than a, well, jibe. "Are you okay? Any further harassment?"

"The murder motel is the one place pretty much everybody's warned me against," Ravn observes while holding up a hand-crotcheted halter top and eyeing it with part fascination, part disbelief. It's rainbow coloured but if there is indeed an annual Pride march in Gray Harbor, he'd probably need to shave his chest and abdomen, get a spray tan, and put on ten kilos to look good in it. "I've never actually been to a trailer park. Might be an idea -- unless I can find a room somewhere private, perhaps. I'm a pretty quiet lodger, might be some old lady somewhere who wouldn't mind having someone around to walk the dog and bring in the mail and otherwise stay out of her face because I'll be out exploring most of my time anyway."

He may be foreign but he's clearly not shy of speaking in a foreign language. The Dane flashes a smile at Abitha at her inquiry and repeats, "Ravn Abildgaard. I'm from overseas. Got dropped off here a few days back by an irate trucker, and apparently, I've found the Hotel California, at least that's what people keep telling me."

"Nope, Alexander and I tried to tell Tyrone to leave. Then he got sucked in and.. I guess he's still here, I dunno. I didn't see him for awhile, so I think he's still here. Unless he left.. involuntarily." The last word said meaningfully since it's a repeat of something she'd stated before.

Oh! She didn't know Ravn. Figuring on introducing them she waits a moment to see if Ravn would introduce himself. Distracted as she is though, she frowns a touch when she glances between Alexander and Abitha. "Harassment? Is that why your shop burned down?" So she heard it burned, but not how or why!

Introductions made, she looks at Ravn and the top he holds with a crooked grin and a shake of her head, "That ones just weird." Everyone has a limit. She goes back to shopping a little and finds a treasure. It's a lovely black blazer, looks pretty sharp! Were it not for the red and black flannel, plaid elbow squares and collar. "For the casual hunter?" A giggle follows.

“Other than De la Vega’s bull-in-a-china-shop approach to sifting through my memories,” Abitha’s face twitches briefly, the top side of one lip looking like it might rear in a pinch of disgust before it falls flat, expression unfinished, “I’ve kinda just been staying out of sight. So no, no harassment.”

Abitha’s phone is pulled out as she sees that rainbow top, telling Ravn, “Oh hey, hold that up.” She’d snap a picture, knowing exactly who’d be interested in a piece like that. “Mac,” is all she introduces herself as, shop owner no longer. “Aren’t you like two states north of that, though?”

Lyric’s question gets another tired look and sigh, “Yeah, some dudes tried to get some weird info. I told them no. My shop burned down.” She adds a shrug. It was succinct and drained of emotion, as it had already been a bit of a rollercoaster already.

The next piece held up gets a weird look, as well as the stuff Abitha continues to see on the rack, “Are we Dreaming? This place is like supernaturally atrocious.”

"Ravn Abildgaard." Alexander says it carefully, trying to mimic the pronunciation exactly. Then nods. "I'll remember that. My neighbor is renting out her basement. She has small children. But Itzhak Rosencrantz used to live there, and he might be able to recommend you," Alexander says, with a frown. "If you're not unpleasant. It's on Elm, though."

There's a shrug towards Lyric. "It seemed he left of his own free will. But he came back injured. In the hospital. I don't know why. I think he's still around." A pause. "The town doesn't usually attack you for leaving. It's just hard." He watches the inspection of clothing, his head tilting slightly to one side as people call out outfits as being especially bad. He doesn't seem to see it.

Instead, his attention returns to Abitha, and there's a sympathetic wince. "Javier is...somewhat heavy handed. In that area." A pause. "In a lot of areas. But particularly that. I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Ah, the violinist with the noble name," Ravn says and surrenders the rainbow halter top to Lyric. The blazer which she in turn trades him gets a pair of raised eyebrows and an amused look. "I think," he notes, "that if I turn up at our British friend's club wearing this, he will expect me to also be bringing a horse, a hunting horn, a fox, and at least ten blood hounds. This may tax my finances a little too hard."

He doesn't comment on the dreaming inquiry but he certainly takes mental note of it. He's heard a lot about dreams lately and Lyric receives an almost impercetible glance -- an inquiry in the form of a raised eyebrow.

"I got a leopard dress with cut outs for Park. And if you see any Pokemon things, she likes those too." Lyric announces to the group at large. Again she frowns slightly, "I'm sorry to hear that, Mac. That really is bad," bobbing her head in agreement to the offer Alexander made. "Yeah he said he was on the other side the whole time he was gone that last time, that he never really left. So I don't know."

The blazer is returned to the rack with a laugh, "It does sound really expensive then if an accessory is a whole horse!" And for the next one she closes her eyes and reaches in, pulling out... A denim jacket with the fringe and all! Certainly a treasure maybe back in the eighties. A shake of her head and she sliides it back on the rack. Still in shopping mode, she looks down and finds the mother lode, in Lyrics world at least. "Oh YES! Mine!" Immediate claim. For right there in her sight is a shoe box filled with colorful mismatched and vibrant knee socks. Stripes, polka dots, solids, zebra.. a whole buffet of wonderful. It's snagged and she grins at Ravn, pretty much ignoring the part of the Dreaming, even with that covert glance. "This place is awesome."

Abitha considers Alexander for a long moment at the apology and offer of help, taking in a breath and letting the words out breezily with it. “You didn’t burn down my shop.” A way to say he shouldn’t tell her sorry for anything, “But yes, actually. Do you have my number? Or can I have yours?” Her phone hadn’t left her hand, and she flips to a contacts page, turning it and offering toward him, “August thinks I should talk to you about some stuff.” There’s a brief sweep of her eyes toward Lyric and Ravn, as if to say through facial expression, ’Probably not around people.’

To Lyric, another shrug, “Hey, I’m alive. And insurance will cover most of it, so... just waiting.”

"I'm fairly certain that Byron will have a fit if you try to enter the casino with a horse." Even so, Alexander's face lights up with the thought as he turns to rummage through the clothing. He pulls out a sweatshirt with a faded Charizard. Stares at it. Those who feel such things might pick up the change around him. He nods, offers the shirt to Lyric. "Here. This is a Pokemon. It's okay."

He turns to Abitha at her response, and nods. There's no hesitation in entering his digits, although he is careful to avoid contact with her hand. "Just let me know when is good."

"I think the bloke's name was Dante -- British fellow, Eton man, writes horror novels." Ravn clearly isn't up to speed on who's who in Gray Harbor yet, but then, if he's only been in town for four days, perhaps that is quite to be expected. He certainly notices nothing unusual from Alexander's direction; the shine in him, as Lyric calls it, is weak and he doesn't seem to be the type who's particularly alert to that sort of thing.

A small plastic tray of costume jewellery catches the Dane's grey eyes and he picks out a few pieces, glancing at Lyric thoughtfully. Then he shakes his head; there's being odd-fashioned and liking unmatched knee socks, and there's being an adult Disney princess re-enactor. One piece, a bright pink medallion that seems to have lost its plastic bead chain, dances on his knuckles, back and forth, as if it had a life of his own. He barely seems to notice. "I think I may have to hitch a ride somewhere with more shops if I want that blazer," he says to the white-haired girl with a tone of regret. "Which is the nearest town? Mind you, not that I am suggesting we cut this play date short. This place is... pretty damn funny, to be honest. The junk here is amazing."

"I'm glad you got insurance." Lyric offers to Abitha but doesn't try and interrupt the two of them further for the moment. She's too excited about her socks! Once she's packed them into her arm and with the other things she has, she focuses more on what Ravn is looking at. With interest she watches him knuckle the medallion over his fingers, "You should be a dealer at the casino or something. Flip the chips around over your fingers between deals and look all professional or something."

Realizing he was right, this wasn't exactly his sort of place, she looks a little sheepishly down at her things she'd selected and his notable lack of items he'd found. Different Worlds. "You could go to Seattle. I don't got a car or anything but there's Uber. "

Noticing the sweatshirt offered over, she opts to reach for it and once she'd taken it in hand, she smiles at Alexander, "Thank you, she'll love it. It's already evolved and everything," she says quietly.

“Bet.” The avoidance of contact is something the two of them can absolutely agree on, Alexander might note, as Abitha had been holding the very end of the case to prevent just such a thing. His name is entered and saved, the phone shoved into a butt pocket.

She does peep that Charizard sweatshirt, though. “I take back everything I said. Lyric, if you don’t want that top, give.” She makes a brief beckoning motion with her fingers in reinforcement of the idea, but Alexander had offered her first. Abitha contents herself with skimming through a few more things on a rack, spying a black mesh halter top the gamer wouldn’t be caught dead in, but could absolutely think of a friend that would... Maybe she should finally call Maggi...

"Yes. But Byron Thorne owns the casino. Mostly. You will probably meet him eventually." Alexander's voice is absent as he goes through the clothing, scrutinizing until he finds a hideous green shirt that makes him smile. For some reason. There's just a nod to Lyric for the thanks. Otherwise he watches the three with wary curiosity.

"Dark-haired fellow, very posh, snappy dresser, is in a relationship of some sort with a pawn shop owner named Lilith? Think I met him at work last night." Ravn apparently has a good memory for faces.

He glances at Lyric, then shakes his head at her suggestion. "You know, we do have casinos in Denmark, of course, but I've never actually visited one. I have no idea how things are done in a place like that -- and that's probably some kind of requirement to working in one. Sounds like somewhere you'd end up losing a lot of money, or if you don't, wishing you had."

Since it was the first thing Abitha had really expressed any interest in, Lyric offers the shirt over to her with a grin, "I got Park a dress she'll like. Just cause it's different. It's Leopard print with holes and stuff." So the shirt is given over and she uses her free hand to heft the shoe box of socks up a little. "I'm also getting the Lego's." A nod towards the basket near the door. "I may put them around the house so my bandmates will have something to gripe about when they step on them." A soft laugh is a testament to her joking, she's not serious,

"I haven't been to a casino either, but they can't be all that different from the ones on tv I guess." A light shrug about losing money, "I have some money. The rent is shared at the house and the bills, and I make good tips at work. But I don't wanna gamble it all. So yeah it's probably a good idea to not go do that."

"I will claim this fiiirst." Abitha is careful to stretch out the last syllable and take the sweatshirt from Lyric's hands before she continues, "Before commenting on your obviously well hidden streak for pure evil." Because really? Leaving Legos on he floor? Lyric was basically one of Them at this point. Abitha is quick to step back out of range, giving Lyric a measuring down-up look, the ghost of a tug at her lips "You do you, tho."

She returns to quietly digging through the racks, "That sounds like them." Abitha actually answers Ravn's query, since everyone knows everyone around here. "The weird thing is, I've never seen them not touching. I think they may be siamese twins." A bald faced lie, as Abitha had had coffee with Lilith, but a hysterical rumor, delivered deadpan, as most of her humor was.

Suddenly, in shock, eyes wide, Abitha pulls out a massive, like XXXL, gray t-shirt with a Nintendo Power logo and a picture of Samus on it. She is frozen in amazement.

Alexander bobs his head at Ravn. "Yes. That's Byron. They're engaged. Notice the ring. Compliment the ring." With his abrupt method of speaking, it's hard to say if that's a suggestion, or some sort of order. "They're not related," he informs Abitha, solemnly, as if that was a serious suggestion and needed a very serious sort of answer.

"Casinos are interesting. Many interesting crimes happen in them, around them, and because of them. Although research is somewhat divided on whether they're a net boon for a struggling community, or a net hindrance. There is a significant rise in economic activity around casinos, but some of it is illicit, and tends to be of the service industry, which can be seasonal and unreliable for economic--" he suddenly cuts off, his mouth shutting with a click of teeth, and ducks his head. "Sorry. Rambling."

Alexander's ramble earns him an appraising glance from the Dane. Then Ravn shakes his head. "I wouldn't have the first idea. I've watched Hollywood movies, of course, but my knowledge of American culture is really quite... lacking. But much as mobsters make for frightfully good movies, I don't think I'd care to get tangled up with that sort of thing in real life."

Then he smiles at Lyric and tosses the pink medallion to her. "Catch. Show me a trick with it next time we're having coffee?" There's clearly something between the two of them, although whatever that thing is, it doesn't seem to be flirting; an observant person might get the impression that Lyric knows something Ravn doesn't, but he knows that she knows -- and he wants to know, too. "Do you do outfits for going onstage? We could look for stuff that can be turned into proper clubwear, things like that."

"I wouldn't really." Lyric reassures with a crooked smile and a slight roll of her eyes. "I wouldn't hurt people." Of course her mind immediately jumps to exploding walls and splinters and killing things in Dreams. "I mean, not on purpose." Ahem. While Abitha goes about finding Nirvana, she focuses on Alexander, quite solemnly. Brows raise when he cuts off abruptly and she gives him a grin. "Rapt audience."

With the moment over, she glances back to Ravn in time to notice the medallion and with her arms almost full, she uses the sock shoe box to catch it. "Coffee?" A crinkle of her nose. "An Americano?" Or whatever he had called it, she thinks it's something like that. With a shake of her head, she clarifies, "I stay in the DJ booth, I don't dance. Well, I did once. On amateur night, but I didn't take off my clothes in front of people."

Ever the troll, Abitha fixes Alexander with that same flat stare, responding with a simple, "Hitchen's Razor." And a tap of her temple, as if asking him to think about it. At least while she was joking, her mood had lifted a bit. The tee is hung back on the rack, with carefully splayed fingers, as of the size of the shirt had reminded her what kind of sweaty neckbeard had probably worn it until it's relegation to this shop.

Ravn's assertion about non-involvement does have Abitha responding in a quiet, maybe to-herself voice, "Yeah, I didn't think so, either..." But she would cover any question of it by looking up, "Please tell me your opinion is based off Ocean's Eleven."

Alexander blinks at Abitha. There's a moment of quiet while he thinks, then he says, with every appearance of seriousness, "Your initial assertion was the one without evidence; I was merely providing additional context to the claim. Also, while Detective Thorne had many sins, I am quite certain infidelity was not among them. It's possible that there's some distant familial connection, I guess - they're both natives of a small town with a limited intergenerational population from which to choose spouses, so most of the locals are probably related at a distant remove to some degree, but Siamese twins would be a much closer blood relation, and I would have known, even if they were separated very early." Because this is a SERIOUS DISCUSSION, clearly. "If you required further evidence, though, I suppose you could ask them to undress. I don't think they would say yes."

Then he stops, and frowns. "Oh. You were joking. I'm sorry."

He ducks his head and starts rifling through the clothing again, but he does add, in something barely above a mutter, "You don't always get to choose. To get involved, or not. I'm sorry." It seems to be directed to both Ravn and Abitha, and he gives Lyric a sidelong, skeptical look - it's hard to say whether it's at 'I wouldn't hurt people' or at the idea that she's a rapt audience.

"As long as 'coffee' does not translate to 'syrupy dessert in a paper cup' I won't be shedding tears," Ravn promises to Lyric. "I did mean when you're performing with the band, though. Didn't mean to imply that you're a stripper." He pauses. "Nor that stripping is bad. I'll be over here now."

There's a bit of relief on his face as he turns to Abitha, grateful for the chance to change the subject before he manages to tick off one of the people in Gray Harbor he's got some kind of new and probably quite fragile relationship with. "I know that that's the title of a movie but I'm going to confess to not having seen it. I always fall asleep when watching TV. I mean, I probably started it on Netflix at some point but the only thing I know about it is that George Clooney is in it because I was dating a girl for a while who obsessed about that guy."

The Dane pauses at Alexander's words and seems to reach two conclusions, both of which he feels obliged to comment on. "Sounds like Gray Harbor isn't all that different from my home town. I like to say that we all either went to school with each other, are cousins, or married to each other -- and two out of three is not unusual. I'm pretty certain I'd have a choice whether to get involved with organised crime, though. I mean, it's not like a tommy gun is going to materialise in my hands along with a zoot suit." Egads, he really is clueless.

Really! She's rapt! Lyric listens a little wide eyed to what Alexander adds. Six degrees of Kevin Bacon indeed! Once he's finished though, she looks thoughtful before responding with a question, totally guileless in delivery and completely non-serious. "We're from the same town, Alexander." A whole moment of silence before she finishes, "Are you my father?" Tucking her lower lip between her teeth to stop the grin, she figures he'll take her seriously but probably to everyone else her teasing is clear. See? She really was listening to him!

The clarification from Ravn brings with it a dawning look of understanding and she bobs her head, "Oh I don't wear club dresses to perform. But I do wear them sometimes to the Firefly when there's dancing. Do you like to dance?"

“Anecdotal evidence still has the word ‘evidence’ in it,” Abitha would begin, simply to be difficult, but when he fingers her for it being a joke, she lifts a hand makes a snapping motion, an ’Aw shucks’. She does still respond to that quiet comment in a volume equal to his, but at least directed, “You still didn’t burn my shop down.” She seemed to have singular purpose, or maybe some deep-seated hang-up in reminding people not to offer apologies for things that aren’t their fault.

The blatantly trolling question from Lyric does elicit a rather unladylike snort of amusement from the gamer, who tries to cover it over, by intensely inspecting the racks for more goodies, horrible or not. She holds up a single Converse. Just one. No partner. She sighs.

Alexander goes very, very still at Lyric's teasing question, and Abitha's snort. "Don't laugh at me," he says, and there's something in his voice that might remind the town native, at least, that the other thing 'Crazy' Clayton is known for in town gossip is violent outbursts. One of his hands curls into a fist, but although his expression shuts down and goes expressionless, he doesn't lash out. He just looks down at the hideous sweater he pulled from the rack and says, "I'm sorry. For interrupting." And then ducks his head and shuffles off towards the cash register.

The tall foreigner shoots Lyric a look that can best be described as sheepish. "I, er, no. No, I really don't. I mean, I'm very very bad at it."

He looks from one woman to the other, and at the man, then returns his stormy gaze to the racks; there's a lot going on here. A lot of history, and a lot of hurt. One doesn't need to be a psychic to tell this; just possessed of a basic amount of human empathy. One may question where trolling stops and old pain starts, but both are definitely present and gut feeling tells the Dane to step carefully around those things. People get run out of town or punched in the face if they don't.

Instead, he silently holds up the other Converse in Abitha's general direction. It was over there, among the smurfs and the headless barbie dolls.

Things went badly very quickly and despite the pleasure of current company, Lyric can't let it go. Socks sacrificed, budding friendships put on hold while it's all left behind as she chases after Alexander and without touching him, she tries to catch him, to stop him.

Even what Ravn had said is left unanswered as she hurries in front of Alexander so he'd have to physically push her out of the way to avoid her. "Alexander.." the name spoken softly, apology already in her tone even before she actually says the words. "I wasn't really laughing at you, it was more a jab at myself. I promise. I suppose out there somewhere I actually do have a father, then you reminded me in this small town we could all be related. I've not had family since my mom was killed when I was six." He will probably remember that. Maybe. She was just another murder on the wrong side of the tracks. "I've just thought about it a lot. I shouldn'ta said that. I'm very sorry." Hoping for forgiveness for her own shortcomings. "I'm sorry," she reiterates again, this time in a softer tone, almost a whisper.

Alexander stutters to a halt when the young woman places herself in front of him. He makes no move to push her out of the way, but watches and listens warily, eyeing the other two as if they might try to bracket him or attack from behind. Lyric's words draw most of his attention back to her, and after a long moment, he huffs out a breath. "Don't worry about it," he mutters. "It's fine. You don't have to be sorry, Miss Bates." A long pause, before he says, "I never had sex with your mother. If it makes you feel better."

Oh god, he's trying to make a joke in return.

Abitha was going to at least try to say something, but Lyric was probably a bit better at handling people, or had the history with Alexander to smooth it over. She does spot the other Converse, and holds a hand up, eye briefly brightening, though she looks guilty about it and waves like she wanted Ravn to toss it to her to catch.

Which would likely be complicated by sheer happenstance of timing when Alexander cracks his joke. Honestly, it was hard to tell with how serious he was if it was an intended joke, but Mac absolutely bursts into laughter because of it.

She’s likely to take a shoe to the head for it.

Ravn does indeed throw it over; in one fluid movement the other half of which involves tactically placing himself on the other side of a clothes rack, back turned, definitely not watching anyone get emotional. You know what they say about Brits and stiff upper lips -- okay, he's not British, but from an American point of view, he probably might as well be.

Lyric hadn't expected him to push her away, she'd actually counted on that he wouldn't touch her cause.. he didn't touch anyone mostly! Then Alexander's comment in return starts a chain reaction and after a moment she realizes he was joking. But she's afraid to laugh lest he think she is laughing at him!

So, she stands there uncertainly, forgetting to get out of the way of his exit, looking as if she wants to laugh, but still sorry for upsetting him in the first place. Opening her mouth she looks about to say something then she closes it again. Finally, she can't hold it in, she snickers and shakes her head. "Good thing cause.. she had lots of friends over. I'm kinda glad you didn't." A cautious smile given over. "Thanks for not hating me.."

This time, Alexander doesn't seem to mind the laughter, either from behind him or the snicker from Lyric in front of him, so he must have been actually trying to be funny. He even smiles, just a little, when the snicker breaks free. "I'm not gonna hate you. Unless you start killing people. Even then, if it's not boring, I won't hate you." He's trying to be reassuring! Maybe. And she's still in his way, so he turns back to the other two just in time to see the shoe flying through the air. His eyes widen.

THOK! Rubber meets the crown of the brunette’s head. Arms are flailed, a sudden “FUCK!” explodes from her lips, and Abitha falls out of sight behind a rack for a moment.

Her hand appears a moment later, placed on the bar of the rack hiding her from view, and she stands a little straighter. She hadn’t actually gone down to the floor, but the shock had made her double over. Her other hand could now be seen clutched to where she’d taken the hit, and in spite of just being brained with a shoe, she starts to giggle, and then full-on laugh, clutching the rail for support and likely stooping out of view as she bends with the weight of the hilarity. It was the kind of laughter that says, ’What the fuck is my life?’ or ’What can you do?’

She hadn’t laughed like that in weeks.

Ravn does a double take and then for a moment looks ridiculously embarrassed. "Goodness! I'm so sorry! I did not mean to do that!"

He looks a bit relieved at the ensuing laughter. Although allowing for the possibility that it is the kind of laughter that proceeds to go get a chainsaw and hunt down people in the woods. I mean, they do keep telling him this is that kind of town.

"I hope I'm never boring no matter what I'm doing." Lyric agrees wholeheartedly. No matter what you do, don't be boring! Stepping out of the way, she doesn't try and stop him from leaving, but she does offer him a sort of conspiratorial look for good measure. "Thanks, Alexander. You're pretty fun too. And tell Isabella I said hello if you wanna," cause even Lyric knew some of who was with who around here.

When she looks back to the others, she realizes what had happened and her own eyes widen before she laughs in response. Since most of the disasters had been avoided, she meanders back over to get her things she'd wanted to purchase and takes them to the counter and the bemused sales person there. "I want the Legos too." Just throwing that out there. "But I'll pay now and pick it up later. I just live over there," pointing towards 9 Elm Street, since they were on Elm anyway, and it wasn't so far away.

Turning back to the others she smiles between Ravn and Abitha, "Is everyone alright?"

Alexander peers at Abitha, and then at Ravn. But there's laughter, so he just looks confused, then smiles a little to prove willing. A brief nod to Lyric. "I'll tell her. I'm sure she'll be happy. She's looking for a tomb." He doesn't bother adding any context to that, apparently content to leave them all with the idea of his girlfriend raiding local cemeteries at night. "It was nice to meet you, Ravn." Then he turns to line up behind Lyric to pay for his shirt, pulling carefully folded cash out of a battered wallet.

"I'm fine but I think I just murdered a lady with a shoe," Ravn manages to say before laughing too. "God, I'm so sorry."

Maybe now is a good time to go see a man about a boat. Because he certainly can't embarrass himself more.