2020-08-05 - It Has To Be An Intern Who Cannot Spell

Promising to be another long and hot day! So the coffee shop isn't exactly the most popular place to go unless you're a diehard coffee fan. Lyric certainly isn't that. They do sell smoothies though and since she'd gotten to the barista to place her order she'd gotten it in her mind for something original. So it is, she's standing there asking about different fruit flavors and just goes through naming several she wants included. Pineapple, coconut, banana.. you know, the whole tropical feel. "An' I want it huge. A super sized big one." Because it;s definitely not cause she's on some sort of diet or anything.

Order placed and she waits for it. Pays for it. Then it's time to find a seat. Right by the window is her seat of choice, a dainty table and chairs. She pokes the yellow and white striped biodegradable straw in the concoction before taking a sip. And perusing over the newspaper some former patron of the day had left.

It's not the coffee that lures in Ravn Abildgaard. It never was; not since he boarded a plane in Kastrup Airport has he had anything he would consider proper coffee. What Espresso Yourself has, however, is free wi-fi and, well, beverages that contain caffeine -- and when you got to settle, you got to settle. The black-clad Dane wanders in from the sunlit street outside, blinking several times in succession as his vision adjusts to the comparative darkness inside. Heading for the counter and placing his usual complicated order ('half espresso, half hot water, yes, we call this an Americano, no, I have no idea why') he has at least made some concessions to the heat: The turtleneck sweater has been replaced with a black t-shirt under the blazer.

Once he does indeed have the desired beverage in hand (and having earned the barrista's life-long contempt, no doubt) he turns around and spots the white-haired woman sitting at a table. He wanders in that general direction and flops down on a chair across from her. "Anything interesting?"

Wearing a pair of jeans with tears or slashes in them all the way down the front paired with a black t-shirt that says You Inspire My Inner Serial Killer on the front in white writing, she looks totally not Norman Rockwell or anything. But she does look like she fits in the town well enough with it. There's something in the paper that has her forgetting the drink for a moment as she trails a finger down the page, reading something written there. "So weird," she mumbles.

Hearing the familiar voice, Lyric looks up and instead of the usual smile she offers, it's a slight frown, a puckering on her forehead, "Yeahh. I thought they misspelled this, a typo or something. But it keeps saying it over and over. Something about the Pourhouse, but they're calling it the poorhouse. With two o's like being poor instead of pour, like pouring something. I've been there so many times before. I remember. I guess I'm wrong though. Huh. I guess I've been spelling it wrong all along."

Ravn cranes his neck to see what Lyric is talking about. He scans the article, and then shakes his head. "I think I'm too new in town to have the first idea. The only coffee place I know is this one. Because it's pretty much next to the Art Gallery. Which is where I got dropped off when I came into town. Maybe they changed the name? Or whatever intern's working at the paper can't spell?"

He looks at her a moment and then, moving on to things that seem more important to him, clueless outsider that he is, murmurs, "Nice t-shirt. Kinda fits the theme."

"The Pourhouse is a bar. It's where I always went for Karaoke before Mariah and Hank left. I think Hank left, he may still be there." Lyric just seems uncertain about it all at the moment. But she like.. knows. Even when he compliments her shirt, she still frowns before looking up again. It's then she shrugs. "It's Pourhouse. I know it." Spoken with such confidence that she surely believes it whole-heartedly.

A glance down to her shirt and she grins at the wording there. "Thanks, I like it too. Want one? I can order you one online just for fun." She maybe has an app for that, though she doesn't really seem so technological about anything. "I like your neck." Oops! A giggle. "I mean I like your shirt. You actually have a neck!"

The Dane blinks and reaches up with a gloved hand to touch his own neck. "I'm pretty certain I already had one. I kind of use it to keep my head attached to the rest of me." He can't help a small smile. "Getting a bit too hot to wear turtlenecks though. I really should hop on a bus to that city nearby -- Hog-something, Hogwarts, Hogwash? Buy myself a proper wardrobe. Not like I'm living in a backpack at the moment, I actually have somewhere to put things."

Maybe that's why he has a certain aroma of ocean about him. Not in an unpleasant way; the scent of surf and sunlight and sand. What remains when you've spent an hour in the shower scrubbing off seaweed, barnacles and paint.

"Anyhow," Ravn murmurs, swiping the newspaper a moment to turn it upside down for a proper look. "Pourhouse. Poorhouse. Typo? Bad intern? Gray Harbor being Gray Harbor? Tell you what, ask the next three people who come in. Stories work in threes. The third guy will be right."

"There's a store for clothes and stuff. Nothing fancy like the boutique. It's a Walmart in Hoquiam." Assuming that's what he meant anyway. "I think I may have went there with a foster family when I was a kid." Trying to remember exactly. "It was a huge store with lots of lights and echoes and clothes racks to get lost in." Lyric ponders him buying a new wardrobe. "Or you can order things online at walmart dot com. They have things."

She had caught the scent of him and questions, "Did you get your house yet?" Brightening at the thought. "Or just go fishing today?"

Suddenly, she remembers her smoothie when he takes the paper and she takes a sip. "Want a taste? Its a tropical smoothie. Banana, pineapple and coconut. So good. I'd like one in ice cream instead of yogurt sometime. Maybe at Sweet Retreat. The ice cream store Everett owns."

Dropping her eyes to the paper she laughs. "It's with a u not an o. I know it is." She would be hard to convince otherwise. "Did I tell you, ever, about my other job?"

The tall Dane leans back on his chair and surrenders the newspaper again, smiling slightly at the barrage of questions and deciding to try to answer them one by one. His is fortunately one of those analytical minds that tend to thunder down two trails at once: One an orderly list of questions to be addressed, the other -- less obviously -- whatever is actually occupying his mind at the moment. "Boat," Ravn corrects her gently. "Not a house. A boat. It's not a very large boat but she's seaworthy and I've sailed on ones like her before so I know what to expect. I spent the day scraping barnacles off her hull because honestly, the owner didn't treat her very well. She needs a paint job too, so if I do get on a bus to Hogwarts, I can pick up a few tins of blue too."

He holds up the coffee cup and grins. "I don't think banana goes with this, but thank you. And -- no, you did not. You told me you do dee jay work at the club. So, what's this other job, something boring and mundane that pays the bills?"

"We could get an Uber to Hoquiam." All shoving herself in on his plans and all, like it's natural or something. "An' I can help paint too. Is blue your favorite color then?" Genuinely interested in that response, but she doesn't pile on more questions than that.

"Bananas go with everything. And yeah kinda. Doing the work at the club pays lots though, especially in tips. I make good money there. But I also work for Jack Wellington. He owns a shop. I'm a mechanic there."

Ravn arches his eyebrows. "Didn't see that one coming. Well, then -- if I ever decide I want to buy a car I know whom to abduct to go help me find a good one. Because if there's one thing I am not, it's a screwdriver and grease kind of person. I do know how to swing a paintbrush -- not I'll say no if you want to help out, I mean, it's not exactly the most thrilling job on the planet. And I guess the sooner I get done, the sooner we get to that bonfire on the beach part."

He looks her up and down again as if trying to connect a few dots in his mind; something in his world view doesn't quite fit here. Eventually he murmurs, "So, this is going to be a strange question but... How do you get the motor oil off your hands? I mean, you don't exactly look like the archetypical grease monkey."

"Gojo works good, but mostly, when I can, I wear gloves or something over my hands." Totally no magic used. Nope! Holding out her hands, she wiggles them a little and turns them over for him to see. Sure, maybe a few callouses or something here and there, nothing bad or anything, but she does use her hands. The callouses could also be from the strings on her guitar. It happens from holding them down!

"I will help you paint. I like painting. Do we have to sand it first or will you power wash it? Or hire someone to power wash it? So it gets the old flakes off?"

Ravn empties a packet of sugar into his coffee cup for reasons unknown to anyone possessed of taste buds. "I think I'm going to have to sand it, at least on the hull. It's not that bad, just been a long time... and whoever decorated the inside really likes purple. There's purple crushed velvet throw pillows in the cabin. I'm airing it out too because it smells like weed all over. I have a pretty good idea what kind of people rented her before I did, you know?"

It's hard to tell if the man himself has calluses, under those black gloves. Probably. If he's a violinist, he's got to have a few because indeed, strings are sharp and hard and take finger strength. "Hey, that reminds me. I did meet your man Rosencrantz this morning. Came wandering by on the beach, had a beer. Seems pretty decent?"

With all the sugar from fruits she can manage, Lyric is in her own happy world as she sips her smoothie. Hurriedly, she has to swallow the drink to laugh. "Are there fuzzy dice on the rear view mirror too?" Not that there's exactly a rear view mirror or anything. "And beaded curtains?" Amused at the explanation, she leans in a little. "Does it look like it was furnished from the thrift store we went to the other day?"

Curious about it but equally curious about him and Itzhak. "Yep, he's really good people. I'm glad you got to meet him without there being a shooter around. What do you think? Did you tell him you play violin too? And that kind of music?"

"There is indeed a beaded curtain," the blond man confirms with an expression of mild horror. "It looks like... Like it was the height of fashion, in 1983. It's a Finnish model of boat and I suspect some rich Finn bought it and furnished it and sailed it over here -- then sold it to some guy who used it to sail girls out to sea to get high and get laid. Oh well. It's registered as the Vagabond, at least, not the Floating Whorehouse, so I guess it'll be fine. And I guess that's kind of a... time honoured use of a sailing boat anyhow, at least I've known several guys who owned one for that purpose."

He nods at the mention of the New Yorker violinist. "We didn't have a heart to heart for an hour but yes -- he seems like a pretty decent fellow? Talked a bit about playing but then Aidan wandered in with a pineapple, and I guess we didn't want to be all shop talk and leave him out? I do get the feeling Itzhak has a lot more experience than I do, though. He mentioned something about going onstage at some point."

"The Vagabond." Lyric plays with the name in her head then gives a nod of approval. "I like the name of it." Though his lesson in the reasons to own such a boat are soaked up and linger right there in her mind. "You know people can touch things and tell you things about where something has been and all. Or at least some feelins behind it." Floating Whorehouse indeed!

"Well I am glad you got to meet him with better things going on. He's a good guy. He's dating the police chief, Ruiz de la Vega. You should play together sometime. That would be really fun to watch. I still really do want to watch and hear you play."

"But would anyone want to?" Ravn looks amused at the idea; perhaps he was indeed paying attention in the church when someone yelled something about grab the knife, somebody needs to read it. Perhaps the idea of people reading objects is just not that foreign to him in the first place. "Imagine the stories you'd get. High school girls acting older than their age, some jackass being all schmarmy at anyone in a bikini -- to the tunes of Funky Town or something. I mean, it's enough that now I feel like I should wash her down in chlorine. There are things better not known to man, I feel. Or indeed, to woman."

He gives the white-haired woman a long look and finally sips the sugary mess that currently passes for coffee in his cup. "Tell you what. We get this boat in the water and that bonfire going, I'll play something. If you remind me, because I will come up with ten reasons to weasel out of it. Deal?"

"I wouldn't want to read your boat." Lyric shudders at the possibilities that he'd mentioned all the while crinkling her nose in distaste. "That's kinda gross." Or more than just kinda. "Yeah or Lysol or something. Maybe both." So that's settled. Neither are interested in a reading of it.

Stirring her drink some with her straw she laughs lightly. "If you always wear gloves maybe I can make you play it." A wicked, wicked smile that looks as menacing as a Care Bear, but with her sometimes volatility, perhaps a hint of truth in it. "I want you to play Devil Went Down to Georgia. Maybe Itzhak would play with you. One could be the devil." She wisely, loyally and totally doesn't mention who.

Ravn offers a crooked grin, brightening grey eyes. "I should grow a suitable goatee for the purpose. I will, after all, be the one who ain't the best as ever's been. Might have to practise my bravado a bit if I need to do the spoken parts too, though. Do you think anyone minds if the Devil sounds like he just graduated from the University of Copenhagen? It does have pretty hellish student housing."

He glances at his hands. "I take them off when I play. It's pretty much the only time I do, though, at least if I have any say in the matter. I'm pretty sure Vic and Bennie both think I've got some kind of terrible OCD going on by now."

"I can paint a fiddle gold. A junk one." Of course Lyric really wouldn't do that, but she can say she would! "Maybe have an open music night at the bon fire and let anyone and everyone play. It'd be a whole lot of fun. Lots of talented people here in town. Lots. Sparrow had a band. Maybe she still does, but most people who were in it are gone now." Because people leave, most in terrible circumstances! "I bet all the girls'll like the accent you're good. Don't worry."

Her eyes drop to his gloves and she looks curious. "I guess they may. Doesn't matter. People will always think what they wanna so just do you."

The summer months might bring on warmer weather, so for a change Hera abandons jeans, sweaters, coats, and other things. However, she still tries to maintain a bit of a classy look even if it's simply going out for coffee. Her bright yellow dress is a bit free flowing and it sports gray and white designs that may be hard to see at a initial glance. Over her shoulder is a purse and her hair covers the strap of the brown purse as she wanders on it. She doesn't examine the area too closely but thinking of a good cup of bean juice, she makes her way toward a staff member to ask, "Any good lattes?"

"Ain't that the truth," the Dane agrees and considers the proposal. "That sounds like a pretty neat idea actually. We could set up a generator, power for anyone who plays an electrical instrum -- oh, hang on, I know that lady." He half-turns in his seat to wave a 'hello' at the woman in the yellow dress before murmuring to Lyric, "She was the first person I met when I got dropped off like a sack of bricks on the curb outside of the gallery she works at. Frightfully nice lady, do you know her?"

"That'd be awesome! You could rent one from the rental place." Lyric is all for the pending bonfire, even if it's just in their imagination for now. When his attention shifts she looks over also and notices the friendly person from the gallery. "I think she owns the gallery. I think." A cheerful smile is given to Hera and she offers a wave of invitation. "Hi!"

Hera offers a smile toward the staffer who takes her order but then looks away at the sound of a familiar voice. "Oh hi!" she says as she walks over toward the two. "It's good to see you out and about." She tells Ravn, "There's a lot of lovely places to enjoy." She then politely nods her head in Lyric's direction, "That is correct. The summer has been pretty good for classes and such. When the adults bring their children by though, I won't even let the kiddos near coffee more or less the wine. Lemonade, that's the way to go."

"Heh, yes. I never did get around to get on that bus." The Dane smiles with a trace of sheepishness. "I'm sticking around for the moment. Even found a place to stay that isn't someone's couch -- though I'm still cleaning it up. Previous owner lead a very... uh... 1980s lifestyle. How's Queso? That's the next thing I'll be wanting to find, I figure -- a ship's cat."

He smiles at both women. "So you already know each other. I mean, I should have figured. Everyone is old school buddies, cousins, or married to each other, the small town way."

"Lemonade is good. Pink Lemonade is good too." Lyric says as she sips her tropical smoothie. "The gallery is really nice there. I've only been once, but I like it there. Lots to see." Again she stirs the contents of her glass with her straw, "We kinda do. Just small town stuff mostly. I'm Lyric. You're Hera," she knows the other lady's name but doesn't assume her own would be known.

Hera shrugs and says, "Well, I'm one of those people who came in and migrated. My cousin Devlin did the same thing so, it's all good. Queso is doing great. He is really the one who owns the place. I think he misses Maggi though. You should come by more often." she says to Lyric, "The door is always open for anyone in the community."

"I guess that I should start to think myself one of the community too," Ravn muses. "I have a job and a boat. I'm practically fixture. Lyric's been looking after me a bit, helping me learn the ropes, telling me to keep my head down -- I'll say this for Gray Harbor, it's certainly not boring." He signals the barrista for another cup of that bizarre Americano blend -- espresso, water, nothing else, nothing that anyone actually American would associate with the name.

"There was a shooting at the church the other day, Ravn was there too. Vic got shot, August got stabbed. It was super messy. Kinda brutal." Lyric relays in a sort of monotone voice, keeping the emotions out of it as if just relaying something she'd read. Her smoothie captures her attention for the moment but when she looks up again it's with a smile for Hera. "I'll come by more. I liked it there when I went before."

Hera coughs a little as apparently this might be the first time she's heard of such a thing. "Shooting?!" she asks, "Sheesh, damnit!" yes, she can be the passionate type and hearing of such an event makes her emotional to say the least. But, after a few deep breaths, she steadies herself to ask calmly, "Who...was anyone hurt? Did they catch the person behind it?"

"Vic sort of... distributed his brains all over the church floor," Ravn murmurs. "I don't think he's going to recover from that. But yes -- Vic got shot in the hip, and there was another fellow who got stabbed. It was... I've never seen something like that before, I'll admit. Still a little shook up over it. You've got a very... unusual place here."

"Yeah Vic and August. The man with the gun shot Vic then was going after August when Vic shot him. The man got the knife in his shoulder. I think everyone is gonna be fine though." Lyric does look with sympathy to Hera though, seeing the way she takes the news. "It was a bad day."

Hera takes in a deep breath and exhales. It takes her a moment but she does seem to 'find her calm place' mentally even if the news would make her far from calm. "I guess no one really knows what might have motivated this individual? Yes, a lot of strange things happen in this city but, there's often a cause for it. Still, Vic and August have my sympathies."

"I honestly don't know," the Dane murmurs. "It all happened very quickly. One moment we were just going in to see an exhibition, the next people are shouting and shooting up the place. I'm still processing the fact that the girl who hired me as a barback apparently packs a gun. That's... not normal for where I'm from."

He eventually receives his second cup of strong black coffee. He fiddles a bit with the sugar packet that accompanies it, letting it wander up and down his knuckles as if it was a coin, seemingly without giving the act much consideration; it's just something his hands do when his mind is somewhere else. After a moment of contemplation he glances over at Lyric and says, "You realise Hera's number one, right? You need to ask her about the name of that place -- what was it, the Poorhouse? And the next two people. Good old storybook principle, follow the rule of three."

"No one really got the chance to question him. He was suddenly dead. But Itzhak took the gun and knife so he could read them and see if there's any ideas. I'll ask him when I get the chance, if he came up with anything from them." Lyric takes another sip through her straw, idly watching the fiddling with the sugar packet.

After a moment she looks down at the paper then up at Hera. "You know of the Pourhouse don't you? Have you been there before? The paper says it's the Poorhouse with two o's like poor. I know it's p-o-u-r. What do you think?"

Hera pauses as the question is asked, not really catching onto a potential reference but she does say in response. "I think I went there once or twice. I will admit I don't venture out of the gallery too terribly often. When I do it's normally to go to the pier. Though, when you mention the rule of three is there an implication that another crisis is set to happen. The saying that they come in threes an be prophetic. I guess I may have to ask Alisha to see if she heard anything on the streets about the recent church shooting. If anyone would receive updates on such things, I imagine she would."

Ravn steeples his fingers under his chin -- which means, at least, that that poor sugar packet gets put down, finally. "That's my thinking at least. I don't know the place, but if you look here --" he reaches for Lyric's abandoned newspaper and turns it around so that Hera can see the page in question "-- there's an article about a place called the Poorhouse. She's utterly convinced that it should be spelled Pourhouse instead, and that it always has been. So we are kind of debating -- does this mean the paper has an intern from out of town who got the spelling wrong, or is this Gray Harbor being... You know. Gray Harbor. And me being, well, me, I suggested going by the rule of three and asking the three next people to come in because the rule of three seemed to work well enough when I was... Oh. Um." He hesitates a moment then tacks on, "Well, I had an experience."

Hera blinks at the mention of paper. In fact, her eyes go wide, wider than would be normal for a casual listener. "Ok" she says, "If it has something to do with the paper, Jessica has got to know. She's the best reporter in this town." Of course, Hera is biased. "Not to mention gorgeous but, if it's something serious, I can sing her praises later." And knowing the artist she probably will, "Let me give her a call to try to reach out to her to see if she knows anything. Yeah, we really need to get some people involved in on this." Reaching to make a call, Jessica is probably at the top of that list.

"It probably will not surprise you that I have no idea who Jessica is," Ravn notes. "But if there is research needing to be done -- I'm happy to help. I'm not a local, you know that, but... I have some experience digging through source material. And I'm pretty big on stories, I think I mentioned that -- Gray Harbor's certainly got stories. It's a pretty big part of why I want to stay around for a while -- finding out what's going on here, why all these strange things seem to happen. I had my mind pretty much made up already and then -- things happened." He glances at Hera a moment, clearly making that new-to-town assessment; does she know? Can I talk about these things?

Hera shrugs and finally decides to take a seat as the conversation gets more interesting. "My girlfriend." she informs, "We both stay pretty busy with our work but that will say just how much of a dedicated reporter she is. Have you met Harper? The librarian? She's very smart and a very nice person. Jessica is Harper's best friend. We should really investigate all of this. There are." she sighs, "Unusual dangers in this town."

"I was planning to hit the library and do some research later," Ravn replies, filing away this information; Jessica, reporter. Harper, librarian.

Then he nods. "I kind of... noticed. I'm not crazy. I'm really not. Or if I am, I'm definitely not the only crazy person in this town. Had a very, very vivid, uh, hallucination, about being chased through the woods by the Headless Horseman." He trails off a little, as if not quite certain whether he should be talking about this. "Gray Harbor is... very lively," he finishes, lamely.

Hera looks over at some of the servers and then looks over at Ravn. Then, there's another shift of her head to the servers, then another long look at Ravn. She shakes her head as if there's something that she seems to be arguing with herself over, as if there's a strange inner dialogue going on. After a few long moments she takes a deep breath and exhales. Her confidence has grown since she has come to this small town, and as such, she begins to rely on her more 'normal' talents. "Are you, someone who can easily be trusted? There's strange things in this city but, you need to be careful who you talk to about them. Some tourists would think you're crazy and hell." While she is clearly a lady, her words are more 'relaxed' as she uses a slightly colorful metaphor, "Some people in the town would also think you're nuts. At one point I thought I was nuts and, as screwed up as my time in Austin was, what I experienced changed me forever and, it even shook me up in deeper ways."

"I'm not sure what to think," the Dane says quietly. "I heard a few things. Thought it was some kind of joke people here might play on a hitch-hiker to be honest. Then Lyric here --" he nods at the white-haired girl with her smoothie "-- showed me a couple of very convincing arguments. Things I've never seen anyone do. Things I thought I was the only one who could do, though she's actually a lot better at it than I am, too. And then, Headless Horseman. I mean, I want to say you're all insane, but if you are, then I'm equally insane. I'm picking up on how some people talk about these things like it's perfectly normal -- and others hush it up because they don't want to get stared at like they're freaks."

He fiddles a bit with the sugar packet again; a nervous habit maybe? "I don't know what to think about it, I really don't. But I want to understand. I want to know how come I ended up in some small town south of Seattle, why I came here from the other side of the world -- why I've been here less than a week and it already feels like I've been here for years. It doesn't make sense. So I guess -- if you need someone to help researching and poking things with sticks, then yes, I'm someone."

Hera bites her bottom lip, something that she does when she's nervous. "Many of my associates, friends, and Devlin, the only family that I really truly know of, all see things differently. It's something that, you need to be aware of. I thought there was something wrong with Kim one time when she was getting me ready for a date, but then, I started to think there was something wrong with me. When I first became, aware, of things in a unique way." That's one way of putting it, "I went crazy. I mean my life was full of crazy. People who grew up like I did normally wind up dead or worse but, this, these visions well, I drank multiple bottles of wine because I thought my mouth was full of sand. Then, I would have likely killed myself if Grace and Kim hadn't rescued me. It's THAT intense when your eyes see something strange like that but, I'm stronger now and." Whoa, is this chic crazy? She does say with affirmation, "I need to protect those I care about and, we all need to be careful, very very careful. That means you too."

"The bloke who ran through the woods with me had his arm slashed with a sword. When we woke up, he was still bleeding. He told me that what happens in these... visions... happens. For real." Ravn's usual cheerful, laid-back air seems replaced, at least for a moment, by a far more serious and quiet approach. Perhaps this is the scholar, rather than the leaf on the wind, speaking. "I heard that blade whistle past my ear. A few inches to the left and well... We'd not be having this conversation. I am terrified. But I'm also very strangely fascinated, and I have this feeling deep inside that I can run but I can't hide. I can get on that Greyhound but Grey Harbor will find a way to bring me right back. So if I'm going to be here, and I kind of do want to -- then I need to learn how to handle this. Which means finding out what's going on."

Hera leans in a bit closer to her newfound friend and speaks in a bit of a quieter tone of voice. It's obvious that this is a conversation that she doesn't want the general public to hear, and hopefully, her words will only be heard by Ravn. "There are people who, well, they have a bit of a unique glow to them. They see things differently and, for them, people like the headless horsemen exist. People who, have unique abilities, exist. You can control electricity, move things, talk to animals, there's so much that you can do. I try to, be ready to heal people. My cousin was almost left for dead until I and someone else intervened. But, we have to be very careful because of...them."

Ravn in turn glances to Lyric, and then nods. "I do... a little. Nothing like what she can do. I did try to impress her, and let's be honest, she put me in my place so hard I'm still wincing."

And then his ears catches up with his brain and point out a rather big issue with Hera's comment. He backs up a moment and repeats, "'them'. There is a 'them'. This does sound ominous. Is this a Men In Black kind of 'them', or an even worse kind of 'them'?"

Hera nods a bit as Ravn mouths the words. "There are those who, would love to feast on people, like us. That's why you have to be careful, very very careful. If you have the ability to heal people, only do so if there's a clear need. If you can move objects with a mere thought, you shouldn't do so if you can pick things up yourself. Only use what you know when you really need to because of, The Dark Men. If they come after you, it could all be over, and not in a good way. A shooting may be a normal thing but these dark men, they're far from normal."

The Dane studies the woman in front of him for a few moments, blue-grey eyes sort of evaluating her expression, her body language, her everything.

Then, after another few moments, he nods. "Anglerfish. That's what we're talking about here, is it? The... feeling of belonging, the tricks, it's bait. And when you swim in to get a proper look, snap? Gone. Do I understand this right? That we need to be very careful fish, and pretty selective in our choice of lights to follow into dark places?"

Hera nods and studies him in reaction to her words, "In a way that's pretty much it. You can't really, see them though, at least not in a normal sense of the word. When you, glow, as people like us do, they want to use that as a source of fuel, in a way. They seek us as hosts in a way but, unlike a leech that falls off, they remain attached if you're unfortunate enough. Then, the more dismal you are and the more your lack of hope grows, the more they would feed until they destroy you on a level that is purely inhumane, and I don't mean inhumane with how criminals treat animals. They seek out those in pain so, if you need healing, find me. If you need inner strength, learn it. Gray Harbor is not a place to be insecure."

Ravn cants his head, still studying the gallery owner. "So it's important to find... Some source of confidence. Well, that's me in trouble, then. I know I'm decent at hiding it but I'm actually... Not very out reaching. Not very good at connecting with people. I guess I could -- take up meditation? Something? I want to say I'm fine but the truth of the matter is, it kind of shows. A lot of the people I've met here this week are scared. Jittery. Some of them seem pretty resigned to their fate, like they know things can only end badly."

Hera shakes her head at the mention of things only ending badly, "You can't fall into despair, you can't let yourself do that. Connecting with people here is a good idea, but you need to connect with the right people. Meditation wouldn't be a bad thing. The Dark Men love fear. You can't let yourself be afraid, cautious, but not afraid. Fear and pain go hand in hand. You just have to be strong mentally. Believe it or not I'm not an expert in these things. I only had a bit of an awakening since I've come here."

The Dane dips into a pocket to take out his cell phone; its cover is bright and sparkly pink and sports a Hello Kitty logo. "I don't suppose I could get your number? I --heh, I do realise how that sounds, but I mean, for real. You seem like you know what you're talking about. I have this feeling I should be making sure to get the number of anyone who does, and you did say you have a girlfriend, so... Right. Not hitting on you. Would you be cool with swapping numbers?"

Well, he did mention being socially awkward. Guess he decided to go right ahead and prove it too.

"I don't know if I can do not afraid. But I think I can do even more curious than terrified. I've studied stories all my life and now I'm in one. On some level, it's terribly exciting." Another small, sheepish smile; he does seem to realise that this is indeed no joking matter at all. Maybe the realisation went hand in hand with a sword swishing past an ear.

Hera chuckles a little at the idea of giving her number. "Of course." she says and she offers over a business card. "I gave you a place to sleep in my home, I certainly think giving my number wouldn't be an issue." Seems she often knows where her cellphone is and she pulls it out to swipe over to the 'contacts' section. "And there's some other people I think you should meet as well."

"I'll be happy to," Ravn agrees and then shakes his head, laughing at himself a little. "I'm sorry. I wasn't joking about not being all that great at connecting with people. I seem to do better at it here than anywhere else I've been. I mean, Lyric here's practically adopted me." He pockets the card carefully after looking at it. "I think I'll head down to the library again at the first opportunity I get, catch up on my local stories a bit. Should I drop by the gallery every now and then, too?"

Hera shrugs and says, "People are, pretty easy to reach, they really are. Maybe that's something I can teach you though, I'm likely older than you." She's used to being around more youthful folks it seems. "I learned a lot before but, the things I am learning now, they're, well, quite unique to say the least. You should really talk to Harper. Tell her I sent you. At this point, I would trust her and you'll make connections faster than you realize. That's good. The more we stand with each other, the stronger we will be. We just have to make sure we don't go mad."

"Not going mad does sound like a good plan," the Dane muses. "I'm in favour of this one. Or well, no more mad than anyone else, anyhow. I'm thirty, by the way, in case that matters." He cants his head, visibly wondering if his age matters -- and why not? Who knows what the criteria for being, as Lyric calls it, shiny, actually are? Certainly not he. "I'll tell Harper what you said. Worst case scenario she'll think I'm some out of town loon, and there'll be no harm done."

Hera blushes a little and says, "I'll admit I'm a few years older, but not much. Kim and Grace and so many others are in their 20s so, I feel like a bit of an old lady but, another story for another time. Just, be safe and be aware. There is a bit of a border between worlds and it needs to respected. I guess I could inform you of such things, but there's so many stories to tell, real stories that no one else would ever believe. If Lyric has adopted you, that's good. If you ever need a haven of sorts, you know where to find me."

"Expect me to come by often to harrass your cat." Ravn nods. "And thank you. I mean, also for the pep talk."