2020-09-09 - Espresso Youself...Yourself?! Is there an R?

Like every Thursday there are people a-gathered for caffeine and to pretend it's Pre-Friday, or Friday Pt.1. Friday's dress rehearsal. However you want to dress it up. Predictably there's that same table by the window that's long enough for a couple people with laptops. More important than being by one of the many windows it has the plug and that's where the writers seem to plug into while they pontificate in the press.

At the next table there's a kid sitting at the table waiting for Mom to finish ordering telling Ignacio all about the castle he's making out of the refrigerator box he got that he's planning on moving into. Hey, the Spaniard is letting the kid go, he's on a role. Also when people mistake you for Mr. Rogers it's a lot of patience to put on anyone much less a recovering 28 year old. Eventually they go leaving Iggy to wonder at his screen where he should be typing. He does ask, "Yo, Eric, my Boss-in-Law in yet?" sadly that is a huge negatory. He'll have to figure out the questions to life's mysteries on his own for a while.

It's Thursday. As far as Ravn Abildgaard is concerned this means it's Write Club day, which in turn means it's an excuse to haunt the Espresso Yourself, argue with the barrista about proper coffee -- he'll try that almond thing again, thank you -- and settle with his own laptop next to the Spaniard. Although not until that kid has indeed departed because while Ravn Abildgaard was not the most unpopular lecturer during his brief stint, at least those were not smol people. If it's less than navel height, it's potentially dangerous, dirty, and probably bites.

Once the kid has scampered though, he saunters up. "This chair taken, Señor?"

Ignacio isn't bothered by smol turns out. The kid even gets a knucklebump and a departing, "Yeah I'm here on Thursdays. You get your castle painted up I'd love to see it. Proud of you." There is, for all purposes the fine dust of a good mood around the table by the window like one might find flecks of dust in a beam of sunlight hanging out in that kind of wonderful way.

When Ravn waits he gets a smile and Iggy informs, "Mitch is building a castle for him and his brother. It's gonna be pretty cool." He pauses and looks at his page and up agian, "I wish I could fit in cardboard again. The rent was f-" he pauses and redirects his thoughts, "much lower." Hand gestures, palm up to the chair, "All yours, my man. it's been waiting on you. You know if people are still hounding you for cooking tips and we can trade." There's a pause and he wonders the unethical dilemma, "Should we publish a cookbook? I feel like I should right now. Kids cookbook..." He pauses being Gray harbor, "For kids to DO cooking and not... be food."

"I think cooking food instead of being food might be a good first step for this city," Ravn agrees and settles with his own small, sleek laptop although he does not yet flip it open. He remains blissfully unaware that up there, behind the counter, that particular barrista with whom he has now been arguing for a month, rolls her eyes at him even as she concocts the quite simple hazelnut roast he asked for. Swedish chefs can apparently not even tell almonds from hazel nuts, no wonder Europe sucks.

"You're good with kids? Not me. They make me all kinds of uncomfortable. Although they did that when I was one, too," says the Dane with a smile.

Ignacio snickers and admits with a lopsided grin, "Well it'd be new, I'll say that much." He considers this with a smile, and thinks on that one drinking that oatmilk honey flat white in a cup that keeps getting refilled. "You know my brother said that. I thought that way too for a while and I started thinking maybe they're a reflection of us and all the things we're afraid of, but also our best parts uncorrupted by doubt. It's scary to not know things or be able to see the whole world and to need and ask for help. They need a lot but they know they don't know anything and that means everything's exciting and new." there is a pause with an eeeeh except veggies. But they don't know what impossible is either and I think that's the part of invention we lose. We grow from going I'm going to figure out how to flip a pancake in space to 'why bother if I'm not going?'" A longer pause and he squints, "They are sticky. There's that. I live with birds though so my complaints can only go so far." he looks the Dane over and asks "Que pasa?"

"...Where's the pasta? When I say the only Spanish I know is dos cuervos I'm really not kidding." Ravn's eyes glitter with amusement. "I see your points too, but to me kids are annoying, vicious little bastards who do their very best to make other little bastards -- that is, me aged eight -- miserable. I am not ruling out that on a more individual basis, there is a possibility of pleasant kids. I just haven't met any yet."

Ignacio lets the smile his his eyes, even if the slight palsy keeps it from mirroring on both sides. "Alsirght yooooou, my friend, are going to learn a thing a day. I'll help you out. 'Que pasa?' means what's up? How's it going. And careful with the dos Cuervos thing. You might get like two crows descending on you here." The reasoning gets a laugh, "HA, maaaaan that's not kids, that's humans. What'chu up to anyways?"

Ravn makes grabby hands for the alm--hazelnut coffee as the barrista hands it to him with a smug little smile that he will probably never quite sort out the reasoning behind. "Wait, are you telling me I hitch-hiked through northern Spain habitually ordering two crows at every taberna? No wonder they looked at me wrong."

He chuckles and unlids the cup. Delicious smells waft upwards promising caffeinated bliss. "Let's see, what's up... My cat nearly ate Harry Potter's house elf. But I'm all right with that, really. Harry Potter's house elf sank the boat next to mine and the Vagabond was probably next. So, if you hear any talk about town about Swedish chefs abducting and drugging blond bartenders on boats -- yep, it absolutely happened, except for the drugs part. That part did not happen. You?"

Grey Harbor. Where this is what passes for normal conversation.

Ignacio nods slowly and arches an eyebrow at the telling. Doe he take it seriously? Sure, absolutely! It doesn't mean it's not entertaining. "Me? I'm good. Trying to cut back on drugs man." Was that an offer? Is he serious? Who can really tell. He focuses on the highlights and asks first, "Is everyone okay and is there anything now in the water that the Harbormaster needs to know about? That's some scary stuff. Are you alright or you pop a Xanax and keep on going?"

"There's a yacht on six metres of water that I think the harbourmaster is pretty upset about, but at least that's not my problem. I think my boat is pretty safe as long as it's patrolled by my cat -- she really did a number on that creature. Maggi Gyre said it's not particularly a water creature, though -- she calls them trash monsters. They smell like old rotting mildew and they steal things -- like bus brakes, or yacht hull valves. You know. Things that are a little critical when they go missing." Ravn chuckles softly and sips his coffee with obvious delight.

"I'm fine, really. Coming up on my one month anniversary here and if I've learned one thing so far it's to take it all pretty easy." He looks at the other man, grey gaze steady, for all intents and purposes the embodiment of calm. "I worry more about people than I do about crazy. These crazy rumours are hurting some people quite a lot. People being beheaded in the woods, that worries me. Hummingspiders worry me. But -- what can you do? At least we do in fact not need drugs to stay entertained, right?"

Ignacio frowns faintly and empathizes, "Hey, in February I was almost killed by a bus wihtout breaks. Scary as hell. Feel really bad for the people that were on it too. I noticed the breaks are a little important there." beheadings? He sighs. Yeaaahhup. People are kinda awful sometimes. His eyebrow arches, "What can we do? I dunno, teach them the lyrics?" There's a faint grin. "Hey, to be fair some use em to cope with the abundance of entertainment. It's tough. I'm just past my one year anniversary of moving aaand almost made it to my 6 month chip. I'm thinking September might be pretty good. wait til Halloween."

"Was Maggi Gyre on that bus? Because that's exactly what she described." Ravn nods at the other man. "You know, I'm not surprised. And I'm sure as hell not about to judge anyone for coping in whatever way works for them. Personally I'd worry about losing my ability to keep myself from turning into some kind of emotional ball of anxiety so I generally don't do drugs. Have smoked a bit of pot on occasion." Caffeine clearly is not considered a drug; at least the hazelnut roast is disappearing fast.

Alexander shuffles in, all lack of sleep and bad decisions. He pauses just inside the doorway, scanning the interior like he expects and ambush. But finds familiar faces, instead. A brief smile comes to his lips, and he lifts a hand if he catches their eyes, before making his way to the line for the blessed dispenser of java, the liquid of life. He stifles a yawn.

Ignacio pauses drinking and says with all casualness, "Ya know I was under the bus and then in a coma a while. I didn't really get a good look. The windows are kinda high up." There's the faintest grin there because it's not how Ravn meant it but there's some dark irony there no less. He almost gets another drink when he sees the town busybody shuffling in. "Heeey Clayton, When you have a second I'd like to bother you and get your opinion on a thing if you're up for it?" Because asking matters. He is working on admitting, "Yeah was, um, addicted to painkillers long enough not to notice. Got off that bus though. Literally, and figuratively." Well he's joking about it because what else can one do really?

"Yeah. Maggi didn't sound like she enjoyed the experience, either. She spent at least ten minutes hanging over the Vagabond's railing, yelling obcenities at the ocean because she thought she spotted the trash monster, and now the folks on the next yacht over are firmly convinced I drugged and abducted her." Ravn is the embodiment of calm. Shit happens. Then you fertilise the roses with it.

He looks up at the other man's approach and waves with a lazy, gloved hand. "Hey there. Draw up a chair. Coffee's pretty decent today, in spite of my favourite barrista."

Alexander blinks at the two men at the acknowledgement, and after a moment, he nods. By the time he gets to the counter, his order is ready for him - he always orders a single black coffee, so it's not like it's hard. He just pays in cash, then shuffles over to the table and takes a seat at an empty chair. "I have seconds. And opinions. And it's not a bother," he tells Ignacio, solemnly. He catches the last of Ravn's comments about Maggi, and looks very confused. "Trash monster?"

Ignacio sums up for Alexander, "Gray Harbor problems." The never typical but all too common haunts. Oh joy. The page he's working on is only half written and he pauses, brow furrowing and doesn't know where to begin, which is usually fine because Alexander's not famous for linear thinking. "I was thinking maybe this weekend or something when you're free. You, um, remember when you were helping me shut down all the static last winder when everything kind of went to shit?"

Looking to Ravn he says, "I've been working on this theory that the polarity of certain skills might work like other senses you know? You lose your sight then your hearing gets better because you pay more attention to it right? Everyone with me so far?"

Ravn quickly murmurs towards Alexander, "Yeah. That. Except this one was kind of funny because my cat beat the snot out of the problem for us. Definitely keeping that cat."

"I've heard that theory," the Dane then cedes, and looks curiously at the Spaniard. "No idea how much truth there's to it -- I haven't suffered any loss of senses." His fingers curl around the coffee cup as he settles to listen.

"There was actually a trash monster?" Alexander blinks. "...well. Not the weirdest thing I've ever seen." He settles in and curls both hands around his coffee cup, giving Ignacio a wary sort of nod. "Yes. Did it work?" The theory that's floated is considered. "I've heard of that. I don't know if I believe it, exactly. Concentrate more on the information you get, maybe? But not an actual improvement of the senses. We actually generate an incredible amount of sensory information as it is; so much that our brain actively ignores a large portion of it moment by moment, because it would be distracting and even distressing to process it all continuously."

Ignacio snappoints to Alexander "That. and... yes I think so? I mean I did for a while but what I think is really happening is-" the laptop is closed to it lays flat and he gestures because hey, the Mediterranean languages are all 60% hand waving and body language and Iggy's no exception. "so let's say we have all the information coming at us. We're used to relying a little bit on everything. Losing a sense causes us to lose a skill we rely on so we have to put more practice leaning on another and it's a form of studying. Zen Meditation actually has classes on this stuff. "

Taking a deep breath he says, "My experience shows the rest of the senses can lash out trying to find that information causing... sometimes feelings and images and sounds or even dishes getting implanted where they shouldn't." Dishes? "Since you sat down with me to help me actually focus on that stuff like honing an ability to really process what information taste and smell or emotion or information is happening it ... got better. I'm rambling I know."

Looking to Ravn he takes a deep breath unproud of the truth, "I started giving the rest of my house nightmares because I wasn't able to cope with my own PTSD aaaaand I'm one of those people kinda gifted at affecting mood sooo... it was...problematic."

Ravn shoots the Spaniard a look and a wince. "So not only did you suffer your own little breakdown, you inflicted it on everyone else around you too? I can see how that might be problematic." There is nothing mocking in his tone, though -- if anything at all, an acknowledgement of just how problematic that might indeed be, combined, perhaps, with an undercurrent of been there, done that for at least part of that statement. "Glad you're better. That can't have been a very pleasant experience."

"Rambling is fine," Alexander says, listening with interest. He, at least, seems to have no trouble following the concept, and nods along with the words, and the hands. "It's not uncommon," he adds, quietly. "No one really teaches how to...handle this stuff, and it's dangerous. It's not unusual for people to hurt themselves or others when they manifest - usually around puberty, and during a time of strong emotion. And if you're an empath, then you receive or project and don't always realize you're doing it. Or you do realize you're doing it, but don't realize how, uh, wrong it can be. To make people's emotions change how you want them to."

Ignacio snorts rolling his eyes with a shake of his head, "It was a nihilistic wasteland. It'... not pretty." Sipping his coffee he pauses looking to Alexander, "You think it's morally wrong to just try to make people be not a dick? Like... an enforced zone of patience?" There's a pause for that answer. It's definitely something's he's heavily considered. Taking a deep breath he also adds onto Alexander's list of problematic situations, "And people who know there's something going on and they're definitely doing something but dunno how to stop? Yeah I mean. I think it's like... dealing with grief. Some people try food, exercise, rituals, tattoos, start a charity, plant a tree. There's no way to say 'hey, this is how you do it' but worth asking about method to find something that, ya know, works."

leaning back the broader part of this comes with a shrug. "Something happened recently. Sounds not... isolated. Trying to put a theory to it but I'm trying to work through both handling it and understanding the nature of the ...thing we were pulled into and I wanted to try an experiment and see if you can help me recreate a situation because.... well I trust you. And I know you know how to pull the plug if it goes really bad." Looking back to Ravn he reasons, "You hurt the people you love and it stops being cool and starts being a responsibility. Kinda feels like learning to drive but running over your cat. It really, //really/ sucks even if the cat is okay"

"Don't get attached to people or places," Ravn murmurs. "It's been my philosophy for some time -- easier that way, so very much easier. There one day, in Portland the next, nothing really matters. Worked fine for me until I ended up here. I think that I'd be very tempted to try to make other people not be dicks, but I think I'd also make a mess of it. Sometimes you need to let people sort themselves out or not as they will. You can't sort people out for them."

Alexander fidgets with his cup at the question, looking down into the liquid over either of them. "I think...I, I think that when you start deciding that you know what people should be feeling and decide to impose that on them, it can end up in some pretty bad places. Sometimes you look around and realize that you've become a monster, and that your intentions weren't ever as important as what you did because you had the power to." The words are said tonelessly, his shoulders hunching. There's a brief nod in Ravn's direction. "That. You can't make people better. You can just break them in a shape that you like."

He takes a sip of the coffee. "But. Um. If you need help with something, yeah. I will."

Ignacio sighs, resigned to (unfortunately) agree with them. "Yeah. I thought so. I was really hoping you'd disagree with me but... yeah." Shaking his head he murmurs what might be something about bees having it much easier. Fingers lace and come to rest atop his head, "Thanks. I appreciate this. I figured out an exercize that will keep anyone from getting hurt and I'd ask Javier buuut, he's kinda really stressed out right now and I dunno he won't try to break his daughter's boyfriend like a pretzel sooooo." The words trail off as he bites his lip with a shrug. "why everyone's buggin so bad right now I dunno. Just wish it'd stop." There's a frown and he asks, "You guys met? Ravn, Alexander Clayton. " Back to Alexander he wonders, "How you holdin up? I heard you're teaching 7th grade or somethin? Like ... Not the craziest thing I heard."

"We've met a couple of times. I did not realise you were a teacher, though." Ravn looks at Alexander with renewed interest. "I was going to go that route myself except -- well, I did, but then things happened and now I'm an apprentice bartender on the other side of the planet instead. I'm sure that if my mother was alive, she'd be clutching pearls in large numbers about it."

"I am not a teacher," Alexander says - but with effort, he makes it just firm, and not a sort of panicked snap. A deep breath later, and he explains, "I don't know why people think I am. I want it to stop, though. I don't like when people have a reality that isn't what I have. It's distressing." And he is visibly distressed as he contemplates it, but he drags his mind away, back to the conversation. "I don't mind helping with your exercise, though. Although Javier might be pleased if you asked him. He hasn't shot you, so he probably likes you?" A quick flicker of a smile at Ignacio.

The introduction is met with a nod, and flick of his hand at Ravn's response. "I'm holding up...okay. There's a serial killer in town, so that's pretty interesting. Isabella is okay. There's criminal things going on that worry me, but I can't do much about them. People's memories are wrong. But things are okay."

Ignacio nods at teh correction not taking any of the terse emotion to heart, or rather he takes the restraint of which is its own gift. Looking to Ravn he says "Sounds like he's as muh a teach as you are a chef." Both eyebrows elevate, "He almost shot me once! But... he did make me soup." He can't help but chuckle at that. Biting his lip he murmurs, "He tell you the first time we met I scanned him. Gooood he was not happy bt I had to make sure Finch was alright."

There's the bigger issue at hand and he pauses, "Ummm you mind if I write an article clairifying that in the paper? I mean I have public ear...like to the point I can't swear in public at this point. I'm happy to point out the error here."

"I'm aware," Ravn murmurs drily in Alexander's direction. "I'm the one who alerted you to the serial killer in question, remember? I'm with you on the memory thing, though. Being a celebrity chef is getting old. And I feel pretty bad for those people who got hit in ways that really hurt -- the chocolatier who's having his business ruined, the girl who's stuck with thirteen imaginary kids, and others who got put through the public opinion wringer. It's been annoying for me, but it's been absolutely miserable for some of the others." He does not comment on the other names mentioned; there are eighteen thousand people in Gray Harbor and he knows about thirty.

Then the Dane's attention returns to Ignacio. "You should. Write that in the paper, I mean. I am -- working on something, with Flores. The reporter from the Gazette. We've got this sort of working theory that it won't fly -- that it'd revert. Please give it a shot -- Flores is going to, as well. So we'll know just what extent this manipulation will go to, in order to maintain this charade."

Alexander stares at Ravn for a long moment, then says, "I was telling Ignacio. He asked. I was just listing things." He looks back down at his coffee. "Yes. I think you should try. I don't know that it will work, but someone should try. And don't forget the Pourhouse. It's P-O-U-R, not P-O-O-R." His jaw sets on that one. He pauses, though, and says, "Don't. There's one you shouldn't mess with. About Joseph Kelly. Leave that one. Don't mention it."

He doesn't say why. He does say, "Javier takes a while to warm up to people."

Ignacio nods slowly. The mention of the Gazette gets a grin, "Yeah, she writes section A, I wrote in Lifestyle in C so if they miss it? Eh, we hit em twice."

Jotting a list heee pauses at the omission. He looks up at Alexander, blinks, and nods slowly. "Yeaaaaaah I can do that. Site, man." Her looks to Ravn and boggles. He has no clue, but doesn't ask. "Things at home have been hard. I don't mind having to be on my best behavior for... ever. Having to explain to people my girlfriend isn't not in jail because her dad is a cop is exhausting and painful to watch her cope with." Picking his head up, "I should make her dinner tonight. "

Ravn returns Alexander's look, and eventually nods. "So you were. My apologies. Sometimes, I fight English, and English wins."

Ignacio's statement pries another wince out of him, though. "Sounds like the stories hit you too. I'm sorry. This stuff is annoying for some of us, but it's outright devastating for others."

Alexander bobs his head at Ravn. "It's fine. I get things wrong a lot." He breathes out. "It's not okay to just fuck with what people know about the world for no reason. And I can't figure out the reason," he adds, with a shake of his head. "The Veil...it's always protected itself. People who don't stand out forget when they see or experience horrible things. That's terrible, but it at least has a purpose. A reason. You can predict it. But all of these revisions make no sense. It's very frustrating."

Ignacio looks between then and continues to make mental notes. "So important question... you want there information to be accurate and rejected, or mind if I lie in a way they can accept the present truth?"

Ravn steeples his fingers under his chin, thinking. "I've heard a couple of theories as to why this is happening. I am partial to the idea that something went a tad pear-shaped on the other side, and we're just feeling the ripples. A couple of people are talking about looking into it, though I'm not quite certain what it is they intend to do. It's a little complicated because -- "

He looks sheepish. "Well, because I don't bloody well understand half of what they're saying, and one of them is less than impressed with me, too. I feel old compared to the twenty-year-olds these days. They don't just speak a language that's not my native, they speak it in a fashion that not even their own parents understand. They do seem to have a pretty solid idea of what they're dealing with though, certainly more solid than mine."

Ignacio's question makes Ravn look up though. "If you mean the article -- Flores was pretty adamant about not printing anything she'd term fake news. I'm not a journalist so I'm keeping quiet on that one. I was tempted to declare Vydal's kitchen clean in my capacity as a celebrity chef, but she rather strongly adviced against."

Ignacio sighs, "yooooooou know this town. We're can't have it all ways but they may stop at least. They need to know why in a way they can understand. "

"Information should be accurate," Alexander says, without any hesitation at all. "But you probably knew I'd say that," he adds, with a shrug. "In truth, I don't think it'll matter. But I don't think we should encourage lies about things."

He chuckles at Ravn's comments about the twenty year olds. "People get sort of involved. And everyone has their own vocabulary for things. Isabella says she saw balloons over there, at some of the places that changed names. But nothing on fire."

"I wouldn't know," Ravn admits. "My experience with over there is limited to August Røn showing me a glimpse into another world. One that was... very alien, to be honest. Could have been a science fiction thriller or a computer game -- there was a plant person, and a very large riding animal of some sort that had trees literally growing out of it. And instead of birds there were winged spiders -- hummingspiders, I mean, I'm pretty arachnophobic but they were... adorable."

"I was very tempted to fake that interview because I like Vydal. He's a good fish and he doesn't deserve the accusations made against his business. But I also trust Flores' instinct as a reporter. I'm not a very good liar -- not outside of performing, anyhow, I mean, I can tell you a wild story of nothing at all while distracting you from a magic trick, but that's something else." He scratches his chin, then re-steeples his fingers. "I'm sorry if I sound like I don't respect the experience of people who no doubt know better than I do. I'm still new enough in town that I do not know half the names people reference. I know that Javier is the chief of police and I can deduct from the conversation that Ignacio here is dating his daughter. The other names aren't familiar. But -- everyone here knows more than I do, really, it's pretty simple like that."

Ignacio smiles with an honest fondness, "I'm glad you said it. I'll see what I can do." Glancing to Ravn here laughs, "Man, I'm 28 and from the east coast and I don't get us half time. "

Here considers, "isabella Reed is Alexander's girlfriend and she's a damn good researcher. Should meet her if you get the chance. Javier de la Vega's daughter is Finch de la Vega-Celano, and God willing, eventually 'y de Santos' eventually. " so very very very eventually. "Who you know who is researching?"

Alexander smiles at Ravn. "Don't feel bad about it. None of us actually know what the fuck we're doing. I've lived in Gray Harbor my whole life, but until eight or nine months ago, there was no possible way to go 'over there'. I didn't even know 'over there' existed, except as a place where you would be dragged and tortured for no good reason." He shrugs. "Anyone who says they know what's going on is lying. We're all just feeling it out." He beams at the mention of Isabella, though, lighting up like a lamp. "She's brilliant. You should meet her." Then there's a sidelong look at Ignacio, a bit surprised. "It's that serious, huh? You and Finch?"

"Vyvyan Vydal, Grant Baxter, and -- uh. Phil? I'm afraid I did not catch her last name, but some people call her Sparrow? She's a close friend of them both, and probably the person I know who's been hit the hardest by this identity mix-up stuff; it's literally ruining her life. I'm sort of trying to attach myself in case they need someone with an academical background to do some of the footwork. The big guns still need someone to carry the ammunition, you know?" Ravn manages to wring the last few drops of coffee out of his cup.

The barrista on duty sends him a Look. The kind that says we are not having this argument again and if we are, I'm going home. The Dane shakes his head at her and she looks relieved. He puts the cup down on the table instead. "We're making this a regular thing, then? Meeting for coffee and writing chat. I like that idea. I'm not the most socially apt person on the planet but even I can handle drinking coffee and punching keyboards."

He shakes his head ever so slightly at the talk about girlfriends. "Well, good on you. Both of you, I mean."

Ignacio nods in slow agreement with Alexander's assessment and stops staring into his coffee. It's not elation though that weighs on him. He blinks slowly in the stillness and he remembers to breathe, let the room holds still and draw strength from it looking back to Clayton. Is it that serious? "We can't ever get married cause.....things with her family. It's just paper though. If I wake up and she's there and she's okay I have everything I need and can wait for forever. But yeah." Sighing he waves his hand, "If I can find out how to undo Veil hexes and ancient curses? Hey maybe before I die! But, yeah. It's like that, man. I htink it always has been and it took us a while to catch on." The smile warms a big and he admits to them, "She saved me from myself. I can do the same." Eventually.

"Ah yeah, Corey's sister." With a wry grin he tells Alexander, "Yeah Corey Jones, Vyv, me and Javier tried to recipe crack Bird Noodle Soup. It went... exceptionally bad." His nose wrinkles but looks back to Ravn, "Yeah I'm here pretty much on schedule though...here." He scribbles his number on a sheet of paper, lefty hand, and tears it off handing it to him. "Holler if you'll be by outside of that. I don't live far..

"Because if you get married, her curse will activate and she'll eventually try to kill you?"

Who has no tact and a willingness to use it? THIS GUY. Alexander doesn't seem to have any particular condemnation for sudden homicide, though. He just says, "It seems like there should be a way to stop that. Even if it's just to move to a place where the Veil is so thick nothing from Over There can influence anything from here." And he smiles. "But I'm glad. She's always seemed like a nice kid. Just pushy." He peers at Ignacio. "That's...admirable, and explains a couple of things Mister Jones was talking about." He finishes off his coffee. "You should. Make it a regular thing. It's good to make friends. Don't die." And then he stands up, goes to throw his cup in the trashcan, and just leaves without another word.

Ravn takes out his cell phone -- an older Samsung model that appears to live in a sparkly pink Hello Kitty cover worthy of any eight year old girl -- and taps the Spaniard's number into it, texting his own details in return. "I'm renting the Vagabond in the marina -- pretty much straight down from the Two if By Sea, and look for the 1970s model with the blue paint job and the black cat. Couple of berths over from Joe Cavanaugh's Surprise. If you decide you want a beer on a boat deck sometime, drop in. Should be safe enough -- my cat appears to attack gremlins, trash monsters, whatchamacallem, on sight after one stole her dinner. Also, I literally have a police detective's word that I'm not secretly a serial killer."

A not so secret one maybe? Odds are they wouldn't let him walk free, then.

He glances at Ignacio and says, rather quietly, "You're right, though. It's not a piece of paper that makes a relationship."

Alexander's abrupt departure warrants a raised eyebrow and then a shrug; it's not the first time Ravn has seen the man act a little off the usual conventions and it seems to be just the way he is. "I need to get going too," he says quietly and picks up the laptop that he didn't even open. "I mostly came in to -- well, to see if we're making this a thing. And we are. So I will be back. Watch your back and -- you know. Paper's just paper."

And then he too is off. Must be something in the coffee.

Ignacio lifts his hands up to Alexander with 0 correction. "It's a lot to unpack but it's not much different than being at rick for a health condition and doing something exacerbate it." He pauses and says "Only it directly affects my health and her peace of mind in this case so... yeah. And I have no need to be an insecure impatient ass and put her in a position where take away her agency and shit caaaause that kinda is a dick thing to do so yeah."

He still s and smiles , relaxed more than he was a minute ago, "Just...paper." he agrees. "Well you got a friend here man. I'll look you up if I'm out that way and I'm at 1 Bay Street. It's literally the easiest thing to find. Very tall. Only partly haunted. Chickens. Esay to spot." Yeah he's hilarious. Alexander gets a wave on his way out and speaking of paper...time to write that reality retraction.