2020-09-28 - Girl Meets World

Maybe it's the waffles. Maybe it's that new waitress. Or more particularly, the fact that that new waitress looked at himself, Aidan Kinney, Grant Baxter and the DJ bloke like they were high as kites when the talk fell to Gray Harbor's quite unique approach to interactive story telling. Maybe it's just a nagging feeling that just as some folks looked out for Ravn Abildgaard during his first week or two in town, somebody ought to do the same for her. But probably, the waffles.

Either way, the copper blond makes his way into the waffleria -- best pun ever, at least according to him -- in the afternoon, laptop computer under one arm, firmly intent on seeing if she's around and if she isn't, perhaps get a bit of work done. Wi-fi at the marina is spotty as heck anyhow.

Afternoon signals after-shift for Zoey, who is now curled into the corner of one of the booths near the counter, tucked into a sweatshirt hoodie that partially covers her hands as she draws in a sketchbook. A plate of syrup messiness evidences massive waffle consumption, along with a white-tinted glass, also devoid of yumminess. Having been at the diner since before dawn, the off-duty waitress can be seen with wireless earbuds caressing her brain as her right hand scritches out lines and forms on the acid-free paper.

Ravn wanders past the counter in order to acquire a large coffee. Having thus verified that the red-head waitress of the other morning is in fact not working at the moment he looks around for somewhere to sit -- which is when he spots said red-head waitress. He heads that way with a smile and cheerfully addresses her.

Then waits for a bit.

And then realises that oh right -- earbuds. Those are a cue. Women wear those in public places when they'd like to bloody well not be bothered by each and other random male happening to think they are entitled to attention. Riiiiight.

Or maybe she just likes her music. Maaaaybe better to ask sometime she's not wearing earbuds. He starts to slink away, no doubt to the amusement of that other waitress, the one behind the counter. Life is hard on awkward people sometimes.

Zoey glances up when movement out of the corner of her eye at least alerts her that someone was standing at the end of her table. Behind Ravn's back comes Zoey's light voice, "Hey." It should be enough to carry to him, to recognize that she missed whatever he said to her while he was standing there, "Sorry. Didn't see you until you turned around. What's up?" If she caught his name yesterday in the busy-ness of her shift and serving him and his friends, she's forgotten it.

Sort of un-slinking, Ravn looks back and offers another tentative smile. "Oh, er, I didn't mean to bother you. Just wanted to see how you were doing. This place can be rough on people. But -- not trying to disturb you." Not the most confident approach in the history of mankind, that one.

She has one earbud out, smiling a bit at him, unsure. That clears up as he explains what he 'needs', and she actually smiles genuinely at the show of concern, "Thank you... that is nice of you. It's also a first, for no one seems to care." A moment, then she motions to the boothseat across from her, "You're not disturbing. I'm just drawing, have a seat. I'm off, but Becky is working?"

Ravn holds up his steaming mug of strong black coffee with a sheepish look; he did indeed meet Becky. Then he settles across from Zoey in the booth and places his laptop on the seat next to himself. "Right, then -- how are you holding it together, then? Gray Harbor been on its best behaviour so far, or are you already contemplating how nice the weather might be in Santa Monica, or, you know, Australia?"

Gloved fingers curl around that mug as if it does indeed contain the elixir of life. "Sorry about being all -- eh. The earbuds. When you're backpacking around and end up on a Greyhound next to someone with earbuds it kind of means 'shut the hell up'."

Zoey gives a smile, leaning against the wall with a shoulder as she shrugs a bit, "I'm doing alright, being new and everything. Everyone's mostly helpful around here, so I'm finding the napkins and backstock stuff easily enough. People are pretty cool, laid-back. Meeting you and your friends yesterday was nice."

Her eyes pick up those gloves, again, but she says or indicates nothing of the question forming about them. Nodding, she lays her earbud on the sketchpad, "They help me focus out the chatter here," a hand indicates the diner at large, "If I wanted to be left alone, I'd go home. So, I'm not blocking ...people out or anything?"

Ravn quirks an eyebrow. "A bit like how I always look down and find my hands doing things like this?"

Sure enough, his gloved fingers have already acquired a couple of toothpicks from somewhere. Toothpicks that weave their way between his fingers in a completely pointless little pattern. "It helps me sort of keep my focus close to myself. My mind wanders, otherwise. I'm not very good at keeping my mind focused on one pattern of thoughts at a time -- most of the time it feels more like I'm having five discussions with myself internally at any given time. Aaaand oversharing, that's another habit of mine that may not be so fantastic."

Giving a soft smile, Zoey leans her cheek on the heel of her hand, watching Ravn's fingers flick and turn the toothpick. "Sort of like a fidget spinner, hmm?" she asks, looking at Ravn's face, "I get those... and that." She must mean the multiple voices. Or over-sharing, "It's cool, seriously. You seem like a nice guy, not like most, so you get a little leeway."

"You only say that because you haven't heard me go off on a tangent, ranting about some obscure thing no one else has cared about for three hundred years, for two hours." Ravn smiles slightly. "But yes. A bit like a fidget spinner. I did have one of those once, but I lost it somewhere -- and it never hurts to stay in practise either. I used to kind of do this for a living for some time -- busking, sleight of hand, that sort of thing. Doesn't exactly turn you into a millionaire but you can do well enough to buy a burger and a bus ticket."

He cants his head to glance at the sketch pad. "So what are you working on? Getting ready for Bax' street festival? I am a bit excited about that, I admit. There are so many talented people in this town -- it's like the Veil draws in broken people and artist people, and combinations of broken and artist people in particular."

Zoey arches a brow at all of this revelation of Ravn's interests and talents. A smile as she regards him for a long moment, while he speaks and after. Subconsciously, she tilts the sketchbook to hide her work, but what can be seen is storyboarding quality comic book panels being sketched, so far. "Oh," she says with a shrug, "Just drawing. Not sure if I'll know what to do for the sidewalk thing until later, when I see what the theme is, what others are doing, etc." For several people doing the same subject tends to invariably be seen as competition, and she isn't really looking to go for that for a social, free event.

"I'm excited, too," comes her soft voice, her brow furrowing at the rest. "The Veil?" she asks with a shake of non-understanding at him, "Is that like an art foundation or something?"

Ravn flicks both toothpicks to his right hand and raises his coffee mug with his left. "No -- I wish I could say yes, but it is not. The Veil is -- the thing we were talking about, while you were no doubt writing us off as collectively insane. It's the magic of Gray Harbor. The thing that draws people here and keeps them. The reason that everyone in this town is going to tell you that you ought to pack up and move on before you grow roots, but also the reason you're not going to. It's fantastic and magical, but it's also very dangerous. There are some folks in town who know a lot about it. I'm not one of them -- I've only been here a month myself."

Long pause. An equally long stare at Ravn. The new redhead is not sure whether this guy is crazy, fucking with her, or both. There is just that gnawing sensation in the back of her mind that he's telling the truth. Those eyes narrow slightly at him, discerning, picking him apart in talented little ways.

"You're not lying," she says in a soft breath, both surprised and a little mortified. It isn't like she discerned that he was telling her the truth about the bus schedules and which drivers to avoid. This shit is on a whole other level of crazy, and that widens her eyes as it dawns on her at a deep level.

"It's possible I'm just batshit crazy," Ravn admits. "But no, I am not lying, at least not that I'm aware of. But I don't proclaim to understand it, either. There's just... something here. Something that draws in people like you and me, and keeps us here."

Zoey again scrutinizes Ravn with narrowed eyes, as if studying him for any of the tell-tale signs of him lying to her. It takes her a few moments to compose a reply, her head spinning at implications, if true. "Some of what your friend yesterday said -was- batshit, has to be," but now she is unsure of that judgement, and that sort of rocks the floor underneath her, so to speak.

"I have no idea what Rekani was talking about, with socks and golems and whatnot. But that's the thing -- sometimes, things here just don't make sense. Somebody calls me Tuna for some bizarre reason? It's because I literally got turned into one. That's how crazy it gets here." Ravn is completely sincere. "But there is one rule that apparently doesn't change -- what happens to you in one of these screwball dreams is real. You got stabbed, you wake up bleeding. So it's magical and fantastic but it's also really, really dangerous."

Wide eyes at the tuna comment. It would normally have sparked a bright laugh, for crazy, but the way that Ravn says it is too serious and real, and that sets Zoey back in her seat a bit with a hard breath of shock. Her brow starts to furrow, "Dreams? Like, Jason Mamoa in speedos types of dreams?"

Ravn almost chokes on a mouthful of coffee. Maybe that mental image had not occurred to him yet.

Then he shakes his head. "I, uh, wouldn't be surprised if some of them could turn quite... personal. But from what I am seeing and getting told, most of the dreams are about making people suffer. Make us afraid or angry, or other negative emotions. There's a theory that that's what it's all about -- some people think we're essentially a dairy farm, but for emotions. That we get 'milked', if you will, when we have these experiences. I don't that I can say that that is definitely true, but it does kind of feel that way. And believe me, I do realise just how insane I sound. I helped kill an incarnation of an Aztec goddess last week. I've been a literal tuna. I've been Ichabod Crane, chased by the Headless Horseman. Insanity."

Speaking of batty, once again it seems like the rival diner owner feels no problem arriving at the waffle house. Today, Gina's in a black circle dress with white and red polka dots, the dots larger around the skirt and growing gradually smaller towards the top, a short, simple leather jacket worn over it along with a small messenger bag. Her purple hair done up in a set of rather authentic looking victory curls and her smoky eye and plum lipstick entirely NOT authentic to the era. Neither are the hiking boots, but why worry about the small stuff? She heads towards the counter, eyes glued to her phone as she navigates, her entire being just oozing 'Do Not Disturb.'

She also, for the record or those learning to feel for these things, shines on like a crazy diamond, one of the brighter lighthouses of Gray Harbor, or however such things ping.

Pausing at the door as he enters into the Waffle Shoppe, Seth removes the sunglasses from his face and slips them carefully into the neck of his black button down shirt. He waits a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the light in the room, as he cautiously scans the area. His eyes moving over the other patrons, and looking towards the other entrances/exits to the restaurant. Recognizing Ravn, he gives the 'bartender' a quick nod of acknowledgement.

"Hey. How's the mixology coming along? Have you graduated to something with three ingredients yet, or are you still stuck on two?" Seth says with a hint of humor in his voice.

Satisfied with his banter, and the room arangement, the large man makes his way casually over towards counter and slips himself into one of the stools farthest away from the main entrance, picking up one of the laminated menus as he does so to peruse the offerings.

Zoey seems a bit confused at Ravn's comment, and she dwells on it for a few moments, mulling it over and trying to fit the pieces together. "Sounds like you're talking more about nightmares, though, right?" the two of them are at one of the tables nearest the counter, she with her sketchbook out, he across the table from her. Whatever Ravn is telling Zoey just has a look of incredulous, cautious trying-to-understand on her face. But that's when Seth speaks up and the obviously-dyed redhead sits back in the booth to roll things over in her head.

"I haven't had any complaints about poisoned yachters this week and if you ever need to dispose of a body, call me." Ravn winks back at the other man; they obviously share an in-joke from somewhere. He notes Gina's arrival as well and upnods at her -- for someone who made it to thirty years of age, he's clearly not got much in terms of survival instinct.

"Both those people are locals," he says softly to Zoey, ignoring the fact that technically, Seth isn't. "If you're up for crazy, you should wave them over, and ask questions. Because they can answer those questions a hell of a lot better than I can -- Gina there is one of the people townsfolk here keep telling me knows as much as anyone about the Veil."

Gina doesn't upnod back to Ravn. But she does stop and glance in his direction -- and then glance away, with no returning nod or twitch in her facial expressions. Instead, she heads right to the register to order, pays, and then points right to Ravn's booth, peels another bill off and then makes her way over. And proceeds to slide into the booth on Ravn's end, not bothering to ask permission or anything silly like that. Though, if Ravn doesn't scoot over-- he'll get an impatient look.

And that's it. No asking permission, no pleasantries, no smiles or casual greetings or hellos to the new face. She'll sit if Ravn makes room, pull out her phone again, and take a second look at whatever it is she's watching - looks like a video.

"I'll keep that in mind." says Seth, giving Ravn a chuckling nod. "Body disposable is a very useful skill to have. Speaking of, who do I have to kill to get a cup of coffee around here?"

Seth shifts his eyes over to Gina for a moment, giving her a once over as Ravn calls her out as a local, his brow raising up at the mention of the word 'veil'.

"I'm not a local, despite his assurances otherwise." explains Seth with a sigh, "I just happened to spend summers and breaks here with my cousin. I know a little about a little, and I just got back into town myself not to long ago, so I am not 'caught up' on any local gossip, or what have you."

Zoey blinks, subconsciously straightening in her booth as Gina just shoehorns into their conversation. Given the whisper moments ago, Zoey fully anticipates some strange conversing between Gina and Ravn, or revelations like an oracle would drop casually. Her eyes flit from Gina to Ravn and back, clearly on alert for anything that might happen. Fingers curl around her sketchbook as she sinks back into the corner of the wall and booth, off-balance.

Ravn would likely see the tension build in Zoey, the newcomer in the face of explainations just moments ago, suddenly being silently introduced in close quarters with the proclaimed Veil expert... unsure how to take her behavior just now.

Ravn scoots, with the speed of someone quite introvert who just realised that a lady with whom he has at best a rather shaky relationship is about to sit where he is sitting whether he intends to move or not. Zip, and he's one seat to the left. Practically teleporting, at that, and yet somehow managing to not end up sitting on the laptop he placed there a moment ago. That, in turn, ends up on the table because it has to go somewhere, doesn't it?

"I think Becky's the one we should probably refrain from killing if we want to secure a steady supply of hot coffee," the Dane murmurs and glances at the waitress behind the counter. Then he looks back at the people around him and says, "Gina who owns the Black Bear Diner -- Seth Monaghan whom I've had the pleasure of trying to poison with a G&T once -- and Zoey who is pretty much fresh off the bus and already convinced that I am absolutely insane."

Zoey raises a small, sweatshirt-sleeve-covered hand to wave at both people that she is introduced to, breathing out a gentle, "Hi."

Afternoon. Breakfast time has passed for those philistines who only eat breakfast foods for breakfast. Vic Grey is one of those people who believes breakfast for any meal is a wise and valid choice. The tall blonde shoulders her way through the door of the Waffle Shoppe, like nigh-six-feet of crankiness in a pretty package.

She's in jeans and a black "Two if By Sea" tee, so she's likely heading in to work later at Bennie's joint. Her day (night?) job isn't the source of her crankiness though. She's tapping away at a small burner-style phone, scanning check-in reports from Joey Kelly's people in and around town. Last week a couple of them died of lead poisoning, so she's been having people check in just to keep tabs.

She ambles up towards the counter, as she toggles the phone off and lifts her eyes to scan the restaurant. Hey, there's her co-worker. Ravn gets a smirky nod of hello. That's practically a hug from Vic.

"I know about Seth." Gina says, her eyes not leaving her phone screen. It's a simple statement, like, 'I checked the weather forecast this morning.' Totally not ominous or anything. She doesn't sound ominous at ALL. But she does glance up to ZOey when Ravn mentions her fresh off the bus status, watching her with unblinking dark eyes for a long moment, before glancing at Ravn - as if Zoey wasn't right there, "Nice girl, huh? Thinking the best of you already." And she doesn't even sound sarcastic. Her eyes do return to Zoey - then back to her phone. "You'll be here a while. Even if you don't want to be. Gray Harbor doesn't like letting go of the deep ones. Especially not the ones who think they're creative. Don't worry though. The serial killers are usually spaced apart, and we just had one. Welcome to Gray Harbor."

Like the hunting call of a deep-throated beast, a roar of an engine that cared little for muffled exhaust announces the black BMW sliding skillfully into a spot outside the shop. Was it Friday? Maybe it should be, or maybe that's just what Rekani was thinking as he was levering himself out of his car, heading into the Waffle shop.

The tall round Latino was, as usual, followed by the faint haze of a recently exhaled vapor, the sweet, dank tones of finely processed THC gently cloying his airspace. He takes a look around at the shoppe, taking stock of the patrons, a good crop for breakfast socialization... Or whatever time it was. Breakfast was served all day. Time was irrelevant. Ir-relative? Woh, man, don't get too existentially deep with Rekani, he'd likely be a little slow to process. Who was stop one?

"Ayyy, bartender." Song reference. Typical. Also it doesn't narratively narrow it down any. Thankfully he flops onto a stool near Vic, answering everyone's burning question. He's already picking up a menu, though, as if it was a casual greeting she could take or leave.

Turning his attention to Becky, Seth give the waitress a pointed look softened slightly by a smile, "Well, then a coffee would be a wonderful thing, when you get a chance. Black, like my soul." Seth grins a toothy grin, tapping at the menu, "And a couple of eggs, over easy, with a side of bacon and some hash browns. Some decent hot sauce as well, if you have it."

He glances over as Ravn makes introductions, giving Zoey and Gina a nod. "Ladies.", though his eyebrow does raise a bit as Gina mentions knowing about him. "Have we met? I've seen a couple of 'old' faces from my summer days, but I haven't been the best at remembering them. Refresh my memory."

Seth's gaze moves over to the door as it opens, giving the newcomer a examining gaze as she makes her way towards the counter, his eyes narrowing slightly as he scrutinizes her a moment before his attention is diverted to the noise outside as he watches the new arrival with that same scrutiny he gave Vic.

Ravn waves at Vic as she appears. "Hey, Vic, I'm supposed to tell you that some bloke named Kelly is looking for you. Came by the bar. I put a note on the fridge out back but just in case you didn't see it and all." It's quite obvious that he knows the blonde bartender, and from his greeting, and her t-shirt, one could wager a pretty easy guess as to where from, too.

Then he rests an elbow on the table -- and his closed laptop -- and tosses a small, lopsided smile Zoey's way. "And this is Vic Grey -- she's my bartending mentor. Any lethal concoctions in my repertoire, the blame is entirely mine for not paying proper attention to her lessons. At some point you're going to notice that all of us have a certain something in common -- though what form it takes for you, I can't say. To me it's a feeling of warmth, almost like a magnetism. Some people see a light, or an aura, or some kind of shine or sparkle. A bloke I know hears music. It means we're all here because of Gray Harbor's... thing."

As serious as he sounds though, Seth's order prompts a chuckle. Two people in one town making that joke -- the other man gets a point for having decent taste in hot beverages at least. No sugar, sprinkles, syrups, whipped cream or pumpkins is an instant stamp of approval.

With her mouth dropping open, Zoey's head shakes in a "I have no idea what to do with that" manner, giving a pleading, surprised look at Ravn. Gina's words rock her to the core, almost teetering her on the heels of Ravn's advice and expose. The girl's pencil is placed against her sketchbook as she then reaches for her water, as being struck incredulous makes for a parched throat. Deep end of the crazypool, indeed. Or something something firehose something...

Vic glances over at Rekani. Well at least he's not calling her something flirty in Spanish, so he doesn't get the death glare. He gets a nod of hello instead, and an arched brow. "High already Mister DJ? Or just high always?"

Her sharp blue eyes rest on Seth a moment, before moving on; she knows who he is, very well, they've likely worked together in the past multiple times, but no one in this place needs to know that. She slides onto a stool one down from him. "I'll have the same as him," she notes to the waitress.

Vic grunts in response to Ravn. "Yeah, I got the message." He's trying to get her to crash somewhere other than the Murder Motel until she resolves things with her slightly scorched trailer. She cocks an ear towards their conversation, with a moment of amusement passing over her features as Ravn pays her lessons to him forward to someone new.

"It's like crap being dumped into water for me." Gina tosses that over for Ravn to consider. Her dark eyes, however, lift away from her phone - Ravn can probably see that it's some sort of weird video of grass and sidewalk, low to the ground? - and then towards Vic, first and foremost, studying her with some slight interest before her attention goes to Seth, "I don't remember if we've met. Don't really care, either. Just know about you. Small town." Rekani also gets a glance, both brows rising. She doesn't say much to him, just-- watches a moment, before a waitress arrives with her plate of food: pancakes with syrup, sausage, scrambled eggs, a fruit cup and a glass of milk.

“When you can live your life in the clouds, why be any other way?” Also because of crippling night terrors, but hey, who’s counting. Stay positive...ly baked. Rekani gets busy ordering a staggering amount of fattening foods, which, given his mass, was a terribly normal experience. His phone comes out briefly, checking texts, typical millennial, then tosses the rubber-cased device on the counter with a thud. He slowly takes a second look around the Shoppe, noting Gina’s look with a slow blink. He turns his head and looks past himself, wondering what she was probably looking at beyond him and behind the counter. He looks back confused. Also, probably typical.

As his coffee arrives, Seth picks up the mug and takes a slow sip, his face registering mixed emotions as to the state of the black liquid, but it must have been good enough since he takes a second sip before setting the mug down onto the counter.

As Ravn introduces Vic to the shoppe, Seth nods to her in greeting. "Ms. Grey. A pleasure." Yeah, they have worked together, but that isn't anyone's business except Felix's and theirs. In their line of work, secrets are a thing.

He remains quiet for now, listening as Ravn speaks about the shine, or sparkle, or whatever, until Gina speaks to him. Seth rolls a shoulder into a shrug, "So it is. I'm sure if I ask around I can learn all sorts of things. Rumor mills in a place like this are horrible, but gossip is just that. Can't always believe what you hear."

Rekani gets a bit of a smirk, "To each their own, I suppose. I tend to want to keep my wits about me."

Sitting back in the corner of the boothseat and the wall, Zoey's big eyes take everyone in, seemingly memorizing names with faces if she can. As a waitress for the Shoppe, it will serve her, at least. Some get longer look-overs than others, as she leans back with her water in hand to drink in the conversation and gleaned facts. When Becky the other waitress slips by, she quietly orders herself another large milk. A small, inconsequential shape tucked into a corner amongst the more vibrant and well-known figures, it would likely seem that Zoey drifts into the background. Willingly, for good or bad.

"And of course Gina looks at me declaring the shine to be crap in the moat," Ravn muses, grey eyes glittering with humour. To Zoey he notes, "She doesn't like me very much. Although, she does claim not to like anyone. You'll be fine. I know we're all a bit intense. I think it comes with the territory -- but people here are really good about having each other's backs, too. You find yourself in one of those dreamscapes, you can be pretty certain everyone's going to try to get each other out of there more or less in one piece." If 'naive' has a face, it's possibly that of a thirty year old bloke from Denmark.

Sorry, Zoey. The background is already occupied by the other introvert. Maybe he'll fight you for it.

Vic gets her coffee for a starter and she doesn't add anything to it either. Having spent most of her adult life as a cop, that's not surprising. Cream and sugar are for the weak, or something. She snorts at Rekani and shakes her head a little before she sips the brew. Seth gets a nod. "Mister Monaghan," she greets politely. Yeah, those two have had blood on their hands together at some point in the past, no doubt.

Ravn's words to Zoey have her fighting hard not to show the amusement on her face. Her bartending trainee is too pure for this world, or at least this town. She keeps on listening in, nodding to the introduced faces briefly.

"Not things in water. Things falling into water." Gina corrects, using both knife and fork like some snobby fancy person as she cuts her pancakes - oddly enough, she cuts rays into them, leaving a circle in the center of the stack. But she does pause, as Ravn talks about the dreamscapes, and the look she gives him is-- subtle? Something between condescending, wry, darkly amused, and pitying. But it's brief, and the expression slips from her face as she continues focusing on getting her pancakes just so. It's maybe a heartbeat or two before she responds, "It's a small town. People tend to know each other. Don't always depend on the kindness of strangers. That won't work. You'll only get help as far as saving you doesn't risk someone else too much." The "Naive idiot" goes unsaid. But it's implied. Oh, it's so very implied.

Rekani smirks in that hazy way sideways at Seth, nodding amicably, “Yeah man, maybe if I had any.” He jokes self-depricatingly, “I’m still trying to find the rest to smother ‘em.” Rekani is placated by plates arriving, unwrapping silverware and tucking a napkin in his collar, because that’s how classy folk eat, yaknow? He sets about devouring his hoard. Oh, and cream and sugar absolutely go in his coffee as well as a small dollop of maple syrup, because he likes when things actually taste good, unlike some people.

Seth retakes the coffee mug from the counter and takes a sip, the bitter taste causing another wrinkle of the man's features as he chokes down the black liquid. He stays silent, choosing to just listen to the conversation until his food arrives. It's amazing the things you can learn if you just listen.

So she is, as always, on her own. Left to her own defenses and devices, as the thinking goes. Zoey nods quietly to Gina's words, giving Ravn a glance before she takes up her pencil and scratches it against the paper once more, idly, staring through it as her mind processes, sorts and ultimately comes to few tangential conclusions. When Becky brings her a milk, she offers up a warm smile to her co-worker before regarding the glass for a moment, then looking again to Ravn, "Fidgetspinners." Like that one word alone conveys things relevant and poignant alike.

Three tooth picks dance on Ravn's gloved knuckles, weaving in and out between his fingers as if he seems to have decided to show off randomly; maybe Zoey is someone he'd like to get to know better? At least he winks at her as if the two of them share some kind of secret there. One that presumably includes -- fidget spinners.

"I know, I know," he murmurs softly. "I'm the clueless new kid who thinks everyone is nice. But so far, none of you grumpy, experienced people have in fact proved me wrong. Closest I have been to wrong so far was someone suggesting we just leave a bad situation to the professionals, but they stayed around to help solve it anyhow."

There are no grimaces when Vic sips her coffee. Compared to typical police station brew, this is the equivalent of that $500 per pound civet shit stuff. Ravn's words get a quiet grunt from Vic. She should definitely shove a few yachters in front of a bus or something to toughen him up to the harsh realities of Gray Harbor.

"Abildgaard, if I make my trailer habitable again, do you want to rent it for the winter? I'm looking at another place where I can actually fit in the shower without having to duck."

"Nice isn't the word I'd use for you." Gina does say, finally getting around to eating her food after everything is portioned. A little bit of everything on the fork, but she's probably slower than Rekani. "Like I said. It's a small town. People know each other here." What does that have to do with anything? Gina focuses on her food and doesn't say more.

"Dude, everyone here is totally nice." Rekani comments on Ravn's assessment, probably a bit naively, his voice muffled and wet with the food he was chewing. What was that about classy folk? He stops to give this statement a thought, though, apparently. His eyes lift to the ceiling, then he looks toward the folklorist and points a fork at him,

"'Cept one o' the Addingtons. Blonde one. Short name. You will see her coming though." He makes a motion like waving it off, or maybe just thinking it would ward off evil spirits, "Just don't look directly at that one, you'll do fine."

Vic's proposal earns her a measuring look and a snorted laugh, like he couldn't think of anyone her size, (read: anyone smaller than him) having issues with fitting in a shower. Sure, he had no idea how small a trailer shower was, but that's another issue for braincells not baked to a fine golden brown.

"Gesundheit!" Seth exclaims with a smirk.

That's why I got a house." Seth says to Vic. "I can't abide having to squat to wash my hair. At the very least you could take a stool in there and just sit though. I've had to do that before. The large red-head takes another sip from his mug, "Some places, especially older ones, just don't cater to the tall."

Seth looks over to Ravn, "You got another name you go by? Because there is no way in hell I am ever going to pronounce that word jumble properly. Abil. Dg. Rd? Fuck me, that is a mouthful."

Seth casts a glance at Rekani, yup....totally nice.

Zoey finally decides, given a few snippets here and there, to speak up. To everyone. "Hi," she says perhaps a few shades overly-loud and interrupty, causing a blush and a quicker plunge into the introduction she planned, to actively change herself. Something on the to-do list, it would seem. A clearing of her throat, "I'm Zoey. Nice to meet you all," as she waves with a hand way up high. A pause, then, "I'm new here... both in Gray Harbor and at the Waffle Shoppe, you'll commonly find me working the morning shift." Biting her lip, the redhead nods absently, as if that was the extent of what she had to contribute to the conversation at hand in exchange for all of the well-meant advice that she is gleaning, selfishly, from her little corner of the side booth.

"Hmm. That might be an option, actually." Ravn cants his head at his co-worker. "Could stay at your place from -- mid-October, through to March or April, depending on the season. I mean, I'll be back on the sea as soon as I can get there, but it'll get you someone to keep an eye on the place too, I guess? Show me around sometime. Where are you staying in the meantime -- the murder motel, still?"

His attention focuses on Rekani's fork a moment, mostly because it's being pointed at him like he might end up on it next. "You mean Atli Addington? Blonde, historical society, Addington House? I think I met her at the high school once. Mostly seemed a little -- breezy? Very friendly, though."

Seth's inquiry prompts a laugh, though. "Ravn is fine. I'm still working out when you Americans use last names and when you don't, but where I'm from, last names are pretty much for military, diplomats, and people who are pissed off at each other."

Vic glances over at Seth with a smirk. "I live in a twenty-two foot airstream. There is no way to fit a chair in that little shower. But Ravn here is living on a boat without any shower so, I figure it's an upgrade for him. I'm looking at some houses for rent on Elm, and some apartments over on Sycamore. Not sure an apartment is right for me though." Considering she is epically unfriendly to tourists, imagine her living next to people who make noise above or below her when she needs to crash in the daylight hours.

She shakes her head at Ravn. "Checked out this morning, staying in Kelly's spare room for the moment. His cousin was living there but she skipped town, so I'm bunking there til I make a decision that's more permanent. The repair crew is coming tomorrow to fix what was affected, so in a couple days I can show it to you."

She looks to Zoey, an almost sad look in her eyes. "Welcome to Gray Harbor. My condolences. Vic." No last name provided. How many people will think she's somehow responsible for this fucking town if she has a last name that is just a slightly different spelling? Shit, maybe that'd be better than them all thinking she's in WitSec with a serial killer ex. Stupid false rumors.

"That is a mask!" Rekani insists vehemently to Ravn, a look of dire seriousness on his face, "Beneath it is..." He pauses. Did he have the right words? "Another... Face... That's mean. And has sharp teeth... I don't fuckin know, she went Carrie slash Firestarter on my hands when I met her." He shakes his head. He eats. Oh calories, you're the only one that understands, he seemed to be thinking.

"Hey, we could be neighbors. I could come over and borrow some sugar sometime." Seth chuckles to Vic as she talks about getting a place on Elm. "So far I can't complain about the neighborhood. It's quiet...and certainly better than living in an airstream. Or a boat...unless it is a nice boat. I could see living on a nice boat."

He pauses to take a sip of his coffee as he turns his gaze over to Zoey. "Seth Monaghan, but I believe Ravn already mentioned that. Welcome. I'm sure you will be seeing a lot of me during the breakfast shift." Speaking of breakfast, Seth's plate of food arrives and he grabs a slice of bacon off of it, taking a quick bite. "If you could get better coffee though, I would see to it I tip better."

Gina continues eating in neat, simple motions- but stops when the food is only halfway gone. Then, quite abruptly, she sets her knife and fork on the side of the plate, finishes her milk, dabs carefully at her lips (that plum lipstick is pretty solid, though), sticks a few bills beneath the glass and without another word grabs her cell phone and slips out of the booth. No goodbyes, no reasons-- except she does look back over her shoulder at Rekani and... smiles. A small, darkly amused sort of smile, before she slips away entirely to the outside world.

TOtes not ominous at all guys. Really. Maybe she's just flirting.

"I should point out that I like living on a boat," Ravn inserts with a small smile. "But that boat needs to go on dry land for the winter months. She was not built for living in all year around. And she does indeed not have a shower, something which means I get to visit friends around town on a very regular basis. The Vagabond is probably not what you'd call a nice boat but she's got room enough for me and a cat, so that'll do."

Rekani does earn himself another curious look. "What, are you telling me that an attractive, super charming, absolutely delightfully charming and helpful young blonde of the richest family in town, practically fawning over me, might be projecting a bit of a mask?" Ravn looks horrified.

Maybe he's not quite as innocent as Vic likes to proclaim after all.

Zoey retracts her upstretched arm, curling as she does back into the corner of the boothseat. A look and a small shrug is given to Ravn, her attention cast back at the surface of her sketchpad for now. As Gina jumps up to leave, Zoey startles, but lets the conversation flow around her as it is wont to do. Quiet new person having stretched and touched a toe at the surface of the pool.

Vic's food is delivered at the same time and she too goes for the bacon first. Yeah, she and Seth are clearly carnivores of some variety. His note about being neighbors and borrowing sugar gets an eye roll from her. How the hell Ravn manages to get her to be semi-sociable to him is a fucking miracle. She's much more likely to have a cup of bullets to borrow, than sugar, but Monaghan probably knows that. "I just want a bathtub and to never have to go to a laundromat again," she mutters, chewing on her bacon with a scowl.

She watches Gina leave with an assessing glance, then looks towards Rekani and Ravn, making mental notes about the Addington girl they're speaking of. Then her eyes rest on Zoey, examining and measuring her in some manner. "How long have you been in town?" she asks, bluntly.

Mutha freaking waffles was how Nova was rewarding herself for being able to have worked this week. Due to how overly lucid dreaming ran this town, she had been fighting some kind of nasty sunburn or whatever for a couple weeks. Usually this wouldn't be a problem for someone, but when you make your money off how well you shake a nearly bare booty...lobster skin was problematic. In light of her recent victory versus whatever happened that night she sports a trippy tie dye halter and a tiny pair of suspender length overalls. Heels accompany this for God knows why.

She takes a deep inhalation of breakfast scents, a smile spreading across her ample lips. Spotting Rekani, she waves to her brother in an overly giddy fashion. "Hermano, You shoulda told me to meet you here. We coulda raced ya? You coulda lost to me again!" Teasingly she giggles, strolling in his direction.

"A week," comes Zoey's casual answer back to Vic, her eyes turning to regard the woman for a long moment, looking her over before she shrugs. "New enough to be wary of lies, I guess?" she says, but in such a way as to imply that she was warned, at this very table, to be so. When she isn't waiting tables, Zoey has no reason to feign bright, friendly smiles to earn tips, she can be more honest. Chewing the inside of her lip, she looks people over, content to listen more than she verbally participates.

"No." Is the simple, succinct and actually immediate denial offered in Nova's direction about her wanting to race him anywhere. Seems a sore spot. As always, he looks out the front window to look for her car, not sure he'd heard her coming, wondering if shed wrecked this one yet. He glances around at the rest, waving a hand in almost a dismissive fashion toward the woman, "Everyone, this is Nova, my sister. Obviously, she's not the one that got all the looks, but you cant win em all." The last bit was said with a stink-eyed glare in Nova's direction.

But then he breaks into a grin after, betraying this was merely sibling banter. He lifts a finger for a waitress's attention, tapping the seat he knew Nova would take, and puts a menu there without asking or looking.

"It has no shower." Seth says, pointing out the obvious to Ravn. "No. Shower. I'm sorry, but I don't think I could manage that. Having to be at another persons mercy in order to bathe, but you know...you do you." Because in Seth's line of work, sometimes you need to clean up and be able to do it privately. "Vic here understands. A bathtub, a shower...whichever. Some access to hot water and soap is a necessity. And don't give me any shit about bathing in the water either. You would just have to take another one to wash the salt off. Oh, yes, laundry is another thing!"

Seth glances at the new arrival, studying her for a moment before turning back to the counter and setting his mug down on it. "Excuse me for a moment, need to use the facilities. Don't let them take my plate."

Ravn throws an admiring glance at Nova as she strolls in on her high heels; a glance that at first might resemble the sort of looks she regularly sees in patrons at the Cabaret -- but on closer notice his gaze turns out to be directed at her tie-dye top rather than at the dancer's, uh, assets. Or maybe he's just got enough manners to at least not stare openly, who knows.

Seth's words, too, inspire an odd little smile -- but as the man rises to walk away a moment, the Dane leaves whatever it was unsaid and just murmurs, "It gives me an excuse to visit Aidan Kinney every other day. Can't say I'm going to complain about that, he's a rather nice bloke."

Zoey sips at her milk, thanks the gods for small favors and distractions. Eyes follow the speakers in the conversation, but she has little to contribute. For now. These people are close, in her eyes, and it will take some time and comfort level to get to that point.

Vic grunts something back to Seth that might be an agreement to keep tabs on his food for him. "Yeah, with the bar hours I work, waking up some friend at 4 am to get into a shower and get the stink of spilled beer off me is really not an option." Or blood, or other evidence of crimes, you know, important stuff. "I'm pretty sure I'll be renting a house on Elm. I don't think I'd do well with people living above or below me. I sleep during the day a lot." And considering how she treats tourists who tip her, she might defenestrate neighbors who wake her up. Fun, but impractical.

Nova gets an assessing glance, the same Zoey got. Cop instincts die hard it seems. Rekani gets a look like Vic is hard-pressed to believe the two are related.

"No one told me to not clean up in the men's room before I go home from work," Ravn observes, steel grey eyes glittering with amusement. "Why do you think I use everything short of a literal firethrower to keep that place clean?"

Nova slides one tanned arm behind her brother casually the other across the back of the booth's textured vinyl. The arm bends at the elbow around his neck, pulling his head into a gesture between a sisterly snuggle and forced congenial noogie. Her lower lip pouts and her tone has a sarcastic form of hurt to it. "Eso me hace sentir triste."

Then she can no longer fake it, releasing him and grabbing the menu with gusto using it to give a sweeping grand greeting. "Hola Everyone!" Nova laughs again, a goofy sort of chortle, too much for whatever joke was made. She nods her head to the departing patron and turns hazel eyes to the list of delicious options. "I think I am feeling some strawberry shit, or maybe cinnamon?" This is directed to no one in particular.

Given that Gina has up and left them, Ravn and Zoey are left to their own devices at the booth that they share. The red-purple-haired Zoey sips at her milk as she sits tucked into the corner against the wall, her eyes scanning people all around the room.

Vic finishes scarfing up her food like someone might steal it at any moment. Or like she might get called away any second. And there it is, her phone buzzes, and she pulls it out to glance at a text with a scowl. She drops some cash on the counter for the waitress and tips her chin at Seth's food. "He's coming back, don't take that." Just in case. She slaps Ravn on the shoulder as she passes. "See you at work." Then she's out the door, heading towards her truck.

Making his way back to his seat, Seth motions to Becky for a refill of his coffee as he sits and gives Vic a nod goodbye.

"So, Zoey was it? What brings you to Gray Harbor? Surely the illustrious career of a waffle house waitress wasn't it."

Don't worry Vic, the look Rekani returns shows solemn understanding of her confusion. His lips purse outward and he nods with shut eyes to confirm the awful truth. Sometimes he wasn't sure how he went on with his life.

The hug earns the face scrunching disgust it deserves, but as Nova sits, Rekani makes a... Well, he thought it was covert, but fucking anyone could see him point at his eyes with index and pinky, then point at the new special folk around the place, as if asking Nova, 'You seeing what I'm seeing?'

He also bumps his water glass with his elbow, making it all the more obvious. Luckily, it was a near miss, and just causes panic rather than tipping and spilling. He adjusts the placement of the glass three more times just to make sure.

Ravn winces slightly at the friendly shoulder punch; not so much in the manner of someone who was just subjected to random and cruel police brutality as someone who is just not very accustomed to people touching him at all. He still manages a wave at Vic's departing self. "See you later, don't kill any yachters until I'm there to watch."

Then he manages to signal Becky for a coffee refill; he is very much the sort of person who wakes up with too much blood in his caffeine system. Oddly enough, he doesn't seem very willing to meet Nova's gaze (though that is a nice top).

Zoey blinks up as Seth speaks to her, "Oh hey..." Gathering her answer, she gives a smile, "No, it wasn't. I actually just wanted to get away from the cities, if that makes any sense. I started feeling crushed and stalked and gross, so I uprooted and hopped a bus, here I am." A wave around the waffle shop, "Fourth place that I put in an app, Reese hired me on the spot. I guess she liked my hair."

Seth nods to Zoey, "Fair enough. My Uncle gave me a job, only reason I'm here myself. It is a bit....quieter here than I am normally accustomed to but I am sure it will grow on me."

Turning to Ravn, "So, just how many yachters have you poisoned? Should I count myself lucky and only order from Vic from now on?"

Seth's eyes shift rapidly to the sound of the water glass, keeping his gaze on the familial pair for a moment before shifting them back to the plate in front of him, as he starts to eat.

Nova nods at Rekani's overly obvious display, something in her own system making it less ridiculous, the chortle does return and carries with her gaze to the other booth. A moment of lucidity crosses her expression, brows knitting. She points with a single acrylic at Ravn and says too loudly in accusation, "That one is a fucking cop." It looks like she may spit with disgust in recognition.

"That depends on how suicidal you are, I suppose. If you really want to die, I suggest staring at Vic's butt while she's working. I've seen her glare yachters into wishing themselves out of existence for that, and believe me, it's a sight that makes me resolve to -- one, never piss her off, and two, seriously, never piss her off." Ravn offers a lopsided smile.

Then he blinks at Nova's sudden accusation. "I'm not. I'm really not a chef, and I'm really not a cop. I'm an apprentice bartender at the Twofer. Mostly, I clean tables."

Zoey leans across the table to Ravn, "What's a yachter?" Coming from the desert, this girl doesn't seem to form the obvious image in her mind of the noun. A glance is given back to Seth, though, studying him.

"And make passable gin and tonics." Seth agrees. "As for Vic's ass, I will have to take your word on it. I'm not in the market for death at the moment, but if I ever am I suppose there are worse ways I could go. But yeah, this guy isn't a cop. If he is, his guise as a shitty bartender is impeccable."

"No offense."

"Hermana, he's too.... Stringy... to be a cop." Rekani makes a palm out wave of placation to Nova, "Plus, he homies with Aidan. Pretty sure that means he good." It was missing a few peices of connective grammar, but the statement was there. He was just finishing his plate(s) up, stacking them and pushing them to the edge, sitting back and putting an arm across the back of the booth seat as he lifts his coffee to drink.

Ravn glances to Zoey and answers her question. "Yachters are -- well, people who own yachts. Boat people, but the rich kind. A lot of them are rich people down from Seattle or up from Olympia. A lot of them think they're entitled to stare down the pretty female bartender. A lot of them realise that they are very, very wrong. Vic is not -- diplomatically inclined. To a point where the bar is actually kind of infamous for having the grumpiest bartender in Washington State, and it's not me they're talking about."

He can't help a small grin at Seth's words though. "No offense, indeed. I'm not that good at putting on a show, sorry."

Nova stands up, looking like she might slam down fists on her own table and yell across the restaurant. Instead, she takes a deep breath and moves to his table, speaking at normal volume. "No one said cocinero, I called you policía." She gives a glance of warning to the others. "Bartenders don't ask about murders to women while they are working."

Catching Rekani's words her expression softens. "You know Aidan?"

Zoey's eyes swivel, at Ravn's words, onto Vic with an arch to her manicured eyebrow. Vic is looked over in a new light, with new respect. Silently, of course. But then Nova does her soft approach and threatening voice hazed in gentler, false tones. The redhead bristles just a little bit, and perhaps entirely out of place, but now she is /staring/ at Nova like she is expecting a fight to break out. The whitening fingers around her pencil might lend credence to such an assumption, too.

Leaning back against the counter, Seth watches the goings on over at the table as he sips his coffee in between bites of bacon and eggs, amused at the entertainment which seems to die down just as things were getting interesting.

With a sigh, the large man returns to his plate of food.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry for asking," Ravn tells Nova in a slightly subdued voice; it's hard to tell if he finds the dancer intimidating, or he's just trying to avoid a shouting match alerting the entire restaurant to their difference of opinions. "I asked because my friend found the body on the beach. I told you that. The good news are, they caught the guy. Killed at least four people before they did, though. And I like to think that my asking questions bartenders should not be asking helped, at least a little. But you're right. I should not have been, I'm not a police officer, and it was none of my business."

Rekani had turned with a crooked eyebrow toward the other table, watching Nova approach with a tired look. But something about what he sees has something... off. His brows lower, and Zoey’s pencil... freezes. Just stops, like it was moored solidly in midair, like she were holding onto a bar. Rekani locks eyes on the girl, not looking particularly angry, but certainly looking far more serious.

Zoey is staring at Nova as she confronts Ravn, fully expecting some sort of fight to break out. If any movement was going to be made with the pencil, it seems that the sudden -disability- to move it, even with the most natural movement of her fingers, is what seems to draw her attention to it first. Testing, testing again, Zoey lets go of the pencil and moves her hand away from it, letting it hover there in thin air. "Motherfucker!" she gasps, suddenly climbing the fucking wall as she stands up in the boothseat.

Well, seems Rekani was a little surprised, (and maybe a little embarrassed) by the strength of the reaction. He tries very hard to look innocent and sends his eyes literally anywhere else in the Shoppe, sipping his coffee like that was the only interesting thing in a three block radius. The pencil gently drops to the table.

Now that gets refocuses Seth's attention. When Zoey has her outburst, Seth looks up from his plate and stands assessing the room with narrowed eyes.

Ravn glances from one person to the other -- he's not sure what he missed, but it's pretty damn evident that he did in fact miss something.

Then he glances around the restaurant instead because this is Gray Harbour and from what he's seen here so far, people suddenly acting angry like this means the kitchen is about to explode, Cthulhu is about to step out of the back room, or the roof is on fire.

Standing in the boothseat, back to the wall, Zoey was staring at her art pencil, then around the room. She is instantly beet-red in the face for her outburst, but neither does she sit back down. Stepping over the back of the boothseat into the next table, she steps off onto the floor, pointedly leaving her pencil on the table. The only thing that she rescues is her one earbud, and that is done with a quick, darting grab. Muttering something like "I gotta go," to Ravn, the off-duty waitress heads for the door, flipping up her hood as she tucks her sketchpad into her backpack.

Ravn opens his mouth to say something and then -- decides not to. Been there. Felt like that. Handled it the same way, too.

Instead, he says quietly, "She's rather nice. And very new in town. We must all sound to her like we're absolutely off our rockers. Batshit insane. High as kites on ritalin. I'll try to talk to her tomorrow, tell her that the lady here does in fact have a good reason to not like me very much. Even if I do happen to know Aidan Kinney, yes."

Seth watches as Zoey packs up and heads for the door, his alert body posture settling into a more relaxed one as he slowly sits back down, "What the hell was that all about?" he asks the room in general.

Nova feels Rekani has done something and bursts out laughing. A snort actually escapes her. A part of her feels bad about how shaken up Zoey appears to have been, the other found hilarity in the strength of reaction to something so mundane to her. "Okay..Okay..." Nova is gasping for air. "Mah bad, we used to get that shit all the time in Miami, it's a trigger." She glances back to Rekani. "Te amo hermano. Little strong though, scared her."

Nova shrugs and looks back to the dwindling table. "Aidan is stylish as fuck, and caliente. You cool with him, you're cool with me. Make a drink as an apology?" She winks.

Zoey hits the door and is out, her hood up to ward off the drizzle and cold as she puts distance between herself and the Shoppe.

"I think Becky by the counter might protest if I jump back there," Ravn murmurs with a chuckle. "But if you drop by the Twofer sometime they're letting me try my luck at sending patrons to an early, alcohol-infused grave, I think we can settle that debt, indeed. Seems only fair -- I honestly was not trying to start trouble. I wasn't lying about that being my first, and so far, only visit to a place like the Cabaret."

Finishing up the plate of food set in front of him, Seth pushes it away from him. He turns around and cradles his coffee in his hands, taking in the floor show as he takes a sip.

"Having been on the receiving end of one of his experiments, I would cautiously advise maybe just asking for a bottle of beer. You are less prone to poisoning." chuckles Seth. "You're at the Cabaret, huh? I haven't been there in...a long time. I should remady that some night when I am not working at the Firefly."

Sighing, Rekani watches the redhead flee the premises, looking to Nova with a guilty expression. "Yeah, fuck, I dunno. I just saw her tensing up to John Wick or somethin. I didn't think she'd flip her shit." As the hooded figure disappears into the rain, his eyes go to Ravn. "What's her deal anyways? She just moved here, right? Someone gotta clue her in before she steps through at some point..."

"That was a perfectly passable G&T, damnit." Ravn gripes mostly to himself, not very loudly and indeed not very seriously.

Then he looks at Rekani. "Basically? She's new in town and nothing unusual has happened to her yet. She thinks we're all crazy. Just as I did, I'll admit, until I found myself racing the Headless Horseman. She thinks we're pulling her leg or trying play some kind of crazy joke on her. And then you do -- what you did. That's probably the first thing like that she ever saw."

Nova continues to guffaw, clutching her side now, head thrown back in mirth. "So, you're telling me he popped that poor redhead's weird cherry? I'm sooooo telling Kip, she will find this hilarious. No wonder homegirl was freaked. Hermano has been doing that with objects since he was born."

Pulling herself together, Nova gives Seth a wide grin. "Beer is for couches, if you're out gotta be liquor! Would love for you to come out though. We like the Firefly, great shooters!"

"I'm just giving ya shit." Seth says to the wannabe bartender. "It's all in good fun, really. You're right, it was passable. At least I didn't ask for a blood orange mule, or something with more than two ingredients. Then all bets are off."

He looks over to Nova with a nod, "Sure thing. Next time you're at the Firefly and I am working, which is most of the time, the first round is on me. Just ask for Seth. I'm usually working the door, but sometimes I might be in the rigging working on the lights."

"Naahhhh" Rekani waves his fingers overhand, not having it, "That girl aint weak. She's gotta know shit. Just probs like us, didn't know shit about others." He turns his eyes on Ravn again, "First time I crossed? Literally got shot in the chest. Shit is dangerous if you ain't in on it."

Seth and Nova's side conversation gets an evenly side eye, then a shake of the head. That's his sister. Not even in the club and getting her drinks bought. Shameless.

"I might go get an actual horse and paint it scarlet if someone asks me for that," Ravn grouses quietly. "I will never understand why people insist on ruining perfectly good fruit, perfectly good sugar, and perfectly good alcohol by mixing them together. Some of those rich people out of Seattle, I swear, what they need is a bucket full of syrup and bits of melon."

He nods at Rekani. "I haven't had anything worse than a few plant burns. But I've seen people get very seriously hurt. I did warn Zoey about that -- that the dreams are real. Someone stabs you, you wake up bleeding. Thought that that was bloody important for her to know."

Nova says, "Nova squints at the people before her. "You realize every mixed drink ever is pretty much fruit, alcohol, and sugar right? Like you bartend?" Perhaps she would forgo the drink even if it was free. Nova looks to Seth conspiratorially "Maybe you are right in that I should avoid the shifts he works." "

Seth taps his nose. "I'd go when Vic is working. She seems to know her business. The teacher can't always be blamed because of the student."

He rolls his shoulder into a shrug, "Or just go to the Firefly instead. I can vouch for the drinks, and the bartenders, there."

Nova giggles flirtatiously, batting eyelashes that were either fake, or the eighth wonder of the world. "I will probably be wherever the company is the best, the cars are fastest, and the drinks are strong. You are hitting strong on two out of the three." She probably should have ordered food a while ago, but all the excitement seemed to have put it out of her wandering mind. She gives a side smile to the man. "You come to my place, I'll be offended if you don't return the favor of asking for me!"

"I wouldn't dream of doing something so rude. If I ever, or more truthfully when, go to the Cabaret, I will most certainly ask for you...Nova, right? Just want to make sure I have it correct. I'd hate to show up and ask for the wrong person. Talk about embarrassing." chuckles Seth.

"So, not to be captain obvious, but I see you and your brother are into cars. I am somewhat of a gear-head myself, but I tend to stick closer to classics than street racers. What is it you have out there?
"

Nova nods her head, confirming the name Seth had spoken. Then her face lights up with someone speaking her language. Well, cars, not Spanish. "2008 Nissan 350Z, but I did the custom paint job and oversaw the modding! How classic we talking? I'm sure some of um could race just fine. Always wanted to do more paint jobs on a classic car, the body styles scream for certain lines and images."

She moves to sit beside him, not asking, just doing.

Pulling his moneyclip from his front pocket, Seth pulls off a couple of bills and slips them onto the table to pay for his food before he turns to look at Nova, "I have a '68 Shelby GT500 sitting in the garage that I have been tinkering with. Body is in need of a bit of TLC, but she has it where it counts. Roars like a lion when you put the pedal down. I'll show her to you sometime."

Nova whistles, placing the body style in her mind. "Long, turns would be hard to drift on, but I bet she looks good on straightaways." Seeing that he is paying she gets to her feet again. "Just another reason to come find you I guess." She gives a little shrug of her left shoulder smooth in motion, characteristic of a dancer. "I won't wait too long."

Seth grins, "You won't have to, not if I come find you first. I know where you work, you know where I work, and the town isn't exactly huge. I am sure we will see each other soon. You have yourself a pleasant rest of your day, Nova. I'm sorry to bail when the conversation was getting interesting, but I have some errands to run for Felix before I head to the Club."