2020-09-29 - Girl Meets World (Again), Possibly Escapes on a Greyhound to Portland

The morning rush is over, the tables are left stacked here and there with syrupy plates, used glasses and wadded napkins... and behind the counter, Zoey is looking over the mostly empty cafe with a sigh. Now is the laborious part of the morning, cleaning up after everyone scatters to their individual daytime activities. Chewing on her bottom lip, the girl pushes up off of her hands and grabs a bus tub to start her rounds to clean up the tables. Since she is the short-shift waitress, it falls to her to do so while the other waitress takes a break.

Breakfast that someone else cooked is a good thing. More so when they didn't cook it in the small kitchenette of a small sail boat, either. Maybe this is why Ravn Abildgaard is starting to make a habit of just nipping past the Waffle Shoppe in the not too early morning, when indeed, the main rush has cleared out and getting a table is easy. He does live just down the road, more or less -- the beach and the marina are close by. The only place to eat even closer to his boat is the Two if By Sea; they serve excellent tater tots but breakfast food is perhaps not the beach bar's forte.

The Dane turns up in the wake of the lumber industry going to work, wearing his usual black turtleneck and blazer -- this bloke either only owns a few outfits or he's got no imagination whatsoever. He's got a copy of the Gazette under one arm and wanders up to the counter with the expression of a man who knows that there are two kinds of coffee in this world: The miserable instant coffee he's got on his boat, and the real deal, which they have here.

As she is stacking dirty dishes into the large plastic tub, Zoey looks up as Ravn walks in, a smile softening her face in relief. This morning's already had it's fair share of demanding, distracted people barking orders and demands, so here's hoping that Ravn's not in a similiar mood. "Morning," she calls over from the booth that she's tidying up, "Pick a spot, I'll have coffee to you in a sec."

For the second day in a row Seth makes his way through the front doors of the Waffle Shoppe, pausing briefly at the threshold to take in room. Sliding off the sunglasses off of his face, he hooks the arm through the neck of his button down shirt, and strolls forward. He is dressed as he usually is, which is in a pair of jeans, a button down shirt, blue this time, with a navy blazer over it, capped off with a nice pair of loafers on his feet.

He makes his way over towards the counter, offering a nod of recognition to Ravn and Zoey as he sits down into one of the stools furthest away from the front door.

Ravn beams at Zoey in passing -- so much for a possible bad mood! -- and wanders over to flop himself down next to Seth. Maybe he figures that it's easier to caffeinate everyone if they line up like baby birds waiting for mum (just, please, don't regurgitate breakfast into their faces). "Good morning -- goodness, Monaghan, you look like you're the one who should be living on a boat, not me." Beat. "Sorry for running off yesterday. It got a little too... crowded for me towards the end, there."

At least the countertop seating area is kept clean, well, cleaner than the tables. There are random spots of syrup, sometimes, to be found. Morning rush hour at the Waffle house tends to be hurried, to say the least. A moment later, Zoey is behind the counter with two coffee cups and a carafe of blackblood, "Morning, gentlemen." There is a tone of warm appreciation to her voice as she pours.

Watching Ravn as the Dane makes his way to come over and sit down next to him, Seth smirks at his comment. "Hey, maybe I never grew out of my Don Johnson phase. Don't judge." Seth pauses for a moment, lifting a hand to comb it through his short-cropped red hair, "It's no worries. I don't think anyone paid it any notice, to be honest. I tied up Nova in a car conversation and as far as I could tell everyone else just kind of trickled away.

He turns to Zoey as she approaches, giving her a smile. "Mornin'. How you doin'? You ok? You, uh, seemed a bit freaked out yesterday when you bolted out of here."

"Nova doesn't like me a lot, in case anyone missed that memo," Ravn murmurs and then gratefully focuses his attention on the coffee that he is being served. Real, black, and just like his soul, indeed. Or at least like his t-shirt. "Also, nothing wrong with Don Johnson. Unless you have to listen to his record. Then there is quite a lot wrong with Don Johnson, indeed."

Zoey fixes Seth with a look that is iced in a warm smile, but there is a guardedness to her, "Sure am!" Lies. Any trained eye can pick out the tension in her, the rabbit-about-to-bolt aura that the girl has about her. "I saw a spider," another lie, something that seems easy for her to do in moments like this, to protect herself. "Waffles?" she asks, as chipper as the day is long. Letting the two men slide into their conversation, she puts down the coffee carafe on the countertop and pulls out her order book, already writing down blueberry waffles and extra syrup for Ravn, a patient look given to Seth as he 'decides'.

"Yeah, what's the deal with that?" Seth asks Ravn as he picks up the freshly poured coffee and takes a sip. No grimace this time, so it either must be better than yesterday, or he isn't letting it show. "Did you serve her a mixed drink?"

He glances over to Zoey keeping his face neutral as she lies to him. "Yeah...spiders are the worst, aren't they?" He doesn't call her out on the lies, so maybe he just isn't that perceptive. "I think I will have the same as yesterday. Pair of eggs, over easy, with a side of bacon, and hash browns. In fact, maybe you should just 'pencil' that down as a regular order for me. It is unlikely to change."

Ravn seems quite content with the idea of waffles, all the waffles. He's the tall, skinny type and he can certainly afford to pick up extra calories; one could get the impression, looking at him, that he skips meals -- although not so much out of financial struggles as just forgetting to cook.

He shakes his head. "I asked her questions about a dead man. Turns out that's something you just don't do at strip clubs. How the hell was I supposed to know? I've never been at an American strip club before. She thought I was an undercover cop trying to bust her on -- I don't even know what I supposedly was busting her for, but she certainly wasn't happy about it."

Zoey is nodding to Seth with his order, giving him a smile. Tapping her pencil eraser to her temple, she gives him a nod of understanding before scribbling it down, turning to the order window to submit the two new orders. Once that is done, she slips out to clean up two more tables, finishing that chore of the morning. Now all the empty tables are cleaned, scrubbed, sanitized and restocked. The redhead could almost dust her hands in triumph. Instead, she leans against the front counter again, just to subconsciously be close to two people that she seems more comfortable with around here.

"Well, even I have to admit that is a very odd topic of conversation to be having at a strip club, man." Seth chuckles. "Actually, I would go as far as saying that is probably as far down the other side of the sliding scale as you can go. Usually, topics at a place like that are more..." Seth continues, rolling his hand in the air as he tries to find the appropriate word until he finally shrugs and just says, "Sexual."

Seth takes another sip of his coffee, "But you know, if you want to talk dead bodies while you have a lady grinding on your business, you do you. I am not one to judge a lifestyle choice."

Ravn can't help a chuckle at the mental imagery there. "The dead bloke had a membership card to the Cabaret, that's why I went. I think I'd prefer to do neither. They caught the serial killer anyhow so the whole trip out there was an exercise in futility as far as I am concerned. Still, it's bloody Gray Harbor -- you go looking for mysteries largely so you don't risk them looking for you, right?"

He glances at the waitress. "Hey, pull up a chair if you're allowed. It seems pretty quiet in here now -- no one minds if we have a drink and a chat with the patrons at the Twofer during quiet times, don't know if it's the same for you. Of course there's the whole bit about bartenders being the really cheap alternative to a shrink, but eh, what can you do. I'm pretty good at listening."

She shouldn't be surprised that there's a strip club here, being since her last two residences have been Vegas and LA, so they're sort of an accepted way of life. The conversation makes the corner of her lips curl upward, but still she tries to stay out of it. Just cleaning and tidying as the two talk, gleaning rather concerning local news, filling in the gaps that the papers didn't discuss.

Finally, as Ravn encourages sitting down, she glances back into the kitchen and then around the cafe. "Let me clock out," the redhead says quickly, removing her apron and heading into the back to officially put herself off-duty (and slip her meal order into the mix on her way back). Emerging from the back, she slides onto the stool next to Ravn and breathes a sigh of relief.

"You saw the body? Man, that must have been a trip. I don't know how I would handle that kind of thing." Lie. "I would probably lose it." Another lie. "How did you find the card? What, did you go rifling through his pockets? Hell, it's no wonder she thought you were a cop. I might even think you were a cop at this point. It doesn't normally fall on a bartender to go hunting for a killer, ya know?"

He pauses to take another sip of his coffee, "I mean, I am no stranger to Gray Harbor, but I can't say I go looking for mysteries around here. It's never a good idea to poke your nose into places."

"I, er... Yes. Actually. I did hand his wallet in to the police, I just... looked at it. First." Two facts established very quickly in that sentence. One: Ravn Abildgaard put his nose into something that was absolutely not his business. Two: He's an absolutely shitty liar and doesn't even bother to try. He shakes his head. "I've kind of come to that conclusion since then, yes. It was just -- the park ranger who was the, what would you say, the bloke in a position of authority, he obviously wanted us to take a look. In the kind of 'I'm going to just turn around now and absolutely pretend I'm not seeing all you people with the shine do your thing, please don't take all day' kind of way. So that's what people did. I don't know. It seems like life here often involves a lot of finding the balance between trying to sort out what's going on before it blows up in your face -- and not ending up arrested. I'm probably just going to walk away next time."

He shoots an apologetic look at Zoey. "The people here who do the... shine thing, look out for each other a lot. But most of the people in Gray Harbor don't have it, and we are definitely not exempt from the law. This was not the most fun conversation I've ever had with a police detective."

Looking across Ravn to Seth on the other side as he speaks, Zoey's gaze slips back onto Ravn, perhaps reconsidering him in light of Seth's words. Silently, she eavesdrops-while-included on the conversation, at least until their orders are put up into the window. Jumping up from her seat, she slips behind the counter and gets things ready for the two boys, putting their orders before them.

She's a smart girl, however, and is picking up on what Ravn is explaining to her. "So," she chances slowly, looking at them both and keeping her voice low, "This 'shine'.. is that what you call it?" It's the tone and diction of a person who is carefully broaching a subject like one would reach for a coiled snake, "Like... it's a thing, here?"

Seth looks between the two people sitting with him and falls silent for a long moment, keeping his coffee mug to his lips as an excuse not to talk. Finally, he lowers it and sighs, "Ok,...what is this 'shine' thing. I mean, when I was a kid I knew something was weird, but when I tried to talk to my cousin Felix about it he didn't know what the fuck I was talking about so I just shut up and never talked about it again. But now, at least with you two, it seems to be some kind of open secret and I would really like to know what the fuck is going on in this place."

"People use different terms for it. Shine is just what I hear the most. Some say light, or sparkle, or aura, or the Art. One guy I know hears it as music -- and me, I feel it like a heat or a presence around people. That special something which Gray Harbor draws in. When you've been here a bit you start to realise just how many foreigners Gray Harbor has, for instance. Half of the bloody UK is here. I'm here. Met a guy who came over from China to be here. It's definitely a thing." Ravn picks up his fork, speaking in a tone low enough that perhaps not everyone around the trio need overhear everything. "Most people don't have it, though. And the ones who don't -- don't have these experiences. Everything is normal to them. It's a kind of open secret -- to those of us who have it. Those who don't, won't remember. I'm sorry if I sound like I have no bloody idea what I'm talking about or how it works, I only got here a month ago myself and half of it makes no bloody sense to me either."

Oh, if Zoey could kiss Seth for just bringing it all out into the whispered open like that. Her hero! Braver than she for asking the direct questions, her eyes sparklet at him in silent thank-you. All while listening to Ravn's explanation. Turning slowly to get her own breakfast from under the heat lamps, she gathers a few packets of jam and ketchup before making her way back out from behind the counter to her claimed seat.

Preparing her food, the redhead listens, "So that's what happened yesterday? When ...what's his name froze my pencil?" There. She'll add into the honesty.

"Shit, you know more about it than I do," Seth says as he picks up his fork and cuts into his eggs, letting the yolk flow out over the rest of the food on the plate. "I just know that when I was a kid, I kina set something on fire, only I didn't have any matches with me at the time. It only happened the once and it freaked me right the fuck out and it hasn't happened since, nor have I talked to anyone about it since, but when I look at people I see the outline of flames around them. Like invisible ones, almost like a heat shimmer but more like if flames were made of seethrough glass. Just really the edges of the flame show. I don't know any better way to describe it....anyway, I see that. Some people have larger flames, others smaller, and then most people have none at all."

He shakes his head, picking up a piece of bacon and chomping down on it, "And now I feel like an utter loon for even talking about this shit, which is why I never do."

"Like this." Ravn puts his fork on his plate. Then he extends his hand over it, palm down.

The fork floats up into his grip like he was some kind of Jedi.

"Only, with a hell of a lot more skill than I've got. I do parlour tricks. Some people do -- a lot more than parlour tricks. Some people heal life-threatening injuries, or throw things around like they got lost from some superhero franchise. I know someone who was cured of drug addiction this way. I've had people in town speak to me in my own language, picking the words out of my head. I'm not one of those people. But yes -- like that." Ravn looks from one to the other, almost a little sheepishly. It wasn't a very impressive trick, at least not by Gray Harbor standards.

Seth gets the most sincerely meant nod in the history of man. "I know. You feel like it's absolutely insane. I move small things. You -- start fires? Because why not, crazy as it sounds."

Zoey is the definition of 'listening intently' as she puts ketchup on her hashbrowns with cheese, leaning toward the two as they talk, just rather stunned at the revelations. Finally, she puts down her fork and takes a deep breath, burying her face in her hands as she sobs once or twice. Quickly recovering, she sniffs, says after another breath, "I thought that I was crazy. Cursed." Closing her eyes, she laughs a bit, "Nice to know that I'm not. Right? I'm just as crazy as everyone else, and god did he scare the shit out of me yesterday." Looking to the other two, she shrugs, "I've never met anyone else."

Seth shakes his head. "I just thought I had some kind of brain damage that made me see shit. Some kind of tumor or something pressing in just the right spot that made me see weird auras. At least I know I am not totally messed up, at least not like that. Ever since Felix told me I was talking crazy talk I just shut it all away and never tried repeat the whole fire thing. Not sure even now that I may not be having some sort of fucked up shared hallucination that I want to. But yeah, at least I now know I am not alone in this."

Seth takes another sip, "So, you are telling me that everyone I see that has this weird aura around them has this shit? But they all do different things with it?"

Ravn glances at Zoey with a slightly concerned expression. Then he decides against trying out reassuring hugs or whatever other gestures of sympathy might be appropriate, and just takes a deep breath instead. "I know. I thought I was the only one. That there'd be me and Uri Geller bending spoons for an audience and they proved him a fraud years ago. We are not crazy. But how the hell do you explain this to someone from out of town without sounding like a perfect loon?"

He puts his fork to use (the normal way) on his waffle. "So yeah. That is pretty much what I'm saying. The people with the shine or the aura, or however you perceive it -- they've all got something. Some are strong, some not so much -- me, I'm a pussycat with a parlour trick, bloke like Rekani yesterday is a powerhouse. Not everyone knows about it. But they all see weird things and have crazy experiences, and when they try to tell somebody 'normal', people just don't remember, or the evidence is gone, or whatever it bloody well takes, the Veil will make sure news don't get out."

Zoey frowns at the mention of Rekani's name, doubly so for him being dubbed a 'powerhouse'. She stares at her hashbrowns for a moment, "I hate bullies." She just blurts it out there with a touch of venom to her voice, "What she did yesterday, what I /thought/ she was going to do?" The girl looks at Ravn, "I was going to stab her if she lunged at you. I wasn't expecting ... well, what happened." Putting her fork down, she sighs and leans back on the barstool, "I just hate bullies."

She would likely despise him if she knew the 'real' Seth, but that is a bridge to cross some other time if it ever comes to it. "I think that might actually be why the guy froze your pencil in the first place. He thought that is what you were going to do, so he prevented you from doing it. I don't know, maybe he can read minds as well. Sounds like there is a lot of things that can happen around this place. After y'all left, Nova didn't seem so bad, really. Talking cars she seemed almost pleasant, if not a bit well, rough around the edges."

Seth looks to Ravn and nods, "Well, that would explain why Felix thought I was a loon, but then promptly forgot about the entire conversation."

"I'm not really keen on the idea of getting punched in the face either, so -- thank you?" Ravn looks surprised, as if the idea that the dancer might actually have entertained the idea of physical violence simply had not occurred to him. He frowns lightly. "I suppose that -- that might have happened. Another good reason to avoid the hell out of that strip club. I'm not exactly Fight Club prime material."

He isn't. Tall, sure. But on the skinny side, and with that air of never having made his living doing manual labour, unless you count juggling bottles to entertain the tourists. Some people just have that absolutely harmless academic, white-collar air about them, even when they wear a black turtleneck. Maybe he once called someone a mean name on Twitter. "I am thinking about taking a self defence class," he murmurs. "I finally managed to find someone running a gym who has this thing too. Because yes, that is definitely an issue. You think you're telling someone and twenty minutes later they say 'nice chat' and get on with their lives like nothing out of the ordinary happened. I had something happen to me -- for some reason a lot of folks seem to think that I am some kind of Swedish celebrity. I asked this girl who's great with social media for help. Long story short, even people I bloody well grew up with in Denmark are convinced I'm Swedish Gordon Ramsay."

Oh. What Seth assumes. If he only knew. Zoey nods soberly to his comments, realizing with a start that that could totally be a thing... having her mind read, and it hits her with the surety of fact like a thrown brick. It actually drains a bit of the color from her face, her hand covering her mouth as those eyes wander in thought. It's like opening the blinds on a bright summer morning, and the redhead is blinking in the light of possibilities, as scary as they might be. As if from a dream, Zoey nods to Ravn's words, "Maybe I'll take it with you." She isn't exactly a scrapper, either, Nova would've tore her /up/.

Seth shrugs, "I mean, I am not the instructor type but I do know my way around a gym, and I have been known to throw a punch or two in my time." Or three, or four. "I, uh, do work as a doorman so you kind of need to have a few skills in that area to be effective. I could maybe show you the basics at the very least."

The 6'1", muscular redhead with callouses on his hands from years of manual labor, among other things, rolls his shoulder into a shrug, "I'm no Bruce Lee, but I get by enough to be effective." With or without a baseball bat, crowbar,...or a gun. "It will be at least something you can use. It might not be as flamboyant as a martial arts movie, but flamboyant and effective are two different things."

"I'm pretty sure somebody told me that mind reading is not a thing. But picking my own language out of my head, and reading my emotions, I've seen both of those happen, so what the heck do I know." Ravn seems -- not so bothered as one might have expected, about the idea of someone poking into his private thoughts. "There's an unspoken code here, too. Probably not a community anyone wants to piss off, not with the kind of power some people have. Me, I will glare at you in a very disapproving fashion, before stealing your pen or something."

Ravn waves his fork slightly, dripping syrup. "I don't imagine Gray Harbor is any different than any other town. It has its tough guys, no doubt, and some accountant doing double book keeping, a doctor selling prescriptions under the table, all that. But when it comes to the Veil, people here watch out for each other."

Then Seth's words causes the Dane to look up with interest. "Might be an idea. I'm a bit wary of signing on for a gym proper -- I'm asthmatic, and I have yet to find the instructor who can bloody well understand that if I say I can't breathe, then no, I cannot just 'push through it'. What I at least would be looking for would be, I don't know, some way to knock people flat, give me a chance to get away. I'm never going to learn kick boxing or karate or what have you, I'd lose my breath five minutes in."

Zoey leans forward to look at Seth (over Ravn's plate) down the counter, "I'd be up for that, too," as she agrees with her one friend so far in this town. Then she adds in, "I was thinking of joining a gym or something, and after yesterday? I really do think that learning how to throw a punch or kick would do me wonders. It'd also get me out of my room on some days." Mostly stirring the food around on her plate with the tines of her fork, she leans her cheek into the heel of her hand, mulling things over. Looking to Ravn, "We just do it at a pace that works for you, is all." Simple things said simply.

Zoey stands up from her stool and wipes her lips with a napkin, "Excuse me. Little girl's room time." A polite way of excusing herself to the bathroom, a good time to do so. Hopefully something in the food wasn't off!

Quick and brutal, that is his style. Why postpone the inevitable longer than it needs to be, right? "I can teach you that in about 5 minutes," Seth says to Ravn as he takes another sip of his coffee. "I mean, I can teach you what I would do, and the technique. The effectiveness of that technique might take a bit longer to master. Even someone with asthma can take down someone in about 30 seconds if they do it right."

He looks over to Zoey as she leans over Ravn's plate. "Um...careful. You about to get syrup all over your...shirt." Seth clears his throat and, lifts his cup to his lips to hide the grin, taking a sip before lowering it again, "But yeah, she's right. And done properly it might even help build your stamina and help with your asthma."

"I reckon that might be a good thing to know. Never needed to know something like that before, but here?" Ravn shakes his head. "Used to be the thing I worried about most might be a librarian complaining I brought a book in late. Things are a bit more real here. I had a dream experience where people around me were taking down zombies and I... Well, I glared at them really hard. In a very disapproving fashion."

Somebody does seem to have a bit of an issue with the idea of not having the first idea of what to do in an actual fight.

"The basic premise is simple. You want to disable your opponent before he disables you. There are three main areas of attack for that purpose. Throat, groin, and knees. Any three will usually drop someone, no matter their size, as long as you get a good and solid hit in. Doesn't matter how big someone is, you take out their knee they are done." Seth says matter-of-factly, taking a bite of his breakfast after he finishes talking. "You get more than one of the three strikes in, you should be able to get away, as long as they don't have a gun. None of this is good against a gun unless they are just an idiot."

Deja vu comes knocking, and today, it's grunge! That is, Gina walks in again this fine brunch hour, her purple hair in a loose fishtail braid laying heavy over one shoulder, wearing a black hoodie whose rips have been artistically stitched and patched back together with teal, purple, and deep green threads, wide and heavy, a pair denim shorts barely visible beneath the mid-thigh length hoodie (though that doesn't matter: she's also wearing thick black knit leggings), and hiking boots. Nothing but a nude lipstick shade today, and her eye shadow/liner game is - as always - on point, today the eyeliner done with unique spikes and curves that extend to cheek and temple. It's not really out of place, considering... Gina. She breezes through, ignoring everyone in the room in favor of the counter as is her wont, and not even bothering to glance around until she's ordered her food.

"I bloody well hope I'll never face off with someone who's got a gun," Ravn murmurs. And then adds, "Again."

He glances in the direction Zoey wandered off to, presumably to do something work related or have a quiet breakdown in the women's rest room. Then his attention is drawn by the new arrival; Gina gets an upnod and Seth gets a nod in her direction. "This one -- need to hear about these things from someone actually in the know, she's it."

Zoey comes back from the restroom, still wiping her hands on a paper towel that gets tossed into a waste basket behind the counter before she comes over and sits back down. "What I miss?" she asks innocently, as though it were a reflex, taking up her fork to once again attempt to eat.

Seth's eyes snap up to the front door as it opens, his eyes tracking Gina as she walks in and makes her way to the counter. They stay focused on the grunged-out-girl for a moment before dismissing her as an immediate threat before looking back to his counter companion, Ravn. "Yeah? She seems like such the open and willing to talk kind of sort."

He shifts his eyes back over to Zoey as she returns, "Nothing much, I was just telling Ravn about the three points of attack on a person to do the most damage as quickly as possible."

"Oh, she is, if you want to hear about what an entitled, privileged ass you are." Ravn winks good-naturedly at Gina; he doesn't seem to actually have a problem with her beyond a slightly bruised ego. "Hey, scary lady, you can have my chair if you like. I need to get back to the Twofer and start my shift -- there's a big karaoke thing tonight and I need to clean everything so it can get properly messed up."

He leaves payment and tip on the counter and, in leaving, brushes a couple of gloved hands over Zoey's shoulder in some sort of reassurance. "It's going to be fine. That's what it says on the town sign, right? Everything is fine." Then he's off like a cheap dress on prom night.

Zoey blinks at Seth, laughs a little, "Damn. Light waffle conversation if I ever heard it?" A small chuckle, but then Ravn is getting up and leaving, and Zoey damn near slightly panics, "Oh. See you later?" Her tone has that 'Please?' sort of tone to it, her hand touching his gloved on her shoulder, "Okay, bye." Of course it's silly to be accidentally clingy, but Ravn's the only friend she's made in this bucket of crazy, so far! A look to Gina, a swallow, and the redhead turns back to her cold eggs and hashbrowns once more.

Gina doesn't react to the wink or the offer of the seat. She sees him-- she's looking right over-- but it's just an unblinking stare for....a little too long, eyes following him out. Only when he leaves, and she takes her plate and glass, does she walk over and settle down at the table-- at not Ravn's spot. "Hey." GASP A GREETING.

"It also says that on the meme with the dog sitting around while everything is on fire!" calls Seth out to Ravn as he leaves. "Or something close to that anyway. I am not some god damned meme catalog."

Turning to Zoey, Seth shrugs. "It's no worse than the other topics of conversation that have been going on this morning. All I said is that if you take out the knee, groin, or throat you have a good chance of taking down your attacker, regardless of size."

As Gina makes her move to sit close to them, Seth nods in greeting. "Hey. So you're the one to talk to about all this hoodoo around this place?"

Gina sits down right between Seth and Zoey, causing the off-duty waitress to look at her for a moment, "Hey." It's a wary sort of tone, a neutral word, as the girl is unsure just yet how to interact with the horrible creature from rumor. But, at least she is polite, right? That's a first step in making acquaintances. Looking across Gina to Seth, she nods just a bit, slowly, looking him over. Knowledge of that level is new to her, and him having it and sharing it seems to form more opinion of him in her secret mental files. Eyes linger on him for a moment before a bite is taken of her breakfast.

"No." Gina's bluntness is frank, matter of fact, as she picks up her knife and fork and starts preparing her meal - today it's toast with butter and jam, sausage, scrambled eggs, and a small dish of fruit. "I'm retired. I don't involve myself in bullshit around here unless I have to." Her dark eyes rise to look right at Zoey, however, sharp and assessing-- but uncomfortably so, as if Zoey is more an object she's considering the worth of, and not a person. With a not-quite-stifled sigh, Gina does add, "But new people who don't make me want to strangle them our first meeting, I'll sometimes answer questions for. If only to stop the misinformation campaign of Captain Ignorance and is unwarranted self confidence in how right he is."

Wow, Gina's such a sweetheart. "I've been around a while. And I'm in a good mood. Anything you want to know, or you want the usual spiel?" Said much as if she's asking if Zoey or Seth want to hear the local town motto, or the price of the cheeseburgers.

Seth shrugs, "Consider me a blank slate in all of this nonsense. I had an episode once a long time ago, and haven't talked or spoken to anyone about since, until about an hour ago. I'm pretty much new to any and all of this 'shine' shit, or whatever Ravn called it." Seth takes a sip of his coffee, "So, I guess the 'usual spiel' is good for a start."

Zoey's chewing slows, then stops, as Gina stares at her with those cold, shark-like eyes. Leaning back away from her, she finishes her bite and swallows before reaching out to palm her teacup and sliding away from Gina to the next stool quietly. She doesn't say anything, instead preferring her blush of embarrassment to die down before she attempts speech with someone so forward and blunt. Take it away, Seth!

Gina's eyes slide towards Seth, something.. complicated in them, and the thing on her lips could be called a smile, if one was feeling particular generous. "Aren't you a lucky fuck." She notes, before her eyes go back to her food, the smile slipping away and returning to her usual apathy - because her general attitude is dismissal and apathy, not necessarily hostility. Unless approached. You know, like large cats or lazy predators. "Basically, nobody knows shit about how the Veil and this world connects, how our freak flag flies, why we're freaks, or any of that shit. There's a shit ton of theories out there, though, and everybody's gonna sell you on theirs being the right one, because most humans are shit with dealing with the unknown and can't handle the undefined." A mocking smirk tilts the corners of her lips up, slightly. "Shit everyone agrees on, names aside, is there's the Veil, which is-- think fucked up Wonderland. And there's us, here, in this world. We're not separate. It melts into each other in places. But some places it's more connected, easier to cross through, and the veil's really potent there. And one of those spots is Gray Harbor." Gina takes a bite of her buttered and jam'd toast, chewing for a moment.

Seth says, "Ok." says Seth as he sets his coffee down and turns to look to Gina fully. "So, there is a parallel dimension or some shit like that. And this place has a thin barrier between the two? Is that this gist of what you are saying? Because that sounds pretty fucking far fetched... But then again so is starting a fire by thinking about it when I was 13."

Seth sighs, leaning back against the countertop and folding his arms over his chest. "And nobody knows why this shit happens? Nobody knows why Ravn can float forks, or people can freeze pencils, or whatever? And yet everyone seems so bloody willing to talk about it here. Hell, when I tried to talk to Felix about it, he looked at me like I was a young dumb kid, so I just shut up and never spoke of it again till now."

Zoey stares at her plate as Gina explains so openly, so honestly. It's shocking not only /what/ she is saying, but /how/ she is doing so. Consuming silently, she sits there with an unmoving fork, her mind far away from food and instead feasting on the inside information that has been a few days coming. Ravn had told her that Gina was the resident expert, and here she is teaching class, even if it is a tutoring session. Nodding to Seth's words, she seems to mimic that sentiment.

"No. I said there's the Veil, and there's here." Gina clarifies, setting down her toast and starting on her eggs, separating a bit and cutting her sausage into pieces. "I didn't say shit about parallel dimensions. Every fucking person in the deep and low can give you their theories, and parallel dimensions is one theory. I'm telling you what know." There's a sharp look up at Seth and Zoey, to see if they understand the distinction, but her eyes go back to her food as she continues, eventually. "Those in the deep and low - the people who shine, sing, glimmer and gleam, the Artists, the Blessed, the Damned, the Colorful, the Shockers, however the fuck your mind processes, the ones who've got the freak in them, can do weird things. Powers and abilities. There's like, repetitions and commonalities in abilities, but this shit isn't easy to measure and it's not exactly a science. We'll get back to this," A little twitch of her fork, slapping aside powers for now, "The Veil protects itself from the outside world, usually, but at thin points, people with the Strange can pick up on it. Normal people can't handle the Veil at all. Their brains will fill in freaky shit with whatever else it wants to. Like how your brain assumes that right behind you the diner continues, and there's a ceiling above you, even though you're not looking at it, because obviously it makes sense there is. So. Outside of the Close Places, the Thin Spots, you'll forget aaaall this shit."

Her eyes go back to Zoey, just then, and smile. "Still not too late. If you pick up and run, the memories of here will fade, eventually. You'll just remember an awkward practical joke and a few weird people, but not why everyone was weird. My dad Gray Harbor a year ago after living here all his life. He barely remembers there's something disturbing about this place, these days."

Seth furrows his brow, listening to her explain again. "So, if I hadn't kept coming back to Gray Harbor to see Felix, I wouldn't remember this shit? I wouldn't remember that incident when I was 13, but because I did come back all the time, I just kept remembering it? That is so fucking weird. But everyone that has this fire around them has some sort of power? People that don't, don't... I guess that makes sense, as far as how any of this makes a lick of it."

Zoey catches the look from Gina and she nods absently. The fourth person now to tell her to pick up and GTFO. Part of that seems to make sense to her, but part of it makes her prickle at the bully-ish way that Gina (and others) presume to know what is best for her. She ducks her gaze back to her still-full plate. She's only eaten a bite or two, literally, in the last two days now.

If it helps, Gina's tone was just a little more... mocking than it was serious. More daring, taunting, than demanding she pick up. A grim sort of game, though by no means is Gina... not a bully. Seth's question is met with a short nod, "Pretty much. The longer you stay away, the more you forget. The longer you stay... the more you remember." The last said... almost gently. Ominously, almost. With that little mocking smile still in place. Another mouthful of food, Gina taking her sweet time and not at all put off from her eating. Used to all of this, which falls like common sense and simple advice from her lips. "Anyway. Veil and Freaks are intertwined. Dunno how or why. But you're stronger here than out there. You'll also start Dreaming." A small snort, before she has another forkful of food. "You might find yourself slipping or pulled into the Other Side. It's really rare for that to happen outside of Thin Places-- or, one theory says, for you to remember it outside of Thin Spots. But the short version is - sometimes you slip in by accident, sometimes things pull you in because they want to feed on your drama. The more attention you draw to yourself by using your freak, the more they'll come looking for you. Any more questions?"

"That's what he meant," Zoey breathes under her breath, pushing her nigh-untouched plate away, the food cold and ketchuped, but otherwise abandoned due to lack of stomach. Both of her hands go to her forehead, rubbing at it as she squints and sighs, "This is crazy." Defensive. Unbelieving. But then, "But if it's all true, then why here? Why us?" Us. Including herself, voluntarily, into the Freaks bucket.

"Dreaming? What do you mean by that, because I am pretty damned sure you don't just mean falling asleep and having a nice dream about America's Next Top Model or something like that." Seth mutters as he grabs a slice of bacon from his plate and bites down into it. "And what do you mean getting pulled to the other side? Things just come and snatch you over there? Or you can like trip and fall in or some shit like that?"

Seth casts his gaze over Zoey's way and nods. "Crazy is one of the lesser words I would use for this. That's like calling the Titanic just a boat."

Gina shrugs, "Not really crazy. Just life." Gina says, sounding... way too blase about this, probably, for anyone's tastes. "Not really into the big philosophy questions. And like I said, there's a shit ton of theories out there. Pick one, make one, go wild. If you can solve that shit, congrats, maybe try curing cancer or finally resolving the creationist vs evolution argument, hear they keep asking those same questions." The great thing is, Gina doesn't even sound sarcastic. Her deadpan is really perfect enough for a chef's kiss.

But at Seth's questions causes her to sigh, softly, with the restrained impatience of someone who has dealt with toddlers before and is just used to it. "Maybe it won't happen to you-- dunno what life's like for the less deep ones." Is that an insult? "The more of the Strange you have, the more obvious you are to whatever's on the other side, AND the more in tune with the Veil shit you are. Takes you longer to forget things. But you Dream more often, and shit finds you faster." A pause, as Gina takes another sip of her milk, before saying, still in that casual, almost bored tone, "You ever stare into a mirror until you don't recognize your face? Or realize you're halfway done getting dressed because you were on autopilot in the morning? SOme days you zone out, fall asleep, whatever, and when you wake up and look around, you're somewhere else. You disappear from your bed. You turn a corner and leave reality. You sleep and... well. Wonderland. Dream. The other side. Anything can happen. You get hurt there, you're hurt here. My personal theory? We're part of the Deep and Low or the Glimmer and Shine, and so it can take us back for a little while. It's just sometimes, something pulls you back in, because we're enough of there for them to do it, and enough of here for our weird ass complications and feelings and shit to be delicious."

Wow. A /huge/ amount to think through and understand, Zoey's expression seems to build to. As though there will be a test later, and there will be. A life test, surely. SOmething in her resulting expression might imply that she is re-thinking her decision to come (or stay) in Gray Harbor.

"Well, that is as good as an explanation for this shit than I had earlier," Seth says with a roll of his shoulders. "I mean, I knew some weird shit happened around this place, but I never knew it was THIS weird till now. So I guess the next question I would have since we apparently all have this power is how do we control it? I mean, I haven't set fire to anything in years, and even then it was an accident. I have never consciously tried to do it, but then this guy yesterday freezes a pencil so it couldn't move, and Ravn did some shit with his fork by choice so I am guessing you can control it if you want. Or is it better off not to even, since you just said that if you do thinks come after you?"

Seth looks over at Zoey, "I don't recall. Did you say what happened to you? And what about you, Gina? What happened to you?"

One shoulder rises and falls in a half-hearted shrug. "I'm not who you ask about basic power control shit. I don't remember learning. I've always shone." The words are simple, flat. One day, perhaps even now, they'll put enough pieces together to realize the full weight of that statement. "For as long as I can remember. Sometimes it happens that way. There's also puberty and some dramatic shit happening to you. But if you practice-- remember. The more you use, the more like a snack you look. Though, I guess you're both weak enough it might not matter." It doesn't even sound like she wants to be insulting.... she just is stating facts.

SO MUCH to work through for a girl who never grew up /around/ the Shine, as it's been called, but always tucked herself away from people /because/ of the Shine. So much to process, to understand, to piece together. It'll take a bottle of vodka and a few quiet nights to figure this shit out, but Zoey's prepared. It's a crossroads moment, and for her, one that she teeters at falling either way. Either she'll show up for work tomorrow, or she'll be on the bus to Seattle, Olympia, Vancouver, somewhere well away from Gray's Harbor.

Standing up from her seat, she interrupts Gina and Seth's conversation, "I'm sorry. I have to go." Her brain gauge is at full.

Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, Seth produces his money clip and starts to peel off some bills, more than enough to cover the other meals and not just his own. "Well, good for you I guess. Thanks for the overview. Least I can do is get your breakfast for you for taking the time for an info dump."

Tossing the bills onto the counter, Seth picks up the mug and drains the last of the now cold coffee from it. "Alright. See you tomorrow, Zoey. The coffee was much better today, but I think it is time I switched to something a bit stronger."

Gina smirks, shaking her head at Zoey's quick getaway. "Kind of curious if she'll be here." Gina muses, before rolling her eyes, "You do you. I'll pay for my own lunch, but you can tip one of the waitresses if you want. Maybe save it for the redhead."

Ravn wanders back in. He wasn't supposed to. And he looks a tad miffed, at that. Flopping down at the counter with an expression of 'please let me find someone deserving of a punt in the teeth' he murmurs, "Coffee. And then I call a bloody mechanic."

Arching a brow as Ravn walks back in, Seth retakes his seat at the counter and looks over to the Dane, "Car trouble? Need me to take a look at it? I've done some time working as a mechanic and would be happy to take a look." The large man, reaches up and scratches at his neck for a moment, "Or I could drive you over to the Cabaret and we can find Nova. I'm sure she knows a thing or two about cars."

Gina can't help but raise both eyebrows at Ravn's frustration, glancing up... and smiling, just a bit, at his anger. Seth's offer has her rolling her eyes and looking back to her rapidly emptying plate and cell phone, "Just can't stop running towards me, huh birdboy. Sadly I'm currently interested in other people." Deadpan. Impossible to tell if she's joking or serious.

"Good lord, man, we just met. At least let me annoy you enough for you to hate me properly before you plan my murder by exotic dancer." Ravn makes a face at Seth. Then he shakes his head. "Car's a cheap rental. I mean, I'm sure you could figure out what's wrong with it, but I am sadistic enough to think the bloke who rented it to me should also have the trouble that goes with it. At some point I need to look into finding something more permanent. Something not a rental, I guess."

Maybe it's the frustration of a broke-down lemon. At least he throws Gina a lopsided grin and replies, "I awake at night, dreaming of your tender touch. Fortunately I have pills to take for anxiety attacks like that."

"Hey, death by an exotic dancer is like on my top 3 list of ways to go, only slightly under drowning in a good 40-year-old whiskey, but definitely higher than dying in my sleep. Unless of course I am dreaming of an America's-Next-Top-Model girl at the time, then it is most likely a tie." chuckles Seth. "But whatever man, just thought I would offer. You want to handle it, far be it for me to step in the way."

The large man glances between the Dane and Gina, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the countertop with a grin, "Oh, now this just got interesting."

"Don't worry, I hear that a lot of men your age have that problem. Pills are really an acceptable way to deal with that kind of anxiety." Gina informs Ravn, so matter of fact. Not even a smirk! Just that shallow, false sympathy that in no way rings true... and the slight spot of amusement in her eyes. Very slight. "Besides. I've been told I'm not particularly tender. I just make other people feel that way."

"Gina, for when you need your backside tenderised." Ravn grins as the waitress who took over after Zoey provides him with fresh coffee. Then he glances at Seth and hitches a shoulder. "Gina thinks I'm an arrogant, privileged idiot. I mean, that's a reputation to live up to, right? Did she tell you two useful things at least? She is probably one of the people here who knows most about what's actually going on."

"You live on a boat with no shower. If that is privileged I don't want any part of it. Showers are important." Seth says as he flags the waitress down for another coffee refill himself. "So, what did you do to this nice, young lady to garner such a reputation. I mean she was nothing but a font of useful information and helpful tips. I don't know why you are giving her such a ration of shit."

"Not really sure either," Gina says, glancing towards Seth, her expression still unchanging. "Think it's like pulling a girl's pony tail in grade school? He does seem to care an whole lot about my opinion of him." Gina finishes her glass of milk, reaching for a napkin and dabbing at her lips. "And you seem to have a weird ass idea about what I know. I'm retired from shit around here. If you wanna know current stuff, go see one of the others."

"Go order her omelette at the Black Bear Diner some day. You'll know what I'm getting even for. Trust me." Ravn sips his coffee with an innocent expression. Then he wipes off the grin. "I'm glad, though. I wouldn't have told you two to talk to her if I thought she'd just jerk you around. Thanks for helping them -- and me -- out, Gina. Getting the facts straight here is a pretty big deal."

Seth gets a grin over the rim of the mug, though. "As it happens, I consider myself privileged to live on a boat with no shower -- although the no shower bit was admittedly not what made me pick it. I grew up sailing a boat like that, I got nostalgic about it. Some blokes want to drown in forty year old whiskey, I want to disappear at sea, sailing a King's Cruiser 33 into the sunset. Preferably with not too many exotic dancers on board, mostly because she only bunks four -- six if they're very, very friendly."

"Maybe," says Seth as he glances over at Gina. "Like the kid dipping hair into the ink well, or something like that. He's got a crush and doesn't know how to express it like an adult? Or maybe he just really doesn't like you." Seth pauses for a moment, "So, if I did want to talk to someone else, hypothetically, who would I go talk to that isn't you?"

Turning to Ravn, Seth shrugs one of his shoulders, "Six sounds about the right about of exotic dancers for that type of cruise then. Do we fire flaming arrows at it as you sail off, so you and all yours burn on your way to Valhalla as well? Or is this just one of those 'mysteriously vanished at sea' kind of deaths, where nobody ever truly knows what happened?" Not that Seth has any experience in that, nope.

Gina shrugs, "Smart people don't bother with me one way or another. Better for everyone." How... oblique? But Gina's attention does slowly turn towards Ravn, "You realize the omelette was a you problem, right? You said you were warned, you did it anyway, you ate it. Probably better if you get even with your self first." A small shrug at the thanks, "Half the time, facts are useless until you experience some of it first hand." Pushing her chair back, Gina angles it so she's balanced on the back legs of the chair, her other leg up, knee bent, using the chair across from her as a pushing-off point, so that she balances precariously. "I dunno. Like I said. I'm retired. Follow your instincts. You know who falls in the deep-- you just don't know you know it yet. Find the deeper guys, ask them."

Ravn can't help another small laugh while shaking his head good-naturedly. "I feel that as a folklorist I should point out that 'viking funerals' are largely a modern invention. Those viking jarls and kings worthy of one got buried in hills, with their boats, horses, and various servants. Please don't bury me and my boat in some hill nearby."

More soberly he adds to Seth, "The people whom I have also found to be very helpful have names like August Roen, Itzhak Rosencrantz, Aidan Kinney, -- and Vic Grey whom you met yesterday. But I think anyone who's been here for some time can help. Heaven knows I'm only stumbling along in the dark myself, I still don't understand half of what the older folks in town are saying half the time."

"What is the deal with the omelet? I mean, it's a diner, right? Shouldn't the omelet be something of a second nature to a short-order cook?" Seth asks with a confused tone to his voice. "Or is there just something I am not getting in regards to this? Some sort of in-joke I am not privy to?"

Seth turns to look at Ravn, "Spoilsport. What if I wanted to shoot flaming arrows at your boat? Why you gotta hate and tear dreams away from a guy? That hurts, man. Really hurts."

"The omelette diners meet all FDA requirements and are prepared in the traditional culinary fashion." Gina says, in a monotone of someone explaining something endlessly. And then shrugging, "Dunno, our cook's just shit at omelettes but good at most of the other stuff. It's not something I'd order." And she OWNS the place! She gently rocks herself back and forth in the seat, hands in her hoodie pockets, "Roen's not bad. But he treats this shit like some amazing mystical bullshit half the time. Rosencratz I've never worked with. Aidan's an optimist." And from Gina's tone, that's like being a crazed axe murderer or a luddite. "Don't know Grey much. Don't really feel the need to."

"The Bear's omelettes were literally the first thing in Gray Harbor anyone warned me against," Ravn murmurs. "That's why I had to go and try it. It's, uh, an experience." The other man's crocodile tear woes prompts an amused look. "If you sink my boat, then my employer will have to find somewhere else to do her star gazing. That means she'll be a sad employer. That in turn means I will be a sad employee. So, no sinking the Vagabond. Aidan being an optimist is what I like about him."

"Fine, fine. No sinking the boat." Seth sighs with an exaggerated sense of disappointment. "But I am sure there are many other places around here one can go stare at the stars. I am positive your boat isn't the only place that can happen."

Seth looks between the two, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion, "Ok, I'll admit. I am now curious enough to try one of these omelets to see if they are really that bad, or if they are actually really great and people are just saying they are bad like some convoluted dad joke." The bouncer rolls his shoulder in a shrug as he sips his coffee, "Out of all those people you named, I have at least met Ms. Grey. Maybe I will see if I can't ask her sometime. Perhaps I will stop by for a drink tonight and see if I can't grab her after her shift."

"You do you. The reviews are out there. If you wanna test this shit yourself, nobody's stopping you." Gina points out, before looking towards Ravn, "Doesn't make it any less your fault when you get exactly what you were told you were gonna get." And then her eyes slide away, though she keeps rocking in her chair, slowly, just a bit at a time. "You would. I find them irritating and loud." The front legs of her chair slam down as she stops balancing, with an audible THUMP, both feet hitting the floor. "Anyway, I'm out." An announcement of her status, or that she's leaving? Either way, probably the first time Ravn has heard her declare her departure.

"You should. It's karaoke night at the bar. Which means I'll turn up sometime in the morning to clean up the mess, drag the last sleeping people out from under a table and clean the men's room with a flamethrower, but also that it's a good time to catch Bennie and Vic both. Bennie being the owner, Vic being the senior bartender. Both are pretty knowledgeable about town though Vic doesn't strike me as someone who sits around piers at night, stargazing." Ravn glances at Gina. "You're right. My fault. Still terrible. See you around?"

Seth casts a glance over Gina's direction as she makes her departure known. He casually lifts a hand in a brief wave of acknowledgment, "Alright. Later, Gina. I'm sure I'll be seeing you. Small town and all. And I will heed the advice about the omelet. Perhaps you can recommend something else that doesn't taste like ass."

Seth raises his brow as he turns to look at Ravn. "Karaoke? That has some interesting possibilities, the very least of which is seeing who can actually carry a tune. Sad to hear you won't be there to serve drinks though. I can't harass you."

"Threats aren't nice, birdboy." Gina says in response to Ravn's goodbye, and just...walks away.

She left money on the table, too, to ruin Seth's good intentions.

"I play a little. Violin, for my own amusement. Enough to know that you very much don't want to hear me try to carry a tune." Ravn shudders at the idea of himself equipped with a microphone and an obligation to sing. "And I in turn very much don't want to hear drunken strangers try, either. I don't like crowds much,. Turning up in the morning works for me, even though I'll probably have to kick out a few people following the -- oh. Right. Right, I forgot. That's the other piece of advice I got here pretty shortly upon arrival. Most people cope, apparently, by drinking a lot and screwing a lot. I haven't been following that one myself but as you say -- you do you, if it works for 'em, power to them. Anyhow, no one else wants the clean-up shift and I kind of like it."

"Fair enough," says Seth as he looks to Ravn. "Maybe I will order a decent drink this time, something with three ingredients," is added with a grin.

As Gina leaves, putting down the money of her own, Seth smirks and makes no move to recover the extra fund on the table and leaves the extra money on the counter as an added tip, so take that Gina! Good intentions are unaffected!

Seth stands, adjusting the blazer so that it falls over his torso properly, "I don't sing myself, but who knows...get me drunk enough and I might think I can carry a tune. At the very least it will be amusing to go people watch."

Ravn grimaces. "Too many people for me. It'll get crowded, the Twofer's bloody popular. But have a good one -- there's some good people there, and you can be pretty sure that a surprising number of them have the shine. Good place to make friends." He seems inclined to remain a little longer, possibly to sulk into his coffee about that rented car and its inevitable break-down.