2020-10-06 - Drink About It

Given how strained everything including the noodle from last night's dinner had been in Maggi's life she had in fact decided to make a few hires. Davis, a man in his forties with major dad vibes is working the bar and Maggi is...Sitting in a booth enjoying her business on a night off? This was weird and something she had not done in months. Her back is pressed into the peeling green vinyl and she is sipping on a lemon drop. Black nails click as they drum across the table waiting for two of the only people she considered friends to show up.

Speaking of black her pants are faux leather in the same color with a tank proclaiming 'This shade of black I'm wearing really brings out my soul'. Blonde mane is tied in a knot on her head and she does her best to stop watching absolutely everything that Davis does. Where were her cheese fries?

Some people walk into a bar leisurely, perusing the menu on the way in, looking at the other patrons, taking in the sights and acting like they have all the time in the world. Some people are local folks, the sort that stomp in and give an upnod or say 'the usual' before settling, expecting bartenders to be mind readers. And some people walk in, heading bee line for the bar, with a rather exhausted impression. Ravn is definitely in the latter category. The tall copper blond has changed out his usual blazer for a leather jacket combination that makes him look less like a lost Steve Jobs and more like someone who's trying to dress down enough to get into a low key night club -- which the Pourhouse is definitely not (well, maybe the low key part).

He waves at Maggi in passing but doesn't stop until he reaches the counter. "Scotch or bourbon. Whatever you have, double, ice. I'm going to drink it, not make love to it, so don't bother cracking out the good stuff."

A diminutive green-headed gamer pushes her way into the bar backward, having been distracted checking some things on the phone and thus letting her butt do the work. She pauses to click through a couple more things before finally looking up, getting her bearings. She was dressed casually in a cream hoodie, jean shorts, leggings and converses. There seemed to be some rips and runs in the soft black nylons, something not uncommon for Maggi, but slightly out of place on Abitha. She doesnt bother going to the bar. Maggi was already sitting in a booth, should could probably flag someone down... If she knew them? She had noticed Ravn, and given the tone of Maggi's text, decides to slide into the booth seat next to her friend, leaving the far side for the other man.

"Who's the dadtender?" she asks the blonde, quirking a brow.

Sometimes you just need a different type of atmosphere, and tonight Seth is wanting to get away from the whole vibe of the Firefly and find something a little more down to Earth. Shortly after the others make their entrance, Seth comes strolling into the dive pausing at the door to take a quick look around as he is prone to do to assess the atmosphere and possible threats, marking Ravn, Maggie, and Abitha's locations before he continues to stroll forward to the bar-top a few spaces down from where Ravn is. The tall redhead has dressed in a fitted pair of comfortable looking jeans that have maybe seen a few washes to many, and an untucked button down shirt of a color that resembles the evening sky, something that would pass at the Firefly but is also simple enough to just be normal wear.

"Scotch, neat, and don't make me regret not bringing my own," he utters to the bartender, "But something tells me that might be an impossibility."

Maggi would be almost offended by Ravn's dive to the bar, had she not known the look of someone who need two ounces of booze stat. Davis looks like he is about to lecture Ravn on the dangers of excess drinking until he catches Maggi's glaring eye.

"The dad guy, that is Davis, and he is ummm very responsible." Not caring about yelling across the entire place, Maggi cups her hands around her mouth to magnify the sound. "Davis pour some rail vodkas for me." Maggi grabs Mac's hand and drags her to the bar despite any protests.

The brunette Davis with quaffed hair hands her four as she approaches and Maggi realized she had not specified a number. Why wasn't he a mind reader! Sliding a cheap vodka to both Ravn and Mac, she looks about as to what to do with the last. Finally her eyes settle on Seth. "Uhh, Here on the house because Davis can't count." The bartender rolls his eyes and goes to assists someone in getting drunk down the way.

"Hi, Davis. Bye, Davis." Ravn heads over to claim the seat next to the green-haired girl, well within distance to add a, "And hey there, Seth. You found the other good bar in town, congratulations. Greenhead here is Mac, blonde lady is Maggi who runs the place. Mac, Maggi, Seth Monaghan." He settles and without further ado, knocks back half his glass. STAT, indeed.

"Okay, now I feel more like me. Can I have a decent scotch or bourbon next? Something I'll actually want to taste, that is." The Dane offers a lopsided smile. "Oh, and Maggi, whatever Mac's having is on me tonight. I owe her for stalking me on social media a week or two ago."

More things that seem out of place for Abitha, there is only a suffered sigh as Maggi takes her hand to drag her to the bar, no sign of the streamer's usual touch aversion. Taking up her poured drink with a foreboding look, she cocks a brow at Ravn, eyes narrowed. "I thought you said this wasn't a date." She was probably messing with him. Maybe. She holds in a grin. She wasn't going to grin. She grins, maybe. She shakes her head and downs the shot when cued, making that telltale 'straight alcohol is less than enjoyable' face.

Then she nearly chokes as she hears Monaghan, because someone in this bar has absolutely done research into local organized crime.

Lifting the cheap vodka in a gesture of appreciation and greeting, Seth gives a smile and nod to Maggi. "Much appreciated, thanks...Maggie," the larger man says, hesitantly using the name given to him via Ravn. "I've been here a few times, but not recently. Not since I have been back, anyway, Ravn. Well, until tonight. I just wasn't feeling the atmosphere of the Firefly tonight, and the Twofer is, well, in flux."

Seth looks over towards Abitha, offering a nod. "I believe we saw each other the other day, but I don't believe introductions were given. Pleasure." He raises a brow slightly at the almost choke, "You alright? Did that go down the wrong pipe? That's gotta burn going down."

Taking the shot, Seth pours it back with a bit of a grimace, "Ok. That is going to need a chaser."

Seeing the still busy Davis chatting it up with some wino from the school board trying to live on the edge, Maggi hikes herself onto the bar and slides across while taking her own shot easily. There may be a chance she started drinking a little bit ago. What else were you going to do about trying not to wig about about your husband almost dying in a freak ferris wheel accident?

She starts Ravn a tab, hands Mac a 'Gose-Way' by River city, pours Ravn some Highland Park Magnus, and Seth...Seth gets a coke because Maggi doesn't know him like that. This is all done prior to Davis coming back looking irritated. "Move faster daddio, and I'll stay out of your space. Another lemon drop please." She slides back across the bar, Davis looking defeated. "Don't mind her, she's just broken today. Going on dates with runs in her stockings. Very out of character. Good thing Davis is here to chaperone." This is all sarcastic, but then almost everything Maggi ever says comes across that way.

"Good thing our date is the kind of date that comes in a box. Here, I brought you a date." Ravn dips into a pocket and puts a silver foil wrapped something in front of Mac. It's a date. Literally. Dad called, he wants his jokes back.

"So, in other exciting news my boss promised to shoot me if I ever actually make good on what the Enquirer thinks I did to you, Maggi. Oh, and he has a bloody huge dog." Ravn beams. "How was everyone else's day?"

Yes, for fucks sake, it burned on the way down, it burned on the way back up. Fuck, it just burned everywhere. Abitha was basically dying at this point. Thanks, Seth. For existing, or some shit...

When she was finally able to catch her breath, dabbing at the edges of her eyes (Which, damn, Sparrow, this eyeliner was basically bulletproof), she clears her throat and shoots a glare at Maggi. There’s a brief look at Seth, but it passes. She takes a scrunch-faced sip of her sour, coughs again, and peers down at Ravn’s “date” idea. After a long moment, she looks up again.

“I’ve decided I don’t know you people. Someone’s changed my memories. I’m just gonna...” She turns like she was gonna take her beer and wander off to a booth.

Raising a brow as a Coke is slid before him he casts his eyes up to Maggie, politely sliding it back with a chuckle, "At least put a little rum or whiskey in it. Do I look like that much of a lightweight that I am cut off after one vodka shot?" The bouncer chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. "I mean, I ordered a scotch, but was handed a vodka...yes, free, I am not complaining...but now a Coke? I wonder if I should feel insulted."

Seth tuns his eyes over to Ravn, glancing between him and Abitha, "Oh? What is it you are supposed to have done that is worthy of some unwanted lead added to your diet?"

He regards Abitha for a brief moment, and then shrugs as he turns to Ravn. "Well, I can say I have been on worse dates, so at least you have that going for you."

Maggi reaches out and grabs Abitha’s hood, stopping her from moving away, like a leash. The effect is almost cartoonish. She shrugs at Seth. “Last time I went to the twofer I ordered a lemon drop Vic didn’t feel like making so I got a whiskey shot passed to me. Not my tips at risk tonight, new hires need to learn the hustle.”Davis does in fact look horrified and returns with a scotch.

Maggi then laughs, a snort escaping her. “Also I unfortunately know what every bottle costs so I can only justify getting drunk on cheap stuff.” The ghostly white woman slams her fist onto the solid bar top. “Fiscal responsibility at its finest!”

A bit slower than normal Maggi sees the date out of the corner of her eye. “That’s pretty fruity Ravn.” One brow is raised in challenge. During no point of this has she actually looked at the struggling Abitha. She does speak to her without looking.

“You are much less stealthy with green hair Bit, also I need an adult. Leon threatened to drink if he came out to the bar and he really cannot on the meds the hospital put him on. What fresh hell is a historical tragedy mixed with a dream? Like the veil is on some final destination shit.” She looks a tad on the forlorn side before she perks up.

“Enough of my bitching, you all catch up on drinks and complaints. There are quotas to be met.” She squints a coal rimmed eye at Seth. “You can join if you don’t judge my bar tending by the first for actual fun night off I have had in months.”

The Dane's lips twitch into a small grin, one which doesn't diminish at all by watching the rather cartoony Greenhair capture by hood. "Let's just say a couple of people this week have placed me in situations -- mostly unintended but still -- where I have felt like I ought to wear a shirt with the print 'I only do dates that grew on trees'. Mac gets the joke, she was there for one of those exchanges. Though to be fair, I think Atli Addington just wants to talk history to another historian, and that's it. Her boyfriend -- I think -- was standing literally next to us at the time, after all, it'd be rather a dick move if she was hitting on another bloke in front of him. I don't think I need to bring an actual pack of dates."

"Although, the thing about Vic and drinks? I asked her about that. It's really not policy at the Twofer that we just give patrons whatever we think they deserve. She did that for a week to make some point or other, until she get told off for it. But the reputation sticks. I guess things might get a little more chaotic now Marshall's back -- he's kind of got that reputation. But it's Marshall's bar so... If he likes it chaotic, chaotic it is, I suppose." Ravn hitches a shoulder. "Me, I just clean tables and make bad jokes."

Adding to the cartoonish appearance of the grab, Abitha’s head and body continues on their forward momentum for an inch or two as the neckline of the hoodie stretches and drags her backward. She makes a gurgling noise, clearly just playing up the drama as her arms lift into a zombie-like straight-arm, as if she were still trying to get away from the blonde for a few more seconds. With a resigned sigh, she just brings her sour to her lips and sips, then backs up and hip-checks Maggi.

“If ninjas were stealthy all the time, you wouldn’t hear stories about them. There would just be a pile of mysterious bodies.” Said Greenhair retorts. It’s dark humor, totally appropriate for the town they lived in. Abitha remains shoulder to shoulder to Maggi, seeming to have acquiesced to the request for adulting by proxy for her friend, a familiarity between the two not seen from the gamer. “Also, he’s lived here this long, and this is like the first time I’ve heard you say he’s gotten hurt. I’ve had two concussions, broken ribs. Your man’s doing fine.”

“As for Addington drama? Who the fuck knows with that one. Pretty sure she’s like my age? And she dresses like she’s in a Talbot’s catalogue.” Abitha makes a face, sticking her tongue out. Even with the gamer’s tendency to conservative levels of skin coverage, her outfits still felt young and cute. “Maybe she thinks this is some sort of medieval family lineage thing. She knows the royal family won’t approve of a plebeian public servant.” From the word of monarchy on, her tone takes on a distinctly mocking form of British accent. It was a poor one, of course, but she was American, so fucking deal.

Seth hadn’t spoken directly to her, so she didn’t have much to say in his direction, but she did look that way a few times, keeping her face apparently neutral, not sure what to make of the man.

"And bad drinks." Seth says to Ravn with a grin. "Clean tables, make bad jokes, and bad drinks."

Seth takes the newly offered scotch and take a small sip from the glass, "Yeah, I can see how Vic might do something like that. Fair point," Seth replies to Maggie with a shrug. "No harm, no foul," the bouncer says with a chuckle as he watches the leashing of Abitha, moving to lean against the bar and nurse his drink while he listens to the other speak for a few moments before turning his head towards Abitha, "So...what's your story? The green hair is an interesting statement, so there must be something behind it...or are you one of those 'color of the week' types?"

Ravn blinks at Abitha, and then snickers into his drink. "That, my dear, has got to be the most horrifically not-British accent I have heard anywhere, in- and outside of the actual bloody United Kingdom. And yet you manage to get it spot on when it comes to the attitude. I am impressed. Also, you might well be right -- not that I know the first thing about Atli Addington, but these old families that feel a certain... bond to an area? They can be quite... something else."

Now that Abitha has moved closer, Maggi drops her grip on the hood. A salute is given to Seth with an extremely serious and militant expression at his agree-ability. She is half a sip into her newly acquired lemon drop when her brain processes Ravn's words. The golden blonde begins to almost choke, sputtering. A bit is sprayed onto the counter and she quickly reaches for some cocktail napkins to clean it up. Face reddening and gasping for air, her head whips to Ravn. The rats nest of a bun wobbling with the suddenness of the movement. "Marshall...?" Cough. "Like Easton?!??!" Cough, "Where the hell has he been?"

Literally five seconds into accepting her role as adult in this situation, and she has to clean baby spit-up. Abitha sighs dejectedly and checks Maggi first to make sure the blonde bar owner didn’t need to be dried first with the cocktail napkins, then reaches further across the bar, stealing one of the towels to wipe up. Abitha had only had a brief few interactions with the soldier turned bar owner, and simply listens to the exchange curiously. Sideways to Seth, after putting the towel aside, she flips her wavy emerald hair over her shoulder, likely from the reminder about it, “Yeah, my shop burned down. I’m reopening down the street in the old comic shop place. The One Up. Actually the first time I’ve ever colored it.”

A final check is made nothing else was slimy or goopy, because baby, then Abitha retrieves her sour for a sip.

"From the looks of things when I saw him, if it is the guy i think we are talking about, Jumanji. The guy looked like Robinson Crusoe, grass skirt and all...well until he lost the grass skirt. Some things you just can't get out of your minds eye." Seth says with a pained grimace on his face, the image of a naked Easton being hosed down by Vic's soda gun brought fresh to his mind. Nobody needed to see that. "From what I gathered during and after the gunfight over at the Twofer, he was stuck in the veil or something? I am new to all this shine shit, so don't take my word for it." The bouncer lifts his glass to his lips and takes a sip, "People seemed really happy to see him, you know after the bullets stopped flying...and here I thought the Firefly could get rough on occasion."

Tossing a couple more napkins Maggie and Abitha's way in case she needs them, Seth grimaces "Ouch. Sorry to hear about your shop, but at least you must have had some decent insurance if you are able to reopen. Sounds like a gaming shop? I've been known to do a little FPS action. Helps with the reflexes and hand-eye coordination."

"You should go say hello to him, Maggi -- he already offered to shoot me if I roofy you again." Ravn, on the other hand, is quite unflappable when he wants to be, and this is clearly one of those moments. He does not add to Seth's explanation -- probably because Seth, unlike himself, was actually there. "Did I mention I'm very glad the roofie story is over? Good. I'm very glad."

The haystack atop her head totters with another directional shift, attention shifting to Seth. Wide Icy eyes, rimmed red from coughing, widen from shrewd disbelief to the size of silver dollars. Abitha will thankfully not need his additional napkins, Maggi manages not to make more of a mess with growing incredulity. Speech seemed to still be problematic, words are difficult for babies. “He. Got. Stuck. In. The. Veil?”

The words are said slowly as though the concept was impossible. “Aidan says that’s like an endless wasteland. That is effing horrific.”
Tilting toward Ravn she adds, “Easton helped me finish my degree, in the service like Leon. I consider him a friend even if he owns an overly bougie bar.”

Green eyes keep getting distracted by flopping golden waves, brows furrowing in frustration as Abitha squints up at Maggi’s hair. She sets her sour down on the bar, reaching across to grab up to Bic pens from the check jar. Rolling up her sleeve (to reveal her own hair tie around a wrist) Abitha’s only warning is a quiet, ’Fucking hold still...’ before reaching up and pulling Maggi’s hair free. Before the blonde even knows it, its gathered, twisted, trapped in a tie, then twirled about itself. When Abitha’s hands come away, the two pens are arranged in a perfect X across the back of the bar owner’s head, holding together a neat little Asian-style bun.

One hand on her hip, Abitha picks her sour back up and admires her work.

"You roofied her?" questions Seth as he shifts his attention to Ravn, "And she still hangs out with you? What kind of spell did you put on her, man?" exclaims the bouncer before realization dawns on his face. "Oh...bad rumor.
Sucks to be you, getting caught up in a web like that. Hopefully you got things straightened out?"

Seth nods to Maggie, lifting his glass to his lips and taking another small sip of the amber liquid, "That is what I gathered. I don't know specifics, really. I just happened to be at the wrong place at the right time, or something like that. Hell, I had just went to go watch Karaoke and ended up in...whatever the fuck that was. I spent most of that time behind the bar taking cover with Vic, and drinking whiskey. I didn't feel like catching an errant bullet in my ass. "

"The person I supposedly roofied and molested just served me drinks," Ravn points out. "It obviously didn't actually happen. But I figure it's a credit to Easton Marshall that he's not shy of telling some bloke that that sort of shit doesn't go down here. Because, you know, that sort of shit not going down is indeed a good thing. Not that I like death threats but, you know, if the story had been true, I'd have deserved them."

Maggi flinches and tries to duck out of the way of whatever it was Mac was about to do to her. This is ineffective and she is in fact groomed looking about as happy about it as a cat who had gone from from enjoying life on the streets, to a rich home with baths. Half her face scrunches, corner of her mouth upward to nose, lip curling. Hunched she looks backwards in a 'Why' fashion.

Her tone is now entirely serious to Seth. "He actually did, but Ravn practices the voodoo of the old gods, I'm powerless to resist his poorly made drinks and worse puns." She cant hold it together and guffaws. "No, but earnestly, what happened to have a gun fight? Also if you play CoD or whatever wouldn't you be good in one Seth? Also Casanova, his name is just Easton you'll confuse people. People like me. He has a great heart I promise. Now I sound like a darn sorority girl getting drunk and talking about how great people are. Shot'O'Clock I guess."

Abitha smiles sweetly at Maggi in the face of the scrunch disapproval, giggling and looking to Seth after the CoD comment, “Please don’t tell me you believe that.” The gamer power fantasy about such things always brought a roll to her eyes. Honestly, it was probably the opposite experiences being true, but Abitha seemed to be keeping those thoughts under wraps. She quirks a brow at Ravn,

“Dude, you keep talking about roofying a lot for saying you didn’t do it... Like a lot, a lot.” She squints, looks to Maggi, stage whispers “I probably shouldn’t eat the date, right?” Her green eyes flit from the little tin-wrapped bad joke, to Ravn, to Maggi, to Seth, then does the whole round again. There’s a blanketing then to her expression as ‘Shot-O-Clock’ is called, a thousand-yard stare slowly lifting toward the ceiling as she prays the hangover is going to be worth it tomorrow.

“Actually, what do you play? I was thinking of getting a tournament together soon after the grand opening, I’ve been polling people to see what the favorites are around town.”

"Yeah," Seth agrees in a very serious tone as he shifts his attention from Ravn over towards Maggi, "Ravn is one with the drinks and the banter. I mean, he won over my heart with what I would call a marginally passable gin and tonic, and somewhat witty banter. It's a miracle I didn't loose all inhibitions right then and there." He looks to Ravn and bats his eyes in pleading adoration.

After a few seconds, the bouncer shifts his gaze back over to Maggi and shrugs a shoulder, "I honestly have no idea. I walked into it, literally. I opened the door, the windows exploded and there were bullets flying. I had enough presence of mind to duck, cover, and get behind something solid before ending up with holes in me that don't belong. As far as being good in a gunfight, I'd have to have a gun to even have a chance to be useful in such a thing. It was karaoke night, not shooter night, why would I have a gun?" Seth shifts position slightly in his stool, reaching behind him to scratch at an itch on his lower back.

Seth shifts his eyes over towards Abitha and chuckles, shaking his head. "No, being good at an FPS doesn't make you a marksman. For one, a game doesn't have any kickback to throw off your aim, and it is a whole other thing to click a mouse button than it is to pull a trigger, however it doesn't totally suck for hand eye coordination or building up reflexes." Not that Seth knows anything about shooting a gun. Nope. All those rumors of organized crime is his family are just that. Rumors. His uncle is just a businessman....really.

The large man shrugs his shoulder again, lifting his glass to his lips, "You name it, I've probably played it. I don't consider myself a avid gamer or anything, but I dabble. I'd probably suck at a tournament, but it could be fun to try."

"Monaghan asked", Ravn points out. "But yeah, I know. It shook me up some, not denying it."

Then Seth Monaghan is giving him the fluttery eyelids. The Dane can't help laugh. "I warned you, I'm a bartender in training. Want a world class comedy act? Come around during busy hours when the actual bartenders are on shift, you know?" He falls quiet as people discuss computer games -- not in a disapproving fashion, but rather, in the fashion of someone to whom they might as well have been discussing the migratory patterns of woolly-haired mammoths except that, being a historian, he might actually have at least some basic knowledge of the late Pliocene era.

Well if no one else was picking shots, Maggi was. "We need more of your cheapest vodka Davis!" She calls out in the poor man's direction. Four small glasses filled with the equivalent of rubbing alcohol are placed before the group as the nerd speak goes beyond her. Maggi simply shrugs at the new information on skill translations. "I see rednecks play those terrible arcade games all the time where you shoot zombies with the nerf guns that do not have darts. I figured there was a reason."

Maggi had been roped into playing a shooter exactly once by Mac. Something called Overwatch, in which she had quickly picked the most Gothic character available. Maggi had been so amused by the fact he just yelled Die! over and over when she pressed 'Q', that she did it whenever possible. The other people on her team had not in fact liked this. She then explained to Mac that this sociopath character model would never be able to function psychologically on a team so 'Fuck Um'. That had been the end of that experiment.

"Casanova, you seem like the type who would want to know as much as possible about the veil. Why no interest?"

"I'm interested in the Veil. I'm just also aware that if you put together a team of people to go kick Veil things in the teeth, I'll be the asthmatic nerd who everyone in the movie audience hopes croaks soon so they don't have to hear any more of his whining." Ravn cracks a small chuckle. "So I do most of my studying like this. I listen. I learn. I pay attention. And maybe some day, I'll know what questions to ask, and where to go in order to ask them. All this is pretty new to me, remember? I'm just a sheltered kid from Europe, I don't even understand your tax system."

He pauses. "I have been meaning to ask why you call me Casanova, though."

Maggi can go ahead and psychoanalyze Abitha’s apparent facial reactions to progressing through all five stages of grief in the time from ordering to delivery of shots. Denial there were more coming, frustration she was caught up in this, wondering if she could convince Davis to fill hers with water, devastation as the shot is set in front of her, acceptance a she picks it up and holds it stoically to Maggi to click before downing it.

This was drinking with a bar owner.

Chasing the horrible vodka with her sour, she sets the glass down gently with a shake and shudder of her shoulders, waving for Davis to bring her another sour to sip on. A look of recognition plays on her face, questions answered, or at least pantomimed, “Ohhh, it’s Seth you’re on a date with. Got it.” She makes a click of her cheek and quirks the thumb of a finger gun she points at Ravn. “Maybe that’s why. Roofying to small gifts to outright flirting.” Her pointed finger progresses through Maggi, to herself, to Seth, obviously setting the joke.

The bouncer places the scotch back down on the table, replacing it with the offered vodka. "Well, when in Rome," Seth says as he clinks the shotglass on the bar, then downs the vile liquid before chasing it down with the last of his scotch and a cough. "Jesus, that is like drinking turpentine. "

Seth stands, tapping the bar and motioning for the bartender to replace the empty scotch glass with a new one, "Uno mas. I'll be back for it. I need to go visit the facilities. Make myself presentable for the rest of my date. I might get lucky."

Maggi downs her acetone with glee, slamming the glass down on the table in triumph. Okay maybe that was the last one for a while, but Leon would only let her drink the good stuff when they drank together. She always felt a bit guilty for it. "Giacomo Girolamo Casanova" is Maggi's reply. "Earned his way with a quick set of wits, steely nerves, luck, charisma, and financial gain through gratitude and trickery. You have that look to you. Which is why your eyes on Veil matters would be a helpful lens."Maggi was now hugging Abitha. "It's okay Bit, we can be on a date too."

"So you literally compare me with the bloke who screwed his way across Europe in the time period I happen to have a PhD in." Ravn can't help laugh. Then he shakes his head. "Sorry, no. I mean, you can call me that if you like, definitely. But I paid for my hostel beds and whatnot the other way -- the cash way. Sorry to disappoint."

Good makeup meant blushes remained gently hidden beneath soft powder. Good makeup wasn’t generally applied to ears or necks, and there is a slight reddening to both at Maggi’s suggestion. Abitha seems to control the slightly awkward suggestion, opting for a more wry, “Yeaaaaah, nooooo.” While gently patting Maggi’s hair. “You two are nerds.” Why? Because she, for all her focus on other subjects, actually recognized the reference as well. She wasn’t copping to it, though. “Also, I’m gonna have to agree with Ravn on this one, if that one chick was telling the truth anyways.” Her eyes lift to the ceiling again. “Was it a chick?” She looks to Ravn, seems confused, but really can’t keep the straight face with two shots and a sour in her already.

It's entirely possible that the vodka and whiskey are doing their magic to the Danish guy too. At least he blinks slowly at Mac and asks, "Was who a chick? Casanova definitely was not a chick."

Seth makes his way back to his seat, returning from the restroom and Rikering over the stool to retake his seat. Picking up his refreshed scotch, the large bouncer lifts it casually to his lips and takes a small sip, turning to face the remaining trio. "Casanova? Isn't that some like legendary lover or am I thinking of the Marquis de Sade? No....he was that other guy. History was never my best subject."

Maggi looks on in indignation. "He was above all an anthropologist who had no issue exposing the true lives of the rich. I wasn't accusing you of sleeping your way across Europe, just being clever. My mistake." She remains grumpy for the time being, crossing her legs on the bar stool and turning a glare toward Davis. Sometimes she wondered how she even had friends given her temperament. Maggi bites the inside of her lip and sips her lemon drop, this is a poor set of decisions as one makes the other sting. "There is also a mounting list of crap for me to do over there. I want my bar name back, Aidan and I need fire to work right, and I need to punch something responsible for harming my Leo Lion." Wow, pet names, she really was drinking. Her withering gaze looks about in challenge of anyone to argue. "Their used to be a babysitters club for this sort of laundry list."

A face just as disgusted as the one that followed the paint thinner shot plays across Abitha’s face as Maggi utters the pet name for her husband. Thankfully, she keeps the comment about it to herself. “You know, the one on your social media. The student.” She was grinning evilly at Ravn, waiting for Ravn to get it and dread before she would drop his... reputation.

"... Oh god. I'd forgotten about her already." Ravn mimes face planting on the table though he does in fact stop short of breaking his nose. "You had to remind me. She was not telling the truth. I mean, the assessment may be accurate for all I know, but I never bloody slept with her."

Having nothing to really add to this conversation, Seth just leans back against the bar and sips his scotch, arching a brow at the pet name with a bit of a snicker.

"You know, Ravn, you are one of a few that I know that spend more time denying any sort of romantic interludes than trying to 'bolster their resume'. Good for you for not being a man-whore."

Maggi seems lost in her own thoughts, ignoring any comments about who Ravn was or was not sleeping with. The thing with Maggi was that she didn’t care one way or the other. Mac didn’t want the sleep with anyone, she wanted to sleep with very few, Ravn wanted to deny knowing what it was. Sure. Back to her other topic.

“That antisocial other parapsychologist ran it...” Maggi snaps her fingers as though it would come to her that way. “Minerva!” She says finally making the connection. “Maybe we could recreate a paranormal society that actually did something useful rather than gift us with remedial information.” The blonde sounded bitter about the way it was previously handled.

Finding the faceplant a sufficient display of anguish caused by her trolling, Abitha leaves off with a slight grin. She then blinks, now connecting the dots between Maggi's babysitters club reference. "Oh! Yeah, I went to one of those." She sips her sour after finally hopping up onto a stool next to Maggi, "I mean, I got the idea. But yeah, I learned all the stuff she went over in like my first two weeks of leaning about the town."

"My 'resumé' is fine as it is," Ravn murmurs without lifting his head; might as well give Mac the full value for her money with a bit of theatrics.

Then he does sit back up and upends his Scotch -- if everyone else is drinking paint stripper he might as well get in on the fun. "Having some kind of newbie helper club might not be a thing as it happens. Heaven knows there's a lot to learn when you come into town. If you were to end up actually discovering something useful on the way, that wouldn't hurt either, would it? I keep getting told to see people like Eleanor Røn and Harper Price about it too -- they've got some kind of... committee? Something? Should talk to them. Pass me a bloody vodka before Mac gets back into her troll groove."

Not really having that much to contribute at the moment, since the topic is just a bit out of his wheelhouse, Seth resides himself to sitting quietly for the moment and listening while nursing his scotch, since he is all out of paint stripper.

Maggi waves her hand dismissively, a gesture she typically suppresses. With the other she slides Ravn's shots down to him. "The are just like...the Veteran's? Not a bad idea though Casanova. What about like voluntary mentor program meets special interest groups for when there are specific problems? Ya'know because there are always problems..." She squints at Seth once more. Apparently judgement was the main trait that came out when she drank. "Monaghan, don't act above it, you're shiny too."

The cheese fries arrive at about this time and are immediately raptor attacked by the voracious judgmental blonde. The civilized hair did not a lady make.

"I dunno...." Abitha leads, "Honestly, the whole deal with the shop burning down, getting it back up and helping out at the precinct, I'm not sure I've got the time to train up scrubs that walk into town..." The gamer looks leery about the idea, "And with what they're saying about balloons and circus shit about the other side?" There's a shake of her head. She waits for the opportune time to snag some carbs, careful not to lose a finger to the cheese fry predator.

"Balloon and circus shit?" Ravn quirks an eyebrow. "You know, that is one thing I've noticed in this town. There's a group of people like us who are in the know. And then there's the rest of us who have no idea what they're talking about. Someone was telling me to talk to a Veil librarian the other day and I'm pretty certain that they were not talking about Miss Price at the Library. Most people don't seem to get these memos and updates at all, shine or no."

He tosses the vodka shot back. "Which honestly bugs the hell out of me because I hate having to rely on other people saving my bacon -- if they can be arsed to, and remember."

"I may be shiny," says the redheaded bouncer, "But as I have been telling people, I don't know shit about it. I had an episode once when I was a kid and when I tried to talk to people about it they told me I was crazy so... Wasn't till the last week or so that I even started to admit I saw anything odd." Seth picks up the glass in front of him and takes a sip, winces, then shrugs as he tosses the whole thing back and places the shot glass back on the table. "So, I just don't talk about it because I don't have anything to say, not for any holier than thou attitude."

Maggi slams her fist holding the lemon drop down on the bar, causing it to splash about. "Exactly Seth! Thank you for proving my point! People who don't understand what is happening are uncomfortable with an integral part of themselves. This includes self defense as Ravn pointed out. Which is why he would be in charge of pairing newcomers with someone who isn't Mac. Mostly because she would hate it." Realizing the sloshing, she shrugs and flags Davis down for another. She does slide a fiver forward for the mess though. "We need to be aware and prepared."

It probably says a lot about a person in the way they deal with shock or surprise. In Abitha's case it was a sudden flinch, a turning of her face, eyes screwed shut, nearer arm raised to defend, but strangely emitting no sound. When she cracks an eye to check the damage, she bashfully tries to hide the reaction had even occured, blushing, looking away. She does look back as Maggi gets on about it though. Her brows quirk in concern, lifting the index finger of her hand and opening her mouth as of she were going to interject about the pairing, then looking relieved and confirming when Maggi preempts her remark, nodding and finally taking a sip of her sour again. The order to Davis is accompanied by a stealthy mouthing of the word 'Water!' And a point to herself and Maggi. Hydration was key to less brutal hangovers... If she could convince Maggi to drink it anyways.

The Dane blinks slowly at the bartender. "Wait, what? Me in charge of -- what, no, heavens, no, I can muck up anything I'm put in charge of. I'm a professional drifter, you don't want me to take responsibility for anything you want to still be here in three weeks." He hurries to secure another of those paint stripper shots. Responsibility is a terrible weight to place on a man's shoulders.

"Self defense I got down. Part of the job requirement." Seth chuckles, motioning for another shot himself. "Hell, I've promised Ravn here that I would teach him a couple of moves to help try and get his ass out of the fire, should he find himself in a situation to be able to use them. What I don't have a grasp on is all of this other stuff, and when I have asked I get told I shouldn't use it in the first place because it draws the bad guys, or whatever. But then I see people using it like they don't care, so it gets my limited brain functions all confused. So should I learn to use it, or shouldn't I?"

Maggi side eyes Mac's reaction but begins to sip her newly acquired martini without mention of it. Instead, she focuses on the men folk. Raising her glass with a hand around it, a black chipped nail is pointed in the Dane's direction. "False." A list is begun. "Boat, cat, friendships...You actually enjoy talking to new people, and there is next to no one that you do not get along with. You are hired. I call law of social responsibility."

She takes another judgmental sip of her pale yellow beverage and eyes Seth, having moved on so that Ravn cannot argue. "I'm going to read you if that's cool, just try not to fight me?" No further explanation is given here, instead, her gaze intensifies. Icy blue gaze seems to garner some unholy azure fire behind it.

Maggi's jaw drops and she is momentarily speechless. Her eyes cease any special quality to them. "Holy Hell man, you're almost as capable as I am." She finally breathes, raising an eyebrow. "Being able to perform psychokinesis, break bones, or repair and heal is pretty amazing. If you get sucked into a dream it might do you better than a punch."

Abitha’s eyes sweep back and forth between Seth and Maggi, that look gaining a touch of an apprehensive nature. Gangsters with superpowers were already a problem. She didn’t know a Monaghan had them. But... Could she believe he was actually concerned about the other side? She ears... “Well... So like... Yeah, using your power here is a risk. It’s like... shining a flashlight and They see that and come lookin’. But... Sometimes you Dream. And I mean not like you lay down and your brain makes stuff up. You literally just drop into somewhere else. Sometimes it’s hella dangerous and you need that little extra... stuff we got, to be able to handle it.” Sip. She was getting wordy. “Thing is, using what we got over there, if they made the Dream, they feed off your use of it. It’s kinda like... damned if you do, damned if you don’t. That’s why you’re gonna have people go back and forth and say use or don’t use. The biggest, most frustrating thing is we only know like, this much.” She holds up her finger and thumb, not a whole lot of space between. “Basically just enough to stay alive when shit goes sideways.”

Ravn stares blankly at Maggi, silenced by the fact that she's got a point. Boat, cat, friendships indeed. He's met two people in Gray Harbor so far that he considers not quite acceptable, and out of those two, Gina Castro is at least interesting. Maybe he needs to adjust his world view a little; his usual tenet of I know no one and no one knows me is starting to sound not very convincing to anyone at all.

"I'm not -- very good at this," he eventually murmurs in vague protest. "I steal small things. That's all I can do. I suppose I can greet people with a smile and tell them welcome to Gray Harbor, avoid the murder motel and the omelette, but when it comes to all the questions like that --" he nods at Seth who did in fact just ask some of the questions Ravn would not be able to provide a proper answer to "-- I'm as lost as any other new kid in town. Every so often I hear folks toss terms about and I have no idea what they're talking about. Archivists, exorcists, veil librarians, names of Addingtons and Baxters that have been dead for a hundred years or longer. And what's even possible -- breaking bones, reading minds, throwing fireballs, what have you. If somebody needs a nut stolen from under a cup in a boardwalk hustle, I'm their man. Otherwise, though, I'm so far out of my league here that asking me how stuff works is like asking Vladimir Putin for a lecture on LGBT rights."

Seth lifts his hands in a placating gesture. "I don't know about all that, lady. As I said, I had an episode once probably close to two decades ago where something strange happened, a fire started without really any way it could have. When I went to talk to my cousin about it, he just looked at me like I was insane, so I never talked about it again till recently, when I heard Ravn over here talking about weird stuff to someone else. So all this talk about powers, shine, dreaming and whatever else is all new to me. I don't know anything about psychokinewhatever or breaking bones." Well, not with his mind anyway. Give him a baseball bat.

He turns to Abitha but speaks to everyone. "I've never had one of these 'dreams' you all talk about, and I have never consciously used any power that I know of. I wouldn't even know how to use it, even if I knew what 'it' was. I know less than Ravn over here, and from what I gather he knows fuck-all." Seth sighs, picking up his next shot and slamming it back. "He knows at least how to use his 'gift' or whatever. I've seen the shit he can do."

Maggi gives a deep sigh and downs the rest of her lemon beverage, licking the sugar from the rim. Davis takes the glass and hands her a towel in the way of 'Clean up your own mess', with a shake of his head. Maggi cocks her head in a silent, 'This is fair'. She begins to slowly wipe up any stickiness on the pocked wood, a difficult feat in the Pourhouse. Maggi side eyes Mac, silently pleading for help with this, awaiting her interjections as she tries her best to foggily explain. "You guys are framing it wrong. It's abilities you have. You don't think about how difficult or not it was to learn to walk. People who knew how just helped you to realize how to do something you were built for. Some, don't even need the help...they just 'do'. Some people have better balance than others. Barring any disorders that would prohibit it, you're walking. Everyone has things they pick up more naturally. Sometimes you don't realize your potential for something till you try it."

The cloth is tossed back to Davis, falling short and landing on the floor behind the bar. "Seth, just because it hasn't effected you yet doesn't mean it won't. It's wearing seat belts to avoid dying in a car crash..." Maggi looks him up and down like this may be a poor analogue, Seth probably didn't wear a seat belt. "Just because it hasn't happened doesn't mean it won't. You guys don't have to know everything, you just gotta take steps."

Abitha can only answer with a shrug, not even knowing how it was Maggi wanted her to help. She assumed it was that she had to lean over the bar and grab some sanitizer and spray it so Maggi could wipe it up. Yeah, that was the ticket. She finishes her sour and waves an empty glass to Davis for another.

“She is right, though.” she starts, peering down at her own legs, finger poking at one of the small holes in the stockings, making a metaphor she didn’t even realize she was making, “First time I slipped into one, I was literally having a normal conversation on a sidewalk.” Her eyes flit to Maggi, “Alexander, August, Abby...” She pauses, frowns, shakes her head as a the alliteration of their names hits her, then goes on, “Then suddenly, no one had faces, and their were Christmas elves attacking. I booked it. I was convinced I left those people for dead. I could have been killed for separating from the group.” She takes a sip of her drink, shrugs, “Obviously two of those dudes are pretty hard to kill, but still... Knowing what I know now it would have been much less dangerous.”

"'The shit I can do' meaning, I levitated a fork for thirty seconds," Ravn murmurs drily. "To me, it's something that's always been there. Drove my parents crazy. Drove me crazy that the only person besides myself who seemed to notice or remember was my mother. She didn't do things but she did remember, and we had some quite impressive shouting matches about it. I guess you're right about that, Maggi -- some just do. Even if their doing is low power compared to most."

The Dane doesn't sound particularly bothered by the fact that compared to most of the gifted people in Gray Harbor he is indeed a spark, not a flame. Maybe he's not quite bothered by the notion of being, figuratively speaking, a single hazelnut sitting around a buffet table of delicious chef's crowning achievement level dishes. He looks at Seth and Abitha in turn and says, "I heard an opinion on that, the other day. That maybe we should not warn new people about this at all. Let them go on being ignorant because the odds of getting noticed by the The Them increases with their use of power. I'm in two minds about it because I can see the logic of ignorance is bliss -- until the manure hits the fan and they're helpless because no one told them how you have to work through a dream to get out on the other side, or that injuries sustained in one are real."

"Yeah, but most everyone I talk to about this says taking steps and by that, I mean using the power, is bad and draws in the big nasty things that then lead to the whole 'dreaming' shit. Then the very next minute I see them hovering a fork like they don't care if it does make them a beacon." He shifts his gaze over to Ravn for a moment, arching a brow in a way that says something like 'Yeah, like you...''. "But then others tell me I should learn. So I don't really know which fucking way to turn. Do I learn to use this shit or not? If I am going to, like you say, get pulled into this shit anyway then why shouldn't I use it? But if using it draws the elder gods, or whatever, then isn't NOT using it the better course of action? It seems like one very big catch 22 to me."

He looks over at Abitha as she explains her first Dream, his left eyebrow arched. "Christmas elves? That just sounds ridiculous...not that I don't think it happened. I just saw a guy escape from a game of Jumanji, so why not elves. So how did you get out?"

Seth points to Ravn, "See, that is what I mean. Some people say don't use this, some people say do use it, some people don't practice what they preach and do the opposite of what they tell you to do. It's all one big clusterfuck and a newbie like me to this shit has no idea who to really listen to, since there are no real authorites on the subject matter. Even the so called authorites don't seem to know the answers."

Maggi squints one eye at Ravn, almost in disbelief at what he was suggesting, the idea tasting sour. "That last part is kind of why...That's kind of jacked up, like telling a homeless person what they have to spend their money on." The idea of some poor person losing an arm because they didn't know they could defend themselves and no one bothered to teach them sounded...Elitist? Hypocritical? "I think they at least deserve the chance to make the decision for themselves, especially because there are not currently a ton of solid answers."

The concept dug in for further discomfort the longer she mulled it over, a splinter pushed further into a finger. The ones with the knowledge were the ones deciding for everyone else in that scenario, another type of wealth inequality. She shrugs at Seth. "You decide to do what's right for you. I use mine pretty rarely personally, doesn't mean I haven't used them trivially. It's just uncommon for me. I want to make sure I will be able to take care of myself if I need to. Moral quandaries are subjective. I've seen people who didn't even believe they had powers sucked into situations though. You decide where you fall for yourself. If you want help with learning what you can do though, I'm offering." Maggi crosses her legs. She wasn't some big authority, just a person who wanted as many people to get through this life as they could.

It probably seemed hypocritical that Abitha was now toying idly with her wavy, emerald hair, sweeping her hand up, back and around, letting it fall over one shoulder. She props any elbow on the bar as she shifts her posture into an off-kilter lean, the lazy pose maybe the first indication the little gamer was hitting her buzz.

"Dude, right? Fucking christmas elves. Only like..." She points to her face with an open hand, "Totally black eyes and way more teeth." She shakes her head to banish the thought and takes another sip of her drink.

"I just ran for it. Only time that ever actually worked. Usually, the only way is through."

She seemed content to let Ravn and Maggi keep arguing specifics, that way she'd have less ultimate responsibility to Maggi's wild plan.

Ravn looks at Seth again with a somewhat wry expression. "Yep. That's about how I feel about it as well. Big bloody catch twenty-two, indeed. Also, 'Robin Williams' turned out to be my boss and that was one interesting conversation to have the next day at work. Never bored in Gray Harbor, indeed. Personally I am happier for knowing. If a few people had not told me about this, and indeed, shown me a few things, I would probably have died in my first dream experience simply because I would not have understood what the hell was going on until the Headless Horseman took my head off. I was on a forest path hearing ominous music and hearing the sound of hoof beats. If I had not been told, I would have assumed that I was asleep and probably just tried to roll over and go on sleeping."

Seth listens, rolling a shoulder into a shrug as Maggi offers her services in learning how to use things. "Sure, why not. I mean if you say I have this power, and that it might someday be useful then I should learn how to use it. I'll take you up on that. I figure at the very least it can't hurt to have that in the tool shed in case I need it."

Cocking his head, the enforcer turns to Abitha, 'What do you mean? The only way is through...what do you mean by that? I don't understand."

The redhead's eyes shift over towards Ravn, reaching up to rub at his chin. "Wait, you were serious about that? The headless horseman came after you? That is...random."

Maggi let's Bit field the curiosity she had sparked and is now simply watching the ping pong of conversation. She more or less felt satisfied with having Seth lean toward the concept of self defense and she would revisit the idea of Ravn being in charge of a buddy system when she was more on the sober side. Maggi had already decided visiting Easton was a must and loses herself in her own musings for a few moments, poking at the protrusions in her hair. Ravn was soon to gain the name Ichabod over Casanova at this rate.

Abitha issues another frustrated sigh, more at the information and its vague nature and less at the fact she had to explain something to Seth. Again, her hand finds its way running through the bottom tips of her verdant hair as she talks.

"Like, again, there's not like some universal rules to like anything, right?" Her speech was starting to gain a bit more unneeded thought break interjections as the drinks came on. "But usually there's some sort of like goooal or objectiiive, like, something you gotta fulfill to be able to go home. Like video game levels or some shit."

Another shrug, another sip of her sour... At least there weren't more turpentine shots.

"One time, I had to pass like three puzzles challenges? Another time we were stuck in a hotel and had to find the right door. Only way is through."

"I was very serious about the Headless Horseman," Ravn confirms and tosses back his shot of paint stripper vodka. He coughs at that and makes a face; it's definitely not something you'd drink for the pleasure of the taste. "The second time one of these dreams happened to me was just a few days later, and I was turned into a merman. And then, Aztec gods and zombies. And after that -- I'm not even sure if the last one actually happened, or I just remembered something that happened a long time ago. I kind of think it was a dream because it is simply so very implausible that I would actually remember meeting someone who lives here in Gray Harbor now, but in Denmark, thirteen years ago. Or that I didn't remember it until, well, now."

He spins the empty shot glass on a fingertip as if doing so is the easiest thing in the world, particularly when you're wearing gloves and can't actually feel the blessed thing. "I should go talk to her about it. She'll probably laugh at me but what the hell. It's Gray Harbor, shit's weird, and it's not like I've got anything to lose -- people already know we're all weird here, what's a bit more weird gonna do."

Those vodkas are starting to make a dent. He still manages to add, "There's usually some kind of story. A plot. You have to get through it, to get out on the other side."

"Shit."

That is the only word that makes its way out of Seth's mouth for a moment, as he mentally contemplates what has just been told to him about the Dreams. He looks to the bartender, lifting his shot glass asking for more of the stripper alcohol because now it is just about getting as drunk as possible. Waiting for the bartender to refill his glass, Seth pulls out his wallet, tosses a plastic card onto the bar, "Just leave the bottle," he says as he looks to his companions, "And bring a second."

"So," the enforcer says as he looks to Maggi, "When do we start? I've got mornings booked taking Ravn over here to the gym, and my nights tend to be busy with work but I can make time. Sounds like I need to brush up on things for sure before I end up in my own personal video game hell."

Seth pours another shot from the bottle, topping the little glass before sliding the bottle down the bar towards the next person. "Sláinte," he says as he lifts his glass before downing the shot.