2020-10-11 - What We Fight For

Nothing like long shift to leave one feeling drained and in need of something. Looking like he's showered quickly within the last 30 minutes, Devlin makes he way into the Waffle House on a quest for food, though perhaps feeling social as he plops at one of the larger booths. When the waitress comes by, "Hot tea for my start, possible a few others from work might show. Give me a few to find what's left of my brain and gut to decide on something to order."

The door admits one folklorist by Ravn Abildgaard a few minutes later. He walks with a slight limp as he steers towards a bar stool. "Please, all the coffee. Black like my soul." And his jacket, and his turtleneck, and his jeans -- there's a theme here.

Only after securing a generous mug of coffee does he look around, almost as if looking for somebody. Upon not seeing them, however, Devlin gets an upnod. "I know you, don't I? Paramedic? Right man to know when you need yourself scraped off the sidewalk?"

Devlin glances over and nods, "Yup and I left my good scrapper at work.. the dull dirty one is in the jeep though" He gives a bit of a grin that suggests perhaps his humor may be recoverable or recovering depending on one's point of view.

The waitress comes over with a tea pot for him, "There you go hon. And I'll try to keep the customers in line," she teases the paramedic. "You need your time off too. No need to have someone choking on a hotdog again.."

When only one half of the Gyre family cooks (proficiently), and that cook is only availed of half of his hands, one assumes there was a significantly small amount of cooking going on in the home. Thus, one particular locksmith in need of some breakfast carbs has but few options. Arm still in a sling, Leon pushes his way through the front door to the Waffle Shoppe. As usual, even if he’s been here a hundred times, you can always notice Leon’s eyes always check the locks and hinges of an opening he walks through. After that, he’s glancing around, picking out Ravn and Devlin easily.

An amicable grin on his face as always, Leon ambles over, also lifting his chin in greeting, and unceremoniously sliding himself into the booth, unasked. “Long time, no see, McCloud. Mornin, Abildgaard.” Ravn’s usual complaints of mispronunciation of his name find no traction with Leon, the locksmith’s diction of the former name always surprisingly accurate. “What you fellas up to this mornin?”

"Suffering." Ravn cracks a lopsided smile accompanied by a wince. "I decided to take self defence lessons. I think lesson number one was, 'it's a really bad idea to stay still'. I swear, Monaghan only tapped me a few times to prove a point and I still feel like I've been run over by a truck. Didn't realise I was that out of shape."

Leon's and Ravn's words take a moment to get through to Devlin's shift worn brain as he gets his tea steeping. "Surviving another triple shift.. is it morning again? Damn... lost count again." He bobs the tea bag a couple of times before looking over at Ravn, "You can be in shape and it won't take much for any lessons in self defense to wear you out." He takes a breath, "Too tired to do forms.. and almost fell asleep trying to meditate.."

And as fate would have it, the waitress serving Devlin happens to get her arm sliced by accident in the kitchen area. She places a towel on her arm that has a quickly has a growing stain of red replacing the clean white. In less than a couple of seconds, Devlin goes from dead tired to fully alert Medic, Doc is in the HOUSE! He just gets up goes over to her, "Where's your first aide kit?" And the pair vanish back to the office as he tends the wound.

“Hey, good for you!” Leon says brightly to Ravn, “Little PT never hurt anyone.” There’s a knowing smirk sent Devlin’s way that leads into concern as the EMT is so quickly snatched away. Leon watches him go, calling, “Quit burning from both ends, McCloud. Every man needs sleep.”

Leon cocks his head toward the vacated seat, indicating Ravn should join him, as this was now his booth. “Every time I see him, he seems more frayed at the edges.” Leon comments, shaking his head. He orders himself a coffee as well, adjusting the sling slightly so he can sit back comfortably and sip.

Zoey comes out of the kitchen, glancing repeatedly into the back after the last two just went back there, tying her apron around her waist before taking a deep breath. Putting on a tenative, shaky smile, she looks up at those gathered at the counter before crossing behind and grabbing a coffee carafe from the coffee-maker. Another glance into the back, half-confused as to what happened, she starts making sure that everyone is topped up, taking over for the waitress now getting her arm looked at.

Ravn slinks -- hobbles -- over, coffee in one hand. "Wouldn't surprise me if that is normal here. I feel like... I've been here a month and a half and I have yet to get stabbed, shot, or chewed on, and I should probably consider myself extremely lucky?"

He holds out his mug for a refill as Zoey passes by because yes, he has absolutely drained half that cup already. "Hey, Zoey -- come over and meet Leon Gyre when you get an opening. Good man." He leans in to confide a very important detail to the waitress. "He cooks."

Leon emits a hearty laugh at the comment about cooking, “Plenty of people around here cook, Abildgaard.” Another sip and happy sigh made of the coffee cup, “It’s something you practice, just like PT. I didn’t know crap when I finally left the service. Always got shit from Mess, or...” he waves his cup in a lifted circle, a nonverbal indication of the Shoppe, “...just ate out. Hell, there’s all those delivery services that give you exactly the stuff you need and instructions on how to do it. Wan’nt that tough.”

To Zoey, there’s a friendly grin and a nod, a lift of the cup. “Leon. I’d offer a shake, but...” There’s a slight lift, and subsequent wince, of the left slung arm.

Zoey refills cups as she goes, giving bright smiles to those that she knows and is familiar with, and to those introduced. "Welcome, Leon!" she says when she gets that introduction, even if he has been a regular for years. She's new! Taking any pending orders, she turns those in before returning with a cup of hot tea in her hand to listen in to the conversation (if invited and not shooed off).

Ravn certainly scoots over so at least one person in that booth must think there's room for another. "Well, to me cooking is something other people do. A kind of special magic that other people do. I'm the kind of bloke who walks into a kitchen and five minutes later, the building is on fire, the police are on their way, and nobody wants to deal with the triceratops. I mostly just... eat out, or eat things that don't require me to turn on more than the microwave. Which reminds me that I am now officially staying in town for the winter. I am now officially a trailer park resident."

There's a.... Special kind of... Wince? Twitch? There's an expression about the mention of a trailer park on Leon's face, though he's quick to cover it over. It wasn't quite the recoiling like the dead people photos, but there was something.

"That's a decision." He starts, "Luckily, Magpie hasn't sussed out the tine travel needed for that situation. But given she can start fires, same boat."

Finally Devlin comes out with the wounded waitress, "Now, we've got that butterflyed nicely for you. But I strongly suggest you go to either the ER or Urgent Care to have a doctor look it over. Still may need stitches. Just please be more careful in the future." The waitress nods to him and the goes to clock out so she can get things tended too.

Now that is handled, Devlin heads back towards his table. He sighs a bit as he realizes two things.. tea was steeping for a long time and it's cold. Seeing Zoey, "Hi Zoey. Morning still, right?"

Zoey leans against the back bar behind the counter, sipping her tea as she grins, nodding to Devlin. "Morning still!" she confirms with a chipper voice, "She going to be alright?" She seems concerned for her new work-friend, but doesn't seem to be perturbed that suddenly she has the full shift for the morning crew.

"I don't intend to stay in the trailer park indefinitely." Ravn sips his coffee, curling his long, gloved fingers around the mug with delight. "But I'm taking the Vagabond out of the water one of these days, and I do need somewhere to stay until I make my mind up about what I really want. Rosencrantz's got some friends with a basement apartment I might take a look at -- I figure that if it was good enough for him, it's probably good enough for me. And if he accidentally left any snakes behind in the cupboards, I can always go reunite them with their rightful owner."

He doesn't sound very bothered by that idea. Maybe he likes snakes.

Devlin pauses before getting to his table, "Mind if I join you guys. I have a feeling I'll be awake for a bit." He then looks to Zoey, "She should be ok if she follows my directions. Just lucky I was here or the damage could have been serious. Would it be ok to get a replacement on my tea? never got a shot at it and likely both cold n over strong." He then does a great straight man to Leon, "Why stop at two ends? there's the middle to burn.."

Zoey gives Devlin a bright smile, nodding to him as she collects his cup and busies herself with replacing his little hot water teapot, getting him a new, fresh teabag and cup. All of this is brought back to him as the conversation continues.

“Because you’re a medic, you and the people need you with some brains, at least some of the time.” Leon remarks to Devlin as he rejoins the table. There’s a brief swing of the coffee mug to invite him back to the table. To Ravn, there’s a brief crinkle to his eyes, finding the idea at least amusing, “I’d go for the basement apartment, honestly. Trailer park is uh... known for being a little loud for sleeping.” Also fires. Definitely known for fires.

"I got to admit that it's a little... I mean, the trailer is nice enough. But we don't really have trailer parks where I'm from. My ideas about trailer parks are largely based on TV, so on some level I expect to find myself tucked in between some moonshine racketeer in a wifebeater and a giant woman in a leopard print minidress before I know where I took a wrong turn. It'll be -- an experience?" Ravn offers a small smile and sips his coffee. "I'm sure that on some level it's healthy to have your preconceptions jostled a little."

Devlin says, "Thanks," as he joins the table. "I pulled an elderly couple out of a burning trailer.. I am still getting food being dropped at my desk and sometimes apartment from people at the park." He gets his tea replacement, "Thank you Zoey." He then continues, "A lot of good people there too I am guessing from their food drops to me. I'd be a 400 pound ball if I ate it all, been sharing with others in the department." He winks, "But I keep the good stuff for myself and my truck..sometimes if the cops have been nice.. I let them get a little taste."

“Yeah. Whole different sort of ‘folk’ tale.” He smirks a bit, pleased with his own joke. Leon orders a primarily protein breakfast, bacon, eggs sausage, hash, keeps sipping on his coffee. “But the community is pretty tight knit if they accept you. Old ladies always watching through their chiffon curtains.” He uses his cup as a pointer again at Devlin, “Best way to get em on your side, that. Well, most people. Feeding them.” A wink is sent Ravn’s way.

"Myes -- the trailer I am renting had to be repaired for fire damage before I could move my stuff in, too. Someone set the one next to it on fire, some sort of drug related crime or other. Place still has a certain aroma." Ravn steals a sugar packet off the table and absentmindedly lets it wander over the knuckles of his left hand like some kind of deranged coin. "Thing is, I don't really know much about the housing market here in the US, or more locally. I'm thinking that renting an entire house for one man would be overkill. And I'd bloody well hate to live in some apartment complex where I'd feel like I should dress up to walk across the parking lot. I'm not really sure what the options are. Trailer will do for now though I figure that if I ever should decide to invite somebody over, I better make sure they're not too tall for the bathroom door."

He's six foot three. He probably has to pretzel to get in there himself.

"And, of course, I have followed Leon home at least once. He feeds me." The Dane winks right back.

Devlin chuckles a little. "Yeah.. one of the old ladies said she had a room in her trailer if I needed a place." He finally sips his tea, "I already have a nice apartment. And Ravn, just depends on the apartment complex as to what is acceptable. You should have seen what was going on at this one near Ft. Bragg. Some saturday nights, you swear they are filming Animal House again." He smiles and then makes an order for waffles and sausages. "Just glad that I saved that couple. The husband, he's going to have a tough time on recovery with all the smoke he inhaled. But I heard he is getting better."

Again, coffee is raised toward Devlin, “Fayette-nam.” By the local moniker of the surrounding city to Bragg, Leon clearly knew exactly what Devlin was talking about. There was a grin and nod to the bit about the couple, Leon cheering the survival of a Gray Harborite on principal.

“There’s always the Broadleaf apartments. And there are little one-bedroom houses on Elm. There are some cottages on Bayside, as well, but that’s getting back up into the pricey territory.” Leon, townie tradesman, giving the lay of the land.

"Cottages, houses, all seems a little much. The place Rosencrantz wants to show me is pretty much -- bath, bedroom, kitchen, open area. Which probably covers my needs? I'm a single guy, I don't really have people over a lot, and I don't own more stuff than I can squeeze into a backpack." Ravn grins slightly. "I don't know. Might keep walking around town until I see somewhere I like, then go find out if it's for sale or for rent. I think for me it's more matter of what kind of neighbours I get. On the marina, everyone's pretty laid back because that's what yachting is about. I like laid back."

Devlin nods, "Makes sense. Honestly, I was still living in the barracks. Just did not see the point my own place when I wasn't married." He then looks at Leon, "And no.. was not a barracks rat. I had a storage room for things that they would have frowned on, like my bow and various arrows."

“I mean, I just shoved all my salary away for like years, on account a’ me being deployed all the time. I got that little place on Spruce for a great price.” Leon shrugs, “But I dunno. I’m a little weird. I guess I thought if I had the space, I’d fill it with something.” He waves the hand on his injured arm, provoking a wince again, but displaying his wedding band, “Kinda worked out.”

Ravn laughs softly. "It does seem to have worked out for you pretty well, can't argue with that. Although, if I'm going to end up following your example some day, I still think meeting the girl comes before buying the house. There are rules to fairytales of true love. Trust me, I'm a folklorist."

He upends his coffee and steals another sugar packet to join the first in that intricate little dance which seems to be what his hands do when he's not watching them, the sly little bastards. "On some level I'm still surprised to even be here. I didn't think I'd settle down anywhere for more than a week or two, maybe -- not until I go home some day."

Devlin nods, "I get you there. It's how I afforded my Rubicon.. a bit more than trail rated. She handles fireroads with ease. Wouldn't do extreme four wheeling with her. If I need that, that is why the Gods gave us Medics.. choppers and repeling."

“Eyyy, Jeep Brothers,” Leon had finally set his coffee down, opting for a fork that he was using as multi-purpose cutting and stabbing. He briefly offers the encumbered hand to Devlin for a fist-bump. “Old story, man. Harbor’s got a way of drawing people in.”

To Ravn, there’s a smirk, “Not all fairy tales get told the same way. Doubt it’ll take long for you. Think I met Magpie after about... four months living here?”

"I'm not really looking. That's actually one of the reasons I hit the road in the first place, three years ago. Well meaning relatives telling me that I needed to get over things and start dating again. It gets very tiresome when you have a large, extended family who spend entirely too much time keeping up appearances." Ravn hitches a shoulder. "What is a Rubicon anyway, besides a river in Italy?"

Devlin says, "It is a model of Jeep." He fist bumps Leon in turn. "And a very good one. I have to admit, I was suprised that Zara liked it.. especially as it is a standard.." He pauses, "Well, guess that isn't standard these days.. a manual gear box. So far, been having fun when dating her.." He shrugs, "Never know what will or will not work out. She even likes to camp. Going to have to find out if she really means camping or is it in fact.. Glamping."

"Thus, Jeep bros." Leon explains, pointing the back end of his fork at himself. "Got me a 2018 Wrangler. Maggi couldn't care less." And after a short laugh at 'Glamping', "Yeah, I can't think of an environment shed like less. Though honestly, her old apartment was dirty enough it might count."

His phone rings. He flips it over, then makes his way to slide out of the booth, taking a mouthful of his food on the way and waving the phone, as if to say, 'Gotta take this' but with less food-spewing syllables. He steps outside briefly.

"'Glamping'. Is that... camping, but glamorously? Like, a nature trail, but with an autocamper and a motel with a shower nearby?" Ravn glances at Devlin and quirks an eyebrow. "Heaven knows I'm no outdoorsman with my asthma and whatnot but that sounds... Like you might as well just go to a resort and get waited on hand and foot instead. I always wanted to go camping as a kid -- tent, campfire, old tin cup, wash in the river, sleep under the stars."

Devlin nods to Ravn, "That about sums it what glamping is. As Leon could guess.. I could do the just what is in my pockets for seventy two hours bit and come out ok. May be a bit thirsty and hungry depending." He gets his food and digs in, "There were times I would have killed for a tent and camp fire."

The Dane manages to wave down a refill of coffee -- and this time, asks for a sandwich to go with it. Just a simple affair, ham and cheese, heated. Then he turns his attention back to the paramedic and the locksmith. "I think that's what I enjoy about sailing. It's not quite as rough, naturally -- I have a kitchenette, a bunk, the basics. But on some level, it's still me, the ocean, and the weather. The Vagabond is a small boat -- she can weather an Atlantic storm if she must, but it will not be fun. Sometimes, you're wet and cold and miserable for days. Reminds you how important you're not."

A nod from Devlin. "When I play DnD, one of my favorite comments is.. Arrows may have your name on it, but a fire ball is addressed To Whom It May Concern... Mama nature is the later.." He hmms, "Artillery fire can give you that feeling too when it's dropping in around you. I hate Russian mortars. Spent about 15 minutes hiding in a hole due to a couple of them being used against us."

Ravn can't help a chuckle. He's not played a lot of tabletop games but of course there were a couple of times in college and university -- a man's got to kill time in the evening somehow. To Whom It May Concern, indeed. Then he sobers at the other half of the paramedic's statement and nods. "I didn't serve. Denmark has this system -- the draft is a lottery. I drew a lucky number but even if I hadnt, they'd still not have taken me, with the asthma and all. Most of our forces are volunteer. The ones that deploy internationally certainly are."

He pauses. "I did work with people at university who'd been to Afghanistan. Bloody least the state could do for them afterwards, help them get through university. A lot of them have trouble focusing and learning. I helped some of them study."

A short breath is taken before he goes on, "Traumatic Brain injuries and PTSD are no joke. When I was working towards becoming a SWAT medic, I volunteered to help with a veteran's group." He exhales, "I wish that ass Gomez would have spent even a day with one of those guys to see what they go through. Then may be he wouldn't have tried to label me with it." He brightens a bit, "But their kids, the young ones are the bright place for many of them. So many of them want to help Daddy or Mommy conquer a problem. Of course the teens are a mixed bag.. some of them, greatest thing since sliced toast, others not sure and distance themselves."

"My boys were largely PTSD, yes. Good men. Just -- having trouble concentrating and absorbing new information. That's where I came in as a volunteer at Copenhagen U -- read up on things with them, help them find sources, and... to some extent just hold their hands and listen." Ravn shakes his head. "I enjoyed that kind of work. Made me feel I made some kind of difference, maybe. I don't delude myself that I changed lives or cured anyone's trauma, just -- some of those people studied like their lives depended on it only to get beaten down by concentration problems. A lot of what we did was work on ways to index information. You don't need to remember the name of every general in the Punic Wars. You need to remember where to go in order to look them up if you need to reference them some day."

Devlin nods and smiles, "You made a difference for them and their families, Ravn. Their victories come in small steps to get to that bigger one. It all adds up in time." He hmms, "Just curious, do any deep sea fishing at all? I could get into trading venison for some good fish steaks.. Only have three tags this year. But with a combination of a bit of preparation, scouting, and luck.." He grins, "Could get a good amount of meat. Last year, I did pretty well with the two I took with a bow."

"I have, years ago -- marlin fishing. The Vagabond isn't equipped for it, though, and she's not fast enough, either." Ravn cants his head lightly. "I imagine hunting is a pretty big deal around here? I mean, national park and whatnot -- this country has so much bloody space that it makes my head spin even thinking about it. You can literally not go anywhere in Denmark where you can't see at least somebody's shed. It's just... not possible, I think. And you definitely can't get more than an hour from the ocean -- we're an archipelago, and a very small one at that. My father was big on hunting. In part, I suspect, because it allowed him to get the hell away from my mother." He smirks at the last bit.

Devlin says, "I can imagine. Dad hated going on deployments. He and mom were tight. How she survived us kids when he was away.." Devlin chuckles, "Then again.. I think several of us, me included were welcome home babies.. just never followed up on the math out of fear?" He flushes a bit, "Hunting is fun.. it was a good way to get away from my brother's being asses and my sisters being girls."

"I'm an only child." A third sugar packet joins the other two; this guy really does seem to have some kind of issue about just keeping his hands stil. "Always kind of wanted to have siblings. Pretty certain that in order to get them, though, I'd have had to get my parents drunk enough to tolerate each other for half an hour, and I don't imagine that the logistics work very well in that state." He grins slightly. "Going off to university was... it expanded my horizons. Here in the US, you send kids off to college -- our system's a little different, but basically, you're about eighteen, nineteen when you find yourself living in a student dorm with nine other people out of whom two are sure to have loud hobbies, two are vegan, and the remaining six are members of student organisations that hate each other. I was in the first group, I play the violin a little."

Devlin chuckles, "Yeah.. sounds like the barracks in basic training. Just with 50 instead of 10." He finishes his breakfast. "I play a little guitar myself. It was a way to entertain ourselves when at a forward base. Through on my last tour, someone put an RPG into the truck my guitar was in.. direct hit." He sighs, "Been a few years ago, still have not replaced it."

Ravn studies the other man's face for a moment before asking, "Because that guitar had special meaning to you, or because of the circumstances under which it was destroyed?"

"Yeah.. Shannon gave it to me." Devlin's voice goes quiet. "One of my sisters. Died in a car accident." He is silent for a bit, in his eyes you can see it still hurts as he takes a long sip of his tea.

Ravn lets him have the moment and just sips his coffee for some time before eventually noting, "You should get one again. But, not until you're ready. Grief is... a difficult animal to wrangle. My fiancee liked driving. I haven't owned a car since she died."

Just a nod from Devlin before he speaks, "Easier being the care giver some days, you know?" He then snags some toast to chew on. "Any favorite piece you like to play?"

"I'm a classical student but Rosencrantz has been selling me on American folk lately." Ravn chuckles. "It's a bit of a new universe to me. I am finding I rather enjoy it. He's playing a lot of Bayou and Louisiana stuff and telling me the stories behind it at the same time. There's some seriously... wild stuff out there. Snake wranglers, what have you."

Devlin nods, "Been a few times when playing Dust that would have been nice to have a violin or two to play with." He then smiles, "A lot of good music from there.." He taps his chin as he tries to remember, "Zydee or something.. PFC Guidry was into that.. might have the name wrong. Was a while back."

"Could ask Rosencrantz? I have a feeling that he'll take just about any excuse to play. I don't mean that in a negative way -- the man loves performing and he's bloody good at it. I for one have spent more than one evening so far just watching him work his magic." Ravn flicks one sugar packet back to the basket but keeps the other two. "I saw him perform at the Eighty-Eight one evening. Bloody well had the audience in his hand. There wasn't a soul in the room who wouldn't have married him on the spot, should he deign to ask. Some people just have -- that. Perfect showmanship and skill. I have been sort of trying to sniff out what the music scene is like in Gray Harbor, also on a more amateur level. Like, are there folk nights at some bar, or amateur nights, or jam nights, something?"

Devlin nods, "Yeah, there are some places that do open mike. Like the coffee place. I really have not dove into it seriously to explore it."

"Thought I might go watch, you know? I'm not a performer, but I enjoy watching those who are. A local scene can only be a good thing." The Dane looks up from his coffee. "The way I see it, people here spend enough time worrying or licking their wounds. It's good to be reminded that life is good, you know? That there's laughter and love, and all sorts of reasons to come back from the fight. But I guess that this is me preaching to the choir because -- well, because you literally did that."

Devlin hmms, "I bet Hera might with the right encouragement.. and support. Artists for artists or something like that." He then nods, "Yeah.. been there done that. Got the t-shirt, and the ribbons plus a few extra. And trust me, family, friends, the guys with you.. all good reasons to get back from the fight in one piece."

"There's an upcoming street art festival, too." Ravn grins slightly. "I've been encouraging everyone who can do art to attend. I mean, I can't. I can't draw a straight line with a compass and a ruler. But I want to walk around there, see what people come up with, just... breathe the magic. Remember why we're alive, remember that life is good. That's one thing I learned from those veterans: That if you're not trying to somehow find things that make you happy, then you're kind of pissing all over them for fighting to give you the chance -- if you'll excuse my French."

Devlin laughs a bit, "Oh, I have heard and said way worse." He sips his tea, "You have a pretty good out look on life. And yeah, I think she's be interested in that. If nothing else, support." He hmms, "I can't draw either, but I'll be there. Most likely in a uniform and carrying a kit with me. After all, lots of people means someone has to be there to tell them.. drink your water, let me take care of the boo boo.. etc."

"Eh, it's easier to make the speech than walk the walk," Ravn murmurs, as perhaps a bit of an admission. "But I do firmly believe what those boys told me -- not that I should call them boys because honestly, they were just a few years younger than myself, but you know how that works: They were the boys to each other, and so, they were the boys to us TAs. Anyway, I -- I've had some issues. Depression. Broke down pretty hard when my fiancee died. Clinging to those things kind of brought me back to the light, so to speak. That on some level, we owe it to each other to at least try to not be dicks. And this place?"

He looks around and probably means Gray Harbor, not just the Waffle Shop. "This place is all about that. Us against them. Stand up for the team. Even if you can't go in all guns blazing, the least you can do is try to make yourself useful because we're kind of fighting our own war here, aren't we?"

Devlin nods, "Yeah, a quiet little war.. just no Federation or Klingons supplying toys or help to make it interesting" He hmms, "Sometimes even a medic has to pick up the rifle and shoot back. It's the same here. I will have to get home and crash.. before I crash. I know Hera would kill me if I did something that stupid. Not to mention Zara as she's an ER doctor.. not a great date concept."

"Don't think I've met Zara but give my regards to Hera?" Ravn lights up in a smile at the mention. "She was the first person here I met, at that. I probably would have been on the next Greyhound out of town if not for her. Don't tell her that if you think it'll encourage her to be less friendly to a stranger another time -- I am grateful to her that I ended up staying around. And -- pat Queso for me?"

Devlin grins, "Oh.. I can't crash at Hera's, Queso will kneed with claws on my chest till I pet her." He then pays the bill, catching yours too. "Catch you later on, I'll keep that bit quite."