2020-10-30 - The Sci-Fi Reading Circle

The fall weather is cooling off and the afternoon skies are cloudy and gray with light drizzle. It's still warm enough though that the doors out to the patio are open and the breeze blows into the main dining area of the bar. There are only a handful of customers seated at the bar, and a table or two in for some drinks. Technically it's happy hour but you'd be hard pressed to tell that from either the crowd or the expression on Easton's face. He's seated at the bar in his usual bar tending uniform of black dress shirt and jeans, but he's not really worried about pouring drinks right now. He has a pint in front of him and a stack of papers. Whatever they are, they should obviously be thrown right out according to Marie Kondo because there is absolute no joy sparking in Easton's eyes.

Vic comes out of the back room, tying her apron around her waist. The blonde bartender (or terrorist - according to the seasonal yachters she growls at) is in jeans and a black TiBS tee, with her usual boots. Her hair is down and falling in waves, the ends going to curls from the damp outside. It looks like she gave up arguing with her locks today and just let them do as they wanted. It suits her though, a little wild and feral like the woman herself.

She glances around at the customers, noting regulars versus visitors, before her cool blue gaze lands on Easton. "Bad news?" she asks, as she moves over to where he is seated, glancing at the papers that are clearly causing him some manner of distress.

Ravn Abildgaard turns up for a rare afternoon shift not much later; the tall Dane more commonly works the mornings where there's not quite as astute a need for someone with actual bartending skill (but a fair bit of work for the clean-up crew). He nods on his way out back for an apron and then takes a stroll around the premises to see where a barback's services might be needed. Not one to usually require a lot of supervision, he's usually quite content to just go about what needs to be done in his usual fashion -- quietly and unobtrusively. And occasionally pulling a magic trick or two out of his sleeve for guests who need to be distracted, or are young enough to remember that the tall guy with the funny accent sometimes pulls coins out of kiddie noses.

"I am in dire need of a drink," Seth exclaims as he comes barreling into the Twofer like a man on a singular mission as he heads straight for the bar. "I don't give a fuck what it is as long as it has enough alcohol in it to start a car, or light something on fire, or...something else that requires a fuckton of alcohol."

The redheaded enforcer appears to be just on this side of agitated, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that has seen better days complete with holes and paint splatter. Rather ratty clothes than what he normally wears for sure. He spots Ravn, adjusting his trajectory to end up in front of them. "Darth, give me something...anything. Please. At this point, I'll even take straight Everclear. Just something to burn my memory away so I forget the last few hours."

Easton looks up and gives Vic an up-nod of greeting. His beard is nearly back to full strength but his hair is still clipped much tighter than usual, though it looks like an actual haircut now, not the result of an accident, thanks to Bennie. He sets the papers back down and picks up the beer instead. "Nah, just probably should have actually gone to law school if I wanted to understand what the hell all of this means." He takes a gulp of beer and then blows out an annoyed breath, apparently to get those thoughts out of his head. "How's things?" He asks of Vic before Seth comes bowling in. Easton glances over and checks his watch, as if he has any moral authority about the proper time or amount to drink, "Tough afternoon hoss?"

Vic gives Ravn a brief smile as he passes, looking back to the boss with a smirk. "I think I hired an overachiever for you. The bathrooms have never been cleaner," she notes. That is very likely the truth. Then in comes Monaghan looking like he played Paintball and lost, badly. "You look and sound traumatized. Did you prime my dining room walls or something?" she asks the other enforcer with a suspicious squint. Any time spent in the 70s time capsule that is Vic's newly purchased home can have this effect on someone. They're making a little progress on ripping out that era, but it's slow-going.

The bartender looks to the papers again with a frown. "What's going on, Three Apples?" she asks with concern. "I had some basic classes with ye olde criminal justice associate's degree, maybe I can help you muddle through?" At his question she shrugs. "Things are what they are. It's that time of year, when the yachters fuck right off, so the atmosphere is better, but business is slower."

Ravn and Vic have probably had that discussion a few times over the season, and hey -- the buzzing fly stickers at the bottom of the urinals actually do seem to encourage certain gents to improve their aim. He opens his mouth to say something back to the bartender and for that matter, their mutual boss, when suddenly, Seth Monaghan looking like the cat not only dragged him but dragged him through an obstacle course first. "You realise you're talking to the bloke holding the dish rag and that the bloke behind the actual bar is the fellow who dispenses liquid oblivion, yes?" Ravn tosses a lopsided smile at Seth, clearly intended to rib him a little for that obvious mistake.

Then he gets a second look at the man's face and pauses before saying, far more seriously, "Gray Harbor got you at last, did it? Are you all right, Monaghan?"

"I just carried a pregnant frog the size of a corgi up a hill to a shit-pile, and then had it lay eggs in front of me, which I then had to carry down to a trough of water." the redheaded enforcer explains deadpan, "All the time it was flirting with me, like I would fertilize its eggs or something. I really don't care who pours what form a bottle right now, as evidenced by the fact I am asking YOU for a drink, I just don't want to remember last night. "

Seth looks up to Ravn and nods, "No, not really. Yeah, yeah it did. And I wasn't wearing much more than a smile when it did. I had to borrow a cooking apron from Joey, I'm just glad he was apparently in the middle of a midnight BBQ or something so he had the spare apron. I owe him a new one...it got messy."

Easton shakes his head at Vic and says, "Nah, tha's alright. I need to call up my ex and see what she can do, pretty sure she drew these papers up so I'll have it break it down for me barney style." He does love playing the role of crayon eating Marine even if he has a decent grasp of the topic. "Trusts and contracts was never going to be my strong suit."

Ravn's ability to actually get the bathrooms clean has hardly gone unnoticed by Easton or the patrons. It's not that they were dive-bar bad before but having the floors not be constantly sticky is a great improvement. "Yeah well, he can stick around so long as he us sponsor a fight night on the deck." Easton still wants to see Crab v Lobster: The Reckoning happen.

Seth's story causes his eyebrows to raise, "That's... not what I expected." And really that's saying a lot in this town. He nods at Vic and says, "Surprising me at this point is at least worth a shot on the house." He's seated at the bar like a patron, despite technically working right now. Easton's isn't always the most accommodating, even if he doesn't approach Vic levels of surly.

Vic blinks at Seth's explanation for a few long moments then, she can't help it, burst into laughter at the picture of him ass out naked in nothing but an apron carrying a giant frog up a hill. Ravn or Easton might have to pour him that drink, because she's going to be cackling for a bit yet. She's holding her sides as she doubles over from it. She waves Ravn behind the bar to get the man his drink as she dabs at her eyes with a clean bar rag, still guffawing.

Ravn opens his mouth to say something. Then closes it. Then opens it again -- hesitates a moment -- and finally says, "Wait, what? Joey Kelly in a cooking apron and oven mitts? Are you sure you need a drink? I could just pick up a broom and hit you repeatedly over the head until that memory falls out and blissful darkness takes over."

He glances at the bar. Bartending is clearly not happening at the moment. Which is not surprising, considering that there's next to no patrons. He looks back at Monaghan and jabs him in the abdomen with a gloved finger. "Right. I'm going to get you an Abildgaard Oblivion. You will drink it, you will play with the paper umbrella, and you will cry your manly tears. And then we never talk about pregnant frogs again."

"At least Joey had boxers on under the apron," Seth says with a sigh. "If he hadn't have had those, I would have been shit out of luck in the clothing department. I also wouldn't have had any way to catch and carry all those eggs. I now know better than to sleep naked in this town. A mistake I don't think I will ever make again." Seth shudders, casting a glance over at Vic as she starts to laugh.

"Yeah, that's right. Laugh it up, Grey." the enforcer says without any malice to his voice, a small smile forcing its way to his lips as his sour mood starts to lighten a bit. "You just are jealous you missed it."

Seth nods to Easton, "Thanks, man. Good to see you out and about, I was here when you made it back from Jumanji. I don't think we have ever been properly introduced. Seth Monaghan."

Easton laughs and picks up his papers and his beer to head behind the bar. He tucks the papers away and shakes his head, "I don't think I ever need to experience a leaking giant pregnant frog. In this reality or any other." Because other realities are just something he takes for granted now. He reaches his hand across and says, "Easton Marshall. And yeah, I'm hoping to make that a regular night at the bar, theme nights aren't normally my thing but I think that one could really catch on." No, not really.

He pours Monaghan a shot of 151 and shakes his head at Ravn, "It's too early for man tears, this is happy hour. Manly weeping is from nine to ten on Wednesdays."

Vic holds a hand up to Seth in a 'wait a minute' gesture as she finally gets her laughter under control. "So very, very sorry I missed it." Him AND Joey nearly starkers, trying to help birth baby Giant Veil Frogs? Yeah that would have been hilarious to see. She sucks in a breath when she finally can and wipes down the bar top with the rag. "This town, I tell ya. Be thankful it was something that gentle, Monaghan," she notes. "My first week here I went for a run, wound up Over There, and got attacked by some undead diseased giant bear thing." Homerton was scary as shit, y'all.

She snorts at Easton. "If you really want to see manly tears, come over to my new place. These two have already gotten an eyeful of it. The 70s was a terrible, terrible period in interior decor."

"I definitely don't sleep naked in this town either but for what it's worth -- if a dream wants you in the buff, you go in the buff." Ravn heads behind the bar, stepping around the other two, and starts fishing out ingredients, and absolutely, blatantly ignoring that technically, Easton already poured for the man. This is revenge. This is personal.

A tall glass into which goes a generous double vodka shot. Triple cranberry juice. It's when he starts slicing the pink grapefruit some people might worry. And the pineapple juice on top -- all set off nicely by a big happy slice of lime. In other words, it's a strong tasting nightmare in pink, and fairly potent as girlish-looking cocktails go. Or, in other words, the man who's been ribbed for weeks for that one time he managed to get 'scotch, nat' wrong, just got his revenge. He's probably been waiting for the opportunity for a while.

He slides the glass along to Monaghan and then leans against the counter a moment. Possibly just to watch his reaction. "And remember -- no manly weeping until Wednesday, the boss just said so."

"No, I don't think anyone ever does. And that by itself may not have been so bad, but the damn thing was flirting with me the entire time as well...like I was all of a sudden going to be in the mood for a piece of amphibian ass." Giving a nod of thanks to Easton, Seth takes the shot and with a mutter of " "Sláinte," the enforcer slams it back, gulping the firewater down with a slight grimace. "I'd stick with Karaoke nights. I don't think the gunfire and you running around naked getting a Flashdance hose-down would be good for business. No offense."

Slamming the shot glass onto the bar, Seth looks over towards Vic and smirks, "I am. I was told stories of these 'dreams' that were downright horrific. I mean, watching a huge ass frog give birth to a bunch of eggs from a foot away doesn't go down into my memory as something pleasant to see, but I have seen worse." So has Vic, they likely have seen worse together.

Seth looks from Ravn to the drink he slides in front of him and back, raising his head again with the arch of a brow. "Great, good to know. So if a pregnant frog wants dangly bits, she gets dangly bits? Ugh. Do I have to expect more visits from Ms. Kermit, or are these things usually a one and done kind of thing?" Seth picks up the girly looking drink and takes a sip from the glass, raising his brow and giving the Dane a nod of respect. "Not bad, Darth. Not bad."

Watching Ravn make this pink frou-frou concoction Easton's one eyebrow raises higher as he tilts his head to the side. He's trying to figure out if it's an actual drink or something that Ravn truly came up with. "What's it called again, the Lobster shank?" Easton doesn't seem put off by it, it's a touristy beach bar so there is no shortage of frilly nonsense drinks being made on a regular basis. He shakes his head at Seth and says, "Roll of the dice I'm afraid. I've had some repeats, sequels and the like. Most seem to be one and done?" He takes a sip and then admits, "At least for me. I'm sure someone in town is plagued by like one recurring one over and over just for their shits and giggles." Easton doesn't sound terribly sympathetic about it, it just probably is the case.

Vic eyes the concoction Ravn puts together, "That is definitely not one I taught you to make," she notes. Then Seth goes bringing up Easton's valiant and mostly naked return. "I cannot unsee that, thanks for reminding me, Monaghan." She gives Easton a look. "Not that the view was bad or anything, but seeing your employer naked makes it really hard to argue with you later when the images pop up in your head," she notes with a smirk.

Ravn looks almost disappointed for a moment, and then makes a visible decision to up his drink trolling game. Next time there will be maraschinos. He nods at Easton's inquiry, though. "I should call it that, shouldn't I? It's called a Seaspray according to the library book I took out, though. I have a lot of reading time now I can't sail anymore due to the season. Gets pretty quiet at night. And let me be honest, I wanted to see if Monaghan would even drink it."

"Well, I hope I don't get sent back to the farm from hell. It seemed to be nothing but cowpats, piles of hay and shit, and this talking pregnant frog. I suppose it is no headless horseman like you got, Darth, but still wasn't exactly what I would call pleasant. The smell was almost enough to knock you out." Seth exclaims as he takes another sip from the pink fru-fru drink.

Seth looks back over to Vic with a grin, "What can I say except you're welcome. I do what I can to help your mental state. Hell, you live in that hellhole, you need something to take your mind off of that place before that burns itself into your retinas."

Seth looks back to Ravn and chuckles, plucking the little umbrella from the drink and toying with it for a bit, "What, you didn't think I would drink it because it is pink and fru-fru? Hell, man, it has alcohol in it. I am not about to look that gift horse in the mouth. You could have given me a blowjob or a slow comfortable screw up against a wall and I would have put it in my mouth."

Easton thinks about it for a brief second and tries to think of which of his many Dreams he'd like to revisit the least. "Sometimes I think they aren't sure what's horrifying and what's just kind of weird, like they are still trying to figure it out." He glances over at Vic and says, "Just don't let Bennie at it if you want any seat like object not covered in throw pillows." Not that he can actually complain, she did a great job making their place actually comfortable and not some post-modern bachelor pad of sharp angles and pain that he would have ended up with otherwise. At Seth's willingness to drink those things Easton nods solemnly, "I don't trust a man that'd say no to any of that."

Vic looks thoroughly amused, before her phone bloops at her. "Need to take my break a bit early," she announces. And no one she's speaking with other than the Dane would have any doubt this has to do with her 'other' job. She unties her apron and heads to the back, warbling, "Why are there so many, songs about rainbows, and what's on the other side....?" Oh yes, Monaghan, this will be a longtime running joke.

Ravn's lopsided smile doesn't falter; if anything, it widens slightly. "I'm pretty certain that even when I'm on an actual bartending shift I'm not required to give blowjobs or standing screws, sorry. I'll let you know if the employee manual gets updated. Take care, Vic."

Seth casts a glance over at Vic, reaching down to check his own phone for a moment before he gives the other enforcer a nod of goodbye. "Shit, I've seen the other side of the rainbow, and I didn't like that connection. Later, Grey. "

Seth picks up the fru-fru drink again and takes another sip, gesturing with it towards Easton, "See. He gets it. Just because a drink might have a fucked up name, or look pink and bubbly alcohol is still alcohol my friend. You hand me a slippery nipple, I will drink a slippery nipple." Seth exclaims as he turns back to Ravn, "Hey, isn't the customer always right? If I want a Full Monty, I should be able to get a Full Monty."

Easton nods at Vic as she excuses herself. It's funny to him still, adjusting to this more cooperative version of her. But he's certainly not going to complain about it. Turning back to Ravn he says, "Well you're certainly pretty enough for me to try and whore out but those are drink names." In case that wasn't clear. Easton lifts his drink back towards Seth in mock salute. "I'm pretty sure I've already given you and everyone in the bar that one though." Easton cracks about the full monty.

Ravn quirks one lazy eyebrow as he continues to lean against the counter, very much not currently doing his actual job of cleaning tables. "Who am I to argue? Folks around here aren't all that shy from what I've seen. Also, town's got a pretty strong LGBT presence and you're not bad looking -- shouldn't be hard to find someone interested. If the idea's to embarrass me, though, I should probably mention that Copenhagen University has a very up and in your face queer student culture, and there's probably not a lot of possible combinations of human anatomy I haven't wandered in on there in some form or other."

Then he sighs and looks at Easton. "Now you tell me. Well, don't let me stop myself from looking like an idiot, then. It's all free entertainment."

"It's true." Seth nods to Easton, taking another sip from the drink that the Dane has provided. "At least everyone that was there that night. I walked in expecting Karaoke, and instead, I walked into the OK Corral. At least nobody was seriously hurt. Speaking of, how is the leg? I saw you took one to the thigh. That heal up ok?"

Grinning, the enforcer turns form Easton as he looks to Ravn, "Aww, you ruined it! I was going to ask for a Ménage ŕ Trois, Between the Sheets and a Cure for Blue Balls next. I was going to see just how far I could go until he caught on."

"Goodness, tell me about it. Rosencratz keeps trying to gay up my bar, and I'm pretty sure half the town's slept with the other half." Easton's well aware that he's not exactly exempt from that all encompassing statement and he's only semi-serious in his complaint about Itzhak. "And I'd like to think that we can still embarass ya." Grinning at Seth he says, "Hey, I try to look out for my employees, and usually like to let them know I don't plan on asking them to sexually service the customers. Granted I can't really lay down the law about not doing that either." He's not a hypocrite after all. "The leg's okay. My girlfriends an EMT" and a healer, but he leaves that out, "so she made sure I stayed off it as best she could and it'll be alright. Bullet wounds heal. The mental damage of horny pregnant frogs.. probably not."

"Tch, you're an asshole, Monaghan. First you beat me up in a boxing ring, then you humiliate me in front of my boss. I think I might join Vic in singing Over the Rainbow around you from now on." The copper blond doesn't look particularly offended. "And let me just add -- I can't sing. Which is yet a reason you won't find me here on karaoke night unless at gun point."

He half-turns to rest both elbows on the bar behind him, crossing one leg over the other in a lazy slouch against the bar. "He isn't wrong. This town? I feel like a monk in a whorehouse most of the time. You get used to it." Ravn hitches a shoulder. "Or join in the fun, I suppose."

Sipping at his drink, Seth laughs as he moves his body to position himself so he can talk to both men without having to move as much. "Yes, yes I am," the enforcer agrees with Ravn with a grin and a nod. "And I didn't beat you up, Darth, I showed you some very specific and effective takedown techniques. Just be glad I had brought pads with me. Hell, if it was up to you, you would have been in that ring with normal clothes on. Talk about chafing. However, I will take your word on the singing voice. If I am going to get serenaded by someone at this bar singing Rainbow Connection, I'd rather it be the hot blonde female."

Seth shrugs a shoulder, "Has it? I wouldn't know. The dating profiles of the people of Gray Harbor haven't exactly been on my mind since I have been back. But you do remind me that I need to get in touch with Itz. I need some parts."

Taking another sip, Seth continues with a laugh as he addresses Easton, "I'm sure that your employees are grateful that they didn't absent mindedly stumble into a brothel when they agreed to work here. Wouldn't that be a surprise? 'Oh..by the way...I hope you don't mind working a bit of overtime.' Good to hear about the leg."

Joe's a far scruffier creature than he was when he first showed up in town nearly a year ago. His hair's grown out from its severe clip into a tumble of loose curls, he's got scruff that's well on its way to being a proper beard, and there's that ink on his hands. The sailor looks well content as he rolls in, a touch windburned and weary, but pleased.

He claims his usual seat at the corner of the bar, settling with that awkward hipshot pose that means his joints are giving him trouble. He doesn't have the glassy-eyed look he gets when he's had to use painkillers. At the moment, he's in a blue plaid flannel shirt over a white t-shirt, old jeans, battered boots.

"Personally I'd take you over Vic. After those couple bars she warbled out, I'll roll the dice." Easton asides to Ravn about the the singing. He's willing to take his chances there. "I definitely would be the whore in that scenario." Easton jokes about the monk in the whorehouse, but that's not really true of him anymore. He's happily married. And dating Bennie.

"Ha, yeah we usually wait a couple months before we spring those type of things on them, let 'em get nice and settled in before we start hitting them up with VIP clients." He grins at the thought of some of the regulars getting a little too excited that this is actually a thing. He looks at Seth and asks, "You box at Kelly's? I've been meaning to get back into it, since I returned. Now that the legs mostly there, I might have to drop back in." For more than boxing, but they can talk about that later.

"Joe!" Easton calls out from behind the bar when the former pilot/astronaut/writer makes his way in. "What can I get for ya?"

"You're still neglecting that the whole point of that gym exercise isn't for me to learn boxing. It's for me to not be caught defenceless and pants down in a dream -- one where there might not even be somebody to lend me an apron and a pair of oven mitts. I know jeans aren't made for boxing rings, but odds are that jeans is what I will be wearing in most of those dream scenarios." Ravn hitches that shoulder again. "I'm trying to learn to not be a liability."

He nods at Joe and straightens up, reaching for the cloth Vic was using to wipe down the bar; somebody needs to finish that job. "Howdy, neighbour. When I get the Vagabond back on the pond in spring, anyhow. Probably broke at least a dozen hearts hauling her up this week, all those poor blokes having to go home and spend time with their wives instead of lobsters."

Seth nods to Easton as he starts to wander back to the office, "Yeah, I do a bit of a workout at Joey's. I've been dragging Ravn there for some defense training. I'm sure I'll catch you around there some time, should you show up."

Seth turns to Ravn, "I get that, and there is a time for sparing in full clothes, but when you are just learning out that isn't the time. We will work up to that. Sadly, nothing prepped me for what I had to face, and pants wouldn't have helped much. At least I didn't have to run and possibly snag something on a branch." Seth sits there drinking his pink girly drink, tossing a glance over towards Joe as Ravn announces his appearance, greeting him with a nod.

"Cuba Libre, if you don't mind," Joe says, lazily. One of his usuals, and middle of the road for him. When he's heading for a serious drunk, it's a Four Horsemen. When he's really just there to be sociable, it's more like local beer or cider.

He grins at Ravn. "I bet. I don't drydock Surprise - she's already rode out one winter here, she c'n do it again. I like having her as a refuge, even with an apartment. She's warm enough, I got a good cabin heater an' lots of blankets." Seth gets a grin and a nod of greeting. "Monaghan, hey," he says, affably. "How's it goin'?"

Ravn glances around in the realisation that he's suddenly the one person here who's actually allowed behind the bar. Sure, those two gents have drinks now but -- he probably shouldn't disappear to clean floors or tables somewhere right now, then. Instead he tosses the cloth over one shoulder and steps in behind the bar proper, resuming his lazy lounge against it, just from the other side. "Vagabond's not made for wintering in the water. I drove into Seattle and raided a bookstore, though. Guess a pile of books will see me through three months of winter until I get back to sea."

Finishing his drink, Seth puts the empty glass onto the bar, plucking out a stray piece of fruit from the bottom and plopping it into his mouth. He looks over at Joe and shrugs a shoulder, "I've had a hell of a night, let me tell ya." the enforcer starts, "I have now truly experienced all that Gray Harbor has to offer. At least my trip to Wonderland was tame compared to others I have heard about." Seth raps the bar in front of him, "I'll take another drink Ravn, whatever you feel comfortable making. I'm not yet at 'forgetting the last few hours' drunk I am aiming for."

The mention of books makes Joe's eyes brighten. "Yeah? I got plenty, you need more, when it comes to books," he offers, nodding. Easton's handed off his drink before vanishing, and he takes a sip. Then he's turning that blue gaze on the other man. "What happened?" he asks, bluntly. "You got pulled into your first Dream? What was it like?" He's matter of fact about it - this is a hazard of life in Gray Harbor, and humans are well-nigh infinitely adaptable.

"Well, I could decide to not be a dick about this one," Ravn murmurs good-naturedly to Monaghan and reaches up overhead. "How's Glenfiddich for you? That's my usual go-to when I feel like taking my brain out and putting it in a jar somewhere for a few hours. This one's on my tab, then -- your welcome to Bizarroland drink."

Pouring out a generous shot of twelve-year scotch -- and not polluting it with ice this time -- the Dane glances at Joe. "I mostly read non-fiction. I'm brushing up on American and Canadian folk legends -- some of the kids I tutor conveniently will be writing their pieces on Paul Bunyan."

Seth lifts the glass in a salute to Ravn and takes a small sip before addressing Joe. "Long story or short story?" asks the redhead. "You seem like a long story sort. "

The enforcer takes another sip of the scotch, takes a deep breath, and then starts talking. "I woke up in a foresty meadow kind of place, as naked as I was when I went to sleep. There were a few other people there, as I came to find out, such as Cheif de la Vega, Joey Kelly, and a couple of others. Joey gave me the apron he was wearing since I guess he was in the middle of a midnight BBQ. He showed up in boxers, an apron, and oven mitts. Anyway, after getting some semblance of decency we came across some girl I don't know and a pregnant frog the size of a small dog. The frog asked us to carry her home, which I did, and then after I modify the apron to make a bag of sorts, she squirts out a bunch of eggs into the apron. Took those down to a water trough she wanted them placed into, and there you pretty much have it."

"I got plenty of both. Got the whole Pantheon Folklore Library series, in fact. You ever read those? There's a bunch that focus on America - a volume of African-American folktales, stuff from the American West, Native American.....you wanna look, stop by," Joe offers, after another swig of his drink.

Then he's eyeing Seth thoughtfully. "Fucked up, ain't it?" he says. "My first was some li'l kid's Dream about Godzilla and all his kin. No one got killed or bad hurt that I saw, but it was messed up. I'll have to ask Javier about it."

Ravn leans his elbows on the counter and cants his head, looking at Joe. "It's on my to-do list. I should take you up on that. Have to admit, I didn't expect to meet anyone else in this town with an interest in that kind of material. Americana's not my forte but, never too late to expand one's horizons, I figure. And particularly not when living somewhere it all frequently decides to be real for a bit."

"Fucked up is certainly one way to put it. At least I didn't end up in a Washington Irving story like Ravn here did." Seth retorts as he lifts his glass to his lips again. "It certainly could have been much worse than a horny amphibian giving birth on me."

Changing the subject, Seth looks between the two as they start talking about books, "I mostly read fiction, when I read for fun. I tend to keep with fantasy or urban fantasy, with a sprinkling of sci-fi thrown in."

The sailor shrugs. "Stories have always fascinated me, and folklore especially. And....a lot of that imagery shows up here, you know? Dealin' with Dreams that's got figures from Russian folklore in 'em, at the moment. Kinna funny - the Dane's dealing with American stories, the American's dealing with Russian ones." He purses his lips, takes a sip. "Well, not just Russian. I was in one that was Meso-American, if I remember right. Aztec gods..."

A glance at Seth. "Sci-fi's what I write, now," he says, grinning. "Who's your favorite of that kinna stuff? And yeah, better absurd and icky and weird than dangerous or bloody, right?"

"Reading for fun, I'm partial to the sci-fi writers from the mid-twentieth century," Ravn murmurs and pours himself one of those Glenfiddichs as well. It's quiet at the Twofer on an afternoon like this, and bar tending services certainly don't seem to be in high demand. "Clarke, Pohl, that lot. Even Asimov though honestly, Foundation is more interesting in its capacity of trope namer for half a dozen concepts than it is as a piece of literature very badly in need of an editor."

Ravn glances at Joe. "I was there with you on the meso-American one," he reminds gently. "And, well, folklore is what I do. The real job, when I'm not slumming around the US trying to -- " air quotes " -- find myself."

"Recently I have read the Expanse series by Corey, but I have read some Zahn...not his Star Wars stuff, his old Cobra series, and a few others like Gibson. Most recently I have been reading a lot more Butcher or Rothfuss." Seth explains, sipping at his scotch. "Not that I have all that much time to read. But yes, I'll take weird over dangerous any day."

Uh oh, they've hit one of the buttons that makes words come out of Joe in earnest. He's looking between them eagerly. "Yeah, some of those guys are classics, though I feel you about Asimov. That's like Frank Herbert. I have never yet made it past book four of Dune. First one's a great one, first three are an excellent trilogy....and then it just bogs down. I still love Clarke, though. And Bradbury." He cocks his head at Ravn. "Find yourself? Any clues yet on where you might find yourself?" His tone is only gently mocking.

"Expanse is real good. There's a lot of companion novellas only available as short pieces that kinna fill things in," he points out. "I just reread Gibson's Sprawl trilogy. Damn, that man does some amazing prose. You ever read George Effinger? Rothfuss is good stuff, too, but he's got George Martin's disease where he can never finish the damn series."

"I obsessed about Herbert as a teenager," Ravn admits. "Although his other series appealed to me more -- the merman one, the name eludes me at the moment. And Chalker -- I picked up the Wellworld series on Kindle a while back and it's... honestly not as great as I remembered. Horrifically sexist, too."

He sips his scotch and then resumes lounging, hitching one shoulder lightly. "I think I might be under the sofa, maybe. Or dropped in the driveway. Truth of the matter is, I should go home and get started on the whole being a responsible adult but I don't particularly feel like it."

Who would have thought that an Irish mob enforcer would also be a reader? "Yeah, I really like Gibson. I also enjoyed Snow Crash by Stephenson quite a bit. Something about dystopian cyber sci-fi just hits the right buttons for me. I agree about Rothfuss and Martin though, I mean who knows if we will ever see the end? It could turn out to be a Wheel of Time situation." Seth says with a shrug. "I can't say I have read any of Effinger. What does he write?"

The look that Joe turns on Ravn is guileless. "Why?" he says. "Why do, if you don't want to? I was a very responsible, buttoned-up, upright adult for years. Military, all that. But only 'cause it was the way I had to space. Now that I'm retired and don't have to take anyone's orders, I aim to do just as I damn well please as much as I possibly can. Been havin' a great time with that." As if to make his point, he takes another hearty swig of his drink.

Back to Seth, he's nodding. "Stephenson's early stuff is well worth it. He kind of fell over the edge with the Baroque Cycle, though. Never could finish it. Effinger did a lot of stuff, but his best stuff was a series of cyberpunk novels set in the Middle East. First one is When Gravity Fails if I remember right. You like Gibson and Stephenson, you'll really enjoy him." He looks meditative. "I need to reread him, come to think."

"You have found your shelf, Cavanaugh. You are where you want to be, you've got a family after a fashion and you know what you want to do with that retirement." Ravn rests his elbows on the counter; the man does seem to change position quite often. "I haven't come to any conclusions besides that, unless you count my firm decision to not be a teacher in a classroom ever again. I know what I'm running from but I still haven't decided where I'm running to. I'm thirty years old, I should probably decide on some vague idea of what I actually want to do with my life at some point. In spring, maybe. Going to winter here at least."

Picking up his phone, Seth makes a note. "Thanks, I will definitely give him a read." the enforcer says to Joseph. "So, how about you? What kind of sci-fi do you write?"

Seth drains the last of the scotch from his glass, setting the empty onto the bar as he leans back much more relaxed than when he barged into the Twofer a while ago.

Joe taps a fingernail against his glass, nods. "Fair enough," he concedes, quietly. "I have. I've come to rest, I got to do nearly ever'thing I meant to do, 'cept get to the Moon." Seriously, he's apparently still hung up on that. "I'm sorry I won't be there to work on the Artemis missions. What you runnin' from?" he wonders.

A click of his tongue for Seth, "So far, all I got is a novel called Martian Dawn - ended up bein' a murder mystery set in what I figured the first human settlement on Mars might be like. Workin' on a sequel now, called Red Dust but it's goin' slow. Gray Harbor's got a lot of distractions in it."

"Taking over the family business." Ravn glances at Seth and at the bottle, quirking an eyebrow in an attempt to determine whether the other man still needs frogs burned from his retina, or life is starting to swim back into focus for him a little. "Also, ghosts with grudges. Figure it'll take its sweet time walking across the Atlantic."

Making another note, Seth nods and mutters to himself "Martian Dawn...got it. Sounds like it is a good read. I'll have to pick it up."

Seth glances over to Ravn and shakes his head, birthing frogs burned from his memory enough for now. "What is your family business, Darth?"

Joe grins, ruefully. "What ghosts?" he asks, but his voice is more gentle, now. Then Seth's asking the question he wants the answer to, and he takes a sip before adding, "I kinna was in one of the family businesses, we've been a military family since the Civil War. Avoided one of the others, politics, like the plague."

"My family's in finances and real estate. I'm not -- I work jobs like this, and do a bit of online tutoring." Ravn pours himself another shot instead. "Enough to get me by, and stay out of sight. Ironically, got family in politics as well -- on both extremes of the political spectrum, which is yet another great reason to stay the hell out of earshot."

He adds ice to the glass and frowns a little, looking for the right words. "I suppose this is the kind of place where people actually believe in literal ghosts. My fiancee died. Killed herself ramming a tree while drunk driving. We'd argued -- that's why she took off. Seeing her standing around broken landed me in a nervous breakdown, some five years ago. That's why I ended up taking off like I did, just getting the hell out of there."

Seth winces as Ravn speaks of his dead fiancee. "Oh, that's a rough one." the enforcer says, reaching a hand up to rub at the stubble on his chin. "Wait, did you see like her literal ghost? Man, that would wreck me I think."

Joe snorts. "I feel that. My father was and my brother is in politics, and we're at opposite ends of the spectrum. So I avoid all that whenever I can, I do." Then the long face turns melancholy, as he listens to that. "My fiancee died in a car accident. Got hit by a drunk driver when she was out walkin' on the sidewalk. Haven't ever seen her ghost." He sounds almost wistful, as if he might want to.

"Someone told me shortly after I came here that all our ghosts catch up in Gray Harbor eventually." Ravn snorts. "I hope they're wrong. But if they're not, let me assure you that when I see a girl who's literally been cut out of a car wreck walking up the pier, I am jumping in the water and swimming to Olympia if I have to." He nods at Seth. "It did wreck me. Spent a year picking myself back up, then packed a bag and left. Haven't gone home since. Bummed my down through Europe until I ran out of land mass, then started over here in the USA, figuring that I'd be good until I hit Tierra del Fuego eventually. Truth of the matter, though, I should head home some time, or at least find out what I actually want to do with my life besides running. I had a dream the other night -- about being seventeen and confused, and I think it made me realise that I'm honestly pretty much just like that, still. Which is a little embarrassing when you're bloody thirty."

Seth nods quietly in contemplation. He is about to say something when his phone chirps, and with a frown, he glances down to read the incoming message. Sighing, he stands as he fishes his money clip out of his sweats, tossing a few bills onto the counter. "Sorry gents, but I have to go. Duty calls." Is he getting called to the same place as Vic? Who knows. "I'm really sorry to hear about both your fiancees. That, well...I really don't have the words to say what that is...but I am sure you more prolific types can find a few." The enforcer might do some questionable things for a living, but maybe he isn't totally dead inside. "I'm sure you will find your way, Darth. Most people do eventually."