2020-11-15 - Boxing Day

It's been about 20 minutes or so since Seth got off the phone with Ravn, and true to his word the enforcer pulls up in his '68 Cobra, the rumble of the engine announcing his presence long before the car pulls into the lot. Slipping out of the car the redhead is dressed as normal for the gym with his sweats and barely-there t-shirt. Moving around to his trunk, he pops it open and pulls out a large duffel, slinging it over one shoulder.

Seth strolls into the gym, tossing his duffle down onto the floor as he glances around the gym to see who is here, "Joey? You 'round? Ring free?"

Not really waiting for an answer, Seth picks the duffle up again and makes his way towards the ring, setting the duffle up onto the apron and fishing out a bottle of water...and a candy bar for which he starts to unwrap.

Warm-ups are good, right? Hyperactive Danish squirrels seem to think so. At least Ravn arrives on foot a few minutes later -- having changed into his black (surprise!) track pants and a black (again!) tank top and walked here at a brisk pace. Even in the green haze that Gray Harbor currently calls atmosphere he's not quite brave enough to try his luck at actually running, because even with his inhaler, doing so is likely to set off a coughing fit -- and what he wants is not to lean against something while trying to breathe, but to punch things and eat things and possibly punch things while eating them, too.

He wanders in and tosses his sports bag in a random chair; towel and water bottle gets fished out in case he needs them, and he waves at anyone nearby, walking with the air of someone who owns this room. That, too, is somewhat uncharacteristic for the guy who usually walks like he isn't actually there, you just imagined him slipping past.

Alexander does not own the room. He doesn't even rent the room, so he slinks inside. His expression is bleary and reddened and he hasn't really shaved in the last day or so, so between that and the worn sweats, he's looking pretty scruffy. But, hey, he's here, peering around the corners of the room and yawning. When he sees Ravn, and then Seth, there's a languid sort of wave. "Hi. You're both here. That's good. It'd be awkward if none of you were." He starts wandering towards the ring, his gym bag slung haphazardly over one shoulder.

Does Joey have grown men doing fucking laps? Yes the fuck he does. Is he making Ravn walk them? Damn right he is! Was he sleeping in the back again? Maybe. Maybe. "Fuuuuck me running you got my message and I didn't even call you yet." He looks at his phone an hangs up walking over to Alexander. "Was just trying to call you. Suuup Ravn. Monaghan." Looking to Alexander he says "Ribs, later. My place. 7?"

Chowing down on the candy bar, Seth watches Ravn and Alexander arrive, giving each man a nod of acknowledgment as he chews on caramelly goodness. "So, who are you going to punch today, Ravn? Me? Alexander?" OH look, there is a Joey, "Or Joey? Hey Joey." Seth opens the water and takes a swig, washing the bar down. "Did you get pads yet? If not, I got mine here. I definitely recommend pads."

Seth looks over to Joey, "Yo, I've been meaning to ask you...what the fuck were you doing in boxers, oven mits, and an apron the other night? I mean, were you baking in the buff or something?"

Ravn perks up at the mention of a specific word in Joey's greeting -- and then perks back down. Pointedly and dejectedly, traumatised even, he looks at Seth with obvious anguish. "No ribs for us? Don't give Joey any waffletacos, he doesn't deserve them."

He heads for the pads and tries to get them transferred from the shelf to his own body with a strange mixture of utter amateurish helplessness and a swagger as he is the unspoken champion of this place. One doesn't need to look at him twice to recognise the signs: The Dane is high as an entire flight of kites. But then, this week, who isn't?

He makes a few tentative jabs at the air in front of himself, moving like what can at best be called a bad movie cliché. "You. You, Irish. For all the fucking kielbasas and apples and every fucking nightmare I'm going to have about that tonight. Die."

Alexander gives Joey a sleepy sort of smile. "I'm psychic," he points out. But then, because he's honest to a fault and even more so when he's high, he waves towards Seth and Ravn. "Actually, was coming to help Ravn train." The invitation takes him aback for a moment, and he blinks a couple of times at Joey, before bobbing his head. "Yes. Sure. I'd like that. What should I bring? Waffletacos?" He pulls a face at Ravn. "All men deserve waffletacos. Waffletacos are the food of the people. The elixir of liberation, the tantalizing taste sensation by which freedom shall be brought to the masses."

As he rambles on, he's heading towards the racks to get his own pads, even though it looks like Ravn has chosen another challenger. "What's wrong with apples and kielbasas?"

There is a strange energy around the city, and stranger yet and without a beat "Other than your ma? Makin pizza rolls. What'd it look like I was doing?" Wandering over, still sneakers, basketball shorts, and a tanktop under a gym hoodie that pulls at his shoulders and arms a little bit. Looking to Alexander he gets a little sniffly, and very quiet. "...I love waffletacoes..." And then Ravn starts in on the Irish, "Look man, we can't help that a passion for good food, good beer, and great company and runnin our fuckin goddamn mouth-" He pauses and frowns murmuring, "Yeah, that's a lap," and continues, "is genetic!"

Starting to laugh at Ravn, Seth gets up and starts to put on his own pads. "I made a joke to plant something into Ravn's mind about Easton. And now he is going to relive that horror." Seth says in reply to Alexander. "And yes, we will make waffletacos a thing. In fact, I think we need to have a waffletaco party. We should make that happen."

Seth turns to Joey and shrugs a shoulder, "Good for you, she could use a thrill, god knows my old man couldn't give it to her." Seth grins, "I thought you were baking muffins because the thought of you sitting around baking muffins in the middle of the god damn night amuses me greatly. Wait...you know about waffletacos?! Alexander, how many people did you text about waffletacos?!"

Slapping his hands together, the enforcer slids up into the ring and starts to use the ropes to stretch out a bit. "Whenever you are ready, Darth. Come get some."

"No men deserve waffletacos if they're withholding ribs from me. Who says I don't like good food, good beer, and great company?" The Prince of Denmark has spoken. Ravn hops up into the boxing ring, moving with a confidence he certainly didn't possess last time the three men were giving this a shot.

And then, without much further ado, he aims a punch at Seth's head. It's probably the most ineffectual punch this gym has ever experienced, but it's also a profound attitude change from the guy who didn't even think to block last time around.

Alexander finishes putting on his pads, then wanders over to the sniffly Joey and reaches to try and ruffle his hair. "All true men love waffletacos," he assures him with a kindly air, before continuing to wander over to the ring to lean against the outside of it, blinking at Ravn. "I texted a lot of people, Seth. A lot of people. I am a marketing genius," he proclaims, despite a distressing lack of evidence for this assertion. "I don't think I directly texted Kelly about it. I might have forgot. But I think he just heard about it because I am a marketing genius. Word on the street. Building anticipation. Because we are definitely gonna have a waffletaco party. Kelly and Ravn are both invited." He watches the attempted punch with an air of benevolent obliviousness.

Joey looks up at Alexander and doesn't even though about it and hugs him with a pat. "You can use my place. We'll just like tell mom it's fine and stop movin the dinette set." Looking up int he ring at Seth he pleads, "Don't kill em. we'll just have him come over for real food and he'll stop feelin bad." Looking to Ravn he asks, "You move into Vic's old place? I hear that right?" Looking to Alexander he says "Oh hey, I'm still gonna need you to marry me, but like not while the world's high as fuck cause then you be mad at me. I can't do that again." Uh huh. And now he goes to get his coffee off his desk just insider the office. "We ain't done a block part at my place since before Jaime got Jesse outta here. Shit. Thanksgiving at my place."

Well, Seth did say to come at him. Much to the surprise of Seth, and pretty much everyone in the known universe that ineffectual punch is just wonky enough to slip under Seth's guard and tag the Irishman square on the nose. It is one of those perfect accident kind of events where everything happens at just the right/wrong way to where it is the most effective thing ever.

CRACK

That is the sound that Seth's nose makes under the knuckles of the Dane. Seth's hands immediately head to cradle the now traumatized cartilage as blood starts to leak out from the clenched fingers. "Fuck!" Seth exclaims, mumbled through hands and a swollen nose as he heads towards the ring to slip out, droplets of red trailing behind him. "Nice shot...I'll be back."

Seth makes his way over towards the locker room, grabbing his bag on the way.

"I don't do parties. But I'd do ribs sometime." Ravn, pay attention to the fight you're in. Or, considering what just happened -- actually, Ravn, don't ever pay attention to the fight you're in. Whatever the hell it is you think you're doing, it's working.

He stares blankly after Seth a moment. Then, slowly, a very wide grin spreads across the Dane's face. Not happiness about injuring the other man -- but excitement that for once in his life, an aggressive situation didn't end with him curled up on the floor. He probably also suspects -- and quite rightly so -- that this is not the first nosebleed in Seth Monaghan's life.

At least he has the decency to murmur, "Oops."

Alexander is hugged?! For once, he doesn't freak out about this and try to stab someone. He doesn't exactly lean into it or return it or anything, either, but he just accepts it an sighs, his eyes closing briefly. "It'll be like a Tupperware party. But for waffletacos." He blinks agreeably at Joey for the requirement. "mmmkay. You know I'm not a priest, right? I can send off to one of those internet things to be legally ordained for a bit, but I'm not actually a priest. If that matters. And I was only a little mad at you." He might have said more, but that CRACK draws his attention back to the ring, and he stares wide-eyed at what just transpired. And then?

Then he bursts out laughing, with absolutely no restraint at all. He has to clutch the ropes to keep from falling over with laughter.

Joey calls out from the office, "That's a lap for language , Seth! ...I gotta do one too. It's okay." He calls after Seth, "Don't die." Looking at no one in particular he asks, "Keep an eye on that, man? Thanks." And somehow on its own the door behind Seth closes? Gray Harbor, man. He looks to Ravn and walks over, somehow in all Alexander's snickering he walks over to the gym knowing Seth knows his shit, and has that rarely seen ear to ear grin of amusement. Hopping up in there he goes over and takes Ravn's hands and checks for anything injured on that ht. Finding nothing he holds his glove in the air and gestures to him with the other hand, "Holy shit I should run you on fight club as our ringer. Damn. I'm proud of you."

"I, uh, actually just thought about how I feel about parties. And then I -- socked him, I suppose. I have issues. It's like all my filters are set to off and my mouth runs one way and my thoughts run the other way, and neither of them get anywhere. You have any idea how many people I've pissed off this week? Pretty much everybody." Ravn puts them up again in front of himself, dancing asthmatic, crouching nerdboy style and gives Alexander a challenging look. "And now I apparently need to win a machismo contest against Easton that I didn't sign up for, and I'm pretty damned sure that he didn't either. See, now I'm high and grumpy, and I want to punch more people in the face."

"Why are you making people run laps for language, Kelly?" Alexander tilts his head to one side. "Is this now a language-free zone?" A pause. "An invective-free zone. I assume regular talking is okay." His brow furrows. "There's a fight club?" Luckily, he's high enough that the information passes through him, for the moment, and his attention drifts back to Ravn. "Yeah. You have issues with women," he informs Ravn, solemnly. "But it's okay. You can punch me in the face if you want to." He climbs into the ring, and yawns. "But, in my opinion, when you're grumpy is probably the time you don't want to punch people."

"First off, you never need to win a machismo contest against Easton. Though.." He looks to Alexander and muses, "Ha yeah, we're not at school. Easton does like to shoot up his own fucking bar." There's a pause and he looks over at Alexander and cracks a half grin, "Shit you okay there? And Ravn it's just... barbecue at my place. And fried turkey. You should come and if you get like freaked out or whatever you can go chill in the back and if anyone bugs you i'll jsut fucking shoot em in the leg with a tranq dart. Set up bear traps or something or a sign" Sure a sign could work. less fun. "Who...why... Ravn... the fuck?" Welcome to joey asking what's going on.

"I have issues with women because they keep having issues with me," Ravn murmurs and jabs at the air a few times. He's actually not quite sure how exactly he managed to deck Seth, and a nagging feeling persists that he might not get this lucky a second time. Particularly not now that the other guy is expecting it.

"I don't want to be dragged into people's relationships. I don't want to be one corner of a stupid triangle drama. I keep getting told I'm threatening people's relationships with each other, or I'm sleeping with people I shouldn't be sleeping with. People need to sort their own damn relationships out. I can't even touch anyone most of the time, I'm bloody well not going around raiding bedrooms. I'm sick and tired of this shit." Dance, dance. Jab, jab.

Pause.

"I might actually be able to do that, Kelly. The chill in the back part. Not the shooting people with a tranq dart. Probably end up shooting myself."

Alexander starts stretching himself out, and despite his general air of not-quite-hereness, he's thorough with it. Even high, he remembers how much a pulled muscle hurts. He shakes his head at Ravn. "Can't threaten a relationship. Unless you're pulling a knife on someone, but you don't seem the type. Either the relationship is good, or it's not. If someone wants to look elsewhere, that's not the fault of the person they look at." His brow furrows. "This isn't about the Bennie thing, is it? Because that wasn't anything you did. Or she did. Nothing bad happened. I'd expect Easton to realize that." He blinks a couple of times at Joey, then waves. "I'm fine! I'm good! I want fried turkey, now."

He doesn't dance. He doesn't jab. He just sort of stands there, benevolently derpy, waiting for Ravn to hit him in the face.

Joey takes a deep breath, folds his arms and rests on the edge of the ring murmuring, "Clayton I can totally see up your nostrils from here. You are so tall." And then he lets Alexander have the run of it. "yeah you can't 'steal' someone's significant other without a felony kidnapping charge." He consider the rest and pulls out his phone "Yeah al'ight I'll have Sparrow or Duarte pick us up a turkey and oil. Fryer's already here." Fry a turkey now/ Yes.

Looking up he frowns, "You're not responsible for other people's feelings having feelings, their impulses, nor their lack of control of themselves. That's as bullshit as grabbing a person's goodies because they were wearing a something that got you on. Everyone's responsible for their own construct." Conduct. close enough.

"Nothing happened with Bennie. I didn't even realise something was supposed to happen until Rosencrantz very patiently walked me through all the cues I bloody well missed in the first place. I like her. She's fun. She's a good boss. She needed someone to talk to. I'm someone. Everything got sorted out. Life goes on. Then this dispenser blowing up happens and apparently she tells people she wanted to sleep with me and now Easton's supposed to feel he needs to one-up me. I can't even."

And there it is, the frustration. JAB!

Alexander probably should have been expecting it. Maybe he just figured he would be able to avoid the hit when it came. Maybe he was thinking about fried turkey, instead. For whatever reason, although his hands come up when Ravn's frustration boils over, it's not fast enough. He yanks his head to the side just enough so that Ravn doesn't go two noses for two, but there's still a solid thwack of fist on flesh, and Alexander staggers back as his head snaps back. "Christfuck!" His head ducks down, finally behind his guard as he takes up a more defensive stance. "Ow. Good hit. But ow." He shakes his head, trying to clear it. "Ow. Um...'supposed to'? Who says, did Easton say? Or is this some other chucklefuck."

He breaks his guard enough to make an 'again' gesture at his face. Not hitting back, but maybe figuring Ravn just needs an outlet.

Joey holds up finger numero dos, "Dude, nothing is supposed to happen. You are never obligated to have- omg I need to teach how not to sexually harass people I swear. It was easier to just punch people can say Don't." Awwww lament for the good days. His hand comes to rest on the mat with a smack. "See, Nicole and I got this rule: If you can't say it you shouldn't be doing it. It's a maturity guard." He pauses and murmurs, "Also I don't know that's a thing, Alexander, but I'll consult." Is he going to add christfuck to the list of things maybe he should be aware of? Who knows. "Christ on a crouton, this is why I stay out of other people's shit. Seriously call Easton. Be like 'yo, your girl be trippin. Clean up your house man' and get on with your day."

"What? No. Easton and I almost never are at the bar at the same time. I mostly do the graveyard shifts in the mornings when it's quiet and I can just go about cleaning the place up after the evening." Ravn pauses and glances at Alexander as if he too kind of wondering what the hell just happened there. The Dane is clearly not accustomed to the whole idea of actually landing blows on men with lots of fighting experience. He glances at his own fist and quirks an eyebrow, almost as if he's asking himself who exactly is running the show here -- him, or it.

Maybe he should get a chainsaw attached to it.

"Pretty sure there isn't any house to clean up. The two of them are stupid silly about each other. This fucking weed cloud is making us all do and say and think stupid things." He straightens up and lowers his hands. "When it finally blows over? Something more happens, I'll talk to him. I'm not high enough to start burning bridges and slamming doors. I think. I am apparently high enough to break Seth's nose. Wow."

"Everybody's tripping," Alexander says, with a lift of his hands. "And all the feelings just start spiiiiiiilling out, like SPLOOSH!" He makes an extravagant, explody type of gesture, although presumably what's exploding is wet, because sploosh. "But don't worry about it, Ravn. Easton is a good guy and he's not going to try and bust your chops for something that didn't even happen, and Bennie is wonderful." He tilts his head to one side, then the other. "You're energetic. Your body and your brain. Both energetic. I wouldn't have thought that you'd be energetic. It's good." A point of his finger towards Joey. "Also a good rule."

Joey nods with a slow mmmmhmmm with Alexander. "Real friends tell you when you are being a dick and hurting people." Man being stoned off his ass makes Kelly a chatty bastard. "One of the many reasons I love ya man. Thank you." Looking back to Ravn he snorts, "You're not a spectator in your own life and you didn't show up to one an... what tehy call em? An extra, in someone else's. If they are your friend tell em. Can't be friends if you can't talk about shi- I'm texting de la Vega right the fuck now because fuck, dude." And that's gonna go over great. Sure. Good plan.

"Wait, what? What's de la Vega got to do with anything?" Ravn looks baffled. "I texted him yesterday. By accident. He promised me brownies."

Alexander is just nodding along to the conversation, standing in a half-ready pose but mostly just blissfully existing in the company of other people who don't hate him. There's a nod to de la Vega and a nod to text him right now, but it seems a couple of brain cells are still firing, because one of those neurons waves a flag named Joey Kelly and the flag is red. Super, crimson red. Alexander jerks in place, and refocuses on Joey. "Whoa. Wait. No. Noooo. No attempting to talk to Javier while stoned. Not while he's stoned. Not while you're stoned. Not a good idea."

Joey is still trying to unlock his phone frowning, "He changed his number on me I think" No . Still the lock screen. Snapping a look up to Ravn he freezes and looking to Alexander his eyes go wiiiiide "Fucker's makin brownies for another dude now and he can't even go do ribs with me? AHMAGAD!" He turns trying to keep Alexander on one side and the phone on the other side and instead of punching in the number he yells at it instead. Man, fuck dialing first, "You know what you did man!!! Fucker, you hurt like...all five of my feelings! I'm a go fry a turkey. WITHOUT YA. ME and Alexander are gonna fry the crunchiest fuckin turkey this side of Thanksgiving, ya year that!..." There's a pause and he adds, "Miss ya man. Call me back."

"... I like turkey." Ravn shakes his head, trying to maybe rattle his priorities back into place. When he does manage, he tacks on, "Actually, uh, I think it's because of Rosencrantz? He calls me Itzhak's straight boyfriend. So it's more like, I have a play date with him, and -- brownies, something? I don't even know de la Vega, do I look like someone who used to hang around the police willingly?"

Yes, Ravn. You do. Sorry.

He swaggers out of the boxing ring, mostly because his body didn't get the we're subdued now memo that his brain forgot to send out when Joey started yelling at his phone. Communication between various higher functions are just not happening on schedule today. "I think I'm going to go... eat something. And maybe stare into space a little? Sort things out in my head?"

Beat.

"But uh. I'd like to turn up. Sometime. You know. If you do that barbecue."

And that's what the very unlikely combination of profound social anxieties and a serious case of entitlement sort of fail to communicate, and hence, manifest at once in one man walking out, picking up his bag on the way. Seriously mixed signals there.

Alexander is sidling over towards Joey, trying (and completely failing) to be subtle. "Kelly. Kelly. Don't phone right now. It's not good to phone while angry." And now he's sort of dancing around Joey while Joey tries to keep him from the phone, although he stumbles a little when Joey just starts yelling at it. "...aw." His eyes are momentarily downcast, then he nods. "It's okay. We'll have great fried turkey." A glance towards Ravn. "All of us. Best fried turkey ever. And wafflefuckingtacos." He watches Ravn go, momentarily distracted from phone acquisition. "He's interesting."

Joey turns and hugs Alexander dropping his forehead on his shoulder. "He's a douche...but I miss em." he pauses and corrects because he's culturally fucking sensitive, "El douche." N-no. No that's now how that works, Joey. The good news is the phone never made it off the lock screen and if it did? Well that might have gotten back to Nicole in all likelihood. He sniffs. "C'mon we'll go...not burn down my garage." realizing who he's saying this to he can't help but crack the fuck up. "Hey while everyone's fucked up we should probably grab extra plates."