2020-11-16 - Who is Deep Frying a Turkey NOW...and is there more?

If anyone goes looking in the back yard there IS a guy passed out in a lawn chair. Whether this is evidence that Joey was serious or not remains to be seen.

Alexander doesn't live very far away, which is in all things a mixed blessing. Right now, it means he doesn't have to haul a wheelbarrow very far. And yes, he has a wheelbarrow. It has several cartons of ice cream, several boxes of frozen waffles, several bottles of booze, a couple of pots of chocolate shell dipping sauce, and...frozen churros. He must have emptied his freezer out for this...whatever this is. He stops and looks at the sign, his head tilting to one side, before picking the wheelbarrow back up and trundling it on around the back. "Kelly! I have ice cream. Hope you got some place to put it. And a toaster. And do you actually have tranquilizers? Do I wanna know why?"

He stops when he sees the passed out guy.

Vic is here! Because at the moment, Vic still lives here. Her house right across the street and one house over is still not in shape for living in full time. She has the bathroom ripped out, and three downstairs rooms are in the stages of being painted and the floors refinished. Once that gets done, and the bathroom fixtures are in, she can sleep there at least.

She picked up some beer and used her strange super high energy to whip up a massive batch of unstuffed twice baked potatoes. Mashed potatoes, cheddar cheese, sour cream, chives, and crumbled bacon all mixed up together. She also grabbed the banquet serving set from TiBS with it's chafing dishes and sterno cans set up and lit to keep things warm that guests bring. She has her taters in one of the dishes with a cover on it.

The enforcer is in jeans, running shoes, and a tee under a blue flannel since it's unseasonably warm tonight. She has her hair up in a high ponytail to keep it out of her way, because drinking shall happen. She already has a beer in hand and sips from it as she stretches out her long legs in a tattered lawn chair.

It doesn't take long for Seth to show up since he lives just down the street, but it looks like the enforcer went and grabbed a +1 in the form of a Danish bartender. Seth and Ravn walk in together, like a pair of mismatched something or others.

Seth is carrying in a pair of six-packs in one hand with a bag of groceries in the other and is wearing a t-shirt and...a kilt. A traditional Irish kilt that shows off his well-defined legs, complete with pleating and sporran. The tartan displayed is a plaid of reds, greens, and yellows which is the traditional tartan for his surname. Below the pleated fabric are a pair of normal socks and tennis shoes.

Ravn, on the other hand, is wearing a finely tailored suit of black with a blue vest. (https://gray-harbor.com/file/ravn/blacksays.jpg). In his gloved hands, he carries what appears to be a waffle-maker.

"Yes. I am traditional." Seth mutter without prompting, "So if you really want to check you are all forewarned."

Mixed signals is probably the best description currently applied to Ravn Abildgaard. The plastic bag filled with napkins printed with jolly red lobsters he carries in one gloved hand -- that part is not so unexpected for a guy whom Gray Harbor's special narrative has seen fit to set up as the kingpin of an illegal crustacean combat league. It's more that Ravn is very much known to be a jeans, turtleneck and some jacket or other bloke, low key and only occasionally spiced up with something as extravagantly daring as a dark purple scarf. Add to that, he's possessed of a higher form of functional social invisibility -- a talent for blending in, and more often, out of any kind of gathering, like a chameleon on steroids.

Not so today. The Dane wanders in together with Seth Monaghan, wearing the most sheepish smile in the history of mankind and clearly contemplating just turning around and walking right back out. That part is normal. The black and bright blue three piece suit is not. It's stylish, it's elegant, it's fashionable as hell, and probably European to boot. What's even more baffling is that the man actually knows how to walk and comport himself in an outfit like that. It even manages to make the gloves look like an intentional fashion statement.

There has to be a dare involved here, somewhere.

Nicole has pretty much been living here for awhile. Not officially, though she does have a key. She still has her trailer in Huckleberry, and has been seen there from time to time (even if it's just to water plants or pick up things). She steps outside wearing a flowing broom skirt in a tie-dyed ombre of purple and cream and a sweater in a shade of plum to go with. Despite it being autumn now, she is barefoot. When the door closes behind her with a bit of a bang, she looks to see who has arrived and what might need to be done, she also investigates Joey and his whole set up with a gaze. "Um, you have like, a fire extinguisher near?" She then lifts a hand all casual like and waves. "Hey everyone. Come and make yourselves at home."

Vic quips at Seth, "Right, so no challenging you to do a handstand on the lawn today, got it!" She grins with that slow, lazy grin of someone who is really, really high. She sips her beer and crosses her feet at the ankles; hopefully no one trips over her. She seems to hear something and hollers back at the house, "NO, MA KELLY! I AM NOT COMING BACK IN THERE TO PUT ON A PRETTY DRESS LIKE A PROPER LADY!" She may or may not actually be talking to the ghost of Joey's mom. She is really, really high and could be imagining it entirely.

Joey waves a hand for Alexander to come over, and the expression of Woah shit, that's cool on his face makes him easily mistakable for Jaime with a beard. "Clayton, just live life and stop fearing the ketamine. That ...looks amazing. There's a freezer chest here in the garage." Looking up to Vic and Nicole as if this answer's Nicole's question about fire safety he responds, "We have ice cream" Looking back to Alexander he sighs, "Because you know I hate lying and Marco did not believe me. He showed up empty handed. It's fine. This happens all the time." Looking back up to the house he calls back, "Ma, leave her alone, and someone find us a toaster." Looking to Seth and Ravn he grins, "Suuup, guys, ya made it."

Itzhak shows up too, who knew! In a soft charcoal-colored merino wool sweater, clingy and elegantly cut raw denim jeans, and rainbow-soled, rainbow-laced Converse, he shows up, no less. Like a wholesome kinda guy who probably goes to the farmer's market or something, instead of a slice of ex-con rough trade. Only the ink on his knuckles gives him away, and in this getup, even those could be hipster nonsense, to the unobservant. Speaking of unobservant, he's brought a dish of whole carrots roasted with raising, in a maple-basalmic-cinnamon glaze. "Hey!" he greets everyone, with that lopsided, wary half-smile.

Alexander eyes each person in turn. His eyes are reddened, but otherwise, he looks relaxed and cheerful.

In other words: really fucking weird for Alexander Clayton.

Ravn gets a slow, wide smile when he shows up in the suit, and a quiet but sincere, "That looks very nice on you." The smile even remains in place when his attention moves onto Seth, and he offers the man a quick bob of the head. "I am warned. You have the legs for a kilt, though." He's just dressed in a big fuzzy sweater with the ugliest knitted kitten in the world on it, and jeans. There's a way at Nicole. "Hi. Freezer? Many things here are frozen." He gestures to the wheelbarrow. "Except the booze. That's not frozen." But Joey's there with the rescue, so he heads to the garage, waving absently at Itzhak and Vic. "Ketamine. Yes. I could use some ketamine." It's like he's talking to himself, but he's not using an indoor voice.

Seth laughs at Vic, "Hey, get enough in me and I may just try that on my own. Someone might have to stop me, but knowing this crowd I think people will more cheer it on. Bunch of perverts. Why do we hang with them?"

The redhead takes the six-packs over towards where Joey is, setting them down where the rest of the drinks are, "I brought the makings of Waffletacos. Because we can't have a party without waffletacos. Sup, Joey. Make sure that the bird is totally thawed before you drop that thing in oil. Last thing I want is a massive fireball, I might scorch my leg hairs off."

Shifting his eyes over to Alexander, Seth grins and looks down at his legs, "I try. Did you bring more ice cream? I may have to run back home to grab another fryer. I don't know if using the turkey oil would produce the best results."

Timing could be a good or bad thing, especially with all the strange yelling and remarks about illicit drugs being thrown around. Luckily for the normally skittish Abitha, she shows up fashionably late. The mix of late notice and worrying over if she should bring something or not, then the resulting trip to the store and over (on foot), meant she was running a tad behind. Wearing her usual mix of full coverage, Abitha shows up in a loose shirt, over sweater, some shorts with leggings and some boots. Besides a purse, she has a larger reusable grocery bag over one shoulder, and a six pack of some local sour is swinging from her other hand.

She stops at the end of the driveway, peering at the motion of people. Was she awkwardly waiting for a greeting? Probably more she was just sort of dazed and watching. She was a small thing, and absolutely not one that danced with Mary Jane often.

Ravn drops the bag of paper napkins with lobster prints on the nearest available horisontal surface and looks around with an expression not unlike a deer caught in headlights. The look he sends Seth when the latter cracks the obvious joke about what Scots (and apparently, the Irish) wear under their kilts is one of gratitude: Better everyone stare at the big Irish redhead with the recently broken nose than at him.

He does a slow fade towards the nearest wall, fully intending to just sort of hang around for a bit and absolutely not draw anyone's attention (those fancy threads are a tad counterproductive on that account). So many regrets already, many of which involve being too high to tell a good idea from a bad idea, having lost his ability to filter what comes out of his mouth, and for some reason, very odd slogans intended for origami paper flowers. Weed infused corvids are confused corvids. Nodding politely to the empty space next to himself he returns a somewhat subdued, "That's very kind. Thank you for your hospitality" to no one.

Vic sits up and eyes Ravn's outfit with the suspicion of someone who should know there is nothing to suspect from the Dane. "Who mugged you and made you wear color today?" she demands, protectively, of her Sith (bartending) Apprentice. Then Itzhak shows up looking all nice and proper and not at all like himself. "What is happening? Kilts and suits and farmer's market gay outfits. Is this something in the smoke? I haven't felt the urge to put on anything girly." At least Alexander and Nicole are still dressed as they usually are. She grunts a hello to both before downing more beer to try and reconcile people dressing differently. Her eyes glaze over as she zones out about it.

Then she snaps back to focus with Seth's words. "I'll have my phone camera at the ready if you look about to do it," she declares, solemnly, like this is a holy moment to capture on film. In pixels. Whatever. Abitha gets a wave before she turns around and yells back at the house, "I AM NOT COLD! I DO NOT NEED A JACKET!"

Joey nods to Alexander, "yeah before you leave lemme know." Hook up in the middle of broad daylight? Eeh fuck it. He's PI. That means it's totally for responsible uses and that's ok, right? "Roooooooz, bro get your skinny ass in here. Monaghan, you better be fire proof. Don't stand near the goddamn grease. I don't need to have an ancient clan war in the yard again cause we spilled shit on you...or have Ravn go ham in you again. How's you face?" He looks, however to Abitha. There's an upnod and he points to her and then a chair nearby. You go there. Looking up to Nicole he asks, "Baby, can you find her something to drink and find out why ma's picking on Vic again?" Looking to the house he yells, "Ma, that's Vic, not Dierdre. Chill."

"I also brought the makings of waffletacos," Alexander stops to inform Seth, eyes wide. They are BROS. They are SYMPATICO. They are IN SYNC. His expression reveals a wide, child-like wonder at this and he beams at the kilted enforcer. "This is why we will make excellent business partners and roll around in dollar bills," he says, his fingers dancing along the handles of the wheelbarrow. He pauses to unload the fixin's into the freezer, then wheels the wheelbarrow out to be somewhere out of the way. Abitha is given a wave. "Mac! Waffletacos and fried turkey! Best day ever!" He wanders over to just...circle her like a happy dog, once, before smiling at Joey. "Yay. I get ketamine."

Oh, someone's waving. And nodding. You're noticed. Wave back, Abitha must be thinking, and the following answering gesture was... delayed. Alexander's strange form of greeting is just watched slowly, like she were just some sort of confused bystander, not near on the level of her usual wide eyed concern. The ketamine comment seems to garner a, "What the fuck kinda party did you invite me to?"

Then the gamer seemed snapped from her reverie, moving toward a tabletop with inexorable purpose, clearly ignoring Joey's command in lieu of polite respect for the rule. Abitha wasn't looking to get tranq'ed after all.She opens the grocery bag and starts piecing together a salad from the myriad ingredients she had bought in a big clear plastic bowl she probably grabbed from a dollar store.

"It was a dare," Ravn murmurs quietly in Vic's general direction, very likely going unheard in the general din. He musters up whatever chameleon power the weed cloud seems to have left him with and sort of fades towards the quieter end of the yard.

"Ew, don't roll around in dollar bills. Do you have any idea how DIRTY money is? Germ-a-palooza. Gross. I feel the need to bathe in hand sanitizer just saying that," Vic declares. She snorts at Joey, "It's ok, your Ma just worries. It's nice to be worried about now and then." Pause. "YES MA! I JUST SAID SOMETHING NICE ABOUT YOU!" she hollers back to the house.

Chameleon powers cannot save Ravn in a great suit from Itzhak yelling at him across the yard, "HELL YEAH Abildgaard you look fantastic!" Then he's eyeing Seth's legs in that kilt. "You oughta wear that more often," he tells him, just blatantly ogling him. High Rosencrantzes know no shame. He delivers the dish he's brought to the table, swans over to smooch Nicole's cheek before she can get away, and offers Joey a fistbump. "How's by ya Kelly, thanks for inviting me. Still got them Hanukkah lights, huh? I brought tzimmes, that's Jewish glazed carrots and sweet potatoes, my ma's recipe." Vic gets a wry grin, like, yeah he knows he doesn't look like himself.

Seth snorts, reaching up to rub at the nose in question. "It's fine. It was a lucky hit, no real lasting damage. He might have cracked something, but it wasn't nearly as fucked up as it sounded like it could be, and I wouldn't worry too much about a clan war. I don't plan on standing anywhere near you when you drop that foul into the oil. I have a hint of self-preservation. Hell, I have expected Itz to bring over an engine hauler so you could drop that thing in from a distance yourself."

Seth turns to Alexander and chuckles, shaking his head. "This has been one weird week. I'll leave the dollar bill rolling to you, Alexander...but first we have to prototype and test and then sell Easton on it. No counting chickens, or eggs, or however that saying goes."

The enforcer turns to Vic, giving the blonde a wink, "Yeah, I have been telling that to Alexander. You never know where those things have been, but Alexander rambled off statistics and I lost interest. As far as a photo, I bet you will. Just know, I was dared to do this. I also may have taken precautions in regard to 'accidental kilt flipping'." He glances back into the house as Vic again yells at the unseen spirit, and shrugs a shoulder.

"I know how dirty money is!" Alexander shouts, flapping his hands towards Vic. "I don't care! I'll wash it! It feels nice!" And then he goes back to sleepy-eyed pleasantness as he wanders back into the backyard, muttering, "Tzimmess, tzimmes. That's a nice word. I approve of it." His rambling comes in conversational distance of Seth, and he bobs his head pleasantly. "Prototype, then marketing, sales, and then rolling in dollar bills. I know. I know." A pause. He eyes Seth. He eyes Ravn. "You two basically dared yourselves. I think you just wanted to wear these things. Which is okay."

Joey answers Abitha with his finger circling in the air, "Thanksgiving, you. Greg's place burnt up so everyone's stoned as balls and we're hungry for turkey like...now so why wait? Glad you came." He watches Nicole get s smooch and he gets a fistbump with a dazed what the fuck where's mine, bro?! look, but he does bump the fist. "Yeah that's not a felony offense. that's okay to do." Looking back to Clayton and then Ravn and Seth there's a small MMMHMMMM in agreement. "Shit lowers your filter, it doesn't change it. Still there's food and it's Mack that's nearest he asks, "You know what a Timmy is? That looks fucking amazing. I didn't know your ma was in town. Shoulda brought her." It's to Ravn it occurs to him as he set up everything for the bird drop, "Meh, I got it. Like you, I've learned to get out of the way. Ravn you, uh...you met my ma? I think she's in the kitchen if you wanna drop in and say hi." No he gets no warning past that.

Vic starts chuckling, and can't seem to stop. It melts into giggles, and snorts, and guffaws, and...she'll be over here laughing for a bit folks. She waves Ravn towards the house, so he can "meet" Joey's mom himself. He may be in for quite a surprise there.

Ravn pauses long enough in wandering to look at Alexander and opens his mouth as if he wants to say something -- and then decides against it, and just shuts it again. Then Joey offers him an escape and the Dane practically bolts for it, heading towards the kitchen without a word.

Aidan is late. Ish? Maybe. He's strolling up from the general direction of the trailer park, wearing his 'Aliens Gave My Cat a BEARD!' pulp-cover t-shirt with red sequined leggings , beat up yellow Docs, his red feather-edged robe-coat-thing, and the kind of expression that says he knows he got up for something, 'cause he's upright, but damned if he can figure out what. It takes a second starting at everyone in the yard before the penny drops and he breaks into a wide grin, directing the stroll into the area. He has a bag shaped like a chicken shoved up on one shoulder -- the handles are really meant to be held like a purse -- and a wide flat tupperware balanced on his hands. It almost ceases to be as he lifts one of the hands to wave in the host's general direction with a bright, "Hey! I brought-- things!"

Seth turns his attention over to Itz and grins, "I don't know, man. I have a few, some less traditional than this and more of a Ultilikilt style. Those would be for more normal everyday wear. Maybe I will make one day a week kilt day. We will see, though I was warned that you might try to flip this thing on me." the enforcer says with a laugh.

People yelling at their ma in the middle of a holiday dinner is so completely normal to Itzhak that he doesn't even register the fact that Joey's ma is long gone to dust. Any second now someone will tell Ma to stop fussing and sit down and then his world will be complete. He chased Ravn off though--or so he thinks--and his face falls. "Awww. I brought my fiddle and everything. Mac, how ya doin'." She and Vic both get offered fistbumps. Alexander gets a brilliant smile. "Love that sweater." Maybe he actually does, hard to say! Then he's laughing the laugh of the perpetually stoned at Seth, blushing red. "Did Abildgaard tell you that? C'mon, I wouldn't flip a man's kilt right in in the middle of dinner." ...After dinner, though? Unspoken 'no promises', from the glint in Itzhak's eyes.

Vic returns Itzhak's fist bump amid her gigglefit. The words 'kilt' and 'flip' have her raising her phone and trying to get the camera app open. "Don't do it til I'm ready!" she hollers.

"My sweater is wonderful," Alexander says, and reaches down to pet the goggle-eyed and hideous knit kitten with a proprietary air. His head comes back up when Aidan calls out, and he waves in that direction. "Hey. You got blown up. Feeling okay?" He peers at what the man's brought, then glances over towards Vic, and laughs. "What, are you gonna get a camera, Miss Grey?"

Abitha starts to look a little paranoid from Vic towards the house, the game shop owner putting a hand to her ear, then*casually* sweeping a flyaway green strand there as she'd can't quite figure out why she can only hear half a conversation.

To Joey, she offers a simple 'Thanks', though she seems to look at him a little longer than necessary. She opens her mouth, then closes, even the dank motivation not enough to make her think now was the right time. She busies herself opening one of her sours and moves to plop down in the aforementioned seat. "No, what's a Timmy?"

Itzhak gets a fistbump unthinking. Yup, Abitha actually touched someone. At least she proved she wasn't a ghost.

"He might have," agrees Seth with a nod to Itz as a grin spreads over his face. The bouncer reaches down and pulls a beer out, flipping the top off with a flick of his thumb and passing it over towards Itz. "I'll keep an eye out, but make sure you let Vic know first. It sounds like she wants a dick pic bad."

Joey looks for Nicole coming back with the toaster . "yeah these carrot things. Timmies apparently. Smells like dessert. I'm in." And then Seth's kilt gets a look and Joey nods slowly, "Yeah my utilikilt is bitchin. Goes with the combat boots great. Nicole got me one. Fuckin love that thing." There's a snerk and he looks to his Lt. and says "Vic when ain't you ready? Ms. Carpe fucking Diem here. A'ight. Get your goonie asses around the table. We're gonna eat." Apparently there's a ceremony for this as the bird is hefted UP carefully. "Clayton, AIdan, get the thing!" He can pull it, he can't also grab it though.

Aidan heads Alexanderward as if (gradually) drawn by a magnet when the man greets him. "Yeah mostly! I mean there's still kinda bandages and stuff and it looks gross but they let me out and I feel way better now. That is the best sweater. Oh hey good kilt too," he adds as he passes by Seth. The others just get the friendly and definitely somewhat out of it grin, for now, and little chin-lifts for the people he definitely recognizes.

About when he gets to Alexander, he glances at the tupperware and remembers the question. "Oh right. Sandwiches! They're peanut butter and bacon and marshmallow fluff, toasted. It sounds weird but it's really good. Also pop-tarts--" Thing? Which thing? He clearly has no idea, but he puts the tupperware down just where he's standing and heads over Joeyward. He'll probably figure it out on the way, right?

Vic grunts and levers herself up out of the lawn chair. "Back in a flash." She heads into the house to do something mysterious (or maybe just refresh her memory on using her phone camera from the internet).

Itzhak could see both Seth Monaghan and Joey Kelly in kilts, potentially at the same time? He gets a look on his face like other people get when they think about winning the lottery. "Tzimmes, with a Z," he tries to correct Joey, but not with a whole lot of hope. Nevertheless he obeys the boss man and joins the table. "Hey, magic man!" he yells at Aidan, "love the purse!"

Alexander beams at Aidan. "That's good. And it is the best sweater. But your outfit is nice, too. You always have interesting clothes." He just looks so pleased to have the sweater complimented that he practically wiggles in place. "Do you need a shot of healing? I'm not as good as most other people, but you took a Ginger to the chest, and that warrants some healing if you want it." And then Joey is calling, and Alexander wanders that way with Aidan. He, at least, doesn't hesitate to say, "What thing are we grabbing?" And whatever thing that is, he grabs.

Seth moves over towards the table, finding a spot to sit and carefully plopping his ass down into a chair, making sure the sporran does its job of pushing the fabric of the kilt down between his legs. so he doesn't accidentally expose himself. "Where the fuck Ravn go?" the enforcer says as he looks around. "That fucker bail?"

Joey holds the chain. There's a bird that needs to come off the chain here so they can plate and eat it. "Shit I'd say we should grab em both and fucking clean up at Platinum, Seth but... fuck... I can't anymore." He considers, "Roz' gotta get older eventually. Someone plate this godammn bird please?" When Alexander mentions Aidan got Ginger'd he almost drops the bird. It slackens two links before he doubles down holding it. "That bitch... She's the one that blew my ass up with a fucking grenade-" And now that he is thinking about it he says "Roz, call your grumpy half and ask em where them brownies is."

Able to sit and just watch the havoc, its no surprise the little green haired gamer launches into a fit of giggles at all the banter being tossed around. Abitha sips from her sour and slips her phone out of her purse, tapping at the screen. Her eyes peer about, finding the source of the music and assessing. After a moment, she starts messing around on her phone again.

The music being played changed tack, seemingly unbidden, a chill tune now issuing forth.

At Joey's Mum's Kitchen:
'That fucker' Abildgaard did indeed bail. Happily and with great speed, because people in larger numbers than say, one or two is really not his deal. Weed or no weed, this is way out of his league.

Unfortunately, somebody in this house isn't letting him off that easily. This is the reason that the Dane reappears from the kitchen some five or ten minutes after his successful slow fade, carrying a tray that's positively stacked with cupcakes. Delicious looking cupcakes. He heads for the nearest horisontal surface, shoves aside some of the lobster print napkins he dumped on it previously, and murmurs, "Julianne made cupcakes." Because obviously people need to be told that these are cupcakes -- not, say, giant snails or kittens.

Itzhak hops to, helping Joey get the bird under control. It's not alive anymore, it counts as inanimate, therefore it obeys his Song. "Ehhh he got called in, said he'd be here when he can," he tells the Kelly, as they wrangle the smoking hot fried bird. He fears no searing oil splashes!

"I heard about the whole Gilligan's Island thing." Seth says as he leans back into his chair, sipping at his beer. "I also heard Ginger was a right bitch, but I was always more of the Mary Anne type. Ginger was a ditz. I'll take a competent woman any day. Oh, there you are, Ravn. Did you tell every one of your glorious combat prowess how you tagged Alexander and me? I still think the weed dulled our reflexes and my nose still hates you."

"Don't drop the turkey," Alexander cries, while grabbing the plate. "If you drop the turkey, we have to start all over again." He pauses. "But that might be kind of fun? It's amazing when it fries, just hiiiiisssssspop-pop-pop. I wonder what it feels like. Other than burning." He's a sturdy lad, and not terribly afraid of the prospect of hot oil, although he probably should be. He starts humming along with Abitha's song, head bobbing amiably.

Ravn looks at Seth and then shakes his head slightly. "I should go help Mrs Kelly. She's very nice."

"Thanks!" Aidan calls back to Itzhak, with a little point to the mechanic's shoes that turns into a thumbs-up, and the pleased look continues for Alexander's compliment. "It is the best sweater though," he agrees, "and it looks super-comfy. Like you could just curl up in it." He gives the offer a moment of thoughtful consideration as they head over -- or to work on getting that 'what am I supposed to be doing?' thing figured out. Either way, "I think Kailey kinda helped it some? Which is weird 'cause she says she can't do that. But if you wanna then yeah? 'cause if I start thinking about it it does still kinda suck some. And Ginger is the worst. She exploded on me and Baylee both now."

He should fear boiling hot searing oil splashes but at present he's just got as far as: there is a bird, and a platter, and probably the former should end up on the latter. So moves to pick up the plate, though if this isn't a joint effort it might be a darn good thing Itzhak's helping keep the thing controlled. Particularly since Aidan spots Ravn and brightens a touch further. "Ravn! You have a vest!" In case he doesn't know. Between him and Alexander, though, surely they've got this turkey situation under control? "Prolly mostly burning. It does sound cool though."

Itz, who knows engines, will recognize the distinctive sound of a Russian-built one right off. Joe's bike isn't as loud as an unmuffled Harley, but it is louder than the sewing-machine thrum of BMWs or the hornet whine of the Japanese racing bikes. It's there a moment before the black Ural turns the corner, and then heads neatly for a space at the curb a little ways down. The figure in the black leather jacket has a full helmet on....but it's pulled off swiftly enough to reveal the sailor.

Joe's grinning as he settles it in the sidecar, pulls out some sort of insulated pan cover, and comes ambling over. He's in a dark gray shooting sweater, black fatigue pants, and boots, and the helmet has left the dark gold curls in a cheerful disarray. "Hey, y'all," he says, in that lazy dry. "That smells damn good."

She must have heard something inside, because as soon as Nicole stepped out onto the porch and greeted those there at the time, she went right back in (after the cheek smooch from Itzhak, of course). Or maybe she went looking for a fire extinguisher and forgot what it was she went inside for once she was in there. Maybe she wanted to talk to Ma. Whatever it was, she was gone awhile. If she went in for shoes, clearly she forgot that was the case as well, because when she steps back out, she is not wearing shoes, nor carrying a fire extinguisher, not even a toaster is in hand. She even forgot to bring out something to drink for Abitha and, who even is Dierdre? Who is Nicole? Where are we? What is going on? Is it even Thanksgiving? Why are we making turkey? No, the girl does not get high often and it seems to be messing with her a lot.

Smiling as she stands (again) on the porch, she waves wildly to everyone. "Happy Turkey Party Day everyone!" Stepping near to Joey she leans in and says, "Ma says to not blow up the house." Looking back towards the house she says, "Be right there ma!" She gives Joey a kiss on the cheek and smiles at Alexander a bit goofily. "Are you here to marry me today? Us? I mean. Not you and I, You know... anyway, I'll be right back." To Joey she says, "Ma said I forgot the jello mold? I don't know that we had one, but I better go check." And in she pops again.

Ravn does not just have a vest; he's dressed like he just stepped off the runway of the hottest fashion show of the week. And judging from the look on his face, he is regretting this life choice with the level of severity other people reserve for decisions like joining the army while drunk or getting shang-haied by a Mexican cartel. He's also very much trying to fade back towards the kitchen and safety.

Joey holds the chain while Itzhak helps steady the damn bird. He looks to Aidan and Alexander to get the platter under it and get thee bird to a table. "Yeah yeah, just cause I can Captain America this shit all fuckin day doesn't mean I wanna." Realty is the compact hulking brute that is Joey Kelly really could and get pissier and pissier as the time drags on. The message from Nicole gets a siiiiigh from him. Nice faith in us, Ma. well...she's got a point. When the bird is finally taken by Alexander and Aidan to go to the table his cheek leans into the smooch he looks to Nicole and back to Alexander, "Yeah like Mac's got the internets and we got everyone here." Looking to Nicole he says "Take Ravn with you. he'll help."

"It is super comfy. You should pet it. It pets amazing. And if you can read it, it has the most lovely, warm, comfy memories all wrapped up in it," Alexander tells Aidan excitedly. "It's a great sweater. I love it." Luckily, the flow of conversation keeps him from rambling on about how wonderful this sweater is for the next several hours. Which he otherwise looks quite prepared to do. Instead, he scowls. "Yeah. I have a Ginger scar too, on my chest. She explodes on too many people, which is weird, because she should be dead, dead, dead." A bob of his head towards Seth. "I liked Mary Ann, too. Unfortunately, she was a part of the Gillamonster, so she was all chopped up." He works with Aidan to get the turkey safely on the platter, and then to the table.

Thankfully, they get to the table before Nicole asks are you here to marry me, because when she does, he drops his side of the platter, and the turkey falls a fraction of an inch to bang against the table. "What? No! I...oh." His eyes widen. "Oh." A pause. "No. I feel like that's a thing that should be done sober. Not just because I have not memorized the vows, and you might have to promise to consume shellfish regularly."

Seth just sits back in his chair as he nurses his beer, watching the team of turkey friars with an amused grin.

Itzhak looks up at the sound of the Ural; that chunky beast doesn't sound like any other bike in town. "'Ey!" he yells at Joe, while in the midst of helping Joey et al cope with an enormous freshly fried turkey. He's wearing a soft gray marino wool sweater and slim raw denim jeans and generally looks like a guy who doesn't do the things he does. "...I can pet you?" That's to Alexander, Itzhak lighting up with interest. "Can I? Don't mess with me Clayton!"

Joe deposits his offerings to the side, then comes over to help, if there's room. He's got a decidedly feline curl to his smile and a sleepy droop to his eyelids - the smoke is getting to him, too. "Hey, hey, Rosencrantz, how's it goin'?" Then he's turning that rather dreamy look on the others, offering a little salute, fingertips to temples. "Brought a li'l bit extra. Biscuits and chocolate pecan pie," he explains.

"I definitely wanna pet it," Aidan agrees, but thankfully does not do so immediately, given the need to support turkey. "And read it? 'cause that sounds awesome." Gingers, though. Those are a downer, and he makes a face at the fate of that Mary Ann, too.

He yelps in startlement when Alexander drops his side of the platter, and the turkey slides maybe half an inch to that side before he processes putting down his own side, and the thing sits proudly if slightly off-center on the table among various other offerings. "You're getting married?" he asks Alexander and Nicole both. "Only consuming shellfish regularly kinda sounds okay. OH." He slides the bag off his shoulder to extract two boxes of pop-tarts (strawberry frosted and brown sugar) to get on the table as well, and darting off long enough to pick up his tupperware of sandwiches from the ground so he can bring it back as well. "Hey, your hair kicks ass," he mentions to Abitha along the way.

Joey frowns at Alexander, "In sickness and in health, bro. Sides we been sober for three weeks and people are gonna be busy and shit. IT's fine. It's personal. Ma's here. Why not?" There's a pause as he dials the oil back down so that can cool. "I do wanna fry more stuff... we'll see hat we find after dinner. We'll do up the whole pantry and see what happens." His attention goes to the box of Pop Tarts. "we're absolutely frying those." At Aidan's question he admits, to a story Cavanaugh and Rozenkrants might be very familiar with, "Yeaaaah I propsed right after I punched a cop and passed out on Clayton's couch." Seems legit. He points to Alexander, "And he yelled at me." This said with approval? "Yeah I like the green. Nicole should do mine for spirit week."

Ravn slinks towards the kitchen door only to stop on the doorstep. He takes a few step backwards. Apologises in a murmur. And slinks back out with the expression of a schoolboy who just got told off for skipping class. Glancing around himself for a moment he spots a free chair somewhere not too close to the turkey action and just sort of flops down on it, looking lost.

"We are so fucking far from sober, Kelly. SO. Fucking. Far." Alexander blinks reddened eyes at Joey. "If you want me to say words at you two, I can do that. But I don't have anything prepared, I'm wearing a kitten sweater, and my brain is filled with cotton-stuffed marbles. Just so you know." Once the turkey's down, he throws himself into a nearby chair, and points at Aidan. "I'm not getting married! Kelly wants me to marry him and Nicole. I don't know whhhhhy. But I'm okay with doing it. I think." He flaps his hands idly at Aidan and Itzhak. "Fine. Pet the sweater. It's okay. Just warn me. And hello Cavanaugh." His eyes close.

Eyes narrowed to a suspicious squint, Abitha continues to slowly trained her gaze all about the area, head turning to follow every time someone new seems to shout at this 'Ma'. It was weird. Maybe it was an inside joke? She was very very nervous to ask, though, so, it goes unsaid. Also, Aidan comes along at the perfect moment to give her a start... Well, not really a start, she was too high to be that jumpy. She looks at him with slight surprise, then grins, "Thanks!" She turns to look at Joey from the other remark, "I mean, Nicole did mine, so yeah, fuckin do it. Perfect proof of concept." She adds a little flip of the wavy hair before looking down at her phone, cuing up another song to follow.

Itzhak hastily steps back from the turkey once it's made it to the table, like he's worried he's going to fuck it up if he lingers in its vicinity. Then he goes to thump Joe on the shoulder and smooch his cheek, getting his bro mixed with his queer. "Chocolate pecan pie? Awwww yes, fuck I'm so hungry." Then he starts a little, looking guilty, and yells at the house, "SORRY MA." He spots Ravn coming out and smiles a brilliant, pleased, stoned af smile at him.

"Hello there, Kelly, Clayton, Monaghan, Abildgaard, an' other folks I don't know," Joe says, amiably. That southern drawl is slower than ever, molasses in January. Then there's Itz, and he grins more broadly, a white flash of teeth - returning the cheek kiss with more ceremony. Three times, Russian style, right, left, right. "Whose ma we shoutin' at?" he inquires. "And looks like we got dessert covered, but never hurts to bring more, I reckon."

"Mrs Kelly," Ravn murmurs. "She has Opinions." He manages to actually capitalise the word, in speech.

"Annd she's spectral," Alexander adds, lazily, eyes still closed.

Joey tilts his head back, "I knoooow! I'm going to put on twenty fucking pounds from this shit! But we talked about it when we were so it counts or some shit or..." Alexander doesn't know why? Joey blinks and his weight shifts to conversational explaining, "Well when two people like love each other a lot and learn how to put up with one another's bullshit and get good at keeping an alibi..." Not the usual birds and bees talk. Looking to Ravn he nods solemnly "Yeaah she do, don't she? She show you her mother's teapot or make you move things in the kitchen around?" He nods with a sigh, "yeah and that."

"I mean it fits," Abitha quips to Joey's weight gain lament as she tosses another chill beat on, "People let themselves go after getting married."

Ravn gets a lifted eyebrow as he seems to be in on whatever this fucking joke or group hallucination was, but yet, Abitha still doesn't mention it, sipping her sour. Her eyes wander, the fall on Seth, "Hey Monaghan, didn't your momma ever teach you to cross your legs like a lady?"

Ravn glances back towards the house. "Mrs Kelly is dead? That explains the bruises. I didn't want to ask, it seemed rude. I should go ask about her mother's teapot." He looks almost optimistic a moment, dazedly considering his options -- but manners (and possibly fear of women with Opinions, dead or not) manage to trump even weed-infused instinct, and he remains where he is.

Seth lifts up a hand and waves to Joe. "'Sup," the man in the kilt says, lifting his beer to his lips as he watches the rest. "Married, Joey? Congrats man! I'll be sure to dig up a proper kilt for the ceremony. When is the big day?"

Looking over at Abitha with a grin, "I don't need to. That is what the sporran is for. Besides, what are you looking there for in the first place?"

Alexander opens his eyes when Joey starts to explain marriage. He stares at the man, then sits up just enough to grope for a napkin. The napkin is balled up, and then thrown right at Joey's head. "I know why people get married. I meant why you want me to marry you." He rubs at his face. "Do you have the license yet? You know you gotta get one of those." He looks blearily towards Seth. "I think they want it to be today. So, kilt achieved."

Aidan beams at Abitha's thanks, and continues his way back. "I bet it'd look cool on you too," he tells Joey, and stops by Alexander, eyeing the knitwear again. "I'm gonna pet your sweater now," he informs him obediently, and leans down to give the arm of it a slow stroke, checking out both the texture and the mentioned memories. Both of these clearly make him happy, not that he was seeming morose before. "Best sweater," he says, as though this title has now been thoroughly clinched. "Thank you!"

All the bits about Ma ad Mrs Kelly have him glancing around, then back to Joey. "Oh yeah, you guys mentioned. I didn't bring whatsisface though 'cause he's still an asshole. Also he doesn't actually pay any attention to whether I wanted him there or not anyway so. But I'm really glad you guys are gonna get married! Are there gonna be nuns?" He's sure he remembers something about nuns. Ravn hiding in his chair gets a squinty look, and he opens the tupperware he brought, taking out one of the sandwiches to convey it over to the Dane. Here. Eat this.

Ravn finds himself sandwiched. He shoots Aidan a look of gratitude. Sandwich means he has something to do with his hands besides fidget. And those sleek black silk gloves do look better with a sandwich in, don't they?

Almost a spit take as Ravn clues in the spectators, Abitha making some sort of snorting noise and the back of her hand brought before her lips, eyes flitting from Ravn to Joey and Alexander. She coughs lightly, sitting forward slightly and makes a disgusted look at Seth, but lets her airways stay clear to actually breath rather than talk. Her next song cycles on, already on a list. Wiping her mouth at the edges with her black sweater sleeve, Abitha sits back again and tries to look chill about it. Tries.

Joey looks back to Abitha and considers, "Is that the dark and the light or all one fucking colour?" There's a pause and he considers something else for a moment asking "You know anything about VR? I...have an idea later." there's a smirk on the weight gain. Looking back to Ravn he waves his hand, "Woooah easy with the 'd-word'. Yeah but... let's not...be rude about it. Thank you." Looking back to the house where Nicole went and back to Clayton he says "Feels wrong without Lil Bird though." He considers and shakes his head "Fuck, uhhh let's do a couple weeks then. 12-12. I think fucked in the head or not that's a Saturday we can remember." The boxer shifts his weight from one foot to the other and looks around at everyone from Abitha and Aidan to the other end of the other end of the alphabet. "You should all be there. There's a pause adding, "Lil, Byron and Sparrow should too. So yeah. I'll talk to her and ...thanks Other-Me" says he to Cavanaugh whom he seems not mad with anymore.

The memories ARE pretty awesome - the strongest emotional resonance in the hideously ugly sweater is it being gifted to a grandfather by three anxious-looking grandchildren who breathlessly confess that they designed it all themselves, and then the grandfather wearing it without hesitation for hugs and tickles and play. It's basically like bathing in affection and joy. Alexander goes tense for a moment as Aidan pets the sweater, then just sighs and relaxes. And then relaxes further when Joey lets him off the hook for trying to come up with a wedding ceremonial...talk...thing when he's blitzed out of his mind. Joey gets a thumbs up. "Twelve twelve. Yes. That works."

"Whaaaaat? You brought it up..." Seth exclaims to Abitha as she gives him the look. "I was just sitting here minding my own business, all proper-like." The enforcer shrugs his shoulder, tossing back the last of the beer and setting the bottle onto the table looking from Ravn to everyone else and their reactions to what he said. "Oh, so I guess that is a subject best left alone. Got it."

The redhead looks to Joey and arches a brow, "A wedding so close to Christmas? Good thing you are just planning some kind of backyard thing and not having to find a venue. Let's just hope everyone is still getting along by then. You know, after the weed cloud finally goes away. I love this weed cloud. I want a waffletaco."

There's a sputtering puff of breath after the slow nod Abitha gives to Joey. A wedding meant another round of shopping. Abitha's wardrobe was, of course, bare of some of the outliers, like a dress appropriate for a wedding, what with a fire taking her every possession and whatnot. This was all subtext, of course, so people just get to see the invite just seems like such an imposition. But it was after the nod, people, at least she was being polite. Her phone comes out and notes are saved on a calender, since she wasn't gonna be arsed to remember on her own. Seth's further protests get an oh-so-mature raspberry sputtering of her tongue.

Songs cycle.

"I think that when this weed cloud goes away I am going to remember saying and doing a lot of things that will make me want to steamroller my phone and change my name to Smith." Ravn picks at the sandwich. "Someone whom I am not going to name sent me a nude picture this morning. It's been interesting this week."

Joe's found himself a drink and a seat. He's listening to those with brows heading towards his hairline. Hard to know if he's thoughtful or just intensely high. By his air of abstraction, probably the latter. "Congratulations," he says to Joey, finally. "'n you're more'n welcome. Marriage been on a lotta folks minds lately," he adds, after a sip. Then he cocks a wry look at Ravn. "You got de la Vega to agree to make you brownies. Seems like this stuff makes folks more generous, not surprised you got someone offering other things."

"It wasn't me right? I'm pretty sure it wasn't me. I don't remember taking any pictures like that." Seth pulls out his phone and starts to scroll through a few things to double-check.

"Waffletaco." Alexander's eyes pop open again. "We need to make waffletacos. We have test subjects right here." There's a wave of his hand at the talk of the weed cloud going away. "It'll be fine. Everything will be fine." He blinks at Ravn. "Definitely wasn't me. I don't take nude photos. That's how internets happen."

"That wasn't me!" Itzhak declares on the question of who sent Ravn a nude pic. Then he hesitates, thinking about it, eyes going wide and blank. "...no, definitely not me. I think. I hope it wasn't me. Kelly, you gonna say grace or what?"

"The nude pic wasn't meant for me," Ravn clarifies, still clinging to that sandwich like a plank in a turbulent sea. "I'm not the only one who can't keep my texts straight lately."

"Oh good, something we can actually pronounce." Abitha shoots a jibe Ravn's direction from behind the cover of a raised beer bottle. She discovers, of course, that the bottle was empty, and she has to break another one out with a fsss-pop-click of a launching metal cap. the groups's sudden frantic check or denials make the gamer laugh openly. She clicks something else on the list, the beat bringing a faint bob to the gamer's chin and shoulders.

That is the sort of memory one wants to wrap up in, so no wonder the sweater has won the title. Aidan tilts his head a little, looking around at all the talk about nude pictures and un-straight texts. "I think my phone might be broken," he says, though he doesn't get around to checking it for this yet because "What's a waffletaco? That sounds delicious and I kinda want one now whatever it is."

"Who was it for then?" asks Seth as he looks up to Ravn, slipping his phone onto the table in front of him.

He looks over at Alexander and nods, standing. "Right. Let's make some waffletacos while the oil is still hot."

Joey gives Seth that look of really? "You think I won't call in a favor or two you really are high, bro." Because Kelly's got favors stacked out his ass from a few persons of interest for things that do not get discussed. Without breaking character he says deadpan to Ravn, "I'm not apologizing again for that." Taking up a seat at one of the two tables they have out there he murmurs to Itzhak, "Yeah yeah, kay everyone shoosh. Uh, Yo, God and apparently the Ghost of Tom Petty for the good company, and all of the free very fucking expensive weed that Greg managed to stash like a chipmunk up in there. Thanks for um, helping us survive Gilligan's Island, and making sure we're okay and not...burnt, and also helping our team kick the shit out of de la Salle Northern last week. That was a good game. Amen and stuff. " He looks at the table and makes a gesture, "NOW you can eat your little crumbgrabbers."

"Her husband, I presume." Ravn glances at Abitha. "Abildgaard is not hard to say. You want hard? Try opslagstavle. Making English speakers pronounce that is a national sport in Denmark." He seems to have found a bit of an anchor in the sandwich Aidan handed him -- not that he's eating it, just sort of passing it from one silk gloved hand to other while looking like a very misplaced person who should have been attending a very fancy garden party.

He blinks at Kelly, though -- the man's stream of consciousness way of talking is not easy for an ESL foreigner to keep up with. "You're not apologising for what? I'm the one who should be apologising, for decking people in your gym."

Alexander perks up like a hunting hound hearing a far off horn when Seth makes that suggestion. He rises with a minimum of flailing. "Yessss. They will be amazing and wonderful." He stops to fork some of the things from the dishes, with no manners at all, before following, though. Because he could eat five horses right now - like everyone else, he's probably gained five pounds this week so far. A bright grin at Aidan. "Waffletacos are amazing. Ice cream! Waffles! Booze! Fried!" He makes an explosion gesture. "Mind blown, right? And don't fucking say 'it's a chocotaco' because they stole our idea!"

Seth returns Joey's look, with his own that says 'Yes, I AM really that fucking high. Duh. Sue me.' before he wanders over towards the bag of groceries that be brought, distracted from the food by thoughts of waffletaco.

"Damn, Darth. I was hoping to catch you slipping and got a name out of you. You are not high enough." A beat "He is apologizing as a joke, making it seem like he is the one that texted you the nude, man. You are so fucking nieve at times it is adorable."

"How do you know?" Joe persists, mildly, still looking at Ravn. But then he wrenches his attention back to the others. The conversation about waffletacos does filter through. "Like home-made chocotacos?" he wonders, after a beat. "And I hate to break it to you, but chocotacos been around a long-ass time. I bet y'all's're better though," he says, in a dazzling feat of English contraction.

Ravn looks back at Joe with an expression that can best be described as horror.

Abitha opens her mouth and sucks in a breath, but the word that comes out is, "No." her index finger extended toward the folklorist as the rest hold the bottle she was bringing to her lips for the first sip of the new bottle. She levers herself to her feet now to go and retrieve some food. She eyes Alexander, making a show of veeeery slowly lifting an elbow to prod him. It was the weakest miming of an assault possible,not liable to actually make him get out of her way for food, but more testing the waters.

"See?!" Abitha pipes up over-loudly, pointing to Joseph as soon as she hears the words.

Itzhak sticks two fingers in his mouth and whistles loud and super fucking obnoxious for Joey's 'grace'. "Gimme some a that God d--uh, blessed, turkey." But before that can happen he absolutely cracks the hell up over Alexander's boundless enthusiasm for his and Seth's new invention, the Waffletaco, soon to be sweeping the nation. Red faced, laughing into his sleeve, he can't do anything else for a minute.

Alexander is easily prodded out of the way. It barely takes a motion, because he's already stepping away to shake his fork at the sky and proclaim at Joe, "They are time-fucking-travelling taco thieves! Do not mention them again! Anathema! Profane!" And then he stomps off after Seth to go get some PROPER tacolicious stoner snacks made.

Not that either of them have a recipe.

Or any relevant dessert making experience.

Aidan is quiet for the grace, though not much longer, as he claims a spot a the table. "No 'cause choco tacos aren't actually waffles and I'm pretty sure they don't have booze in them 'cause I know I got 'em from an ice cream truck when I was like six. Also I don't think they're fried?" He considers a beat and adds, "Also you didn't say they have chocolate? But probably they'd be good with chocolate. 'cause I definitely want to eat that. How do you make the ice cream not melt if you fry it?"

Opening the grocery bag, Seth starts pulling out containers of ice cream, eggos, various alcohols like Kahlua, Baileys, and a bottle of port wine, and what looks to be a container of a batter of some sort. The redhead looks to Alexander and grins, pulling out a thawed and pliant eggo from the pack, folding it and starting to stuff it with ice cream.

To Aidan, Seth grins. "Flash fry at a really high temperature. Like they do at the Mexican restaurants and fried ice cream. Trust me, this will all work out! That oil should be hot enough.." the enforcer says as he motions to the oil the turkey had been previously frying in.

"Jesus Christ, that boy get any higher, he gonna be bumpin' his nose on the space station," Joe's tone is still mild. He looks around the table, as if to survey the others for their reactions to that declaration. To Aidan, he replies, "I don't know how that's done. I've had fried ice cream before, though. Mexican restaurants sometime serve it. And honestly, what does chocolate not improve?" Seth chimes in and he points at him. "I wouldn't do it in oil you used to fry a turkey in, though. Not 'less you want turkey flavored fried ice cream." Then he's looking for his serving of the turkey.

"People keep pointing to how different these things are from chocotacos, and I keep saying, Marketing!" Abitha was about to sit down to tuck into some food... Then spies the dubious dessert construction process and picks her lawn chair up, moving it to a safer spot on the other side of something.

Itzhak elbows Joe as he gets up, still kinda giggly and red-faced. "Make you a plate. Whaddaya want?" And he busies himself with that. Turkey, the tzimmes--roasted carrots, sweet potatoes, and raisins in a basalmic-maple-cinnamon glaze--salad, rolls, you know, STUFF.

"Ohhhh, that batter is a good idea. And yes, turkey-flavored ice cream! It's the holiday season, we should be festive!" No, Alexander. But yes, Alexander. He seems entirely enthusiastic about this, and adds, "Wait, wait. I have chocolate shell. We'll dip the taco in that, and then in the batter. It'll form an extra layer and help the batter stick without just getting all inside the center of the taco." He heads back where he put all his stuff, and comes back with an industrial-sized pot of chocolate shell. Which, by the way, he remembered NOT to put in the freezer, but rather in the warmer place in the garage, so it's not just an immovable mass of chocolate. He puts it down, and pries off the lid, revealing the dark, waiting pool of chocolate-flavored goodness. "How are we gonna infuse the booze? Pour it into the Eggo? It's fairly porous."

Some of everything is what Joe requests, albeit with plenty of turkey and stuffing. Unlike the others, he doesn't seem to have been rendered starving by the weed smoke...but then, he's got a fairly powerful appetite suppressant in the form of his legitimate medications. He is, for the most part, observing Alexander and Seth's experiment with an increasingly dubious expression on the long face. "Might wanna do that part after you took it out? Pour the booze over it like sauce? I think you run the risk of diffusing it in the oil, you do it first," he opines.

Ravn nibbles carefully on a corner of his sandwich-anchor, watching. He still shoots the occasional speculative look towards the kitchen but they seem to be more of a 'what is going on there' kind of nature. Maybe more ghostly cupcakes are in the making. Maybe he's wondering how a ghost makes cupcakes in the first place. Life is full of questions.

Itzhak sets the plate down in front of Joe, and he has the weirdest look on his face. Like he's trying to decide if he should sensibly dissuade Alexander from soaking waffles in alcohol that he then intends on dunking into boiling oil, or if that'll just be hilarious. He sits down with his own plate, vibing in place to the chill jams Mac is playing.

"I've already soaked these in a Baileys and Kahlua mix." says Seth as he holds up the one he is working on. "Yes, dip them in the chocolate, then into the batter, then flash fry for about a minute. That should do it!." Yes. Because Seth is such the gastroscientist. "These are going to turn out great!."

Joey eats his turkey trying not to crack up. This is an uphill challenge! "Hooooooly shit don't burn down my garage with ice cream. Yo, Roz, hook me up with the Timmys and one of ma's brownies." Looking back to Aidan he wonders, "Ya know, I have a sneaking suspicion or whatever Vic's laying in wait at the top of the stairs with a sniper rifle waiting to tranq my ass for that last comment. Breaking into my own house'll be fun." Looking to Ravn he wonders, "So. Ya met ma. I told you. She's interesting."

"Excellent," Alexander says, with an approving grin. "This is good. This will be good." He looks around for tongs, then turns around and eyes the rest of the group. "Heeeeeey, one of you people who can move things, come here. We need a dipper! You will be the midwife to the birth of a new gastronomical delight! Not the parents, of course, that's me and Seth, but midwife is still important!"

"She seems nice," Ravn agrees quietly with Kelly's inquiry. "Very opinionated, though."

The Dane doesn't respond to Alexander's inquiry for a mover but then -- let's be honest, he probably doesn't include himself in the category considering the tiny spark of power he has compared to most folks around here.

After murmuring his thanks to Itzhak and flashing him a grateful smile, Joe staunchly refuses to volunteer. He's decent on that front, but apparently he doesn't trust himself to deal with this....or it's bumped up against some ethical divide. He does, however, offer his compliments to the cooks after sampling everything on his plate. Still keeping a weather eye on the experiment, like he's just ready to dive under the table at the least provocation.

"Huh!"' Aidan has not had the pleasure of being introduced to Mexican fried ice cream, as yet. Or Baked Alaska. He looks entirely willing to believe these things are doable, though, and may possibly be trying to take some kind of mental notes, which might bode ill for the trailer park in the coming days. Especially if the waffletacos actually work. It occurs to him that he's still currently hungry and all the food is over there, so he gets up to go unreasonably load down a plate while half-watching the entacoing. At the request for assistance, he looks around; there's gotta be someone here better at moving things than him to handle that, right?

"Not on ya fuckin' life," Itzhak informs Alexander, grinning ridiculously. Then he yells at the house, "All right all RIGHT ALREADY!" He passes Joey the tzimmes and a brownie, looking disgruntled because someone else's mother is yelling at him to watch his mouth and she's already dead.

"Hey, Alexander wanted to use tounge flavored ice cream...turkey flavored will be an improvement," Seth explains as he finishes putting the last touches of ice cream and brownie bits onto the monstrosity that he has created out of eggo and ice cream. He grabs the tongs from Alexander to use them to dip the thing into the beer batter that he has sat in front of him as they wait for someone to do the dangerous and precise work of dipping it into the oil. "Come on, someone has to be able to do this. Ravn, I know you can move stuff! Get over here and dip this thing while I get the cognac for the flambe ready!"

Ravn stares at Seth a moment as if wondering why he of all people is being called out. Or how he's supposed to shuffle a dessert up his sleeve. Only then he realises that the Irishman probably is talking about using the shine, not his sleight of hand abilities. He shakes his head quickly. "Far too big for me. I move coins. And nuts."

"Nah nah nah, he wanted to put ice cream ON the tongue," Itzhak has to interrupt Seth, "which sounds pretty good, like mango ice cream and tongue? Hell yeah."

"Ice cream's pretty good on my tongue," Aidan says, nodding, and balances a sandwich on top of some turkey and carrots.

"Tongue is delicious in tacos! You don't know what you're missing," Alexander grumbles at Seth, then flails his arms as no one volunteers for this very important task. "Cowards! Culinary betrayers!" He practically bounces towards the oil. "Here. I'll dip it in the oil. We just need...a basket or something to lower it. It'll be fine."

Ravn quietly shuffles himself, his chair, and his rather expensive suit further away from the potential disaster in the making there. Just in case.

Joey snickers shaking his head, "Fuck yeah they are. Never use that as a pick up line, Alexander. You'll get the shit kicked outta you. Or not. I dunno. There's a metal basket with the bicycle stuff." Looking to Itzhak, "Yo, mover of moving shit, you're on this one. I tried earlier and zapped myself charging my fucking phone."

"Jesus, now I want mango sorbet," Joe sighs, after listening to all that. "Maybe I'll get some later on the way home." He's sitting at the table, eating from a loaded plate - eating with surprising deliberation, considering the fact that he is very obviously high. There's that heaviness to his eyelids, though he flicks an amused look at Joey, as he volunteers Itzhak.

Who the fuck invites the po-po to a turkey fry? Alexander and Joey, that's who. And unfortunately for everyone, the son of a bitch actually shows up, six pack of beer in one hand, some sort of tupperware container of food tucked under the other arm. Leather jacket, baseball cap, and his usual go-to of tee shirt and jeans and scuffed boots; the tattooed Mexican edges around the crowd with a look like he didn't expect quite so many people. Greetings are mumbled to a few that he recognises, gifts of food and drink deposited as he goes to try to get a look at the frying turkey. Americans and their weird fucking traditions.

Glancing back at Itzhak, Seth purses his lips and hrms to himself, "I'm pretty sure it was tongue flavored ice cream. I'll have to go back and double-check the text log. I was high, so maybe I am misremembering.", then points to Alexander "SEE!"

Seth turns to Alexander, "Shit. I have a basket back at my place, I can run across the street and get it if all else fails. We will make this work. We must. Piles and piles of money are on the line." Seth hands over the waffletaco prototype v 3.0 to Alexander and starts to make his way towards the street. "I'll be back!" he says until Joey volunteers a basket. "AH! Great!"

Aidan bites his lip, tilting his head as they're declared betrayers of the vision. "...I can try if you want?" Though he looks a bit relieved at Itzhak being volunteered. Itzhak is definitely a better choice for moving things! Also he hasn't actually gotten to eat stuff yet and he's hungry and just about ready to go sit down and devour things.

Ravn nods politely to the captain of police. Still looking like he ought to be flitting about at somebody's very expensive garden party, at least he's not wearing a kilt like Seth Monaghan.

"On it! We're making this happen, right here and now." Alexander dashes towards the garage, waving hi to Ruiz as he arrives. He starts rooting around in Joey's garage, for once NOT taking the opportunity to look for any Suspicious Happenings. No, his mind is focused. His body is ready. He grabs the basket. "Got it!" He washes it off the best he can with a garden hose or something, then dries it off and brings it back. "Okay, tacos in the basket, basket in the oil. We are a go for waffletacos." A solemn nod as he offers the basket to receive its cargo.

And then, if no one stops him, he's lowering that bad boy into the frying oil. Explosions may happen.

At least one person is delighted to see the police captain appear. Joe's dreamy half-smile turns into a brilliant grin, and he sits up a little, patting the chair on the other side of him from Itzhak invitingly. "Hey there, Javier," he says. "Come eat. Plenty of turkey left, and I brought chocolate pecan pie. Seth and Clayton're workin' on this ice cream taco waffle thing," he adds, with a glance over. "I think they recruited Itzhak to come help 'em with the dippin'."

Joey looks to to Ruiz whom he saw last like a week-ish ago when there way way too many drinks and too many fists. The greeting is more informational but breaks the fucking silence even if Gray Harbor's crime underboss beloved HS football coach, and the (Acting?!) Chief of Police are at the same table again. "Yeah there's Tzimmies and lil potato thingies and a second bird on the way and I think... fried ice cream in a waffle taco. Eat."

Joey gets a nod, and a gruff-voiced greeting from the captain that fortunately doesn't involve his knuckles. He squints a little when waffle tacos are mentioned, and tosses a skeptical glance Alexander's way before reaching for one of the greasy potato thingies that Kelly mentioned. Then the chair next to Joe is dropped into heavily, with a bit of a frown when Itzhak departs abruptly. "Cavanaugh," is greeted with a bump of his knee, and a crunch of whatever he just shoved into his mouth. "The fuck's this about frying a turkey, anyway?" Ravn, once spotted, gets a hitch of his chin in greeting.

When the basket is lowered into the oil, there is a hissing of angry steam fleeing the waffletacos at speed. It makes, however improbably, a perfect MUSHROOM CLOUD of greenish tinged steam above the big ol' fryer, and a flock of birds takes off from the local trees, forming an ominous cawing cloud over the yard. Alexander clasps his hands together. "Yes. Yes, it is done." A pause. "Wait, it's done! Pull it out! Pull it out!" And out it goes hastily, and the steaming basket contains...

Waffletacos. They are, at the least, a pleasing golden brown on the outside. God only knows what's going on in the inside.

Channeling his best Dr. Frankenstein, Seth starts to cackle with "IT'S ALIVE! IT'S ALIVE! " as he moves over to survey the first batch of Waffletacos (trademark in progress). "Pass those over here so I can douse them in cognac at set them on fire. They won't be complete till I flambe them, then douse them in port."

Seth cries out Frankenstein style, turning most heads. Ravn uses the moment, mostly uneaten sandwich in one silk gloved hand, to get up and half saunter, half bolt for the house. Maybe he needs the bathroom. Maybe the ghost of Kelly's mum needs more cupcake making help. Maybe he's just at the end of his ability to be around more than a few people at once, weed infused haze or no. Either way, he's gone like a very expensively dressed bat out of hell.

"I don't know," Joe admits, without hesitation. "Not a clue, truth be tol'. Bit before Thanksgiving, but I do like turkey and this is good," he says. He bumps knee back, affectionately.

Then he's watching the results with unconcealed unease....and breathes a sigh of relief when it all doesn't explode. "Jesus God," he says, tucking fingertips behind his ear to check his pulse. "Damn near gave me a flashback." .......to what? Some awful accident with a fryer?

Joey watches Hekkle and Jekkyl attempts to science melt his driveway and sighs. He does get up and load a plate and that turkey could not, honestly be more amazing. The plate is fixed and handed to Ruiz silently with an eyebrow raised. He scene in front of them when science is happening? Well Joey does the first thing that comes to mind and that's throw an arm out like a dad-arm-bar in front of Abitha as if to tell disaster 'Nuuuu! Not today soupy Satan!' Yeah. Super helpful.

"Passing the package. Prepare to receive," Alexander says, in a faux serious voice (completely ruined by the chuckle of glee at the end), and he passes it over, carefully moving them from basket to where they can be doused. And set on fire. The thought of it makes his eyes light up. "This is pleasing. Yes."

Placing the fried concoctions into the waiting frying pan, Seth takes the bottle of cognac and diligently pours a little more than a shots glass worth of the liquid over the desserts before reaching into his pocket for his lighter. "Are you ready? I'm ready?" the enforcer says as he gleefully flicks the lighter on and brings it to the edge of the frying pan, letting the highly alcoholic liquid inside catch into a bright flame that spreads over the entire pan in short order. Letting the pan burn for a moment, the redhead then grabs the bottle of port, and using his thumb as a stopper he pours out the burgundy liquid over the flaming desserts, letting the somewhat less alcoholic liquid dose the flames and soak into the fried crust. "Violla!" exclaims Seth as he places the finished dessert down at the head of the table. "Who wants the first waffletaco?!"

Aidan settles back into his seat and watches with unconcealed fascination as the waffletacos are prepared. Mushroom clouds! Flambees! The latter has him sitting up a little straighter in his chair to watch it. "Ooh! Me!" he exclaims, raising a hand high in the air in continued direct contravention of the well-known rule never to volunteer for things. "I want to try it! ...how do I eat it?"

Javier's got a wary look on his face as the turkey's loaded up on a plate for him. But he's not about to look a gift horse in the mouth; Joey gets a curt nod, and a mumble of something resembling gracias as he leans in to accept it. Then he flops back in his chair, breaks a piece off.. and offers it to Joe first, like the gentleman he isn't. He's still trying to figure out where Rosencrantz disappeared to, but hasn't quite reached the point yet of prowling off to hunt him down.

The sailor's got a mostly empty plate before him....but he accepts the offering with a murmured "Gracias," in return, and a half-smile. Satisfied that he's not sitting there in what will become the Waffletaco Exclusion Zone, he's settled back in his chair, looking dozily content. Time to let things digest before he ventures on either the experiment or one of the tamer, more mundane desserts handy.

"Flames! The fires of success!" Alexander raises his arms as the fires rise up. "Yes! You are a champ!" He waves at Aidan. "Come over! You should be able to just pick it up." It just came out of boiling oil. He thinks about that. "Uh...use a fork. I think a fork would be wise." He points at Joey, Ruiz, and Joseph. "Come on! Waffletacos!"

Taking one of the now fried and flambed waffletacos with a pair of tongs and placing it on a plate, Seth slides the plate towards Aidan with a fork and knife. "Ues, try the waffletaco. Devour its liqoury goodness, its fried fabulousness."

Joey pushes himself up having finished seconds, but then the guy's built like a compact tank. The other two sitting with him no stranger to eating like a Marine when they were younger and constantly active too. "Monaghan, you beautiful bastard, hook me up. Alexander, Please don't like melt your face. I don't wanna keep putting shit off because people's trying not to like die and shit."

Abitha had actually been sitting quietly in some sort of zoned-out trance eating this entire time, not being noticed and noticing nothing. Each morsel had been just oh-so-carefully separated, then brought to her mouth almost in slow motion. It was methodical, hypnotic work, and she may have even been only half-conscious. But there she was, emerald green hair and sour bottle in hand when she comes out of it. The airwaves she'd pirated had continued to play things from her history in her mental absence.

Vic may, indeed, have been laying in wait to tranq Joey on his entering his own home, but she is very high, so she got bored, took a nap, then woke up and wandered back downstairs at the smell of waffle tacos. She shoulders back out the door, putting on a light jacket, because Joey's mom isn't gonna leave her be until she does.

"I smell waffles. WHERE IS MY WAFFLE TACO!?" she demands, looking for Alexander and Seth expectantly. Also, there is food of all sorts and she heads over to pile a plate high.

"You got it," Seth says to Joey, slipping one of the other prepared pastries onto a plate and passing it off in his direction, and another for VIc. "Anyone else want one of these things? Get them while they are free!"

Aidan accepts the plate that's slid his way, pushing the plate with what yet remains of the rest of his food on it slightly aside to make room. Fork and knife in hand, he admires the thing on the plate before experimentally sticking the fork in it (yup, it's done, for whatever value of done) and cutting himself an optimistically large bite. It has delicious things in it! It must be delicious too!

The bite goes in and gets chewed once, then a slight pause to put a hand over his mouth while he opens it with a slightly garbled explanation of "Hot!", and then chewed some more, the look thoughtful. There is some consideration of the tastes and textures, the way they all combine. A filtering through the kinds of things Aidan happily eats regardless plus being really pretty damn baked right now. And then a firm nod, with a quick lick of his teeth before he grins again. "Waffletaco! I would eat more of those." He cuts another bite, ready to do so, before going thoughtful again and adding, "...only maybe not in turkey oil? The turkey flavour is maybe a little weird." But only a little. Definitely not enough that he doesn't want to keep eating the rest.

Alexander watches Aidan with the face of one of those amateur chefs on a reality show, with ten thousand dollars on the line, all big eyes and deep, deep anxiety. His hands twitch nervously as that considering bite is taken. He licks his lips. Wait for it. Waaaaait for it.

And we have the verdict! "Victory!" He grins at Seth. "It works! We've created art! Turkey-flavored art!"

"I do not teach that class, Vic. You gotta find it yourself." Yup. Still a little bit of a smart ass apparently. Boot comes up to chair, hooks and pulls it out for her to plant her ass. "Holy shit we are leaving this out to see what else we can fry. We got pop tarts, and brownies and I think we have some beef jerky. I dunno how that'll go." Right now waffle taco. Ice cream. Fried badassery. And this is getting a picture to send to Duarte who is presently on shift and will probably job down the street here in teh next ten minutes.

For a man who spent twelve years drinking coffee that was more or less flavored with jet fuel and bilge, and eating shipboard meals, Joe's got a surprisingly refined palate. Because he pulls a face and shudders delicately at the mention of the turkey flavor being involved, just as he feared. Apparently he'll be confining himself to the pie with ice cream....

Then he's shaking his head and getting up, only pausing to ask where the bathroom is.

Vic is stuffing her face with turkey and all the sides everyone brought. She has probably eaten her own weight in junk food since this cloud of highness began. She blinks around, noticing other people are here that weren't here when she went inside. She has completely forgotten she napped. "Did someone invent a teleporter? Please tell me yes, I hate traffic."

Passing out the waffletacos, Seth grins and nods to Alexander. "We are going to make so much money. Easton can not not buy these now that we have people like them. It would be stupid of him." Seth wanders over to grab another bottle of beer, popping the top off with a thumb and taking a swig as he brings Vic over her waffletaco, a little extra port drizzled over the top as he sets it down in front of her. "Don't worry, you haven't missed the photo yet, Grey."

Javier's sprawled in the chair next to Joe, recognisable mostly by his stupid ballcap, in case anyone missed the prison ink scrawled up both tanned arms. He's managed to devour the turkey that's been dished out to him, but doesn't seem quite sure what to make of these waffletacos, as evidenced by the look he's giving Seth while he drizzles port on Vic's. This, clearly, calls for more booze. Which he promptly pulls to his feet, and prowls off to procure for himself.

"No teleporters. Isn't that weird? You'd think that we could do something like that," Alexander says. Now that the waffletacos HAVE ARRIVED, he's coming down off his high of excitement, if not the actual high, sort of fading back into the pleasant cottony feeling of before. "Time is weird in the Veil, so you'd think there'd be a way to hop over there, go somewhere, and then hop back, but only a moment after you left. Functional teleportation in this world, even if it's not actual teleportation. But we don't seem to be able to control the temporal manipulation aspects on our end, and I don't think anyone's abilities have ever involved it. I suppose you could argue that the healing abilities may have some utility in this area, since plant growth, healing, and those sorts of things could work by a localized acceleration of time, maybe. But no one's tested that, I don't think. And I'm not sure how you could."

While he's rambling about this to no one in particular, he goes back to the chair he'd had before and just drops into it, and starts petting himself on the fuzzy sweater. "It'd make an interesting hypothesis, though."

Vic reaches for the plate with the waffletaco with grabby hands. "Gimme." She takes a bite, eyes widen, and she declares, "You're gonna be so rich," to the enforcer. Then she smirks at the note she hasn't missed the photo op yet. "Totally waiting for me right?" Then she's staring at Alexander as he rambles on and on and on about things. "But the point of teleporting is to not have to take the time to get somewhere. That doesn't sound like that does that..."

Joey snorts, "Screw that I'll fucking endorse it. The tacos no the ...Roen...stuff...plants. No, it doesn't do that. No one's teleportation and there's no traffic, Vic. Siddown. Eat. Today's an eating day." Feet planted on either side of his chair he leans back keeping an eye on the kitchen, Ma (ghost Ma really), Ravn, and Nicole. As no one's upset and plates aren't threatening to take out the window he tries to tackle the waffle taco and decides on a spoon.

"YES," Aidan says decisively to Joey, pointing his fork at the guy, "We should definitely try frying the pop-tarts. That is the best non-taco-waffle idea I think I heard today." He pauses before eating another bite, trying to follow Alexander's teleportation thoughts, and adds, "...though that might be a good one too? I think I kinda only got about half of that, but teleportation would rock and I would be down with accelerating time. Sometimes. And then I guess slowing it down too? Dude, that would be really cool."

"Waffletaco," Seth corrects Aidan. "Tacowaffle sounds like a VD of some sort." Seth sagenods. He casts a glance to Vic, gives her a little wink and shrugs a shoulder. "Maybe, but the suspected flipper wandered off, so I think I am in the clear." Seth shifts his eyes over to Joey, "Hey, if you want a stake in Waffletacos, I am not going to stop you. I just figured we would pull Easton is as the sole seller of said dessert. The Twofer has the tots, and hopefully soon to also be home of the Waffletaco. Trademark pending."

"It would be like you moved from one place to the other," Alexander says, flapping a hand in Vic's direction. "That's almost the same thing." He pauses, thinks it over, and says, "We should fry everything. Everything is better fried." Speaking of, he sits upright and finally puts together a plate of fried turkey and all the fixings. He sideeyes Seth and Joey at the idea of Joey having a stake in the (soon to be) waffle taco empire. "Hey!" He points his fork at the two of them. "Hey." And then he eats, with enthusiasm.

Ruiz does not dare weigh in on waffletacos and tacowaffles and their enterprises therein. He fetches himself a cider, cracks it open, and starts drinking as he observes the proceedings with some bemusement.

"Waffletaco," Aidan corrects himself agreeably, and continues to devour his. Definitely going to eat the whole thing. "Only. Now my brain's trying to figure out what kinda symptoms would get called waffle? And I think I wish it wouldn't." He will instead think about frying everything, which the firm nod Alexander receives suggests is still a stellar idea in his book. "Ooh. We could flambé things too. Flaming pop-tarts! With like... brandy or vodka or something." It is a very sophisticated palate.

"JAVIER! TRY A WAFFLE TACO!" High Vic has no volume dampeners either. "They are good! Coming soon to Two if By Sea, the exclusive creation of chefs Clayton and Monaghan, and making cleanup of the bar that much harder for Abildgaard!"

"It is a win all around!" laughs Seth, "Darth will be soooo pleased."

Joey considers this tilting his head to the side. "You're missing then getting Vydal's buy-in. Contact Everett for getting premium buy-in on ice cream and also get Dante in on as a buyer cause he's got that... what the fuck is it at the casino. Now I dunno if Vydal'll go for it cause it's got dimples and isn't shaped like a stolen art piece, but hit up the others. Gina too. She's a sweetheart. Not to be overlooked and it'll be nice to see something on her menu not trying to kill people slowly." Joey is, at his depths, a businessman.

"Vydal scares me," Alexander says, with a frown. "He asked me questions along with my psychiatrist before she disappeared, and it was terrifying. He's so...so...put together." He makes vague shapes with his hands that suggest Vyv is shaped either like a holy cross, or possibly a Jeep. "Terrifying. But! Flambeing things is good. We should do that more often. Seth's good at it." He points with his fork at Aidan, and finishes off his plate - which he pretty much inhaled. "This was all delicious. Fried! With friends!" He lays back, closes his eyes, and goes quiet and still.

Wincing slightly at the shout from Vic, Javier nevertheless decides - eventually - to throw caution to the wind and wade on in to give this bastardisation of his traditional homeland food a try. The bottle of cider's set aside, and he cracks his knuckles and holds a hand out for one of the fried concoctions with a waggle of eyebrows at the blonde. "Hit me," he tells her with a grin.

"Don't know the others, other than Gina. Not personally. Easton, I have at least spoken to in the last two weeks, but if you want to make introductions and market the waffletaco, trademark pending, I am not going to complain about it. Alexander, do you want to market this thing to a larger market? Bigger pile of money for you to jump into at the end of the day."

Seth looks over at Alexander and smiles with a nods, "I set things on fire real good."

"Monaghan, make de la Vega a waffle taco! If you can hook the police on them, they'll outsell donuts!" Vic declares, staring wide eyed at the idea.

"Me too!" Aidan tells Seth happily, as though this is an important shared talent over which people should bond. "...though I used to be a little better at it than now." His shoulders deflate a bit, and he gives what's left of his waffletaco a sad look. At least eating it helps cheer him back up some, turkey-tinge or not.

Joey snorts with a wry grin and tilts his head to Alexander, eyebrow arches, "Don't let Count Chocula scare you. Listen to Aidan, you keep making art. Sales are easy." He might be confusing sales and extortion here. Looking back to Ruiz he silently watches the man watch the deep fried bastardized food. He hunches over his plate digging into his own. "Last game of the season's nest week unless they win regionals." He frowns and wonders out loud, "Be weird after that ya know? When did weird get to be normal?"

Seth nods to Vic, moving back over to the platter of prepared waffletacos and slipping one onto a plate. He eyes de la Vega for a moment, trying to figure out a possible bonus drizzle to add to the top and selects some Baileys which he applies sparingly before taking it over to the Chief. "Here, Javier. Have a go at that."

Seth grins over at Aidan, "Oh, I didn't mean like that...though apparently that is where my talent lays, not that I have used it at all." The enforcer shrugs a shoulder, "I should practice."

Vic is now full. So full of food. Oi. "M'gonna nap," she announces groggily, nearly nodding off in the lawn chair. She gets up and wobbles towards the door. "YEAH MA KELLY! I'M GONNA LIE DOWN! THANK YOU FOR CARING!" she hollers to the ghost.

Bailey's? The booze gets a sidelong look, but no argument from the cop as he reaches out to take the offered plate from Seth. The usage of his first name, however.. well, he's a little buzzed, or that might not go over so well.

The thing's bracketed in a big hand, and shoveled toward his waiting mouth for a messy bite. And a thumbs-up, before he wanders over to where Joey's surreptitiously watching him. "Not bad, huh?"

Joey looks up boggling and murmurs with a frown, "She's dead not...deaf..." There's a sigh letting it pass. This has been sorting itself for like a month. On it goes, and being in a house with a lot of personalities is more familiar to him than an empty one so riled he is not. That waffletaco? It's almost gone. The question de la Vega gives him gets his head dipped in a nod. Looking up he says "Yeah they're good kids. Been working their as off since I put the fear of fuckin God in em, but they really got their hit together. I think they'll be alright." He pauses "Oh the wafflo? yeah. I'm a fan of carbs. I can't help it.

Which is when Cavanaugh returns - not from the house, but strolling around the corner and up the street. Where did he go and how did he get there? It's not readily clear. But he looks a little more alert....and still not in the least inclined to get anywhere near the taco things. More of a purist than de la Vega....or just still too full, hard to tell.

Seth, having passed out all the various waffletacos to those that wanted them, finally makes his way over to the turkey and other foodstuffs that the party was supposed to be for. He piles on a plate with some of whatever is leftover and moves to take a seat at the table, making sure his kilt covers both his ass as he sits, and the sporran falls in the right place to cover the other bits. He starts to dig into the food, focusing more on that than anything else at the moment.