2020-11-18 - Into the woods

They always knew that this day would come. It was an inevitability since the day that the Irish enforcer and the Dane became friends. Seth marches through the soggy backwoods just on the outskirts of town with his companion in tow, a large heavy duffle bag slung over his shoulder that emits an ever so soft metallic clink every once in a while as the weight shifts within it.

"Come on, Darth. The clearing isn't too much farther ahead. I've made calls, and I think Joey and Alex will be joining us."

Up ahead in the distance, the aforementioned clearing is visible, a flat section of land that is clear from the looming trees and perfect for the day's activities. As Seth breaks the perimeter of the open space, he makes his way over to a fallen log and sets the bag down with a thud, arching his neck with an audible crack to realign the bones within. "Ok, So the first thing we need to do is set up the targets." the redhead says as he pulls a thermos out of the bag, opening it up and sipping at the hot coffee inside. "I think we will start you off easy with something that my grandmother can handle, like a .22."

Ravn, having at least swapped that designer suit from yesterday out for his usual black jeans and turtleneck combination under a (whodathunk) black wind breaker, nods. "I have fired a gun before, you know. Hunting is a social function thing where I'm from. Mostly pheasants, some deer. Lots of alcohol. The occasional embarrassing accident."

His duffelbag doesn't seem to contain any bottles of hard liquor, though. Possibly a first aid kit. And a metric buttload of sandwiches accompanied by several thermos bottles of hot, black coffee. Somebody knows exactly how cold your arse can get, sitting in a ditch waiting for some buck to feel like strolling by.

The former hitman turned Underboss turned... high school gym coach!? plods on having dragged Alexander out with them in case they "...find a body in the woods I don't want to spend 18 hours trying to describe it to you. Here." He snaps up a stick off the ground, more it leaping into hand, and he snaps the spindly end off handing it to Alexander. "There." He adjusts the duffel bag on his shoulder. "Seth, turn locations off on your phone please." he's not so stoned he forgot he's carrying a bag of unregistered weapons on his shoulder and his prison release heavily suggests (prohibits) him from carrying, SO... if prison isn't enough to sober some common sense into someone it didn't work right. "Man I haven't been out here since Jaime and I came out here."

There are things that a sober Alexander would never agree to, and heading out into the woods with Joey Kelly and Seth Monaghan where firearms are explicitly involved pretty much tops that list. Underlined, starred, and with a footnote saying, "Don't be a fucking idiot, Alexander."

But Alexander is not sober, and Joey hooked him up with ketamine, and Seth helped develop waffletacos with him, and all of these things together have created a possibly temporary breech of Alexander's self-preservation instincts - which, admittedly, are not incredibly well honed at the best of times. So, he's arriving with Joey at the agreed upon meeting place, trekking through the woods in his baggy sweater, oversized army jacket, and big stompy workboots beside the Coach of the Year. He doesn't have a gun, of course, and even through the red-eyes haze of the perpetual high, he looks a little wary. And disheveled, but mostly wary. Still, there's the lift of a hand when he spots Seth and Ravn in the distance. "Hey." He's not trying to be stealthy, perhaps even deliberately the opposite, so the crunch crunch crunch of his boots breaking down branches can be heard clearly. He takes the stick with bemusement, then uses it to poke at the ground in front of him. "Are we likely to find a body?"

The sad thing is that he visibly perks up at the idea.

"I brought the dumbphone. No GPS. " Seth retorts to Joey with a smile. "But these other two knuckleheads probably didn't have that forethought. Ravn, Alexander..." The request is implied as Seth starts to dig around into the duffle, laying out a few rifles, and few handguns, and a bunch of ammo and targets.

The enforcer looks over to Ravn, and nods once. "Ok, so you are familiar then. I don't have to go over basics like never point it at something you don't want to be destroyed and the general shit like that. Good. That will cut out the boring part." He grins, as he starts to move down the 'range', taking a paper target with him to tack up to a tree.

"The possibility of a body is always there, but to my knowledge, nobody has gone missing recently. Anyway, Alexander, what is your level of comfort with a firearm? Do I need to break out the peashooter, or can we start with the grown-up guns?"

"Gray Harbor. Where you go for a walk in the woods and get surprised if you don't find a dead body." Ravn shakes his head. This is his life now. Everything is fine. Maybe that's what the first aid kit is for -- the last dead body he encountered in the woods tried to take his head off with a broadsword.

He still looks a bit dazed and red-eyed even as he takes out his cellphone, sparkly pink Hello Kitty casing and all, and just turns it off -- maybe the Dane isn't expecting any phone calls anyhow. "Hi, guys. How did the waffletaco experiment work out in the end?"

"Yeah well these two knuckleheads aren't being harassed by unfriendly people either." Yeah pretty much, Ravn. The nod seems to agree so. It's about this time that Set is digging through guns that Joey's throwing his senses out there. There is a glimmer shift and really the guy may have zero awareness that it's even happening but he is looking in all directions for... sneakers? There's a frown. "Well I don't think anyone's out here but remember that the bullet doesn't care that it found your target. Physics is gonna keep carrying that think til something tells it to fucking stop." Looking to Seth he makes the odd, but considerate request, "Don't start em on something that'll tear through drywall or blow his shoulder out."

Alexander noticeably hesitates. He knows what's being asked, but he has to think about it. Eventually, his hand goes to his pocket, he pulls out his cellphone, and kills it before slipping it back into his pocket. His voice is dry as he says, "I'm very comfortable with firearms. I don't use them, and I'm comfortable with that. I don't mind being here while other people use them, though." He flashes a sleepy sort of smile to Ravn. "It's not that bad. While we are about a couple hundred times the per capita murder and disappearance rate for a city our size and of our demographics, that doesn't mean there's a body on every corner. Just more than you might expect. And most aren't found."

Then he brightens. "The waffletacos were DELICIOUS. They're going to be bigger than McDonalds."

Seth nods in agreement with Alexander. "They went over pretty well. Even Joey here was looking to get a piece of the action, talking marketing strategies. He suggested hitting up Gina as well, and some of the other local eateries. He has a larger vision that we do." That's why he is the underboss, right? "So you are not planning on pulling a trigger today, Alexander? Fair enough." Seth shrugs, a shoulder as he tacks up the targets and makes his way back to what is now the firing line.

"I wasn't going to give him a hand cannon, Joey," Seth says with a chuckle as he sets aside the Desert Eagle he pulls from the bag, "I figure we start on handguns with a .38 and work our way up in caliber as we see how his skill is and how much recoil he can take. We will do rifles later when his grip is for shit."

Seth picks up the thermos again, taking another sip of coffee as he looks downrange, "I think we are set. No real wind to speak of so...why not get down to it."

"Oh, that's very comforting." Ravn grins back at Alexander in a fashion that suggests that for some reason the Dane isn't bothered at all by the statistics or the fact that if he does go missing out here, odds are his remains will never be found.

He sticks his hands into his windbreaker's pockets and shifts his weight from one booted foot to the other. "I've fired a hunting rifle, of course. I'm not very good at it, and hitting anything was never really the objective anyway. I know to not aim at someone I like, and I know to stay behind the scope of anyone who might not like me. Or who is too drunk to tell me from a roe buck. My uncle put buckshot in my father's leg that way once." He beams; this must be a particularly favoured childhood memory.

"Only fired a pistol a couple of times for shit and giggles, though." He holds a gloved hand out towards Seth. Put something here that goes boom, mate.

Joey makes a note to himself to give a couple people a holiday bonus this year. Most aren't found are pretty good number so long as they're not persons who should be of concern. It's what Alexander says that beings a little bit of a frown from Joey, "Can we get through '21 without being shot? I think I'd like to do that next year Especially with... ya know." He frowns at the 'you know' part and looks up at Seth, "Yo, Itzhak kinda blew up my phone last night. Kinda hilarious." before touching anything Joey pulls out a pair of gloves before handling anything. He's got his own chemical resistant lab gloves? Of course he does. At all damn times.

Alexander shakes his head at Seth. "I don't actually know what to do with a gun aside from hit someone with it, or run forensics on it," he admits, cheerfully. He finds a fallen tree trunk and perches there, forearms coming to rest on his knees as he leans forwards to watch. Watch intently, as it happens. He glances at Ravn, and mentions, "Washington is a shall issue state. You don't need a permit to carry openly, just concealed, although some demographics are not allowed to carry." He doesn't look at Joey while saying that. "Don't know how that lines up with foreigners, honestly, but if you wanted to carry, as long as you didn't scare people or piss off any cops, no one's probably going to pull you in to check on it." He reaches into another of the jacket pockets, pulls out a candy bar, and nibbles on the end as his attention darts from one man to the other. His lips twitch upwards when Joey pulls out his own pair of gloves, but he doesn't dwell on it. "I think Gina would find the waffletaco hilarious, but I also suspect she could out-negotiate us both. Still might be fun."

Seth slips on his own pair of shooting gloves. He isn't 'working', and he will give the guns a thorough wipedown and cleaning later tonight, so he is less worried about having already touched the firearms in question. Picking up a snub-nose .38 revolver, the enforcer checks the gun and quickly slips a couple of rounds into the cylinder before he checks that the safety is on and sets the gun down on the log for Ravn to pick up. "Well, today would be the day to start to learn, if you wanted to Alexander. I am sure Joey or I could teach you the basics."

Glancing at Joey with the whole 'You know' comment, Seth nods once, a harder look forming over his face for a moment as something comes to mind, but it quickly passes. "Yeah. Not getting shot, or shot at would be nice. What was Itz blowing up your phone for? Did he want more pics of me in a kilt, or was it he wanted both of us in one?" A small smile and chuckle escapes his lips.

Turning to the Dane, Seth reaches into his pocket and slips in a pair of earplugs, moving behind Ravn and to the side. "Ok. Let's see what you got."

Ravn shakes his head at Alexander's explanation. "Most of Europe has very strict laws about firearms. You need a license to own them, and you don't carry them around outside of their intended use. Hunter's license isn't hard to get but you'll lose it if you don't keep your rifles safely locked up separately from your ammunition outside of actual hunting trips. Same for shooting on a range, regardless of what you're firing. Home Guard and career military get to keep a few more toys around at home since presumably, they know better than using them on people. I am -- actually quite all right with our laws on this. We don't have a lot of casualties from gun-related violence. I don't see myself starting to lug a firearm around."

He pauses. "Not that having a firearm would have made much difference in the dream experiences I've had, either."

He picks up the revolver and weighs the unfamiliar form and shape in his hand. "Let me guess. You don't fire this thing like a homeboy in a gangster movie. There's a proper stance?"

"If you want to hit anything? No don't 'homeboy' the gun. Preferably one on and one under to stabilize." Joey sighs pulling out his favored Baretta and checking it with all of those pesky numbers filed off. "Guns... are problems. However they do solve problems that are problems but then make a different problem." Looking to Alexander he mutters, "That's why I still just beat the piss outta a guy ya know? It's fair. It's personal. None of this TV bullshit. No one is a professional or respects nothin anymore." Lament for when crime had rules! It's an honest sadness he admits, "Some days I feel like the last man standing that gives a shit about the rules. But No...well yes, and frankly I would be too, but naw that's not why he blew up my phone. I told him he's the bachelor party planner. He gets to work out that mess. It'd be good just to see people but ya know it makes him happy. I'm absolutely wearing my utilikilt for that shit."

Alexander shrugs. "Guns are tools. They're just tools that make some people feel like invincible badasses when they really aren't, and those people in turn escalate conflicts where they should back the fuck down. And once bullets start flying, you can't take them back, and you can't make them go in a different direction if you suddenly realize that the asshole has moved out of the way, and there's a kid, or your friend, standing there instead. I see their purpose. I just don't like them. They don't have enough control for me." He nods to Ravn. "And that, as well. Lot of stuff over there, you can shoot it all day and it does not give a single fuck. And, honestly, as annoying and nosy-ass as I am, more things over there have tried to kill me than over here." He hesitates, then admits, "And over there and over here sometimes look the same. If I get, uh, confused, I don't want to shoot someone because I think they're a monster. They'll live from being punched, or even stabbed. I can take that back, or at least have a chance to. Can't take back a bullet to the head. I don't think guns are evil. They're just not my tool of choice."

Seth arches a brow and gives Joey a little bit of side-eye as the underboss starts to get a little freer with the information about the business then the enforcer would, but he isthe boss. The enforcer shrugs a shoulder, moving over to Ravn and taking up a position next to the Dane, pulling out a Glock from a holster at the small of his back, "Like this." Seth takes a typical shooter stance, legs apart, hand on the grip, with one under to stabilize as Joey mentioned. "And just squeeze the trigger, don't jerk it. Don't try to anticipate the discharge..just let it happen."

Demonstration of stance over, Seth checks the safety on his weapon and slips it back into the holster, "If you want I will make Itz a kilt calendar for a best-man gift. We can get Vic to take the shots." the enforcer says with a chuckle, "I'm sure she would be game."

Looking over at Alexander, Seth frowns. "Guns don't work over there? That's good to know."

"Well, I'm not looking to blow anyone away or for that matter, break anyone's kneecaps. I just want to shoot a tree, giggle about it a lot, and eat a whole pack of cupcakes." Ravn has his priorities straight, even with cannabis brain (or maybe because of it). He attempts to adjust his hold with both hands on the .38 the way Joey is telling him to. The safety is still on; it's possible that this is intentional while he gets used to the feel and weight of the weapon. It's also possible he just forgot about it. "That said, Kelly? Getting the stuffing beaten out of you doesn't feel very fair when you can't fight back."

He practises the stance Seth showed him a few times as well. Then he takes a deep breath and, aiming at that very evil and deserving tree over there, fires.

Except, you know. Safety catch.

None of that information is particularly out of place for a boxer at the very least, or the bar fight he was in with a cop the other night. At least. Joey looks to Alexander and smiles, so damn fond that he's not the only one in that camp of it not being tool of choice. Does Joey carry one for the job?oh FUCK yes, and Seth knows Joey is pretty reliably armed at all times. The back of his wrist nudges Alexander's arm as he snickers, "Oh man remember that time you almost stabbed the shit out of me for poppin out of your cake? God I felt bad for you but the look on your face was kinda priceless." Oh the things in retrospect he finds amusing. "Maaan I wouldn't a even been angry."

There's a pause and he looks to Seth with a furrow in his brow, "The fuck is Roz gettin presents for? I'm the one fucking getting married. He can get his own. And they do. Sometimes. it's unreliable. And bringing stuff from over there to over here is bad cause customs and shit... not that I don't have a fuck ton of em cause those people in the fucking woods can't be trusted to leave a guy buying a tree in peace." Looking to Ravn there is a solemn nod. "No.... no it ain't." There's a quiet very sober agreement on that fact that will, thankfully, never not bother him.

Alexander doesn't flinch away from the contact like he usually would, but he does turn red and look away from everyone. "I don't...I don't like surprises," he mutters. "I'm sorry." It's clear the night Joey refers to is not one of Alexander's best memories, and even in his haze, his shoulders hunch in a little. It doesn't stop him from adding, "It's good to get the best man and maid of honor small gifts to show one's appreciation for the work of organizing parties and serving the bride and groom as assistants and supports during the exciting, but stressful, events leading up to the ceremony."

He does, in fact, sound like he's quoting from a book. Then he blinks and shakes his head at Seth. "It--" and Joey's there with the explanation, so he bobs his head. "Right. Some things will go down. Some things don't care. You never really know which." His eyes flick back to Ravn as the gun...fails to go off. He coughs. It's not a laugh, it's--no, it's absolutely a laugh, although he gives Ravn an apologetic look afterwards.

The conversation about violence that's running through the undertones, and occasionally overtones? He doesn't yet venture an opinion - although it's clear he has them, from the many flickers of complex emotions that pass across his features.

"What? Never heard of the best-man gift, Joey? I'm pretty sure it is a tradition for the bride and groom to give the groomsman and bridesmaids a gift, but maybe I am wrong." Seth says with a shrug, casts a glance at Ravn with a smirk. "Saftey off. It helps." Looking to Joey again, Seth shrugs his shoulder, "Customs? What do you mean? Should I ditch the little funny coins I ended up with from the toad birth from hell? Just thought they were worthless funny money. Good to know about the guns. What about knives? Fists? Baseball bats? Chainsaws?"

"Oh man," Ravn murmurs, realising his mistake. He clicks the safety off with a rather sheepish expression. "Well, I did say I've only fired a small firearm once or twice in the past."

He looks back at the other men, distracted a moment by their talk. "What did you have last time, Seth? Kielbasa and an apple. That's what everyone keeps telling me -- sometimes the dream will supply you with something. Most of the time it just pulls you in as you are. That's why I want to learn to defend myself with my hands, not a shotgun."

He raises the .38 again and aims for a second before pulling the trigger. This time, at least, the shot goes off (and presumably, the large maple there feels very sorry for itself). The recoil surprises him off balance a bit, but it doesn't knock him over; the Dane clearly did expect it to happen.

"My best man is Jaime? My twin brother gets dibs man. Christ, why does everyone assume fucking everything? Holy crap!" He does look a bit irritated on this. There's a pause though to look at Alexander with a double take and sighs, commiserating, "It's okay man. I get it. I don't either. People sneaking up on me usually get just that, so we good. and stop... just... fucking... oh hey." Looking to Ravn both eyebrows go up, "You got it. Now try again, same spot if... you can find the spot."

Seth raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Ok, ok. I assumed, sorry. Usually, the best man is the one that handles the bachelor party. Whatever, forget I said anything."

Frustrated, the enforcer draws, releasing the safety with his thumb as he brings the barrel up to eye level, and fires at the target all in one smooth motion, a little hole appearing in the target near the center.

Alexander does flinch when the gunshots go off, but more in that reflexive way than phobic, and his eyes by instinct dart over towards trees big enough to hide behind. His hands start running a patter on his legs and thighs, something off-rhythm and instinctive. "Seth's right. It's traditional, and you didn't say," he says. "You were asking me to marry you on the spot yesterday, so people can't make assumptions about who you're gonna invite or not." He leans to one side, and tries to bump Joey with his shoulder, just gently. "It's okay." A brief smile in that direction before he straightens up to look at the target. "Nice shots. And sometimes fists and knives and chainsaws work. Sometimes they don't. When you get pulled into a bad Dream, the Shadows want you to use your abilities. They feed off of it. I think. If you're hurting or angry at the time. So sometimes that's the only thing that works."

Ravn fiddles a bit with his weapon, clearly a little unfamiliar with the 'revolver' bit of 'revolver'. He handles the .38 with the gingerness of someone who is clearly not used to handling one -- but, maybe a bit surprisingly, not with the levels of trepidation one might otherwise expect from a man who will literally bolt from a crowd once his social anxieties reach critical mass.

At least Joey's dead mum didn't complain about the company when he fled to her kitchen.

He doesn't seem to have much to contribute to the talk of wedding plans. Maybe he's just paying attention -- customs vary from state to state, nevermind country to country, or indeed, continent to continent.

Joey blinks and shakes his head to Seth, "Dude I'm the first Kelly I think to get fucking married in like fifty years. This is not the sort of thing we generally do. Jaime's on the road and Itzhak is pretty fucking good at this shit. I think. I dunno. I just..." He frowns and takes a deep breath looking a bit off focus for a moment shaking his head, "Sorry. I just dunno if he'll be 'off the road' by then." There's a pause and he sighs, "I need to call em tonight and find out how he and the sprout are doin."

There's a pause and he blinks at Alexander. "I did? Huh. Shit Seth, I'm sorry man. This whole thing has me... kinda crazy. Ravn, what'd you used too hunt? I didn't know you were a hunter. That pheasant or deer or elk or what?"

Having let out his frustrations on the target and the poor tree behind it, the enforcer lets out a slow breath and turns to Joey, slipping the safety on his sidearm and slipping it back into its place. "It's all good. I was just trying to be funny anyway, it's no big deal." Seth utters to Joey, lifting his shoulder into a half-hearted shrug as he wanders over next to Ravn again, lifting an arm to adjust the man's firing stance. "Weddings do that to people. I understand."

He casts a glance back towards Alexander, "Really? Shit. I should learn how to use this 'gift' then."

"As I understand it, if planning a wedding doesn't have you crazy, then you're not doing it right. Much less under current circumstances." Alexander's eyes flick from Joey to Seth and back, as if trying to weigh the emotional weather there. Whatever he sees doesn't make him more tense, thankfully, so he watches Seth go help Ravn with his stance. He bobs his head, slightly, but says, "Maybe. It's a Catch-22. The more you use your abilities, the more you stand out to the Shadows. They'll want you to hurt." He hesitates, about to say something, but whatever it is doesn't quite come out. Instead, he says, "But a little bit of healing can help in a lot of situations."

Joey's question pulls his attention back to Ravn, head cocking curiously at the man.

"Pheasants mostly, some roe deer," Ravn replies. "I'm not really into hunting myself but it's an important social function in some circles where I'm from. Largely an excuse to socialise, make connections, and drink too much hard liquor. And uh, a fair bit of cocaine and opiates, but we're not supposed to talk about that."

He doesn't object to Seth's adjusting his stance though he watches the Irishman's hands like hawks. He can apparently endure having someone enter his personal space, not to mention actually touch him, when he sees it coming.

Joey checks his safety and lines up the sight on the weapon taking a shot on the tree with a slight frown. "I swear I'm only a surgeon wit h this thing if someone's shooting at us, holy shit." He rolls the pistol in hand and offers it to Ravn and Seth thumbing the safety on. "Try that one. it's a lil different. Doesn't kick so much. We'll have to take you with us when we do turkey if you wanna go. I mean shit, All of ya."

He does watch Seth's insights on this as the better marksman all around. "Seth, we're over looking i'm also an asshole. It's not you. Just..." Looking back to Alexander he murmurs, "He's actually damn good at this shit."

Taking Joey's firearm, Seth gives it a quick once over, double-checking the safety first and lets his hand get a feel for the weight and the differences to his own personal piece. Satisfied, he thumbs the safety off and lifts the weapon to fire another round downrange, hitting close to his original mark. Thumbing the safety back on, he passes the gun towards Ravn for him to give it a shot, "Not a bad piece, Joey. I see it has been 'modified' a bit." Seth looks over towards Joey with a grin of amusement, "Necessary modifications, anyway. Yeah, you're an asshole, it's true..and my head is all fucked up from the weed so I might be running a bit off myself. As I said, no worries man. It's all good."

Alexander gets another nod, "Yeah, I've heard that whole catch-22. Still, I think it might be better to be prepared and risk things rather than play it safe and get sucked in not knowing anything like the other night."

Alexander starts giggling after Ravn's response. So hard that it actually takes him a moment to explain why. He points at Ravn. "At first, I thought you said peasants." And then he giggles more. "I thought his past is way more interesting than I originally assumed." A pause. "Which it is? But just not in the hunting of people way. Probably." He squints at Ravn, mock-thoughtfully. Then shakes his head at Joey's offer. "Don't really enjoy hunting, myself. Although I do like turkey. And yes. Seth is good at teaching people. He was good with hand to hand, too. He's very calm. I think that helps. Or it's the weed." He shrugs, as if to say, who can tell. "Maybe you should have him teach one of your self-defense classes."

It's not really a murmur, but at least he does acknowledge that Seth is standing right there with a nod. "Yeah. That's how I feel, too. But it should be a choice. And I want you to know the consequences."

Ravn weighs the new weapon he is issued in his hands, familiarising himself with that in turn (with the safety still on). "Never been on a turkey hunt. We don't have wild turkeys in Europe. Could be fun."

He smiles at Joey. The weed is not doing the Dane favours when it comes to maintaining a neutral, relaxed facade; he beams like a kid on Christmas morning when invited. What exactly he's being invited for? Probably not a big deal. The gratitude at being included in spite of his social anxieties is almost pathetic, and Ravn is guaranteed to hate himself for letting his defences down when the weed haze wears off, no doubt about that whatsoever.

"I'm trying to get prepared," he murmurs. "But there's no such thing as preparing for everything, I figure."

Then he aims for the maple again. He hit it just about ... there... and what are targets for? Trees are easier to hit. Mostly because they're bigger. He clicks the safety off and fires -- and remarkably, manages to not shoot anything but the tree as he does a double take and just stares at Alexander for a moment. "I'm pretty sure there are laws against shooting peasants."

"They are huge and annoying and tasty when deep fried. We'll bring Ripley. She'll love it. Harvey...can nap on the porch. Only thing that dog'll hunt is a snack." The idea of having Seth there to do that has merit. His eyebrow goes up, "There ...is that." Ravn's excitement gets the amusing part of that, "Yeah man, come with us. Shit we might even get Byron to go." Fair chance at that too. Looking back to Alexander he asks the million dollar question, "IF things are so damn miserable over there why they buggin us anyways?"

Alexander laughs at Ravn's stare. "There are laws against cocaine and opiates, too," he points out. "It just sounded like you said peasants. For a moment. And it was funny." A pause. "I think it was funny." He smiles at Joey. "I think he'd do well." Nevermind that he's just volunteering the bouncer and enforcer to take on a third job. The question, though, wipes the smile from his face. He shrugs. "They eat us," he says, after a moment. "We're the huge, annoying, tasty turkeys in their worldview, so they take their dogs and their guns, and they hunt." He tilts his head back to look at the sky. "I don't think it's miserable over there, exactly. Not always. But the Shadows, Dark Men, whatever you want to call them? They just want to eat everything until there's nothing left."

"I'm missing half the conversation here," Ravn observes and looks at the maple tree in some red-eyed attempt to figure out if he hit remotely in the vicinity of his first shot -- or it's even the same tree. "Laws against cocaine and opiates never stopped anyone who can afford good lawyers. But I don't think they eat people. Unless you mean metaphorically. In which case they definitely eat people. But I've never seen a line of cocaine go hunting with a dog."

Joey lets Seth go water a tree for a minute and waves his hand to Ravn in the gesture of 'lower that thing' and happy the guy is acting responsibly with it.

"Some assholes have been rolling into town putting the lean on a bunch of businesses. Mac's, mine, the dispensery, many." Alexander gets a wry grin and there's a snicker reasoning, "It was a lil funny." Looking back to Ravn he shakes his head, "Drugs are bad if you got shit you wanna do and you like staying alive. You can't get out of bullshit's way with your head on another goddamn planet. The...things living in the other place? They feed on us feeling crappy like we devour honey from bees." Longer pause, "Never give my dogs cocaine."

Now it's Alexander's turn to stare in bafflement at Ravn. "No. Not rich people. The Shadows. They eat people. Or, whatever we give off when we're sad and scared and hateful and in pain. We're like prey to them. It was a metaphor. An attempt at a metaphor," he mutters, running his hands through his hair. Joey gets it and he waves his hand at him in agreement. "Right, that. And nobody's gonna give your dogs cocaine, Kelly. None of us would do that, and even if we could, I don't know that any of us could afford a cocaine habit." His voice is dry.

"I don't do drugs," Ravn replies (and clicks the safety back on before he forgets and waves the gun around, accidentally shooting somebody). "I do the occasional joint, but those are legal here, I think? Nothing harder than that. I have enough noise in my head as it is."

A sideways glance at Alexander. "I don't shoot peasants either. We don't even have peasants. Nowadays we have farmers. And I'm pretty sure that shooting one will get you a sixteen year jail sentence for murder. Or life in a high security psych ward when they ask you why and you say, 'I thought he was a pheasant, Your Honour'."

Then he nods. "Right. The shadows. The them. That makes a lot more sense. Sorry, this weed thing, it's seriously fucking with my head. It's like my thoughts keep running in three directions and I want to make love to a cupcake."

Wandering back in from the woods, Seth is in the process of zipping up as he looks to the trio of men, "This whole Them things still screws with my head.", he mutters having heard at least the last little bit of the conversation. The redhead moves over to his bag, pulling out a bottle of hand sanitizer, which he applies liberally to his hands. "You fuck a cupcake, and I swear I will never let you live it down. It will be worse than that actor that fucked a pie, and he was just acting...but don't tell me you call him a pie fucker in your head every time you see him in something."

Joey looks to Seth and mutters, "Bruh, I got no room to judge the pie fucker. Also, yes keep your damn dick outta my cupca- wait...you brought cupcakes?" There's a pause and a frown. "That actually sounds pretty good. Damn good. Hey, after this we're grabbin burgers, yeah? My treat. Clayton's got a point though. Been a minute since we did a self defense class. I'll have o see if we're goin to States or not." He' loving this coaching thing. It's not even an effort.

"Screwing with your head is what They do," Alexander points out, a little amused, but a little bitter, as well. He snickers at Ravn's correction, and raises his hands. "Sorry. It was just a joke. I don't think you're actually taking potshots at pe--er, farmers. Promise." He grins, then guffaws as the conversation progresses. "You're not supposed to love dessert like that, you know. Why would you even fuck a pie? It isn't going to feel anything like...any orifice I have ever had intercourse with." His nose wrinkles. "And I don't want to even think about cupcakes. Some places need to not have crumbs."

"Hey, at least cupcakes wouldn't give me a hard time about calling them the morning after or taking them out somewhere expensive first," Ravn grouses good-naturedly at Seth. "I could even introduce you to her sister."

Then he looks at the firearm in his hand and realises that he's kind of lost interest in it in favour of other, cannabis-induced urges. He places it on the tree stump and wanders over to his own duffel bag and starts to unpack things.

First aid kit. Extra sweater. Water bottle. And cupcakes. So very many cupcakes. Somewhere in Gray Harbor, some shop owner is looking at an empty set of shelves and an influx of cash. "I brought all the cupcakes. Literally." Beat. Innocent look at Alexander. "Do you want some private time to find out about the crumbs, or..." Yes, he's getting revenge for the peasant shooting jokes.

Moving over to the discarded firearm, Seth picks it up and double checks the safety as he shakes his head with a sigh. "You were doing so well, Ravn. Never leave a gun just lying around like that. " The enforcer takes the gun over to Joey, offering it over grip first.

A slight grin comes to his face as he listens to Alex and Ravn, "Sounds like a crumby situation. I'd just frost over it if I were you. You wouldn't want to get wrapped up in something like that....holy shit that is a lot of cupcakes."

Joey says dryly, "This is why my 'type' is generally $200-$250 dollars. Everyone's happy and no one bothers no body. Everyone's on the same damn page." there's a pause and even Joey can't keep a straight place when the talk of crumbs comes up. There's a rare grin and his hand covering his mouth, "Dammit. Ya know, much of a loss it is, this might be the best week ever in the Harbor."

Alexander makes a disappointed sound at Ravn, but Seth brings up his objection, and nods. He looks a little baffled by the jokes, staring at Ravn, his brow furrowed. "No. I know there will be crumbs in unpleasant places, and I don't think it'd be enjoyable. Sort of like wet sandpaper or tiny gravel." There's a mental image for the group, although (luckily) he's easily distracted when Seth starts punning. His whole face lights up with his grin, making him look ten years younger, at least. "You are a good person and should feel good about that." There's a bob of his head at Joey. "It's been nice. No one's been trying to kill anyone, even if Ravn did manage to punch us both. It's good. It's a good time to do important things," he adds, thoughtfully.

"I'm not used to handling firearms," Ravn defends himself, mouth full of cupcake. His definition of making love apparently involves eating it out of the wrapper in giant bites.

He nods at Joey with a grin. "And my type has four legs and goes meow for a can of tuna. But yeah. It is. I mean, it's been great. When it goes away and we all go back to our usual selves? I'm probably going to die from embarrassment. Only, outside the city limits because I promised de la Vega not to give him extra paperwork."

Then the Dane slides down to sit against his injured tree with his mountain of cupcakes. "I'm just going to close my eyes a moment. I'm so fucking high."

Because nothing says comfortable, safe sleeping environment like a heavily armed mob enforcer, his heavily armed boss, and the -- well, actually, Alexander might be pretty safe.

"Hey, we successfully thought up and brought Waffletaco to fruition. If nothing else, this week was worth it just for that." Seth says with a grin.

Casting a glance over at Ravn, Seth giggles...yes...giggles. "He can't handle it. We should totally draw penises on his face, because that is what you do to the first one that passes out, right?"

"That would be mean," Alexander tells Seth, solemnly. "He trusts us. It's nice. So only one, small penis would be appropriate. And we have to warn him. Like, writing 'penis on your face' on a hand or something." See? He's a kind-hearted soul, really. Seth's giggles set off his own set at he watches Ravn drift off to sleep. "Man. It's like he put pot in those cupcakes or something." But then he sighs, checks his phone, realizes that it's off, and checks the sun instead. "I should be getting back, though. "This was fun. Thank you for inviting me." The smile takes in both Joey and Seth. "Don't die," he adds, to both of them, then turns and starts walking away.