2020-11-27 - Waffletaco After-Action Interview

Isolde was confident that when she left Gray Harbor this place had been called the 'Pourhouse' and she didn't understand any reason they would have changed it. Especially to 'Poorhouse'. That didn't even sound good. Maybe it was just more weirdness in the Harbor. She was seated up at the bar, talking with one of the bartenders and drinking a coke. Her hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail and she's wearing a pair of dark jeans with a light blue button down shirt. Some kind of attempt to look presentable at least. "Thanks for passing it on. It's been a while since I've specifically worked behind a bar and all but...I think I could catch on quick." She was saying, followed with a bit of a laugh. It's getting to be around the afternoon, not too crowded yet. Mostly just a scattering of regulars. She had been hesitant to even come here but it was under new ownership! And it had been plenty of time since that whole bar brawl happened. Hopefully.

If Seth isn't at the Firefly, or home, or at the Twofer odds are he might be able to be found at the local dive bar. Pourhouse or Poorhouse, the name doesn't matter to him, all that matters is the cheap drinks and atmosphere that doesn't scream tourist trap. The Irish enforcer makes his way into the bar, pausing at the door to let his eyes adjust to the windowless room as he slips the sunglasses off of his face. He eyes the room for people and exits before taking the few steps required to make it up to the bar proper.

"Whiskey. Neat," he mutters to the bartender, as he turns his head to look to Isolde, giving her a nod of recognition.

Isolde looks up and over as she hears a somewhat familiar voice and offers Seth up a little smile. "Long time no see." She leaned against the bar comfortably, letting the bartender put Seth's drink together. "Your name is...Seth right?" Pushing a hand through her hair lightly as her attention shifted from her drink back to him.

Seth nods once in acknowledgment, confirming his name and with a chuckle, he says "Yeah. Seth. Seth Monaghan. It hasn't been that long...what a day or two? I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name, or if I did I have forgotten." As the bartender slips the glass of whiskey in front of him, the enforcer pulls the glass to his lips and takes a small sip of the amber liquid. "I did, however, catch enough that you are...or at least were...from around here."

The smile quirked into a grin for a second or two. "Time might as well fly in this place." She shrugs and offers a hand. "Nice to meet you Seth. Isolde Morrison." She offers in exchange. "Glad that stupid cloud is finally starting to go away. I didn't get a thing done." She sighs and laughs again. Once their hands parted, her free hand went to idly toying with her frog charm bracelet. "I'm from Portland, originally. Technically. I spent some time here for a while...left in early Spring...decided to come back against my better judgement."

Someone else who feels like a stiff drink but not at his actual workplace is Ravn Abildgaard. He strolls into the Po/urhouse, earbuds in, mind a million miles away, wearing his usual black windbreaker and purple scarf and heads straight for the bar. He's not a stranger here, that much is obvious -- Davis the bartender pours him a Glenfiddich on ice without even asking first. Ravn accepts it with a small smile, then unclips his earbuds and looks around; when he spots Seth he raises a gloved hand in a lazy wave -- and an upnod to the woman as well. The girl from the library, right.

Vic Grey is no stranger to the Pourhouse, but she hasn't been here since Halloween. Today, however, she wants to start day drinking without getting dirty looks from literally everyone in TiBS, so here she comes. The tall blonde shoulders her way in, wearing jeans, boots, a tee that likely started black but has faded so much whatever band's logo is on it is no longer decipherable, and a blue flannel over it. She is tapping away at her phone with a grin, and thus not paying much attention to who may be here to witness her alcoholic shame.

Taking the hand and giving it a solid shake before releasing it, Seth nods to Isolde. "Isolde. That is not a name you hear very often aside from that one play. A pleasure."

Returning to his whiskey, Seth takes another sip, "Yeah...last week was odd. I got things done, but I think the Waffletaco might have been a beast that was not meant to be born. At least my waistline is trying to revolt against it." He offers Ravn a nod of greeting, his eyes shifting over to Vic as she follows behind closely behind as he pulls out his phone and starts to tap away himself.

"Yeah, my mom likes all that kind of stuff. I can only assume she was hoping I would meet a Tristan." Isolde rolled her eyes with a chuckle. She looked over at Ravn entered and offered him a smile too, giving him a wave. "Hey there." Recognizing him from the library as well. She takes another sip of her coke, gaze briefly also pausing on Vic as she enters. An unfamiliar face. At least she thinks it is. She's been having some difficulty remembering if she's met most of these people in town or not when she was here last time. "Looks like today was a good day to come by here." She speculated before putting in an order with the bartender for some cheese fries. "Also. What is this waffletaco thing?"

"You folks looking for company?" Ravn leans against the counter with his drink. "I'd tell you my mother told me that a man shouldn't drink alone but I'd be lying -- she'd be more likely to say something like 'at least keep it in the kitchen so the guests don't notice'. He nods to Vic as well -- because what's unusual about two of the Twofer's staff going over here for a drink? Nothing whatsoever -- it's nice to be properly off duty sometimes.

(TXT to Vic) Seth : //A picture of Dick Van Dyke, with the text 'Unsolicited Dick Pic' scrawled over the top in a meme format.

(TXT to Seth) Vic : OMG you dick. I was texting my dad. I almost forwarded that to him by accident! Where are you?

Vic blinks at her phone, and then snorts and taps away at it again, before sidling up to the bar, eyes still on the screen, not even realizing she's a few feet away from people she knows. Right now she's totally that meme of people being glued to their phones and missing the world around them.

(TXT to Vic) Seth : \Animated gif of Captian America jogging by Falcon with the text 'On your left' playing over and over.

Chuckling to himself and glancing up at Vic, the Irish enforcer taps away at his phone again and then sets it onto the bartop, replacing it with his whiskey glass. "Have a seat," Seth tells Ravn, motioning to one of the stools at the bar as he focuses again on Isolde. "A good/bad idea? In the heights of high induced munchies Alexander and I came up with a booze-soaked Eggo, folded over ice cream which is then battered and flash-fried...then drizzled with more booze and various dessert toppings. Thus the Waffletaco. When high I think it was the best thing ever, but now...not so sure."

"Help yourself." Isolde agreed with Seth to Ravn's question of joining them, chuckling about the lonely drinking. "How have you been?" Brow raised lightly. Another brief look between Seth and the phone absorbed Vic, curious, as she listened about this waffletaco. "Ooh...that sounds good. Maybe...I will have to try and convince Alexander to make me one. That sounds like a good thing. Well. Good thing in moderation."

(TXT to Alexander) Leon : Clayton, it's Gyre. People list you as a reference on resumes?

"Bit too calorie-rich for me," Ravn murmurs and settles on the offered chair. "Never really was big on sweet things."

He nurses the Glenfiddich with another grateful look to Davis the fatherly bartender. "Also didn't think you came around here often, Vic. Almost feels a little disloyal, doesn't it? I guess I just need some time away from the Twofer, at least in the evenings."

Vic blinks at her phone, then looks up to the ceiling, as if asking God for patience, before turning her head ever so sloooowly to the left to rest her cold blue gaze on Seth. She then proceeds to punch him in the shoulder. "Pops is coming in for Thanksgiving, I have to be on my best behavior tomorrow. So today, I drink," she notes to the other enforcer. She then spots her Sith (bartending) Apprentice and grins at Ravn. "Hey Abildgaard, you cheating on the Twofer today too?" she asks. She grunts at the waffletaco talk. "Christ, I am going to be running three times a day to get rid of last week's pot munchies weight. And don't do it," the last aimed at Isolde, "It's a trap. A carby, sugary, weight gaining trap." She orders a whiskey, neat.

At some point, Davis had ducked into the back to drop off that dropped off page, and at some point, had returned. At some point, Leon had finally ambled out of the back, pushing through the windowed door, holding that very page between dirty fingers. He sets it on the end of the bar and reaches, taking the rag that had been thrown over his shoulder and beginning to wipe his hands clean before stepping to the little sink and washing in earnest. He watches the folk converse for now, eyes squinting down the way at Isolde.

Ravn and Vic would get little upnods of greeting, conspirators smirks at the rival bar employees showing up to drink here. Seth would get a nod too, as the big locksmith was not only a regular sight around the Poorhouse, being he and his wife owned it, but around town as well as the one generally fixing doorways and entrances that had come loose, or gotten difficult. The winters season always came with a new rash of sticking cylinders and seized corrosion as the cold set in.

Laughing good-humored, Seth takes the punch with a nod that portrays an 'I deserved that' vibe. "Hey, I could have just reached out touched you like the old phone book commercials used to say, but I value my fingers. Join us?" he says to Vic, patting one of the empty stools at the bar as he lifts his own glass of amber liquid to his lips for a sip. "No shit, and you only had the one that I recall. I had...more than that. Maybe six? Prototypes and testing and all that. I am going to be doing extra workouts for days. If you want a workout partner, you know where I live."

As Leon emerges, Seth gives him a nod and a raise of his glass after he empties it. "I'll take another as well."

"That only makes me want to try it more." Isolde lamented at Vic's warning and chuckled. "I'm Isolde by the way." She offered to the new comer. Years of being on the wrong side of the tracks and suffering from varying state of paranoia has Isolde looking over towards Leon almost immediately. It's a curious look, more than anything, and she offers up a friendly enough smile and wiggle of fingers in greeting to the stranger who clearly works here...and also had been holding a suspiciously familiar piece of paper. Thankfully her fries get set down before she can say or do something stupid and she carefully plucks one up - nudging the basket in such a way that it is offered to the group.

"Afternoon, Gyre." Ravn smiles at the bartender; they seem to be on friendly terms. "How's you and the wife?"

He pauses. "Speaking of the wife, I need to talk to Maggi sometime later. The gremlins are back and they use tools now. She'll want to know that, parapsychologist and all. But not now. Today, all I want to do is drink your excellent whiskey and try to not think. Life is far too complicated lately."

Uncharacteristically, the Dane dips into a coat pocket for a cigarette which he lights with a match. "Last week? Last week complicated a lot of things. At least the waffletacos were fun."

Vic snorts at Seth. "Yeah, I may have only had one waffletaco, but how many bags of munchies, and pizza rolls, did we kill on movie night between us?" she asks the other enforcer with a smirk. She nods to Isolde and offers, "Vic," in return. "Yeah Seth, you can come running with me if you like. Anywhere but the park. Don't ever run in the park," she says solemnly, zoning out for a moment in memory of running straight into the Veil and a scary bear-thing.

She arches a brow at Ravn. "What complications did you get up to?" she asks him, with a mischievous look. She gives Leon a smile though. "Tell Maggie I had a three day hangover from those Halloween drinks."

"Pretty chill." Is the easygoing answer from the big man, Leon giving Davis a look, who returns it, points at something, then Leon, some sort of weird nonverbal shorthand bartenders shared when it was to loud to talk. 'Whatever you would drink.' it seemed to say. Leon's eyes return to Ravn with a quirked, concerned look.

"I'll pass it along," he states diplomatically, far too polite to call Ravn crazy outright. He retrieves a bottle of Woodinville Mashbill No 9 and tops everyone off, then adds it to the computer. "She'll love it, Vic. She was real proud o' those." He adds with a grin over his shoulder, then winks, "And just as hurt."

Finally he plants hands on the bar across from Isolde, "Ain't seen you since the Raising of the Green, lady. How you been?"

Isolde looks curiously too Ravn, though Vic's asked the question and she doesn't feel a need to repeat it. She too wants to hear about these complications.

When Leon addresses her, she looks at him as if trying to place him and then flushed a touch. "Oh! Oh my gosh. I can't believe I didn't recognize you." She chuckled. "It's been a long few months...I'm doing okay. Better than I used to be." Isolde nodded emphatically. "Decided to try my hand at coming back. How have you been?"

"I generally just failed to keep my mouth shut a lot of times where I usually would have. But I'm friends with Joey Kelly's dead mum now, which is nice." Ravn swirls his drink, watching the amber liquid. Maybe he is a little amused that saying something like that is normal by Gray Harbor standards; at least he smiles a little.

"Let's see... I had a fight with Itzhak Rosencrantz, although we're sorted out, I think. I've become all but the official mascot of Kelly's Gym -- which isn't bad news either, but it's certainly not who I used to be. And I had a long and very serious talk with a couple of friends who asked me a few questions that hit me pretty hard. Am I doing what I want to be doing in the long term? Is this who I am, and who I want to be?"

He swirls the drink, again, and smiles lightly. "Nothing like a bit of existential angst to liven up one's weed hangover, is there? So, what's the rest of you been up to, in the wake of the week of loose tongues?"

Vic chuckles at Ravn. "Yeah, Ma Kelly is a hoot. She's always worried I'm gonna catch a cold if I don't wear a jacket." She's been living there for a few months while renovating her newly purchased house. "I'm actually going to miss her fussing at me every day when the house is ready. Probably have to make new ghost friends at my place or something," she mutters, sipping her whiskey and smacking her lips in satisfaction.

She snorts at Ravn. "Well, opening up when high generally shows trust in some people, so that's a good thing for you. I worry about you sometimes, kid." She watches Isolde and Leon curiously.

Seth groans as Vic mentions the bags of munchies and pizza rolls, snapping out of whatever conversation he was having on his phone. "Oh god. We murdered so much junk food that night. Nevermind days, it will be weeks if not years to work all that off. I'm going to have to do cardio in my sleep. Yeah, grab me when you head out and I'll go with ya. Anywhere but the park...got it."

At the mention of Maggi, Seth peeks over and nods, "That reminds me, I need to talk to her too. She is supposed to tutor me on how to use whatever..."

“I got a thing for faces,” Leon waves off any apology Isolde makes, “And let’s be fair, we were a few pints in that night.”

Ravn continues to get the occasional odd look, raised brow, then that brow seems to lift even higher as Vic joins in on it. Fucking ghosts now? As if he didn’t have to deal with weird shit enough. At least her appreciation of a good pour of bourbon softens the incredulity. Seth gets a brief look and a nod as well, then Leon breaks his phone out and shoots a text off to his wife. That done he turns back on Isolde.

“Tell you want I do remember was you were in that drinking contest and tapped out when you knew you were in too deep. A lotta folk don’t know when to call it quits.” He cocks his head down the bar toward where he left that paper, “You got real sparse job history, though you waitressed, so that’s at least a point. You goin to school or anything?”

He probably read that on the paper, but sometimes you just ask the question and see what shakes out.

"There's too many ghosts in this town." Isolde murmured, eating another french fry as she listened to the conversations. "I'm glad I got here on the tail end of things. So just got a paper turned in late and ate a lot of pizza the past couple days." Isolde mused as to what she'd been up to. Then she refocused on Leon, nodding and relaxing a little as he waved off her apology. "Yeah. I've had enough time to learn my limits, and I still think I went a little far." She mused. There's a glance towards the paper and then back to him, biting her lip lightly and then nodded. "Yeah, I wasn't doing very well for a long time. But I decided I needed to get better...and I am." She confirms about going to school. "I'm taking some Art History classes. Online stuff - the school is in Portland."

Ravn upends his Glenfiddich and raises his eyebrows at Vic and then Leon, over the rim of the glass. "You worry about me?"

Then he gestures for a refill from whoever out of Leon and Davis seems to be the person actually running the bar at the moment. Some conversations require more than one drink -- most of them do this week. "Please tell me there isn't some new crazy rumour started about me breeding combat butterflies now, or sleeping with somebody's aunt, or whatever other insanity this place is capable of whipping up."

With a small nod towards Isolde he nods his agreement with her. "Gray Harbor crawls with ghosts." To him at least, this is an indisputable fact.

Vic grunts again at the tally of how much they ate in the last week. "I think I'm gonna hang a heavy bag and a speed bag in part of my basement," she decides outloud. "So there's no excuse for not keeping in shape. And yes, I worry about you, Ravn. I mean I only mostly traumatized you myself once."

She grimaces slightly over at Isolde. "Well, there was a triple murder in the house I bought, back in the 70s, so I'm guessing there will be a few incorporeal visitors now and again. I'm ok with that. There are worse things to have visit one's house."

"Man, I'm glad I don't see ghosts. I am not sure how I would handle that." Seth says as he taps at his empty whiskey glass idly. "At least I have heard, I think it was from you Darth, that the ghosts can't do anything to you? Just that they are around? Yeah, I don't think I would handle that whole 'Sixth Sense: I see dead people' shit very well." Likely there would be many more bullet holes around his place or something. "At least the rumor about you breeding with combat butterflies didn't take. I tried so hard too."

The enforcer casts a glance over to the other enforcer, "I've got a weight set in mine if you need to borrow one, just till you get your home gym all set up. I am just going to remove the scale for now, safer for everyone. I'll leave you a key and the alarm code."

Leon reaches for more top offs, seeing Ravn's signal, lifting the bottle of the local stuff. Davis is quick enough to make a wave between orders for the more mundane patrons no one here cares to talk to, then points at another bottle under the bar. Leon stops, looks confused, then makes an 'ah' of revelation, understanding, refilling the European with a spirit much closer to his home, then of course updating his tab. Leon makes normal bartender banter, "Find me a house in this town older than us that doesn't have a death or murder in it. I'd be shocked." Seth gets a side eye about brazenly given alarm codes, but hey, Leon was just a locksmith, what did he know about security?

Isolde gets another look after Leon is finished with the work responsibilities, posting back up across from her. The comment about being 'better' gives him thought. He'd had to run a quick search with his phone after the one strange listing on her resume, but he seems to let that one simmer. It took strength to admit you needed help, and more to go through it. Leon had his own problems, and something about Isolde's resume resonated with him.

"Chelsea goes to school too, and covers a lot of the night shifts, so the schedule usually works for students. We just keep Davis around to cover our affirmative action quota." There's another joking wink, and a suffering sigh from down the bar. What was Leon saying here? He goes on to explain, "Maggi will probably wanna give you a technical, and I'll follow up with your references, but you'll hear from us in a day or two." He adds a small smile in the freckled woman's direction.

"It sounds like you might." Isolde agreed with Vic about having ghosts. She listens closely to Leon and smiled brightly. "That sounds good! I look forward to hearing from you." She finished off a french fry. "I can work whatever hours you'd need me to really. " She added, idly glancing over at the clock that was probably there somewhere! "Oh!" She straightened up a bit. "Darn it. I have an assignment I have to finish." She shifts to start standing up - putting down a couple bills for the soda and fries. "It was good to see you all and I look forward to meeting Maggie again too!" She adds to Leon. "Have a good day everyone." And would start heading out.

Ravn continues to look at Vic with a slightly puzzled expression. "I'm confused. You worry about me because you're planning to sleep over again? I don't mind, just give me a call first so I can have something breakfast-worthy available. I'm not sure what's particularly traumatising about you borrowing the other bunk, though. You don't snore that loud."

He hitches a shoulder lightly at the observations about Vic's house renovation in progress, though, and glances at Seth. "I didn't notice anyone sitting around in Vic's house looking like they forgot to change their clothes since 1975 but that's no guarantee of anything. I don't see ghosts who don't want to be seen. I can only say what it's like for me. I see somebody standing around and sometimes I discover that no one else sees him or her. It doesn't bother me; I grew up that way. But ghosts don't do much. When they do, it's Gray Harbor being Gray Harbor -- creating things that looks like ghosts, or empowering them, or otherwise screwing with the normal rules for these things."

The Dane sends Davis a sympathetic look; he appreciates the other man's attempts to provide for every taste -- and he doesn't mind paying extra for what he considers to be proper whiskey. It's not his fault that the Americans still haven't worked out how to make proper whiskey. Scottish immigrants clearly lose the ability upon receiving their green card. Then he raises his glass in salute to Isolde. "Take care."

A brow slides upppppp at Seth's offering of a key and alarm code. "You are a very brave man," Vic notes to him with a faintly feral grin. Insidious plans? Pranks? That once-promised nut punch? All may be coming to him. And the other brow joins the first at Ravn offering to let her sleep over again. "And you are too." Vic seems to think her presence is dangerous in general. She raises a hand to wave to the departing Isolde. She murmurs to Leon, "She looking for work I take it?"

Seth rolls a shoulder as a slow smile plays on his lips, "Braver than most, but you already knew that. Besides, you still need access to a microwave, pizza rolls or not. Just cuts out the middle man in the way of your sustenance." The enforcer's eyes shifts back and forth from Vic and Ravan, "I think he is just angling to get you back into lingerie. But who could blame him, really."

Seth raises his glass to request a refill, not being too particular in who fills it or what they fill it with.

Giving a grin and a nod in parting to Isolde, he cashes out her ticket and drops the change in Davis's tips. Leon's head ratchets over at the prospect of gossip. Were the two TIBS employees in a thing? Oh, Ravn almost immediately corrects any scuttlebutt. Leon looks mildly disappointed. He offers a mild nod to Vic in answer to her question but doesn't say much else besides, "Friend of Clayton's apparently." He leaves it at that. Who lists Alexander as a work reference? Honestly. Leon tosses another look at Davis after one more refill for Seth, the comment meanwhile rekindling the hope for good ribbing material... then... consideration? Was he reading a signal from Seth? A look goes from the bouncer to the 'bartender', a squint of consideration. He seems to make a mental note with a grin. He makes a hand motion toward the back. Davis nods, waves him off.

"Alright, lemme see if I can get this griddle fixed. Ya'll don't get too rowdy." Leon waves, winks, then heads for the back, leaving them in Davis's care.

"I'm just trying to find out why you're telling me you're worried about me. Any other place, I'd assume that this is just friendly ribbing -- but this is Gray Harbor and with the rate that manure gets distributed to random windmills around here, I take concerns and gut feelings very seriously," Ravn says, still looking at Vic. "Last time somebody here said they were worried about me, I ended up fighting an Aztec goddess and a horde of zombies on the beach. If you're serious, please tell me. Or tell me that you were joking, that's fine too. You're the fourth person this week however, to tell me they're worried about me, and I am starting to wonder what is up with that."

He rolls his eyes at Seth's remark, though. Not even worthy of a come-back, that one.

Vic scoffs at Seth and she finishes her drink, digging some bills from a pocket for her tab and a tip. "You're just jealous it wasn't you who got to see that," she quips at him. She looks to Leon. "Clayton is good people, if a little odd. If he says she's ok, she's probably ok." She looks to Ravn, as she slides off her stool, preparing to head out. "You're the one who told me you flapped your gums all last week, just looking out for you, my apprentice." She winks, then slaps Seth on the back. "Run tomorrow morning, eh?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I am." Seth says point of fact to Vic with a shrug of his shoulder. "Sure, what time? I'll meet you out front."

HIs whiskey refilled, Seth takes a sip and nods his thanks to Davis before he looks to Ravn, "Ok..ok. I'll stop ribbing you both for it. Maybe. After all, you did manage to kick my ass so I supposed I should cut you some slack."

Ravn shakes his head and cradles his glass in a gloved hand. "It's fine, Seth. It's just... I'm trying to make some decisions about what I want to do with my life besides cleaning tables. Some of those decisions have to do with women, and the fact that I'm quite happily single. For some reason, the rumour mill keeps trying to pair me up with a few -- Vic's one. I do realise you're joking, but I'm contemplating starting a rumour that I'm gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide. Or that I have a wife waiting for me back home." As it happens, the Dane is not above stealing literary quotes and making them his own.

Seth raises his hands in surrender, "Ok, ok. I'll stop. Obviously the jokes are getting to be more than that, and that isn't cool. You can just start rumors of me and Vic to get people off your back. It's not like you and Alexander haven't been shipping us anyway. Just don't tell her I told you to do that. She'll likely kill me." Seth laughs, lifting his glass to his lips and taking a small sip. "I'm sorry if the jokes got to be too much. I can be a bit juvenile at times, I admit."

Ravn shakes his head again. "I don't mind jokes and ribbing from friends. Heaven knows I'm not above doing it right back. It's a little sad though -- I have been kind of shipping you and her, in part because it'd put an end to that silly idea. Vic can take it, though. Somebody starts anything with her she doesn't want to listen to, they're the ones going home without their front teeth. But I managed to hurt someone else in this mess, and that bothers the hell out of me."

"Yeah, yeah she can." Seth nods with full agreement. "Don't worry about her, she can handle herself just fine...but I am sorry to hear that someone else got hurt? What happened? This still the Bennie thing, or is this something else?"

Ravn looks at his glass. "It is, sort of. Don't get me wrong -- I'm not suggesting anything's going on. Just, everything feels awkward as hell. So the last thing I need is having people start that rumour thing all over again. But more importantly, a couple of friends of mine got me started wondering what I actually want to be doing a year from now. I never thought I'd be around here for very long so cleaning tables? As good as any other unskilled work. Long term though, is that what I want to do? And if it isn't, what do I want to do?"

Seth reaches over to clasp the man on the shoulder, stopping at the last minute as his hand hovers there precariously before he removes it and places it back into his lap. "I mean, sounds like you, her, and Easton just need to have a sit-down and talk about it. Maybe have a moderator in there as well, like Vic, who can defuse things if it gets confrontational. Otherwise your continued employment there is going to be difficult." The bouncer takes a sip from his glass and shrugs, "You will figure it out. Sometimes it takes years, and there is no time limit on this kind of thing. Seriously, don't put to much pressure on yourself over it."

Ravn tenses slightly, and then relaxes as he does in fact not find himself shoulder thumped. "No, that's kind of the point. Is this the job I want to be doing ten years from now? It's not about Bennie and Marshall. It's about me -- what I want to be when I grow up, I suppose. You're supposed to know what you want to do with your life when you're thirty, right? Not me. I have no damned idea. That's one thing I realised in my weed haze -- I have no idea where I'm going or why I'm going there. And maybe it's kind of time to sit myself the fuck down and ask me what exactly I think I'm doing."