2020-12-18 - Pizza and Small Town Politics

Ravn Abildgaard takes his sweet time going for pizzas; there are things that might need to be talked about back at the Airstream that he's not entirely certain anyone would want him to know about. Taking ten minutes extra is a way to make certain that people can talk about those matters, without worrying what he might or might not hear.

He does not know if there is anything to be said. Sometimes, he reasons, it's better to play it safe.

When he does return, though, he's carrying several boxes of family-sized pizzas. Slipping back inside he glances around to make certain that every person present is in fact alive, and not stabbing each other, or getting stabbed by a third party. Coming to the satisfactory conclusion that everyone is indeed present, accounted for, and not currently in the process of wrapping barbed wire around baseball bats, he announces, "I got Meat Lovers. And a ham and pineapple in case anyone wants to fight over what goes on pizza and what doesn't. How's the patient? Out cold, still?"

Sitting on the floor and leaning up against the couch that holds the unconscious Vic, Seth glances up to Ravn as he enters into the small airstream. "Now she is. She woke up briefly to chastise me and Alexander for being 'too loud' when she was trying to sleep in her drug and booze laced stupor, but I think she is good and passed out now. Though now that I have said that I am expecting a thwack upside the head just to prove me wrong."

The enforcer pauses, waiting for the thwack to arrive, but when it doesn't he shrugs his shoulder and chuckles, "She will Gibbs me soon enough, I'm sure. Subconsciously she heard that, and when she wakes up I am getting a thwack. Mark my words. I'll take a slice of the meat lovers."

Hopefully, Ravn doesn't mind nosy guests, because Alexander has been wandering around the small confines of the trailer, poking his nose into various places, peering out of windows, and being all sorts of intrusive. It doesn't even seem to occur to him this isn't something people might want to happen in their houses; it's as much a nervous tic as anything. But when the door opens and Ravn appears, he smiles, and moves closer, extending his good hand to help with the pizzas. His eyes cut to Seth. "Does she still owe you a thwack from when we were all high? You might encourage her to collect on those before she's back in tip-top fighting shape. I think she mentioned wanting to be woken when the pizza arrived, but she needs the rest," he adds, peering at her, concern flickering to life.

Ravn goes drawer diving for a knife -- a pizza wheel does not seem to be part of his inventory. He cuts the Meat Lover up first, letting the other two boxes stay closed so they don't lose heat. "I think that if she can sleep from the three of us talking, we should let her. And risk the displeasure when she realises we ate all the good bits. It's not like she can catch us in her current condition, anyway."

When people have lived in a place for some time, there is debris; knick-knacks, stuff they meant to get rid of sometime but didn't, old magazines, the occasional box of odd memorabilia. If anything sums up Ravn's personal life in this place -- it's the lack of all of those. He's got clothes here -- not an amazing amount, but then, anyone who sees him regularly knows that he tends to wear the same jeans and shirt combinations on most days -- and a number of books. Apart from that? Very, very little. He'd probably be able to pack his duffel bag and leave on very short notice, should he want to; the only things here that couldn't go in it without taking some kind of damage are a couple of higher-end suits and a violin case. Some people just don't seem to have much in terms of personal belongings -- or haven't stayed anywhere long enough to get them.

The hardest thing to pack would probably be the small, black cat that almost magically appears at the sound of pizza being cut. Turning up from God only knows where, she bounces on to a chair and looks expectant. And sure enough, when slices are distributed on plates, there are three men and four plates. Cat has her own chair at the dining table it seems.

"If you are asking if she punched me in the junk, the answer is no," Seth says with a smirk as he turns his head the private investigator's way, "And I am not exactly eager to remind her of that...so thanks for that." Seth rolls his eyes in a somewhat exaggerated manner, the barest hit of a smile creeping onto his otherwise stoic and tired face. Glancing back over his shoulder at the sleeping enforcer Seth mutters, "Let her sleep. The rest will do her good. If she ends up waking up on her own, so be it but I'm going to agree with Alexander on this one. We will just make sure we save her some."

"I wouldn't be so sure of her not being able to catch us, Ravn. She's quick and she is feisty and she would most certainly suffer through the pain just to get to you and prove you wrong, so I would suggest maybe saving some of the good parts for her. Just saying."

Whatever Alexander might think of Ravn's sparse belongings, he doesn't volunteer. He does volunteer his opinion of the cat getting a seat at the table, with a raised eyebrow an amused, "You're spoiling that cat. What's her name?" Then he flashes a grin in Seth's direction. "It's not my junk she wants to punch, so it seems like a good time to me," he claims, but keeps his voice down so as not to accidentally wake Vic. But he nods at the rest. "Definitely leave her some of the good slices. She knows where we live, and I don't want to bet against her being able to come up with a suitable revenge."

He seems entirely agnostic as to what the proper pizza is, and clearly plans to eat whatever is available, without fear or favor.

"Kitty Pryde. Yes, I am a nerd. Were you still in doubt?" Ravn grins slightly as he distributes plates -- to men and cats alike. "What's a girlfriend for if not spoiling? She didn't want to move in at first -- not until we agreed on who's in charge here. It's not me."

"I think I'll skip on the junk punching too if it's all right. Touch therapy Gray Harbor style honestly doesn't sound like something I could get into." He too keeps his voice down, and settles on the chair next to the cat (who shows no intention of giving up hers). Maybe it's against his better judgement that he asks, "Are we good, though? I mean, you guys aren't about to go off and break somebody's kneecaps, right?"

Looking up at Ravn, Seth smirks as he mentions the name of his cat. "I was always more partial to Logan myself. His whole ronin samurai schtick struck a cord. But then again, I am not that much of a comic nerd. I just read a few graphic novels. He still around?"

Seth pauses, reaching up to rub at the stubble on his chin. "No kneecap breaking. I think if I went off to try and do that, Vic would have my ass. Not that I would even know whose kneecap to break. I am sure some people know..." he says as he shifts his eyes over towards Alexander, "but they aren't talking. And while that bothers me to no end, I also respect it. We all have our secrets, even though if some of them are not really secret anymore."

Alexander looks blank at the name. "...she does look proud," he offers, a little tentatively, clearly not getting the reference. His lips turn up at the rest of Ravn's protests. "I'm not a big fan of it, either," he assures him. "I don't like hurting people. And if Miss Grey doesn't want us to pursue the matter, then I won't. She doesn't seem afraid that it might happen again, and I trust her to manage her risk."

He glances at Seth. "I don't know. I can deduce a few prime suspects, because there are only so many possibilities, but I don't know." Then he shrugs. "But it doesn't matter, because it's her decision what happens next, and she doesn't want us to pursue it. Either way, I don't see things escalating from this point. If they do...then we can revisit the options."

"I don't keep up with X-Men any longer," Ravn says. "I used to read them at a cousin's -- he had this whole collection from the '80s and '90s. When he stopped buying them, I stopped reading them too. But, Logan is a name for a tom cat, and this lady is definitely a girl."

He picks a six-pack of Carlsberg out of the trailer's small fridge and places that on the table as well (at least the small black cat doesn't get offered one of those). Then, more seriously, the Dane adds, "I don't think we should deduce suspects. I can do some math too, but maybe it's better not to. She doesn't want us to. She probably knows that if she tells us that this is the work of Bob the Kneecap Breaker, at last one of us is going to go have a little ... talk with Bob. And the other two will probably find other ways to make him miserable. Next up, we're in the middle of a Corsican blood feud."

Ravn pauses. "If it happens again, though, I'd like to reserve the right to change my opinion."

"I get it. Doesn't mean I like it," Seth sighs. "I begrudgingly agree even though I would love to visit some of the same to whoever did this to her. It's her call, she sounded like it was her choice to take a beating so we have to respect it. But still doesn't mean I have to like it."

Seth leans up to pluck one of the beers from the six-pack, popping it open and taking a slow sip and nodding to Ravn. "If it happens again, all bets are off. I'm getting tired of seeing my friends busted up." Seth casts another glance behind him at the sleeping Vic, and then takes a bite out of his slice of pizza, chewing slowly.

Alexander blinks. "Ah. X-Men. The movies with the bald telepath in the chair. I've seen advertisements. They were comics?" He doesn't seem to have anything else to say about beatings, those who receive them, and the concealment thereof - perhaps as one of the offenders. Instead, he works through his piece of pizza, and watches them both with dark eyes and the faintest of smiles. "What are you both doing for Christmas?" he offers, suddenly.

The smell of pizza is better than any alarm clock. It wends its way into the unconscious mind and ever so gently urges the smeller to wake up and eat a slice. Vic's eyes slit open, the blue of her iris much more stark against the purple-blue of the black eye on one side. "Where's mine?" she whines, effecting a pout that would be amusing if it wasn't uglied by the split in her lip.

"Yeah. I haven't seen the movies, actually." Ravn indulgently picks a bit of sausage off his slice and adds it to his cat's. There is no longer any doubt who rules the roost. On the plus side, the man seems to have managed to teach a cat to sit on a chair at a table -- instead of sitting on the table, or for that matter, on the pizza.

He nods at Seth, in an attempt to convey his understanding, and then, perhaps wisely, decides to not pursue the matter of feuds further. "I'm flying home for a week or so. Got some papers to sign and I'd like to meet some of the people I'll be tutoring this spring. I'm in a program that helps veterans from Afghanistan get their degrees. Experience tells me it's best to meet them face to face if I want them to trust me."

Glancing behind him at the rousing Vic, Seth just offers his plate over with the slice he took a bite from. "Here, I'll grab myself another slice. How are you feeling?"

"The movies were ok. Well, most of them anyway. A couple of them were shitcakes, like..what one was it...Dark Phoenix...no, wait..the same dark phoenix one, but with the other girl. Hell, both the ones with the dark phoenix character it is sucked."

Seth shifts his gaze over towards Ravn, "You coming back?"

"You don't sleep deeply," Alexander remarks to Vic as she stirs. It sounds a little sympathetic, and a little approving. Seth offers his slice of pizza before Alexander can reach for the box, so he just takes another bite of his place. Seth's question to Ravn draws a keen curiosity to his own face. "Most people forget a lot of what happens here, when they leave," he says, quietly. But seems to also be waiting for Ravn's answer, as if ready to weigh the man's attention.

"I feel like I'm floating on a cloud in a sea of Scotch. With a busted up face." Vic is honest at least. She takes the plate and levers the pizza to her mouth, trying to take a bite without irritating the split lip. She chews mechanically, her eyes glazed over from the Percocet. She arches a brow at Ravn. "Where you goin?" she murmurs around a mouthful of pizza. Alexander gets an amused look. "Deep sleep is a job hazard."

"Flying out to Copenhagen for a week, and then coming back, yes. I've got nothing waiting for me in Denmark but some papers that need to be signed and meeting those potential students. I was told about the memory loss -- but I figure that if I find myself in a hotel in Copenhagen with return tickets to the US, surely I'll assume that I just have a bad hangover and am going back. I don't imagine I'm looking at a complete brain wipe in midflight, am I? People here do leave -- and come back." Ravn looks from one to the other and raises an eyebrow.

"I've left and come back, but I forgot nearly everything when I was away. I had just gotten back when I met you, Ravn, and you know how little I knew. I can't recall if I knew more before then or not." Seth says with a shrug as he sips at his beer. "People come and go all the time, but I can't speak to what they knew before they left, or what they know when they get back."

He looks over to Alexander, "Didn't your friend just come back from Portland...the elf whisperer? She seemed to remember everything didn't she? Maybe Ravn can talk to her about it."

Seth clears his throat, looking over to Vic and nodding. "Yes, sleeping deeply is certainly a hazard when bartending. People don't get their drinks and then you don't get tips. Cleavage only gets you so far."

"Deep sleep is a life hazard," Alexander agrees, but then, his perpetually tired features suggests he might believe the same about any sort of sleep at all. There's a shrug to Ravn. "Differs for people. Just about everyone forgets something, mostly the supernatural stuff, when they leave the thin point. Some people seem to forget everything about Gray Harbor except that it was a weird, dreary little town. Some people remember more." His eyes snap towards Seth at the mention of 'elf whisperer'. "...Isolde. Yes. She just came back." He thinks about it, quite seriously, then nods to Ravn. "I'll give you her number. She's nice. You'll like her." There's almost an unspoken or else in the way he looks at the Dane, before Seth's quip about Vic's job makes him laugh, softly. "Cleavage gets you pretty far with the average drunk," is all he has to say about it, though.

"It won't let you go easily," Vic mumbles. "It'll draw you back, memory issues or no. The pull will be there, in your gut, like a silver thread drawing you back to Gray Harbor." She is SO high that she's turning poetic. "Bite your tongue, Seth Monaghan, my cleavage can get me anywhere," she mutters. So much for poetry. "You tell em, Clayton!"

Ravn smiles wryly and sips his beer. "I kind of figured it'd be like that. I might find myself in a hotel bed, asking myself why I want to go back to some small American town but I'm more inclined to think I may just not remember so much about the weird stuff for a while. Then again, knowing me and my luck, the hotel is probably haunted and I'll be too busy pretending that I absolutely cannot see the lady in a flapper dress walking around looking confused when no one else can, either."

He nods at Alexander. "I've met her, I think? At the library. She and Hyacinth seemed to know one another. She works at the Poorhouse now? Can't say I know her well enough to like or dislike her yet, but don't hire hitmen just yet."

"Yes, ok Vic. You have epic cleavage." Seth relents with a chuckle and a subtle roll of his eyes. "I still think Easton might have something to say about you sleeping on the job, but that would be between you and him I suppose." Seth lifts his beer to his lips and takes another sip, shifting from his sitting position in front of the couch to replace his slice of pizza before sitting back down on the floor. "Speaking of your chest, how are the ribs feeling? Is the wrapping too tight?

Seth chuckles at Ravn, shaking his head. "Well, in case you don't make it back we should throw you a party. That way if Vic hires me to come to retrieve your ass we at least have that memory to fall back on. Unless of course, I forget about this place on my way to get you...that would really mess things up."

"Bring me back some of those butter cookies in the tin," Vic says to Ravn. "Those are so good, then my mom would use the tin for her sewing needles and stuff." She smiles goofily at the memory before looking to the other enforcer. "Ribs feel fine," she murmurs to Seth. "You did good." She managed to eat most of the pizza slice but, without finishing, she hands the plate back. "I need to sleep again. If you try to draw on my face, I will set you all on fire. Just saying," she vows. Then she closes her eyes and dozes off again.

Alexander nods to Ravn. "She's a good thing." He snorts with amusement. "That would be one way to beat Gray Harbor. Each of us go hunting for the other, then forget why, and just wander off into the wide world, happy as clams." When Vic drifts off into sleep, he says, "Do you know, I didn't even think about drawing on her face until she mentioned it. But now? Now I kinda want to." A glance down at his bandaged hand. "On the other hand, I think I've tempted danger enough for the moment. But if either of you want to, my lips are sealed." he promises.

Ravn studies Seth a moment, and then grins. "That'd be a sight. Might end up the two of us sitting across each other at a table in Kastrup Airport asking ourselves how we got there, what we smoked, and where to get more of it, while looking at a road map of Washington State and wondering which of us circled some no-name little townlet on the coast."

Vic's request has him smirking though. "Those bloody cookies are the perfect scam. We get rid of most of our cardboard that way. Seriously, they're the kind of cookie a cheap hotel will serve with your coffee because it's courteous to serve something but they're not going to have expenses. The only thing they're good for is emptying the tin and filling it with real home baked cookies." Pause. "I'm definitely not brave enough to draw on Vic Grey. I like breathing."

Taking the plate from Vic, Seth chuckles and looks to Ravn, "But now we have to draw on her face, don't we? The thought hadn't even occurred to me until she said that, and if we are going to go down that juvenile route we need to grab a bowl of warm water as well." Seth takes the plate with the mostly-eaten piece of pizza on it and sets it down next to him, "I'm kidding. I'm not even that brave. I value my life way too much."

Alexander's face shifts into what can only be called alarm, and he looks like he's nerving himself up to tackle Seth for the man's own good...until he reveals he's kidding, at which point the investigator relaxes, and chuckles. "Yeah. We'll be good." He rubs at his face with his good hand, then peers at Ravn. "What sort of Danish cookies are very good, then? I don't think I've ever had...anything...Danish. To eat, I mean." A clearing of his throat. "We don't get a lot of Danes settling in here. Not since most of the mills closed, anyway."

"Please don't make her pee on my couch. Well. Her couch, technically." Ravn can't help a grin at Alexander's little cough. "Well, the thing you people call a Danish we don't have at all. The closest pastry we have, we call Viennese. And the Viennese call us idiots because they have nothing like it." He looks thoughtful a moment. "Something really, typically Danish. Rhubarb strawberry fruit compot with cream, probably. I might see if I can find a pre-cooked pack, bring it back here. Teaching foreigners to say the name in Danish is a bit of a national pastime -- rødgrød med fløde. Manages to hit just about every Danish sound you don't have."

Frowning a little bit, Seth mumbles kinda to himself but loud enough to be heard, "I don't know...I kinda like those cookies in the tin. They aren't so bad..."

Seth shrugs a shoulder and goes back to quietly eating his pizza slice letting Ravn and Alexander talk about all things Danish as he seems content to just listen for now.

Alexander thinks about it, then shrugs. "I'd try it. I don't think I've ever had rhubarb, but rødgrød med fløde sounds interesting." He says it flawlessly. More than that - he says it with Ravn's particular accent and intonation, like he somehow just lifted the words out of the other man's mind. "But then, if I'm honest, I'll eat just about anything that doesn't run away." He raises his pizza crust as if in example, and then gnaws his way through it. A sidelong smile towards Seth. "I like those, too." Right after he said that he essentially has few standards, it's probably not that reassuring.

Ravn can't help laugh; it's not the first time someone in Gray Harbor has lifted words right out of his brain and parroted them back at him, either. "That's cheating," he points out with a smile. "Rhubarb is kind of... sweet, but also very very tangy. Not everyone likes it. We usually add strawberries to make it more palatable. It's a traditional summer dish, served cold. "

Not having anything to really add, Seth continues to just quietly eat as he watches the other two talk about rhubarb, grabbing another slice of pizza from the box on the table. Finally, he interjects with a subdued, "So...anyone check on Dan?"

Alexander grins at Ravn. "Look. It's the one benefit I get from abilities that so far hasn't turned into something horrific, so I'm gonna enjoy it," he says, with a waggle of his last bit of pizza crust at the Dane. At that question from Seth, though, the amusement falls away, leaving something more serious. "Yeah. He's burned his paintings, and hasn't gone back into the shed, since. He's...distressed. A bit traumatized. But, hopefully, will be able to recover in more healthy way. His wife has returned to him, and he shows no aggression towards her. Nightmares, though."

"I do feel a little sorry for the man," Ravn says, somewhat more seriously. "And then I remind myself of the look in his eyes when he decided to launch that meat cleaver at me. He wanted to kill. We got to him in time before he decided to try it on in the real world. I feel good about that."

Seth nods once, his question answered. "Glad to hear it. Let's hope he stays 'clean'. If we managed to stop him, then I'll feel much better about letting him..." Live? "...off the hook."

Alexander nods, although slowly, his eyes flickering with some complicated mix of emotions. "I'll continue to check up on him. Just..." he opens his mouth, seems to rethink it, rethinks his rethought, and finally says, "I don't think he'll hurt anyone. Not like that, anyway. People always hurt each other. Eventually." A brief smile. "But thank you again, both of you. I don't know that I would have thought to try and interrupt that, without backup."

"Anytime for something like that," Ravn murmurs. "I'm not joking about the whole Team Humanity thing, you realise? We need to have each other's backs. That said -- you're not wrong. Hurting each other is something that people do really well without the supernatural needing to get involved. But we can't police people's rights to be dicks and worse to each other. We can try to police the Veil's interfering, though."

"I got your back if you ever need me," Seth says with a yawn as he stretches his legs out in front of him." As far as people hurting people, well, Seth doesn't comment. He just lifts his beer to his lips and drains the last of the amber liquid inside, replacing the empty back into the cardboard holder. Seth glances over at Vic, then back to the other two, "I will say that it was nice to be on the..." He searches for the word he is looking for for a long time, being very careful with his choice. Good? Right? Those imply that Seth isn't normally on the side of the angels, and well the truth of it is he isn't. It doesn't mean he enjoys it, he just does what he is told like a good soldier. "...non-dickish side of things for once."

Alexander eyes Ravn, thoughtfully. Then Seth. His good hand comes up and rubs awkwardly through his disheveled hair. "Yeah. Yeah. Same. I got your back, if needed, and if I see anyone else who needs...correction, I'll let you both know. And we can decide what we want to do." With that, he stands up, stretches, then says, "I should head back home, though. Miss Gray seems to be healing well. Let me know if there's anything else I can do. And don't die." He smiles, then turns to leave.

Ravn nods at Alexander. "I'll see you when I get back, if not before then. Give my regards at home." He doesn't get up; but then, it's not like it's difficult to find the exit.

He looks back at Seth instead. "You want to stay the night? I don't think I want to wake Vic up. Reckon we can make do, won't be the first time I sleep a bit rough. Downside being, she'll probably tease the shit out of us both for worrying too much once she's back to her usual self."

Glancing back at Vic, Seth weighs his options. "She will probably be pissed we worried about her so much." the enforcer says as he takes in a deep breath, but then nods. "Still, better to be here and be safe in case there is some complication we can't foresee. Yeah, I'll kick it here if you don't mind. You got your bed, man, go use it. I'll grab a chair and keep an eye on things out here. Won't be the first time I have made due in a chair, and I doubt it will be the last. If I catch hell from her for sticking around, so be it. I'm a big boy, I can handle it."

"I don't mind. You know what I'd mind? Someone coming back to finish the job while she's down." Ravn looks at the sleeping woman. "You know she was one of the first people I met here? In the first handful at least. Turned up for work the first time, she gave me a lot of attitude -- seeing what I was made of, that kind of thing. Ended up clicking pretty good. She's a tough cookie, she's got her issues, no doubt -- but she doesn't give me a hard time. Most women do."

Standing up from his position against the couch, Seth raises his arms over his head and stretches with his spine audibly popping back into place. "She's good people." Seth agrees as he looks over Vic's sleeping form. "She has a lot going on, I am sure I don't even know the half of it and what I do know... Let's just say she handles herself well present condition notwithstanding. Far cry from the happy-go-lucky woman that Mr. Gray told stories of, I wish I had gotten to know her back then. Before..." he trails off with a shake of his head.

"Yeah, anyway...go to bed. I'll keep an eye on things."

"Don't let the cat eat all the pizza. She will, and then she'll throw up in your shoe if she decides she doesn't like you." Ravn goes about his usual evening rituals -- washing up, brushing his teeth, putting the empty plates away lest a very helpful feline tongue cleans them overnight. At least he seems to decide against sleeping commando this time -- maybe he got cured of that habit the first time Vic turned up far too late in the evening. Maybe he's just learned from the stories of others and has no particular desire to end up butt naked in a dream about pregnant frogs.

"See you on the flip side," he murmurs, after finding a spare blanket for Seth. "Don't be shy about making coffee, moving around, whatever. I used to sleep in hostels, I can sleep through a tornado."

Seth nods as he pulls out his automatic, still in its holster, and places it on top of the pizza box easily in reach. "Don't worry, I won't let the cat eat the pizza," Seth says as he turns his neck one way and then the other, aligning this portion of his spine with another audible cracking. "Sleep well. See you in the morning."