2020-12-21 - Beers and Bromance

The front door of Seth's home has been left unlocked with a note taped to the door for Ravn and Alexander to let them know to come on in without knocking, the obvious Ring security camera by the front door been an indication that he will know when, and who, the guests are as they arrive. For Seth's part, he is in the kitchen placing some snacks into bowls. Popcorn, corn chips with salsa and what appears to be fresh homemade guacamole, and potato chips with dip line the little end table that has been set up by the chairs in the living room. A large tub of ice on the floor houses already frosted bottles of beer, ranging from dark stout to a refreshing hefeweizen along with cans of soda and flavored sparkling water.

The TV is on, playing what appears to be one of the Lethal Weapon movies as Murtaugh is complaining about being too old for this shit...

Alexander may be Danish in his soul, because it's his habit to arrive early to anything. In truth, this isn't for politeness as much as it is because of the lurking paranoia, which means he'd like to see if there's an ambush waiting for him. In this case, the urge is particularly pressing, despite his budding friendship with Seth, which means that he's here fifteen minutes early, although most of that is spent watching the house from afar. It's only about five minutes before the agreed time that he actually approaches Seth's place. He's got a canvas bag slung over one shoulder, and otherwise is dressed as Alexanders dress - jumble shop homeless chic, with gloves and a hat against the biting cold. His sweater has a deformed reindeer with big, googly eyes prancing through a Winter Wonderland. He lifts his hand to knock like a cop but freezes when he sees the note. There's still hesitation before he slowly opens the door, looking before stepping inside. "Seth? It's Alexander Clayton," he says, eyeing the camera before proceeding. "Hello." There's a blink at the interior of the house, then the smallest of smiles.

Ravn Abildgaard likes to walk; the stroll from Huckleberry to Elm Street isn't far by his standards. He's always been one to go for long walks and enjoy the sights and the solitude; in recent months he's turned it into even more of a regular activity, taking the advice of gym coach and life guru, Joey Kelly. Bitter cold winter weather doesn't bother him; the climate of this region is much like his native, and he knows how to dress for it. The Dane's usual jeans and turtleneck ensemble under the black leather jacket -- the left sleeve still slashed -- and a big, woolly scarf in a shade of slate grey that might well be black; nice and toasty.

The Dane is there exactly five minutes early -- which means that he arrives just behind Alexander, and follows him up to the door. He spots the note as well, shakes his head -- Americans, man. "And Ravn," he calls out, making a face at the camera before stepping inside.

The interior does give him a little pause; the discrepancy between that and the exterior is hard to not notice. "Nice home cinema," he murmurs. "Memo to us, Clayton -- Seth and Mac ever invite us to play Smash Brothers against them, we run away."

"Hey guys," Seth calls from the kitchen area down the hall. "There is a coat rack for your...well...coats there by the doo, and feel free to take off your shoes and make yourself at home." The translation being' take off your shoes so you don't track mud through my house'. Seth emerges from the kitchen, carrying a platter of pizza rolls which he sets down next to the rest of the snacks, and lifts one of his hands in greeting. He is dressed comfortably this evening, barefoot with jeans and a tee. "So...welcome. The bathroom is down the hall, the only door on the left. Other than that, just ask if you have any questions and feel free to help yourself to snacks or whatever." Pause. "Yes, Alexander. You can."

Alexander is, at least, able to be directed towards polite behavior. He takes off his shoes, and his coat, revealing the hideous glory of the sweater underneath, and puts everything precisely in place where it seems to go. Then he prowls into the bigger room, answering Seth's greeting with his own raised hand. He stops by the snacks, and pulls a couple of things out of his bag, putting them on the edge of the table. They're brightly wrapped gifts: two, one with a tag for Seth, one with a tag for Ravn. From their shape and solidity, they're almost certainly books. He doesn't say anything, but smiles at the preemptive permission, and starts wandering the room, looking at things with the kind of intensity usually seen in someone casing a place for later robbery. "Speak for yourself," he says to Ravn, as he studies the gaming systems, "I now want to see this happen. Maybe not with us as the sacrificial lambs, but..."

"Well, maybe we could pit them against each other while we eat popcorn," Ravn murmurs, keenly aware that he's likely to be the least gaming inclined person in Washington State, possibly the entire West Coast. He kicks off his boots and shrugs out of scarf and jacket, and wanders inside. "Anything you need a hand with, Seth?"

Unlike Alexander, he doesn't seem to feel the urge to inspect everything; this is probably why one man is a private investigator and the other is -- whatever he is. Online tutor? Freelance academic. He looks at the home cinema setup with admiration. "Bloody hell, that's a nice setup. You must have spent a good chunk of time and money, turning this place into a sweet suite on the inside."

"Sure, Ravn. If you want to pull the plates of cheese and salami out of the fridge and set them out, that would be great." Seth says as he sets out some small paper plates and napkins. He glances from Ravn over to the entertainment system and back, shrugging a shoulder "I'm single, have a nice disposable income, and I do tech and light rigging at the club. I am sure though, if you wanted, you could outdo this setup in a heartbeat."

Seth's eyes follow Alexander with a smirk, a light chuckle escaping his lips as he follows the PI with his eyes, casting a glance over towards the presents that Alexander placed down. "Shit. I knew I forgot something. Attacking elves stymied my shopping trip, and I haven't gotten out to do that again."

"Also, I'm sure that Mac would kick my ass. I may have the setup, but that doesn't mean I am all that good." says the guy whose 'job' requires some damn good hand/eye coordination. "Be fun to try sometime though. Did you guys want to watch this, or something else? The rack of movies is over there if you want to pick something." Seth explains as he points to a couple of bookcases full of DVD/Blu-ray cases.

There are a few places in his wanderings where Alexander stops and stares at something or another. His fingers twitch, but at least he's able to keep himself from reaching out and poking at Seth's belongings and furniture. Instead, he circles back around to the other two, shaking his head at Seth. "It's just because Ravn is leaving. And people often do things with family on Christmas. Better to give things now."

His lips twitch upwards. "She probably would. But I think it'd be a better match than Ravn and I against her. And yeah," a flick of his gaze towards Ravn, "popcorn would be required." He turns to the TV, and then the cases, but shrugs. "I don't watch a lot of fiction. I'm happy with whatever." He does help himself to a drink and some pizza rolls. "How is Vic? Has she been able to go back home, or is she still camped with Ravn?"

"Me? I can't change a fuse without a manual and a nurse standing by with a first aid kit. I'm the last bloke you want near setting up electronics." Ravn grins slightly and heads for the fridge as directed; at least he's capable of taking plates out of a fridge. "I have a couple of ideas for things I want to bring back from home for a few folks as well, but obviously, I need to go there first. Got a layover in Reykjavik, too -- just in case either of you want a shaggy pony."

He returns, balancing plates with the easy manual dexterity of someone who practises sleight of hand for fun and does the moving thing, and shakes his head. "Naw, she's gone home. Felt a lot better for one, but I also think that the idea of laying low somewhere and just getting pandered to -- that's not Vic's style. She's very independent. Talked about going in for a work shift at the Twofer tonight, so either your healing is really working beyond expectations, Seth, or she's being more macho about it all than any bloke with fractured ribs I've ever known."

Seth nods in agreement with Ravn, "She left right after I made breakfast. I think my home cooking drove her away." jokes Seth with a chuckle. "Probably a bit of both. The ribs were healing up pretty well from what I could tell and she is more macho than most men I know now. She's a tough bitch, and I mean that in the most complimentary of ways. "

Seth walks by the tub-o-drinks and grabs a beer along his way towards a couch, plopping down into it and leaning back to get comfortable. "Maybe I should host a video game party. You can have Mac come over and school me while you eat my food and be rowdy. I wonder if Vic would be interested in that. Might be interesting to strap her into a VR helmet and see what happens."

"Both," Alexander agrees. "Definitely both. I don't think she'd go back to work if the healing didn't take, because she wouldn't want to fuck her ribs up more. But I think she'd ignore a fair amount of pain in order to prove that she's fine." He flashes a smile at Ravn. "I think a pony would be sad to be stuffed in your luggage." He wanders after Seth, and finds a place to sit with a view of the TV and the doorways. "A video game party would be fun. I could bring my Nintendo, if you want to play really Old School," he suggests, but eyes the system. "I'd have to bring my TV. Or an adapter. New TVs don't have the right holes, anymore."

Ravn sets down the plates on the table before wandering after. He looks a little amused; mostly at his own expense. "I really haven't played anything since -- I don't know, Sims 2? I gave Sims 3 a go when it came out but it was too glitchy. I was pretty big on games as a way to stay out of my parents' sight as a teenager, maybe that's why it doesn't really speak to me as an adult. Or maybe I'm just still that nerdy kid with his nose in a book."

He too settles, appreciate of the comfort of Seth's man cave of a house. "I'd play, though. I mean, you've seen me play, I'm miserable at it. Playing you and Mac was though, Clayton. We should definitely have an epic death match in some game, last man standing has to do the dishes. I want to know if Mac will end up doing the dishes out of pride -- and I absolutely will take pictures while she does, after that stunt she pulled on me on Friendzone this morning."

"I like playing video games," Alexander says, quietly. "It's absorbing, and you can do it anytime, which is good for insomnia." He turns and watches Ravn settle down in place. "Books are good, too, though. But you're not that bad." A pause. "No, you are, actually. That bad. But it's just a matter of practice. And I doubt Mac would mind doing the dishes if she won a video game. Stun--oh, the horse, where you were naked. I remember seeing that. Photoshop?"

Ravn makes a face. "I was not naked. I wore pants. But no, not Photoshop. Fiancee with delusions of being an art photographer. Can't tell you who hated it more -- out of me and the horse. At least it's good for a laugh?"

He crosses one leg over the other; to no one's surprise ever, the man's socks are black as well. "I suck at video games. Never had any reason to get good. Playing them alone -- doesn't speak to me at all. It just makes me feel like there ought to be somebody in the other chair. I always played single player games as a kid. Now, though? Yeah, I'm game. It's silly, it's fun. I had fun being pelted with eggplants in that game -- almost as much fun as I had keeping a straight face lest Mac figured out I do know what eggplants are supposed to represent."

Alexander's eyebrow arches. "You had a fiance? What happened?" It's a blithe question, like the investigator has no idea that it might be personal and maybe not something Ravn wants to talk about if he hasn't mentioned it up to now. "You didn't seem to be enjoying yourself in the photo, no. But it was a nice-looking horse." He cocks his head to one side. "Interesting. I don't mind playing with other people, but mostly I play by myself. It's an interesting challenge, to become better. And I don't have to think about other people for a while, which is nice." Then he grins. "Although Luigi plays with me, sometimes. You met him at my house. The bird."

Ravn quirks an eyebrow and grins slightly as he asks, "And how does Luigi handle a controller? Do I want to know?"

He shakes his head, knowing Alexander well enough by now to be quite well aware that the other man is also missing a chapter of the universal handbook to human interactions here and there; it may not be the same chapters they're missing but the experience certainly is familiar. Sometimes, peopling is just complicated. "It's not -- she died in '15. Went driving after drinking, rammed a tree doing a hundred and twenty. Died before the paramedics even got on the scene. I've done the therapy, I can talk about it. Had a breakdown shortly after -- had to do some time in a mental ward, sort my head out."

Alexander grins. "He's terrible. But he can get very grumpy about not being allowed to play. He stands on it and pecks on buttons."

The grin dies as Ravn goes on. "I'm sorry. That she died." He watches Ravn for a long moment, then nods. "And then you decided to travel the world and not settle?"

"Pretty much. I told you I sometimes see ghosts, right?" Ravn grimaces slightly; a little apologetically, perhaps, as if he doesn't particularly want to bring the mood down but questions are being asked, and he's not the kind of man who makes up some excuse and tells a joke instead of answering, either. "Remember Joey Kelly's barbecue? How I didn't realise that his mother is a little bit dead for someone who makes cupcakes in the kitchen -- because that sort of thing happens to me fairly regularly. It's just, your dead girlfriend turning up and being really unhappy that you got her killed -- her words, not mine -- was what landed me in that hospital in the first place. I ended up just needing to get out of there. Go anywhere. Just me, whatever I could carry, and going where the wind took me. It worked, until I blew into Gray Harbor, I guess."

"Sometimes I'm not entirely certain Kelly realizes that she's a little bit dead," Alexander says, with a sigh. But he nods. He knows what Ravn means. But he does add, "It wasn't her. The Exorcist explained. A ghost isn't the person. It's probably something more like an echo of how you saw the person, tangled up with power and...whatever ghosts are made of. If that helps at all." His expression matches the apology; he suspects it won't, but seems to feel he has to say it, anyway. "Gray Harbor has a way of catching rolling stones."

"Echoes, yes. Most of the ones I see are -- not really there. They're like some old film clip that just plays at more or less random intervals. My family's home has a lot of those. There's a woman who walks down the staircase at five every day and if you're standing there, she'll just walk through you. She doesn't have an awareness and she doesn't do anything -- it's more like watching some kind of projection." Ravn cants his head and taps a gloved finger against his lip, a habit that makes him resemble the lecturer he technically is. "A few of them just stay around because they're not done with the place. They don't bother anyone, either. You might sit on a bench reading and look up at some point, only to realise some bloke is sitting next to you. Odds are he'll just nod at you and then get up and walk away -- I mean, there's nothing threatening about it. I was never afraid of them as a child. I think maybe those last ones -- are a little more real than the ones the Veil creates here."

He smiles lightly and looks back at Alexander. "But yeah. You're right, Gray Harbor does that. I still think it's three kinds of people, like we talked about -- got to have the shine, some kind of creative expression, and some kind of darkness. Come through randomly, stay. Everybody did tell me to leave, and a week later I had a job, a boat, and a cat, you know?"

Alexander listens with a reptilian sort of intensity to Ravn talk about ghosts. "I always thought they weren't real. Like. That they were the one weird thing that people were maybe just making up. Because I never saw one, growing up. Not until a couple of years ago, actually. With Gohl. And a couple of friends who turned out to be actually ghost haunted." His brows furrow. "It's still uneasy, in ways. The idea of a memory walking around, doing things. I don't like it."

Then he clears his throat. "Don't tell Kelly. Pretty sure he'll punch me if he thinks I'm saying something bad about his Ma."

Ravn shakes his head. "I think it's different here. The ghosts here are -- not really ghosts, not the way I think about ghosts. They're the Veil's creations, somehow -- more like you say, memories or ideas that have somehow been given the power to manifest and do terrible things. Mrs Kelly felt very real to me, she might be the odd one out for all I know. Either way, she's very nice, and I don't think her staying around in spite of being a little bit dead is a bad thing? Kelly clearly adores her, and so does his fiancee."

Alexander grunts, softly. "Maybe. But I think dead things should stay dead, in general. Seeing them in Dreams is bad enough. Don't need to see them in the real world, too." His mouth turns upward, gently. "Or I may just feel like that because when my great great grandfather showed up, he cut my throat open, and murdered a lot of people. Ma Kelly probably won't do that." A long pause. "Probably."

Ravn winces and nods sympathetically. "Yes. I get that. I get that completely. That's -- I mean, my fiancee's ghost did not try to kill me. But she followed me around, screaming at me, breaking things, keeping me from sleeping, until I ended up committing myself. I never had a problem with my family's ghosts, and I've never really been bothered by ghosts anywhere else either -- they're just there, they do their thing, I do my thing, we don't bother each other. Here? I'd full well expect anything dead to go full-on Hollywood horror movie. The Veil doesn't just want to mind its own business, after all. I think Kelly might be different from the rest."

Alexander makes an agreeable sound, wordless and low. "See? Irritating and dangerous. Dead should stay dead." Then he sighs. "I should find someone to take us over to the Other Side. You could meet some of the Baxters. They're all insane, their souls are shattered and bound from moving on. They're not ghosts. But they look a lot like ghosts. They're all pretty insane."

"Maybe sometime if we can think of some way to help them," the folklorist murmurs. "I mean, that's kind of the point, isn't it? Why we try to find out what it is that's going on here, how the Veil works. So we can stop these things from happening, put those poor bastards to rest, send them on to wherever they were meant to be going in the first place. I don't think my home is a 'thin point' -- at least not the way Gray Harbor is. There's nothing malicious there, just entirely too much history weighing the place down. Here? We're fighting a war. I mean, look at just the three of us right here."

He glances kitchen- and Seth-wards. "If you'd told me, four months ago, I'd be planning to eat pizza rolls with someone who's clearly on the wrong side of the law a lot of the time, I'd have called you insane. But here we are, and as far as I am concerned, Seth is a bloody good man to have batting for Team Humanity. And that's the only thing that really matters. Doesn't hurt that he's a pretty decent guy, of course. I like having friends."

"The Exorcist doesn't think that there's any way to heal them," Alexander murmurs. "But I don't know if that's the truth, or just what she thinks is the truth. I'm not...I don't know enough about spirits to know one way or the other. One of them, the broken souls, has an idea. But it's a bad one." At the phrase we're fighting a war, though, he shakes his head. "We're not, Ravn. We're prey. We're trying to survive. I don't know that there's any way to beat the Shadows other than finding a way to cut them off. Survival, not victory."

He falls silent at the mention of Seth, although his eyes also go to where the enforcer disappeared. "He's a decent guy," he agrees, at last. "And friends are nice."

"To me, that's the definition of fighting a war," Ravn murmurs. "We're not the generals and tacticians sitting in the war room, making grand decisions. We're the blokes in the trenches, just hoping to have each other's backs so we can make it through another day or two."

The Dane smiles. "Friends are nice. That's the one downside of travelling, you know? You don't make friends. You meet someone today, tomorrow you're a picture on their Instagram -- bloke we met at the bus stop, had a funny accent. I was a bit uncomfortable here at first, with how friendly people are. I've come to like it. When Seth asked me yesterday if I was coming back? I kind of froze up a moment because it occurred to me I'd not even considered that I could -- you know, not? I could just go home and... not come back. I live here. I'm not getting out."

Alexander shrugs. "Not used to thinking about it that way, I guess. I don't have the kind of discipline for a soldier." He smiles. "And can't imagine wearing a uniform. But yeah, about the traveling. After college, I did the same thing for a while. Just drifting from place to place, doing whatever jobs people had to be done while I was in the area. There's a...pleasure to that. To walking through other people's lives without leaving a mark. Like a wind. But I did get hungry for place, and purpose, after a while." He stares at the TV, but nothing suggests he's actually watching the movie. "It will be nice to have you come back. But if you change your mind when you're away, that would also be safer."

"Yeah, but you're supposed to tell me that. And remember, back home there's a pissed-off ghost who wants to talk to me about a car crash. So yeah. I'm coming back here." Ravn nods; this is not up for debate, at all -- barring him getting brainwashed into forgetting that the USA exists. "I like travelling. I learned a lot about people and the whole -- being human thing. University doesn't really prepare you for what the world is really like when you get down and dirty with it. There's a whole human experience that you just can't get from books and lectures and academic papers. I never felt more alive than when I was spending the night in some miserable shelter somewhere, with a couple of other folks on the run, or sleeping in the back seat of some stranger's car on the highway. Just being, well, me -- no past, no expectations, just going wherever the next bus was going."

Alexander tilts his head and studies Ravn with amusement. He says, quietly, "Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe you're just addicted to doing risky things?"

At least the Dane has the decency to blush lightly. "I guess there's an element of that as well. I mean, I used to be this kid who ran away from home to steal cars and bum around until somebody turned me into social services."

Alexander chuckles. "There's nothing wrong with it, as long as you know it's a tendency. But you definitely have a bit of the risk-chaser to you. I don't think that you'd hang around with the people that you do, if you didn't. Most of us aren't particularly safe." He lifts his hand; its out of the full-hand splint, but is still bound, although the fingers are allowed to bend, and look bruised but otherwise much recovered.

"You're probably right. Rosencrantz says the same thing, at least." Ravn stretches his legs; this sofa is ridiculously comfortable. "Might be. I feel safer here than I've felt anywhere for a long time. Because here, the enemy is real. I get it -- there's people in Gray Harbor who definitely are capable of some things I can probably not even start to imagine. Things I probably don't want to imagine. Things that make people turn up at my door with broken ribs and blackened eyes, or their hands in splints. I'm not happy about that, and I'm very pointedly not asking about those things because I don't think I want to know. Maybe I'm a selective risk chaser, at least."

The folklorist studies Alexander right back. "Why do you do it? Even if you felt you had to come back here, why pick the one job that's guaranteed to make you a metric buttload of enemies?"

Seth returns from the kitchen, carrying a tray of newly nuked pizza rolls, setting them down onto the glass tabletop of the coffee table in the center of the living room, a small bowl of what appears to be ranch is set down next to it. "Vic turned me onto this. Pizza rolls with ranch...I am going to have to run extra miles for this but it can't be any worse than the days after waffletaco. Vic and I must have jogged extra miles twice a day for a week straight."

Alexander makes a face at Ravn, complete with sticking his tongue out, at the mention of broken ribs and hands in splints. "Selective risk chaser is better," he agrees. He nods to Seth as the guy returns, eyes lightning up at the mention pizza rolls and ranch. "It's worth it. Waffletacos were worth it, too." He reaches out to take a hot pizza roll, then hisses, drops it, and shakes his head.

It puts him in a good mood to answer Ravn's other question, though. He blows on his fingers, then looks at the folklorist. "I'm an empath." A pause. "I've been an empath as long as I remember, and I didn't really know how to control it until I got out of Gray Harbor at 18. Before that, it was like...being open, all the time. Knowing which people are scared of their spouses, picking up a hammer and feeling what it was like to hit someone with it, to be hit with it. Feeling both the pleasure in violence, and the misery in receiving violence. All before puberty, and...all the time." His voice is flat. "But people don't believe you when you say 'I know this guy is hurting his kids'. You have to prove it. In a way other people can understand. So, I do. When I can." A brief smile. "And I'm going to make enemies no matter what. Not good with people, and I'm an asshole. Might as well make enemies that are worth being angry at."

"Well, I'm going to be living off airline food for a few days, and everyone knows that's just cardboard with salt and no nutritional value whatsoever. I can afford to eat these." Ravn cheerfully reaches for a pizza roll. And because he wears gloves, he doesn't burn his fingers, the git.

Alexander's story gets the attention it deserves; the Dane doesn't say a word until the older man reaches his conclusion. "I can't imagine what kind of childhood hell that must be," he says honestly. "A mind reader is the last damn thing I'd want to be. People have all kinds of secrets that I don't want to know about. I'm very, very good at not noticing things when I don't want to notice them."

Then he glances at Seth. "What I don't get, though, is why Clayton keeps saying he's an asshole. You think he's an asshole?"

"I suppose that all depends on what you consider an asshole? I mean, not too long ago I thought he was because he was poking his nose into places I, or more like my cousin, wouldn't want him poking his nose into. I mean, I still don't want him poking his nose into things, but now it is more because I don't want to see him get himself hurt instead of me being worried he is going to find something he shouldn't." the enforcer says with a shrug. "Him being friends with...people his is friends with. You might know, but I am not naming names just in case, baffles me slightly to be sure, but I don't think he is an asshole. If anyone is one, it's probably me."

Seth leans forward and picks up the package labeled for him off the corner of the table, hefting it in his hands for a bit before looking to Alexander. "Was I supposed to open this now, or are you a stickler for opening it on Christmas. Fair warning, I am not going to wait till Christmas in either case, but I will at least respect you enough to wait till you leave and tell you I waited."

"I'm very bad at not noticing things when I notice them," Alexander admits. He actually makes a surprised, coughing laugh when Ravn straight up asks Seth whether he's an asshole. "I am," he says, shortly. "All my friends are, too, to some extent. More comfortable that way." And yes, he did just call both men in the room assholes. But at least it seems to be a fond observation? Sort of? He grabs another pizza roll and nibbles it down. Straight, rather than with ranch, this time. He watches Seth. "You can open it. I don't mind. I'm bad at gifts. Be forewarned."

And if Seth does open it, he'll find a couple of books - professional handbooks for stage lightning. Theories, examples, diagrams, the whole works. Ravn's books (and yes, they're definitely books) are instead on Pacific Northwest folklore, and also on rural American conspiracy theories. These are self-published things, too, hand-bound, and quite possibly written by people who are certifiably insane...but written well, for all of that.

Ravn beams. "Bad at gifts? You realise how many shelves I've filled with stuff like this, back home? Well, used to, it's all in storage now. But, this is very much my kind of thing. Thank you. I may bring you a shaggy pony after all." He seems quite genuine in his delight; paging through the indexes, looking at names and (sometimes missing) academical references. "This kind of material is invaluable to someone like me -- fifty years from now, it won't be difficult to find the works of the established writers and the university presses. But vanity press publications like these? They'll be pulp somewhere. Most of my book collection I've bought from second hand stores and antiquarians. It's important to preserve these stories."

Opening up the package, Seth looks momentarily stunned as he examines the books. "Wow. Thanks, Alexander!" the enforcer exclaims as he thumbs through one of the tomes, a grin forming on his face as he takes a moment to study the pages. "I suck. I don't have a thing for you yet. Or Ravn, Or Vic. Damn, I don't know what to get her. Hell, I am not even totally sure where we stand on things. The last time we had a talk like that, there seemed to be interest but..." Seth shrugs, setting the book down to the side. "What do you get someone like that? It can't be too personal, but it can't be too impersonal either. I mean, Alexander, you say you suck at this, but you got something that is not only unique but perfectly suited. I think you are just the opposite."

Seth lifts his beer to his lips and takes a sip, using the bottle as some sort of communication tool as he points with it towards the other two, "What are you two going to get her?"

For all that he tries to manage expectations, Alexander watches their reaction to the gifts carefully, and when both seem to be pleased, the man suddenly has a smile that makes him look ten years younger, at least. It's there only for a moment, but for that moment, it's pure joy. "Glad you like them. Especially the folklore books. People always...people don't listen to those voices, sometimes, and they have interesting things to say," he says, and clears his throat. "Um. I'm getting her coupons. I mean. I'm making coupons. She'll need some help with putting the house together for a while yet, and I make a decent handyman. So, uh, just like ten hours of free house help." He shrugs. "I think she might like it. And it's okay. To not have anything. I like books. True crime, forensics textbooks, things." At least he's not shy?

Ravn grimaces. "I am really bad at gifts. I've got some things I want to pick up for some people back home but I've never been good at this game. Sometimes, you see something and think, that's definitely Jane or Bob, and you pick it up for them no matter what time of year it is. But holiday gifts? My family always made a big fuss about the value, and what signals it sends, and turned everything very -- complicated. I always end up worrying that I'm overdoing it, or not doing enough."

He thinks a moment, one fingertip tracing the letters on a book cover absentmindedly. "Coupons are a pretty neat idea. You're kind of looking to maybe... progress things a little, Seth? I don't think you should send her something intimate and definitely not something pink and feminine, but maybe... coupons for a candlelit dinner, night at the shooting range, stuff that you'd like to actually do with her? Can always wrap them around a bottle of something if it feels like not enough."

Nodding, Seth shrugs a shoulder, "I had already thought of something to that effect. Technically I was going to break into her place with the help of a few people one night when she was at work and finish off her kitchen for her, but the more I thought about it the more that just might backfire horribly. I also thought about getting her some semblance of the furnishings I have around this place..." he says as he looks over at Alexander, "Which may not be such a horrible idea still, or at least get a coupon/gift card so she can pick something out herself. But the thought of doing something is good. Maybe I will just take her shooting on top of it all. I think a candlelight dinner might be too much. If I was to go with something along those lines it would be more pizza rolls and a movie."

"I think I would prefer two people I like not to end up killing each other because one wants to do the other a covert failure," Alexander agrees. His eyes skip to a couple of parts of Seth's room when he mentions furnishings, and he nods, slowly. "I think she'd like that. The furnishings. And the shooting." Then he says, "People do like a bit of fancy. Sometimes. But maybe clarify where you two are before breaking out the candles." He grins. "Good luck, though."

"Hah, yeah. Maybe hold off on the candles, and on the burglary. Vic isn't exactly the frilly, romantic type from what I've seen. And she'll probably shoot first and ask later if she finds you in her kitchen uninvited late at night." Ravn suddenly laughs. "She nearly gave herself a concussion when she found herself in my place at 3am -- and I'm bloody grateful she'd not stashed a gun into that nurse outfit because I am absolutely sure I'd have had it shoved in my face in a second otherwise."

Rolling his eyes Seth explains, "You make it sound like I would be burglarizing the joint and she would come home and find me rummaging around in her fridge or something like that. No, if I was going to do that I would make sure she was at work, and I would have a spotter at the Twofer to give me a heads up if she was coming home earlier than anticipated." He snorts, "You should also be grateful that she moved everything out because if she is anything like me when she is home she isn't likely more than a few feet from something that goes boom. From what I heard from you, I wouldn't be half surprised if she went for something just to find it wasn't there. Comedy of errors that was, but thankfully it didn't end tragically."

Seth leans back in his chair and sips at his beer, "Yeah. I think some furnishings might work. I'll toss in a coupon for shirtless installation as a joke."

Alexander smiles. "She's dangerous." He clearly approves. "And while I have confidence in Seth's ability to set things up where no one would be hurt, better to not test God, right? Stick with the non-surprises. I think some of us aren't that much into surprises. Except shirtless installation. That's probably the sort of surprise that she'd be into." He laughs, softly. "Maybe add a Santa costume that you can slip out of? Play 'Santa, Baby' on a speaker?" His voice is light and teasing.

Ravn can't help laughing softly at the mental imagery there. "You know that my fiancee used to say I don't have a romantic bone in my body? She was probably right. I'd never have come up with something like that, at least."

"Ok." Seth says at Alexander with a chuckle, "Now I think you are pushing it. Next, you are going to have me in her lawn with a boombox over my head in a bad coat playing 'In Your Eyes'." Seth shakes his head, "No, I think I will leave any Santa Striptease till some other year when I know where I stand with that kinda thing. I'll do a lot, but I'm only willing to go through only so much humiliation and end up facing rejection."

Seth takes a sip of his beer, thinks about it for a minute, then shrugs his shoulder. "Fine, I'll toss in a coupon for that as well. But I am only going to put it in there with a footnote telling her you made me."

"Your fiancee was kind of an asshole," Alexander says, bluntly. "And not the fun kind." He reaches for another pizza roll, pops it in his mouth, and crunches down, to let the hot filling ooze out. Too hot by the way he squirms and makes unhappy noises until he quickly swallows and coughs. "And I don't mind being blamed, Seth. I doubt Ravn does, either. Miss Grey will thank us later. I'm sure."

"How about I get blamed if it's a success and Alexander gets blamed if its not?" Ravn smiles with all the innocence he can muster.

He stretches luxuriously and then stands. "I'm going to have to leave you two wonderful people to it. Not because I want to, but because I need be in an airport at an entirely ungodly hour tomorrow. I should be back in town before New Years, unless something comes up. I don't expect anything to come up but trust me, academics can get creative. When I get back, let's get together, do crazy things, and find out what Vic thought of shirtless Santa?"

"There will only be a Santa Striptease if she cashes in the coupon. Will will just have to see, and no...Alexander is going to get the blame on this. His idea." Seth says with a chuckle. "You have a ride to the airport? I can take you if you want a lift. Also...leave your number so I can call you and remind your ass to come back."

"Don't die, Ravn," Alexander tells the folklorist. It's serious, for all he's smiling. "I won't offer to take you to the airport. It's a long walk. But it will be nice to see you again, if you come back." The words might be diffident, but the expression is serious. And a little worried; as always, Alexander is uncertain whether to encourage people to leave, or stay. He stands, as well. "I should head back and check on Isabella. She's deep in this Cleopatra thing, and forgets to eat." A bright smile. "This was nice. Thank you. Both of you."

"Yeah, I rent a car. At some point I should probably find a more permanent solution. Baby steps -- still getting used to the idea of staying in one place, you know?" Ravn dips into a pocket for his cell phone in its hideous sparkly pink casing and slides it over. "Here, add yourself to contacts, I'll send you a 'help I'm bored' text from somewhere over the mid-Atlantic."

A lopsided smile goes Alexander's way. "No if. There's nothing for me back home. Gray Harbor's home now, for better or for worse."

And then he's off. Because Ravn has a lifetime's worth of practising the fine art of not being anywhere near things getting too close and personal. It's probably going to take him a few months yet to overcome thirty years of social conditioning.