2021-01-08 - Wait...what?

The one nice thing anyone can say about airline food is that you don't want to eat enough for it to gain much weight. Ravn Abildgaard hasn't got much Christmas gain to lose as such -- he's a pretty slender guy to begin with -- but even he can feel that he spent too much time the last weeks sitting still. In airplanes, in hotels, or for that matter, in coffee shops -- it's the same thing in the end. Time to pick up that duffel back and put on those (black) track pants and hit Kelly's -- and that's why he's currently on the treadmill, moving at a slow jogging pace towards nowhere. He's not one of those people who wear earbuds while running, but his gaze is definitely on infinity and beyond as he lopes along. More embarrassingly, maybe, this is the highest setting he's using -- because even with his inhaler in his hoodie pocket, he's not very keen on the idea of doubling over with an asthma attack.

The rumble of the engine to Seth's '68 Cobra is the first indication that the enforcer was making his daily trek to the mecha of muscle in an attempt to work off those damned Waffletacos. Not long after the engine is killed, the man himself walks through the door of Kelly's Gym dressed for a workout in a pair of sweats with a matching jacket top, the ensemble is completed with a white towel that is dropped over his shoulder. He casts a glance around, spotting Ravn and decides to make his way over towards the Dane as he removed the towel from his shoulder and starts to twirl it up into a rat-tail. He is about to snap the towel at the jogger's rump, then apparently has a change of heart and just tosses the twirled towel onto the machine next to Ravn. "Hey," he says as he climbs up onto his own machine and starts it moving, "How's things? You doing ok?"

Ravn looks back at the other man while trying hard not to laugh. He slows his pace a little and glances at the towel. "What, had a back to high school moment and spotted the resident nerd?"

He shakes his head, laughing silently. "I'm good. Arm's healing all right, dead ex seems to be staying dead. Spending more night hours on the phone with my lawyer than I like, but that's what I get for having one in Copenhagen instead of a local. How are you? Spotted any of Clayton's cultists sneaking around the bushes of Elm Street yet?" The Dane pauses. "We managed to find out what that was all about, by the way. Those cultists are doing blackmail of the kind where they film somebody having sex with co-eds, then get paid to not share it."

"I might have thought briefly about snapping your ass with the towel, yes," admits Seth with a grin as he gets up to speed on the machine himself, "It is wasn't for your unexpected touches causing great pain I might have gone through with it as well." Pause. "Nerd."

Seth's head cocks over to the side as he looks to Ravn, "No, no cultists on my street that I noticed, but you are telling me that their whole thing was nothing but a blackmail scam? How unoriginal. I at least expected an utterance of one of the elder gods or something. I'm disappointed."

Seth reaches over and taps the up arrow on Ravn's machine a couple of times to bump the speed up to match his. "Come on, keep up."

"Christsakes, man, remember that I have asthma." Ravn nonetheless tries to keep pace, at least for a while. "But yeah -- as far as we could make out, that's what it's about. That's serious enough -- they're willing to kill for it, apparently. But we're not going to have Nyarlathotep walking into Safeway. By we I mean me, Mac, Clayton and a girl named Evergreen who used to be in the cult too. Between the four of us we were able to piece together the cipher and crack open those files. Should have seen the look on Mac's face when she realised she was watching people having sex, though."

The Dane winces slightly. "I thought I was kind of... you know, not exactly Mister PDA. But she was genuinely disturbed -- I'm keeping that in mind because I've kind of half and half got this prank war going with her, and I don't want to cross any lines that make it stop being funny."

"Really?" Seth says as he jogs along, "I mean, I know she seemed a bit off-put by some of the jokes when she was over for Star Wars, but I didn't take her as someone that was totally weighed out by it. Huh. I mean, nothing wrong with it per se, some people are just...what is the term? Asexual? I don't know all these PC terms for the various flavors of sexuality, there have been quite a few added that I don't even know the meaning of. Still, that is beside the point. Point is that it is ok to be whatever. She doesn't like it, fair enough."

"Still, what was her face like. With a description like that, I just have to know..." the enforcer says with a grin.

"Disgusted," Ravn replies. "Very close to getting angry with us for not warning her. It didn't occur to any of us, I think -- I for one thought those files would be finances stuff. You know -- embezzling, insider trading, that sort of thing. But yeah. Some people are like that, and it's cool. Hell, people usually assume I'm ace, and it's fine."

That said, though, the Dane still tries to imitate Mac's face. That expression of utter revulsion as she realised what she was listening to, and what it might mean. Then he shrugs. "It says a lot about us that we're almost disappointed, doesn't it? You'd think we'd be relieved to find out that the local murder gang are just a flock of greedy blackmailers and not, you know, crazy cultists."

"Ace? See, I don't know that one," Seth says as he jogs along on the treadmill, reaching down to bump up the speed on his own slightly. "What does that one mean?" Seth asks as he focuses ahead on the wall in front of him. "As for Mac, well, it is what it is. Haven't met many people that are disgusted by it, but I'm sure she isn't alone."

The enforcer snorts, "Yeah, I suppose that does say something about us, doesn't it? Here we are expecting end of the world apocalyptic shit, and we just get run of the mill assholes that watch porn. So, what happened to them? You found them out, you got the sex tapes and then what? You obviously didn't go in there gun's blazing and wipe them all out, so what did you all do? Send in de la Vega?"

"Ace -- asexual. Whether disgusted by the physical bits or just not interested in them." Ravn chuckles slightly. "For the record, I'm not -- ace, that is. But yeah -- it's a thing."

He sneaks a gloved hand up to lower the speed slightly; the man's stamina isn't horrible, but it's obvious that like many asthmatics, he struggles with expelling the air fast enough to replace it with new, oxygen-rich air intake, particularly while also trying to lead a conversation. "We didn't do anything yet, I think. The ball's in Alexander's court -- I'm pretty confident he knows what he's doing, and that if he's not calling in the cavalry just yet, then he doesn't expect anyone else to get murdered just now. He wants to get it right, I suspect. Some of those people are high end lawyers, university professors -- the kind of people who can afford to lawyer up and buy a scapegoat. Alexander's pretty big on justice so I'm positive the police will get involved. Just, not until he's certain it's not just the little guys who take the fall."

Seth ahs at the explanation of 'ace', nodding his head in understanding. "I get it. It makes sense, and I should have figured that one out on my own. Sometimes I am not all that quick on the uptake." He shrugs his shoulders, "And I know you're not. At least I suspected as much. I don't have any proof."

Continuing the jog, Seth doesn't notice that Ravn lowers the speed setting. The enforcer seems to be in the zone as the rhythmic pattern of his feet slapping down on the pad draws him in almost like a odd form of hypnosis. "Yeah, that sounds like Alexander. Anyone interesting get tagged by this group? I won't lie, there are certain names that I would love to be on a list, but I know I shouldn't count on it."

"I don't think anyone local is involved, no. This is the suit and tie segment of society." Ravn is quietly relieved that the other man didn't notice his tweak. "The only people I know of in Gray Harbor who'd belong on that list for some reason would be... Assuming they'd be someone who lived here long enough to go to university or be connected to university in Seattle, we're talking Thorne and the Addingtons, and I don't know if Thorne went to university in the first place -- someone told me he's a self made man."

Ravn can't help a small chuckle. "Ironically, I'm probably closer to it than most people here, insofar at least I am in the university circuit -- though I don't have any connections to Seattle that I know of. I thought it'd be money things because it's up on those levels, you know? White collar crime."

"Yeah, but somehow I think you would be smart enough not to fuck your students," Seth chuckles. "At least I hope you would be. Maybe I am giving you too much credit?" the enforcer teases. "I mean, you are rich from what you tell me, even though you live like someone who isn't. You are a professor, so you say. You do fit the profile. Hrmm." Seth grins as he looks over towards the Dane. "I'm shocked they didn't come after you now that I think about it. Or maybe they did, and you declined because you are smart. Anyone come onto you recently?"

"Dream on," Ravn murmurs blithely. "Never fucked a student. Not rich -- the money's with the family firm, not me personally. Not a professor either -- I got my PhD and bailed instead of getting tenure. Apart from that, though? No. I'm not the kind of guy women come onto, and when they do, they tend to come un-unto when they realise I've got neuropathy and tend to get too caught up in research to fawn properly on them. Judging from those files though? A disturbing amount of people in academia are not smart enough to not screw their students, and I actually find that very disturbing. I know that a seventeen-year-old girl certainly views herself as an adult, but she's still a bloody minor in the eyes of the law. I wouldn't be surprised if substantial amounts of drugs or booze were involved as well -- that many men cannot be that dense."

"Sure they can," Seth says with a roll of his eyes. "We both know that the majority of guys tend to think more about getting their dick wet than they do about anything else. You would think that this habit would mellow with age, but with all the rates of divorce over adultery, we know that is not the case. Just because someone might have book smarts doesn't mean they have any common sense." Seth continues to jog along at a good pace, but he is sweating now and his comments come in bursts as he has to focus on breathing a bit more.

"I remember there was a radio bit where these hosts would send some girl to 'test' a guy who was in a relationship and see if he would cheat. The girl would give out a phone number, and they would see if the guy called it to set up a date. If the guy took the bait, they would call him back with his girlfriend, spouse or whoever on the line to see what he would say and bust him. I can count on one hand the amount of times I heard that bit where they guy either didn't call, or when he did call he stayed faithful even when this girl was throwing herself at him. Men as a rule suck in that regard."

"You make a good case for men sucking," Ravn cedes. "And you're not wrong either, I suppose. Add to that that at least older, well-off blokes do tend to think the universe owes them whatever they can get their hands on. I've always figured it has a lot do with the lack of consequences -- the better you can afford to lawyer up, the less you need to worry about such mundane things as laws. Which is why I approve firmly of Clayton finishing his investigations instead of rushing things and alerting the people in key positions."

He smirks slightly. "Book smarts, though.. No. Book smarts just means you've read about how the Ancient Greeks screwed around for inspiration."

"Well, maybe there is something to be said about Greek orgies. I don't know. I'm not Greek," Seth jokes. "Just seems like a bad idea to me, but what do I know. At least they had it all out in the open, if you were fucking around odds are your partner was over there fucking around with someone else. Hell, maybe you were both fucking around with the same person. At least it wasn't blackmailing material."

Seth turns down the speed on the machine and moves into a slow jog, "Glad you all figured it out though. Last thing we need around here is another player on the murder board."

Ravn's grin grows a little lopsided, a little self-aware. "Is this where I -- in my capacity as the resident book smart guy -- point out that actually those orgy affairs were pretty restricted to certain layers of society and that honourable wives and daughters most certainly were not invited? The Greeks and Romans were pretty damn uptight in their own way. I sat through a four hour lecture on younger boys being initiated into manhood through friendship with older men, and the very detailed and specific rules of which boys were supposed to have such a patron, and what services both were expected to offer to the other. They had a thing about boys needing to learn to endure in order to become men -- sexual favours were the price you paid for education and patronage."

The Dane shakes his head. "Anyway. You're not wrong. I don't know where the real money in Gray Harbor is, but -- not counting a few people such as Taylor, Thorne, and the Addingtons -- it's not exactly the French Riviera. The jet set doesn't live here, and neither does the upper crust of Seattle. Whoever these blackmailers are, there's just not enough meat on the bone of Gray Harbor for them, I think. Might be worth asking Clayton if you're worried, though -- I think he's just about as interested in having a third player turn up as you'd be."

Seth stops his machine and turns to look at Ravn, his brow arched high on his forehead. "That is more than I ever knew, or wanted to know about Greek or Roman orgies, Ravn. I was trying to just make a point, but no...you had to go and take your damn book smarts and shove them in my face and down my throat...which apparently is also what the Greeks did with the young boys. So...thanks for that, now I am going to have that on my brain for the rest of the day. If the Veil comes after me tonight with dreams of Greek orgies, I am finding you and I am dragging your ass along with me. I don't care if that is how it works, I will sure as fuck make it work like that."

Seth starts up the machine again and gets back into a jogging pace. "Too many parties involved as it is. Hopefully not for much longer."

The folklorist smirks and makes a mental note -- so you can fluster Seth "nothing bugs me" Monaghan, it seems. With an expression so oblivious that it has to be fake, he corrects, "No, no, the throat is the wrong end, they had opinions about that as well. Very complex rules. Consider this my revenge for -- you probably did something."

At least he's managing the (somewhat slower) pacing without his lungs trying to nope out of his chest; Kelly's strict regime seems to be working. "I'm honestly a little amazed that a nowhere hole in the ground like Gray Harbor even has any kind of... underground... worth mentioning. Some drug trading, of course. Bored kids doing stupid things. Just, I don't get what here might be worthy of attention from organised crime. Unless there really is a lot more money than I thought in washed-up writers and ex-celebrities from around the world, which is what this town seems to attract a lot of." He waves a hand lightly. "Please don't answer that, by the way, or at least not with specifics. What I don't know, no one can ask me about."

"Young. Boys." Yes, Seth has a line, and apparently crossing it involves an age limit. "I don't need that in my head, man. At least not with the detail you are providing. I mean, I knew it. I just didn't need to know it." Seth says with a shake of his head...and then reaches over and just puts his finger on the 'up' button, leaving it there. "Asshole."

"Shit," Ravn murmurs as the treadmill suddenly starts to move very fast under his feet. He manages to grab hold of the side bars and steady himself, and sure enough, he can just not put his feet down -- but that also means he can't move away. He can't reach for the control pad without putting feet down -- that's a nice dilemma right there, and one he considers with a pained expression. "You utter asshole."

It'd help if he could stop laughing. Probably be better for keeping that precarious position too, supporting his weight on his hands alone, feet sort of flailing in the air above the moving rubber mat.

"Book smarts," the folklorist manages to mumble, "means knowing what the Greeks did to their kids."

He looks down.

With a sigh he lets go and lets the inertia of the mat take over, ending up in a flailing pile of limbs at the far end of the treadmill. "And street smarts means knowing when not to talk about it. Ow, ow, ow."

Seth can't help himself. When Ravn goes ass overhead off the treadmill the enforcer guffaws and loses it. Reaching over to slow Ravn's treadmill down and then slowing his own treadmill to a stop, he steps off and squats down next to Ravn, saying through the giggles that still quiver up from his throat, "You ok? Do I need to go get you a band-aid or something?"

The other man carefully counts his limbs. Yep, they're all pretty much attached where they're supposed to be. Nothing gone missing. Nothing sticking out at awkward angles. After giving this status quo its due consideration he raises one gloved hand to flip Seth the bird -- after which he can't help laugh either. He sits up and shakes his head. "Can I just be glad somebody like Kelly or de la Vega wasn't here to see that? Or Vic, for that matter, she'd be laughing her ass off for a week."

"Oh you know there are cameras around here. Joey has to have them, I would be shocked if he didn't. The only saving grace is I doubt he looks at the footage unless he has a reason to, and I promise I won't go telling him there is a reason. Maybe." Seth says with a wink as he stands, offering his hand to help the Dane up. "And yes, Vic would be calling you something like Humpty Dumpty, ragdoll, or some other nickname for a week or more. Likely more. Fuck, she still calls you her apprentice."

Ravn accepts the hand up and gets to his feet. "I don't mind that at all. Bartending lessons were fun. I don't think I had much talent for it but it's one of those things I'm glad I got to write off the bucket list. If I ever end up travelling on for some reason, I might try my luck at it somewhere else."

He grins slightly and rubs his elbow; that really was a remarkably ungraceful tumble he managed there. "My pride would smart a little, though -- just because she's perfectly capable of folding me up like a pretzel doesn't mean I need to remind her how inept I am in a gym. How's things between you and her anyway? For a woman, Vic is remarkably not gossipy. Most women would be all over anyone willing to listen if they're seeing someone new."

"Well enough. I don't think either of us has any complaints, or if so I haven't heard any voiced." Seth says with a shrug as he wanders over towards the water cooler to hydrate. "She certainly hasn't complained about the cooking, I think I may have created a monster by letting her know I can actually cook." the enforcer says with a chuckle. "We aren't putting any labels on anything though, so it just is what it is until it is something else."

He shrugs his shoulder and brings over a cup of water to Ravn. "What about you and Hyacinth? Are she and your house expecting a little shed anytime soon?"

Ravn accepts the water cup and laughs softly. "No labels, eh? Vic's not really the white picket fence and pick out what the bridesmaids will be wearing kind of girl, or at least that's not my impression of her, either. Eh well -- not like you need my approval in the first place but for what it's worth? I think that's pretty cool. People rush into things sometimes, or they don't make sure that they're on the same page. I might come pawing at your door too, but that's the cooking thing -- there's more than one starving bachelor, male or female, in this town."

He drinks and then looks slightly sheepish at the mention of Hyacinth. "I wouldn't be surprised if they were. Certainly was love at first sight. Myself, though, I haven't seen her since we came back -- she's a pretty busy lady, and from what I gather, she runs her own company and most of the Addington holdings. Her home life's pretty complicated from what I've picked up -- lots of people in that clan who have issues with each other, and of course there's the whole issue of her being married to a guy who lives with someone else. Nothing is ever simple in Gray Harbor, is it?"

"My advice," Seth says after taking a sip of his water, "If you have a reason to want to see her, not saying you do...but if, then make the effort to find a way to see her. I don't know what the situation is, but the woman flew halfway around the world at a moment's notice to hang with you. Maybe it was just the house, but that is a lot of effort for just a house."

Seth shrugs and takes another sip, leaning against the side of the treadmill, "As far as dinner goes, feel free to drop by. I like cooking, it centers me. I'm sure Vic wouldn't mind a third for dinner on occasion. Who knows, maybe I should just open up a restaurant." The enforcer chuckles at the thought and drains the last of the water from his cup. "Monaghan's meat pies? Put a barbershop above it. See who gets it."

"... I think I'll order the vegan option." Ravn nods solemnly; he got that reference at least. Then he runs a hand through his mop of a haircut and stretches. "You're not wrong, figuratively speaking, except that you are. Woman flew halfway around the world to escape her family -- the house and I were a bonus. It's all a little... You remember the Swedish chef thing and me, I know you do. Hyacinth's marriage is the same kind of deal. The bloke that the story decided she's married to lives with another woman, and some other bloke too. They never actually did get married -- but as far as the story goes, and the rest of the world is concerned, yeah, they are. None of them have done anything to actually change that so on some level I assume -- that it's good? That it works for them? I think it's a shitty situation but it's something she and the other two need to sort out between themselves. Nothing much I can do there. I do like her, but I'm not sticking my hand into the hornet's nest of a three-way marriage to become the fourth wheel."

Seth shrugs a shoulder, "Why not? If you like her, and her marriage isn't actually real, then go for it. If she doesn't live with her supposed husband, and he lives with two other people what hornet's nest do you think you are going to stir up? Doesn't sound to me like the other three parties in this tango are going to give a fuck since they are busy doing that to each other. Or I suppose there is always going to visit what's her name and get things changed. Maybe if you bring her a bribe you can get things written out in a way that is beneficial to you."

Seth walks back over to refill his cup, "Or not. I'm probably not the person to give advice. I see a hornet's nest, I'm just as likely to go knock it down and get stung rather than turn away. Pain is temporary. chicks dig scars, and glory lives forever...or something like that."

"I think that someone who stays in a marriage wants to be in that marriage. Or at least that they're not ready to deal with the whole mess of getting out of it yet. I don't want to be the third -- or fourth -- wheel, just like I didn't want to be Bennie Oakes' replacement goldfish. I'll probably still be around when and if they all decide to sort their situation out, and my friendship isn't dependent on whether she's interested in me that way or not." Ravn hitches a shoulder, a little helplessly. "But yeah, I guess they do dig that attitude, and that's probably part of the reason I've spent most of my life single. I'm a pretty down to earth, both feet on the ground, don't do things you'll regret later kind of bloke when it comes to women."

"Have you asked?" Seth questions as he looks to Ravn. "This is the US, man. People here stay married even if they don't want to be just for tax breaks, or because it is less of a hassle than going through a divorce, or because it is cheaper. From what you have said, which isn't much I grant you, it sounds like it is a marriage in name only. And not even something they wanted, just something the writer of shit or whatever you call it wrote, much like you are a ringleader of a lobster fighting club. Seriously?...like that is even a thing. You of all people should know the difference between the real and the fantastical. If you are interested, just ask the girl...or I might be forced to ask for you and that will get all sorts of embarrassing."

Ravn looks back at Seth and tries really hard to not laugh. He fails. "I kind of want to see you do that, just for the reaction."

"It's all Revisionist bull, but." The Dane pauses a moment, and then loses the grin. "Look, Seth -- I know that you of all people understand the idea of discretion. It's a little more complicated than just people waking up one morning and finding out that the world thinks they're married. There's old emotions, old relationships tied up in this. Concerns about damaging the guy's career, the Addington name -- all kinds of upper class bullshit. I only know that I don't know half of it. But I'm pretty firmly convinced that if someone's genuinely interested in doing something, they'll do it."

"Oh were they a thing before? See, you didn't say that part. You just said they were written to be married." Seth says as he combs his fingers through his hair. "But fine, fine. I'll drop it."

Seth takes another sip of his water and moves over towards one of the weight sets, setting up a short bar for some arm curls. Getting into position on the bench and starts to do some repetitions with the weights, "I'm sorry. Just trying to help. You seem to really like this girl, which I can only assume since it is the only one I have ever seen you show interest in on this kind of level, and it was presented like this was just a stupid thing that was like your chef thing. If there are that many other complications, then alright."

"I don't think she'd want me to to discuss that sort of thing with someone else. She barely discussed it with me." Ravn looks a little -- guilty, is the best word for it. "I know you of all people are familiar with the idea of 'don't fucking tell everyone', though."

He runs that hand through his hair again and smiles lightly. "I do appreciate it though -- the trying to help. And you're not wrong -- I do like her. We've got a definite friendship in the making, and I don't want to ruin that. It's all very silly, it really is -- but as far as the rest of the world is concerned, those people are married, and both their careers would likely be severely impacted by any scandal. You know how this world works -- rich guy has a side, no one cares. Rich girl does, it's a scandal. Heavens, I could rant about that for an hour -- the whole keeping up appearances thing. That's about ninety percent of the reason I'm here, living in a trailer park, you know? That that world bloody well sucks."

"Fair enough," Seth says as he continues to work out his arms with the curls. "I'll tell you what, if ever you two end up in a place where you want to be scandalous, but without the worry of having it break out into a scandal I got an extra room." The enforcer chuckles, "I can be discrete, and I will even toss in a dinner to boot."

Ravn can't help a laugh at that. "I appreciate it. Really do. I don't see myself doing something casual just like that but -- good to know you'd have my back. Heaven knows I'd be willing to turn up for the dinner's sake. I've told you before -- I'm practically a stray cat. You feed me, you keep me."

He eyes the treadmill and decides to stretch instead; maybe one set of bruises in one day is enough. "So, how do you feel about giving firearms lessons when neither of us are in fact high? I don't intend to start carrying, but in dreams like Dan's fantasy, it'd be a useful skill. If that thing had taken you down, somebody else would have had to pick up your gun and take your spot if any of us were to survive."

"Sure, if you want to learn I can take you to the range. I need to go get some practice in myself, I might make a trek up there tonight and give the AR a workout. Might be much for you though, so next time we can go up and I will bring the pea shooter for ya." the enforcer grins. "You've shot before, so it really shouldn't be all that hard for you to pick it up and get decent. It's just practice."

Seth switches arms and starts to do reps with the other, "I wonder if Alexander has checked up on Dan recently. I may need to do a swing by..."

"Rifles, yes, not guns. But sure, same deal in the end, just a different technique." Ravn nods. "I'm game for that. Also, I don't know about Clayton but I have kind of developed a habit of strolling down that neighbourhood every once in a while, just to see if there's lights on in the shed or something else looks fishy. I want to trust that Clayton's right but... That guy really liked putting that meat cleaver in my arm. I don't want him to start remembering that he liked it, you know?"

"Oh, yeah, I get it," Seth says with a nod. "I'm hoping Alexander is right too, because if not...well, yeah."

"As far as guns, they are all really point and pull the trigger. Sure, rifles are a little bigger to wield, but it's all pretty much the same," says Seth with a shrug. "A pistol is just going to have more recoil on the wrist that you have to brace for. What do you want to learn? Rifles or pistols?"

"Pistols. Odds are that if I end up having to grab a piece off someone's body in a dream, it won't be a hunting rifle with a nice scope and a built-in coffee dispenser." Ravn toys a bit with a hand weight, not entirely sure how to use one of those things or whether he should. "Self defence around here, at least for me, pretty much comes down to -- the guys who do know how to fight are down and I'm the only one standing, now how do I keep me and them alive. I'm not going to watch people like you or Clayton get gutted because I don't know how to shoot. I don't want to shoot, but all it takes is one miscalculation or unlucky moment and I may have to."

"Pistols it is," Seth agrees. "Here, let me show you."

Seth gets up from the weight bench and moves over to Ravn, showing the Dane how to grip the weight and do a proper curl with it, "Isolate the muscle you are working on. Don't use your back, just your bicep. Start off with low weight and high repetition, I don't think you are trying to bulk up."

"No, I'm really not. I'm just trying to get myself to a point where I can throw a punch if I have to, or at least run the hell away when someone tells me to." Ravn tries his best to follow the other man's instructions. "I used to hate sports so much. As a kid, I mean. Everything hurt and phys ed teachers bloody well always went 'just work through it' at me. You can't just work through not being able to breathe. But it kind of carried over to my adult years -- I never really started doing gym stuff because I keep thinking of it as something idiot jocks do to impress each other. Guess I'm paying the price for that now."

"You're fine," Seth reassures. "We all started somewhere, right? Hell, it's not like I am at the library looking up texts on old religions or whatever, so everyone has their own skillset. You are going to want to focus on low weight, high reps, and isometric exercises. That will keep you lean, but build up some strength. Of course, Joey is the expert so listen to him if he gives you other advice."

"The main advice Kelly keeps giving me is walk, walk, walk, get that stamina up. I do, and it is making a difference." Ravn makes a face as his bicep starts signalling his brain that he's trying to move the U.S.S. Missouri with one hand. "That said, Seth -- you need me to dig through a library somewhere for you for whatever obscure reason, tell me. All kinds of weird stuff comes up in these dream experiences. Some day you may need to know what some obscure 14th century alchemical symbol means -- like Clayton did the other day. You've got my back -- I'd certainly try to have yours."

"If something comes down to me not knowing some ancient symbol, I am pretty sure I am going to be fucked, and not in a good way." Seth says with a snort. "I just hope if it ever does happen, you are along for the ride." Seth nods, "Stamina is a good base. Can't win a fight if you are exhausted after throwing a punch or two. Isometrics are low impact, but do some planking and tell me it isn't a workout. You will build up your core with those."

"Low impact is good for someone with asthma." Ravn puts the weight down before it falls down on his own. Whatever's going wrong there doesn't seem to be as much a matter of the actual weight -- it's not that heavy. Something in the sensation of lifting it misfires, convincing the other man's muscles that he's trying to lift a million tons in spite of his eyes clearly telling him otherwise. "Actually, while I have you -- there's something not at all related to my love life or my stamina -- or both, because I know you're going to make that joke -- I wanted to ask you about. Something I've been sort of working with on the side."

He glances around. "I have this working theory. That the people who are drawn here by the Veil all share three characteristics. We've got the power, obviously. We've got some kind of artistic expression -- you do beautiful lights, that is an artistical expression. And they've got some kind of darkness -- they're traumatised somehow, or capable of traumatising others. People like Dan who are latent murderers. But also people like you and me who are high functioning but if we were pressed hard enough by a shrink on it, we'd both probably register on the sociopathic scale. I have this idea that we only know some of the people who are drawn here -- that the really large amount are out there on the street, on the boardwalk, and in the county jail. Homeless people, poor people, drifters."

"That is an interesting theory. I'm not sure I like being called a sociopath, but I get where you are coming from," Seth chuckles. "If you had told me a year ago that I had powers, let alone was going to be in a town where most everyone seems to have some form of power I would have thought you to be a madman. But why here, that is the question isn't it? Why is it all happening in this place? Why not LA for Vegas? Or are people there too and we just don't know?"

"There probably are people anywhere with this power, but I can actually answer that question. Here because sometime in the mid-nineteenth century, some Baxter settled in the woods and built themselves a nice, comfortable place. Some Addington got envious and struck some kind of bargain with something on the other side, somehow -- and here we are. That's what those two families have been feuding over ever since, and the only side that actually benefits is the Veil." Ravn folds his arms across his chest and rests one hip against the side of the treadmill control panel. "It's a classical Faustian tale. I can't tell you what exactly they did, but the repercussions of it are known. The Addingtons draw their wealth from it, somehow, or at least they used to. And the Baxters end up sacrificed to the Veil before or after death, or both. I pieced that much together from talking to folks around town -- Clayton's a Baxter, for instance, and Hyacinth Addington, well, you can guess her affiliations."

"Wait, so there is some Hatfield and McCoy bullshit going on here that has this whole veil thing in the balance? What in the actual fuck?" exclaims Seth as he looks over at Ravn incredulously. "So why hasn't someone gone to this revisionist person and just had them re-write this whole blood feud out of existence?" Seth purses his lips, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck, "So Alexander and Hyacinth are not buddies then I take it?"

"They get along. Neither of them are their ancestors. Clayton's kind of scared of Hyacinth but to be fair, half this town is kind of scared of Hyacinth. Itzhak freaking Rosencrantz is a bit scared of Hyacinth, and he'll fight anyone at the drop of a hat." Ravn grins slightly; the New Yorker is his friend but that doesn't mean he's not aware of the other man's temper -- or maybe it means that he is in fact very much aware of it. "But yeah, that's the gist of it. Something on the other side spotted an opportunity and dangled an offer in front of an early Addington who took the bait -- hook, line, and sinker. I'm curious as to what the deal was, of course, but what I really am trying to piece together is how to stop it."

"But what if you do find out how to stop it, and everyone's power suddenly goes kaput. Not saying it would necessarily be a bad thing, but some people might take offense to it." Seth questions with a shrug, "I'm not afraid of her, but maybe I just don't know enough to be afraid of her. If Itz is afraid of her, maybe I should be." the enforcer chuckles.

"Power. It always comes down to power. Sacrifice for power. That's what all the stories like Faust are anyway. It's all about power."

"Yep. And that's why I'm going to suggest you keep that on the down low just like you would any other business you don't want everyone to know about," Ravn agrees. "The Veil will try to kill people who gets close. It's killed de Santos at least once -- Spanish writer, not sure if you know him, you should meet him if you haven't. He bounced back, somehow. His theory is that altruism is anathema to the dark things on the other side -- so I'm kind of going by that. After all, something on the other side really wants him dead for saying it. Now tell people out here that we're taking away their toys? I'm pretty sure that just the risk of that would cause some to go ballistic."

Ravn rubs his temple with a gloved finger. "I'm not sure that power would disappear, though. There are other thin spots in the world -- I heard something about Russia somewhere, and Germany. And Portland, of all places. And there's people like me who grew up nowhere close to here, but I've had what little power I have as far back as I can remember. Gray Harbor's just one place where Cthulhu managed to break through. There are others. I think it's possibly -- worse than usual here, though."

Seth blinks, "Wait, what? Cthulhu is real? Shouldn't we all be insane fish people by now then? Man that just makes my head hurt." Seth reaches up and starts to rub at his temples, "Yeah, I ain't going to say anything. Who would I tell, anyway?"

At the talk of de Santos, Seth shakes his head, "Name isn't familiar to me. I don't think I know him...but you are saying he came back from the dead? That happens? You're shitting me..." Seth sighs, rubbing at his temples some more as if trying to stave off a headache. "You're making my brain hurt."

"Welcome to Gray Harbor," Ravn murmurs wryly. "No, Cthulhu's just how I tend to mentally refer to all of this unknown evil in the deep shit. Got to call it something. That said -- I have been a fish person. A tuna merman, to be precise. So, you know, don't write Innsmouth off just yet. How about I hit the shower now, and we go shooting tomorrow or one of these days? Break it all down a bit more -- one bite at a time. I've got three months on you in town and I've been digging rather hard because -- well, that's what I bloody well do. That's the whole point of my field -- I find out how the local stories work and what functions they have in the culture they exist in. Just here, it's all very tangible."

He straightens up. "I'll introduce you to de Santos sometime. He's one of those rare genuinely good people. Lives in a haunted old house, with his girlfriend and half a farm's worth of small animals. He's de la Vega's son-in-law -- because in a place like this, who isn't related somehow?"

"Yeah, sure," Seth nods as he watches Ravn head towards the locker room, still rubbing at the growing pressure in his noggin. He calls off after the Dane, "Wait...you were a fishman?!" The enforcer sighs, and shakes his head slowly, speaking quietly to himself, "The more I learn about this place, the less I really want to know."