2021-01-22 - If a Tree Is Shot In the Woods...

(TXT to Seth Alexander) Ravn : My face hurts and -somebody- promised me target practise. Is today a good day for trees to die?

(TXT to Seth Ravn) Alexander : What did the trees do to you?

(TXT to Seth Alexander) Ravn : I'm told I'm not supposed to shoot at people?

(TXT to Seth Ravn) Alexander : This is true. But remember - this is GH. The trees might have their revenge. I could come along, if you two want.

(TXT to Seth Alexander) Ravn : Well, I didn't text you accidentally...

(TXT to Seth Ravn) Alexander : There was a lack of nude pictures, so I figured it wasn't accidental.

(TXT to Seth Alexander) Ravn : You get a lot of... Nevermind, I don't think I need to know.

(TXT to Seth Ravn) Alexander : 🙂

(TXT to Ravn Alexander) Seth : <<Image of Dick van Dyke with the text 'Unsolicited Dick Pic' imposed on it>>

(TXT to Seth Alexander) Ravn : So does that mean 'fuck you', 'fuck off', 'can we fuck', or ...

(TXT to Ravn Alexander) Seth : Someone was complaining of no nudes, so I thought I would send a dick pic.

(TXT to Seth Alexander) Ravn : So helpful!

(TXT to Ravn Alexander) Seth : I'm a giver

(TXT to Seth Alexander) Ravn : I'm not drunk enough for these innuendos. Meet out by the woods? I'll pick up a bag of sandwiches or something. Unless you insist on hot dogs.

(TXT to Seth Ravn) Alexander : I will treasure it.

(TXT to Seth Ravn) Alexander : Sounds good to me.

(TXT to Ravn Alexander) Seth : If you bring hot dogs I expect them to be wrapped in bacon and smothered with peppers and onions. But sure, I'll show. Someone has to bring the gun you want to shoot...

(TXT to Ravn Seth) Alexander : now i want hot dogs

(TXT to Seth Alexander) Ravn : Oh hell. That complicates it. If we go to a firing range instead, will there be weapons we can rent? I don't have a firearms license and I don't own a gun.

(TXT to Seth Ravn) Alexander : You don't need a license to open carry in Washington. You just need one for concealed.

(TXT to Seth Alexander) Ravn : I'll never grow used to American gun laws, and I don't own one.

(TXT to Ravn Alexander) Seth : I thought I said I was bringing one...

(TXT to Ravn Alexander) Seth : Now I am confused. It may just be the Percocet.

(TXT to Seth Alexander) Ravn : ... Your silly language isn't being kind to me today. I shall bring hot dogs as penance. Be right there.

(TXT to Seth Ravn) Alexander : You're both probably on painkillers and will be shooting things. This will go well. Good thing I'm coming along.

When Ravn Abildgaard does in fact park his rented car near the path winding into Firefly Forest he comes armed with no less than two paper bags -- one containing bacon chicken sandwiches, and one containing... Well. The Americans call them hot dogs. There is bacon. There are peppers. They are not up to Seth's standards, and they're definitely not up to Ravn's -- a Danish hot dog comes with a minimum of six condiments whereof two are differently prepared kinds of onions. Barring finding a way to have take-out delivered from Copenhagen, though, he's learned the hard way that this is one of those arguments an expat simply cannot win.

He's swapped the slashed-sleeve leather jacket for a black wind breaker and a black sweater below for warmth. The black wool scarf to go with the outfit has a bright silver stripe, at least. Leaning against his car and lighting a cigarette while he waits, he seems toasty enough -- and still a little red around the nose where he got punched by Liu, but nothing as near as bad as before Aidan Kinney got his hands on the man. Ravn, that is, not Liu.

Despite being on foot again after a surprise trip to Mad Max desert, Alexander arrives only minutes after Ravn; he knows just about every shortcut and foot path through the town so it's not hard for him to plot out where he needs to go. He's got a small bag of his own slung over one shoulder, adding to his usual hobo look, and his expression lightens as he recognizes the rented car, then takes the trail up behind Ravn, calling out, "Hello, there."

It takes longer than one might expect for Seth to show up. There is no rumble of classic muscle car to announce his arrival. No, much like Alexander before him, is on foot and slogging a duffle bag over one shoulder as he makes he way to the trailhead that leads to the not-so-secret firing range that inhabits the woods. "Gentlemen," he greets with a nod.

"Where?" Ravn puts his cigarette out and hoists up in his bags. "Lay on, McDuff. How's the shoulder? And more importantly, is your car all right?"

Alexander takes a seat on a fallen log; a careful observer might notice that he's careful to choose a place with another trunk at his back, and a good view of the path and any other likely approach angles as possible. So he sees Seth as soon as he comes in sight, and raises a hand to greet the man, his eyes sweeping him up and down in an assessing way. Whatever he sees seems to meet with his approval; at least until he gets to the duffle bag. But he knew what he was signing up for. "Seth." A glance over at Ravn. "If you're talking about Cruz's car...it's not all right. He's not going to kill me about it. But I still want to figure out how to fix it."

"Shoulder is ok. Issue is actually more in the chest, Car is ok as well. Just brings attention to the fact I am here, and at the moment I am not looking to announce my presence so blatantly." Seth says as he readjusts the duffle with a bit of a grimace on his face and nods over to Alexander, "Hey, Alexander. How're things? I'd wave back, but my arm doesn't really go above my shoulder at the moment so you will just have to accept my nod. Shall we?"

"I meant Seth's Cobra, but now I'm going to ask -- who's Cruz and what did you do to his car?" Ravn glances at Alexander and visibly looks him up and down for obvious signs of having been in a bad crash lately before glancing back at Seth. "Might not be a bad choice. Gray Harbor's a bit of a powder keg right now, isn't it? I'm tempted to argue that cops shooting at cops in the bloody precinct is a sign that not everything is as it should be."

He walks over and offers to relieve Seth of the duffel bag; it's heavy and he doesn't have a bullet wound, healed or no. "Same place as last time, provided we left enough cupcake crumbles for Hansel and Gretel to backtrack to it?"

"You need me to look at it, Seth? I'm not a real healer, but I might be able to push it along a little faster," Alexander says, his brow ticking down with a frown of concern. He hops up from his seat. "Same place as last time sounds good. It's not hard to find. I'll keep an ear out for anyone coming by. And I brought some soda for drinks." He doesn't address the issue of the city being a powder keg; his frown just grows a little deeper.

"The clearing is what everyone uses it for," Seth agrees as he offers over the duffle without any argument. "Just be forwarded last time I was there de la Vega also just showed up out of the blue. It's not really a secret spot. One part of the reason I didn't bring the car. Less advertisement that I am up there."

The enforcer looks over at Alexander and smiles, "If you like. Vic's already done what she can do, but I suppose a second opinion can't hurt." Seth shoves his hands into his pockets and starts to move towards the trailhead for the hike into the woods.

"I've got no quarrels with de la Vega," Ravn points out as he falls into stride, duffel bag hoisted over one shoulder. "He's a very private man and I wouldn't at all say that I know him well, but I'm fairly certain he hasn't gotten one with me either. At least I've never done anything illegal in Gray Harbor that I know of, unless you count trying to stab this guy Liu in the face."

Some arguably might count that. But then, odds are that if anyone planned to put out a warrant on the man for trying to do so, they already would have. There were certainly enough witnesses.

"I don't have a problem with the Captain," Alexander says, although he sounds unhappy about it. His head bobs to Seth. "Let me know when. I don't need to touch you or anything." He falls in to the trail, his legs eating up decent ground despite him being the shortest of the three men and having an almost perpetual slink to his gait rather than a stride. A glance towards Ravn, thoughtful. "Did you succeed in stabbing him in the face?"

"I do..." says Seth with a shrug of his good shoulder, "Or more to the point he does with me. Maybe we both do. I don't know for sure, to be honest. I just know we are not each other's favorite people." Seth continues up the trail towards the clearing. He looks over at Ravn, eyeing the man up and down for a moment and then shakes his head, "I don't think so, Alexander. I think if he had killed someone, he would be far worse off mentally."

"Not even close," the Dane admits. "Guy grabbed my hand with the scissors, twisted the handles around and punched me with them, hence the broken nose. But I managed to create a distraction for whatever Cavanaugh and Thorne were doing, and that was the important part. I'm a one hit wonder. Also, de la Vega tends to make most people feel that way -- like they're not his favourite people. I saw him do it a lot while I still worked at the Twofer. I think it's just the way he is -- rough job, rough bloke, nothing personal."

Almost as an afterthought he adds, "I've never killed anyone outside of a Dream. Imagine I'd be upset if I had. Not feeling very upset about trying, to be honest. Bloke was batting against his team."

"Ravn's not wrong," Alexander admits, with a sigh. "The Captain isn't very good at feelings. He likes a lot of people that you might not realize he does." There's a sheepish sort of pause before he adds, "But you're probably right. I doubt he likes you." He shrugs. "And just stabbing someone in the face doesn't mean you kill them. Most of your skull is designed to try and deflect killing blows. It's just if you get someone in the eyes, or the right place in the nose or throat that you're going to kill them." He says it with a clinical sort of detachment, like it's just helpful facts to know for the future. A bob of his head at Ravn. "Good. Being upset. That's good. Not if it takes over your life, but it's good to regret and feel sad."

"The man body-checked me in my what was clearly visible wounded shoulder. I don't think there is a doubt," Seth says with a smirk. "That's fine though, I don't expect him to like me. Not going to cry about it or anything."

As they reach the clearing, Seth finds one of the often used logs to sit upon and rolls his clearly stiff shoulder to try and get some flexibility back into it. Maybe a form of self-PT. "I bought a couple small sidearms. Magazines are separated next to the pistols, ammo is on the side. They are all nine millimeters, so don't worry about the wrong ammo in the wrong gun."

"That's probably for the best, considering my level of expertise." Ravn puts the duffel down and squats down Slav style to start unpacking its contents. Sandwiches here, hot dogs here, pistols here, ammunition here -- this is normal for a picnic, right? He looks at the pieces with the interest of someone who was asked 'what weapons were you firing' about the last training session and had to admit that he had no bloody idea -- and that to the Captain de la Vega in question, at that. He's not going to commit this oversight twice.

"I think you might have your last name against you, yeah." The Dane glances up at Seth. "I don't know enough about -- things -- here to make an educated guess, though. Probably best to keep it that way, too."

"If you do want to cry, I have some tissues in some pocket somewhere," Alexander says, oh so solemnly. He takes out the soda bottles he brought, and places them beside the sandwiches - it's a variety of flavors, including root beer. The bag is rolled up neatly, and placed beside the food. He doesn't make any move to take a gun for himself, but does give Seth a long look when the man rolls his shoulder. And then there's a feeling - it's not a warm tingle, but more like a cool wind that settles in lightly. It doesn't really do much than just dull some of the pain, but he moves to take a seat near by, and rubs at his temple.

"Oh, I'm sure that is part of it. He can't get to Felix so he takes it out on me, or some twisted form of payback like that. I'd say it was passive-aggressive of him, but not so much on the passive part of it." Seth agrees. "Do you need help, Ravn, or can you figure it out?"

He looks over at Alexander and chuckles, "I'll keep that in mind if I have the sudden urge to leak from my eyes, but most of the leaking recently has been from the through and through in my chest." The wound, which suddenly feels just a little bit better. Seth looks down at his chest with a 'huh'.

"More likely he just wanted to see what you'd do about it." Ravn picks up one of the pieces and very carefully loads it. He keeps his hands in plain sight, mostly so that the enforcer can see what he's doing and stop him if he's doing it wrong. "Some people are like that -- they figure out who you are, by pushing you up against a wall to see what you're going to do. I could be wrong, but I figure that's the kind of man the captain is. Someone who tests you to see what you're made of."

Alexander opens his mouth. Then he closes his mouth, a troubled expression settling into his features. He reaches up and runs his hands through his already messy hair, then stands up to go get one of the hot dogs. "You want one?" he asks Seth, even as his free hand taps a nervous, erratic rhythm on his thigh.

"Probably. Probably the same reason he was trying to push my buttons when we were here the last time. I think he is trying to get me to hit him so he has an excuse. He keeps going, he is likely to end up getting his wish because I only have so much patience."

Seth glances over at Alexander and nods, standing to scoot over his way. "Yeah, thanks." Pause. "Topic of conversation-making you uncomfortable, Alexander? I know you like him."

Ravn checks that the safety is on before flipping the small firearm a few times in his hands, familiarising himself with the weight and feel of it. "Can't say I have much experience with tough blokes like that. Mostly because tough blokes never consider the idea that I might be one of them long enough to try to test me like that -- and why would they? I go down like a sack of potatoes if someone breathes at me hard. Not much macho scrapper in me. Betcha I can hold my own against most folks in a lecture on 16th century Copenhagen chimney laws, though."

Alexander picks up another hot dog, and offers it to Seth, careful to leave enough space for the other man to take it without risking any physical contact. Returning to his seat, he takes a bite of his own. Chews, swallows. "This is good, Ravn. Thanks." To Seth's question, he says, shortly, "Yes. I wish you wouldn't." There's no anger to the response - he was asked a question, and it was answered. There's a hint of a smile at the last, though. "I wasn't aware 16th century Copenhagen even had chimney laws."

"Well, I wish he wouldn't push me to try," Seth says to Alexander as he takes a bite of his own hot dog. "I get the game. He doesn't have anything actionable he can use on me, so he gets me to slug him and all of a sudden he has an 'assault on a police officer' charge to use. He knows that if you pull a dog's tail enough, eventually he is going to bite you, you know? But out of respect for you, I'll drop de la Vega as a topic of conversation."

Shifting his eyes over to Ravn, he watches the Dane handle the firearm carefully. "Just keep the barrel pointed downrange."

"I don't get to run with scissors either. Never let me have any fun." Ravn does in fact seem to have grasped the idea that pointing a loaded gun at somebody might not be a very good move unless you actually do tend to fire at them. He stands and hefts the piece a few times more before finally clicking the safety off (and indeed not pointing the gun at anyone who isn't a tree). "As for Copenhagen? Yes. There's actually about a century's worth of royal decrees sitting in the Royal Library, detailing the exact size, composition, position, and materials allowed in chimney construction, as well as banning the use of 'blind' chimneys, and careful regulation of how you were allowed to transport embers and ashes. No one gave a shit though and most Danish cities burned every so often."

Alexander slants a look towards Seth. He bites back what appears to be an instinctive response, takes a breath, and says, instead, "I appreciate it." Then stuffs the hot dog back in his mouth, taking a large bite and working his way through it and turning his attention back to Ravn. Once he swallows, he allows, "Laws that aren't enforced aren't worth much more than kindling, anyway." He glances down 'range'. "Shoot a tree, Ravn. I'll tell you if it's gonna hit you back." A flash of teasing.

"No...no...what were you really going to say, Alexander," says Seth, "I'd like to know."

The enforcer looks over to Ravn and makes a motion to take a shot. "Let's see what you got."

Ravn glances from one man to the other; he's usually the bloke tip-toeing around the line of I need to know and I don't want to know. This is a minefield, and he recognises one of those when he sees it. Maybe that's why he doesn't have a quip or quick observation to offer -- but simply raises the pistol and, after a few moments of taking aim, pulls the trigger.

The large fir does not fall over. This is probably a good thing given that it is in fact a rather large fir, which is why Ravn aimed at it in the first place. He's not at all skilled enough to try stunts like aiming for a pinecone or a branch to shoot off -- as far as he is concerned, anything the size of a fully grown tree is entirely small enough, and probably tries to duck anyway.

"People don't usually mean that, when they say that," Alexander mutters, with the wary defensiveness of someone who's taken that for granted one too many times. He falls silent as Ravn raises his gun, and his shoulders stiffen as the report of the shot rings out. He looks down at the tree. "...not bad," says the guy who has clearly never shot a gun in his life. There's a look back towards Seth, both to see if he agrees that it isn't bad, and also to say, "It can be very frustrating. To want to correct something, to do your job, to protect people, and not be able to. Sometimes it can make people be stupid. Or snarly. I'm sorry he's aggravating you, and he shouldn't have checked you in your wounded shoulder. He's difficult. But not bad."

"I never said he was bad," Seth says with a shrug of his good shoulder. "Just that, in my opinion, he is doing what he can to try and get me to swing at him so he can arrest me. If I am wrong, then great. Regardless, it's probably best we not be around each other anytime soon." Seth stands setting the hot dog down on the log next to him. "I am going to go take a leak. I'll be back. Ravn...don't shoot anyone."

"Never get to have any fun around here," murmurs the pacifist and nods at Seth even as the other man gets up and disappears out into the undergrowth.

Then he looks back at Alexander. "Always figured that de la Vega has just about the shittiest job in this town, to be honest. I've had my own run-ins with police in the past and I'm honestly not much of a fan boy, but in this town, trying to keep things together must be a nightmare. How do you even try to explain the murder ratio? The amount of people who disappear, the insane ways they get found in? I've seen a woman's body after she had been chewed to death by kittens, then folded up a couple of times to fit into a dumpster -- I mean, come on, it's nuts. I'd be grumpy too."

Alexander watches Seth get up, and then bobs his head. "Probably. We'll protect your hot dog." A tentative sort of smile offered there, before he falls silent and starts to back on his own hot dog before it falls apart. He doesn't speak again until it's done, and he's fished out some napkins to carefully wipe his fingers and mouth. "Most of the police are kinda terrible. It's not their fault, entirely. But if they don't stand out, they can't understand what happens. So they just choose the simplest explanation. And some of them," he hesitates, "well. Some of them are like Liu and the others. Taking bribes to look the other way even on shit they could do something about. It's a complex situation."

"Dirty cops aren't special to Gray Harbor, though. I've never been in deep with illegal stuff but I've tangled enough to know that there's always a couple of guys on the force -- no matter where you are. Someone who likes picking on the drifters and the homeless. Someone who takes bribes from the drug dealers. Someone who looks the other way. It's how the world works." Ravn nods and keeps the pistol aimed away from both the other man and the direction that Seth disappeared off into. "And honestly, if they don't see the things we do -- can we really blame them for drawing stupid conclusions? I wouldn't have believed the things I've seen here if somebody had just told me about them. Some things you have to see."

"Doesn't mean it's not wrong," Alexander snaps, a sudden flare of frustration and anger that lashes out, his hands clenching reflexively. It's not directed at Ravn as much as it is the world as a whole. But he still shrinks back in on himself in the next moment, and mutters, "I'm sorry. You're right. It's not...it's not hard to understand." He pushes himself up to his feet, and sighs. "I'm going to go. Enjoy the shooting. Don't die. Either of you." He turns and walks off without another word or look back.

Ravn looks after the older man as he walks off. He debates for a moment whether he should call out or follow, and then decides against. Not so much the fact that Alexander is a grown man who doesn't need anyone to tell him whether he can walk off or not as the fact that he's right. The world shouldn't be like that. The fact that Ravn himself is jaded enough to just accept that it is -- is not necessarily a good thing. Maybe sometimes, he too needs somebody to remind him to not simply accept the status quo; that the status quo is a thing in flux, a thing that can be pushed back against and changed.

He raises the gun and fires twice, upon that unfortunate fir tree. Somewhere, no doubt, some ancient Veil-powered god of innocent conifers signs the Dane up for a nasty Dream experience involving being used as a human Christmas tree for a family of spruces.

Coming back from the 'bathroom', Seth makes his way back into the clearing and takes a look around, picking up his hot dog and making a curious noise in the back of his throat. "Where is Alexander? You didn't shoot him and the go toss the body in the woods did you, Ravn? That isn't the way we do things..." As he waits for an answer, the enforcer takes another bite from his hot dog and chews.

"Wait, was I supposed to shoot him before I dumped him in the woods? I keep getting that mixed up." Ravn wanders over to inspect his injured tree. It does in fact have three bullet holes -- and while they are certainly not too close to one another, at least the Dane can pat himself on the back for hitting the same tree three times. He might even refrain from swearing that it was trying to duck. "Clayton wandered off. It's my understanding that he and the captain are friends, but -- there's something going on, too. I have not asked what; I figure that if anyone thinks I need to know, they'll clue me in. But the whole idea of dirty cops and people not playing fair seems to get under Clayton's skin."

Satisfied that the fir tree is too injured to uproot itself and come chasing after him, Ravn wanders back to pick up the last hot dog for himself (after clicking the safety back on). "Anyhow, de la Vega's the strong and silent type. Women go crazy over him -- take an ex-bartender's word for it. Fair number of blokes, too. Other guys want to fight him. I don't get why anyone would feel either way about him, but then, when I was in schoolyard politics, I was the scrawny kid the strong kids either picked on or ignored. Well, I get why you might feel like punching him in the face, if the guy shoved you in a shoulder you'd just been shot in. That'd make me want to punch someone, too."

Seth looks off into the woods in the assumed direction Alexander left. "You know, I want to give him the benefit of the doubt, but there is a small part of me that wonders if he just goes and rehashes what I say to de la Vega." Seth sighs, shaking his head and popping the last of this hot dog into his mouth, "I need to be careful about what I say around him...just in case."

Seth wanders over to pick up one of the guns, breach loads a round into it, and lifts the gun to fire at one of the targets. The act of pulling the trigger causes the man to grimace and even though the round hits the target, it is pretty far off from the mark. Seth sighs and tosses the gun back onto the blanket, "It wasn't like it was a mistake either. I was bare-chested with nothing but bandages. He knew what he was doing, it was most certainly deliberate."

"You need to be careful what you say around any of us," Ravn says matter-of-factly. "Clayton's no squealer. But you got a conflict of interest at times. And then there's me -- I'm on the side of humanity. That makes me someone you also don't want to say things to, if you want to be sure they stay unheard. If I think that what you or your boys are doing benefits the darkness on the other side of the Veil? I'll tell anyone who listens. Until then, though? None of my business."

He looks after Alexander too. "It's just -- the rest really doesn't matter very much to me. I don't know what racket you guys sit on here, but somebody's going to be sitting on it anyhow. I get the distinct feeling that things were pretty sorted out around here before this Reyes character turned up -- probably because when Cthulhu's breathing down your neck, it's a bad time and place for a gang war. Things need to go back to being like that. But then, you're the guy in the know and I'm the tourist who's just been ambling around asking questions for four or five months, and I'm not going to lecture you on how local crime works. Just, yeah. Neither Clayton or I go sing to the police just because we can. But we will, if we think it's necessary, it's not fair to pretend otherwise."

The Dane looks back to Seth. "But take a scrawny nerdboy's word for it -- sometimes, strong, powerful men are assholes just because they can be."

"Fair enough," Seth says as he reaches for another hot dog and starts to bring it to his lips, pausing halfway when Ravn actually names Reyes and slowly turning his eyes to him. "I know I never mentioned names..."

"No, you didn't." Ravn remains quite matter-of-factly and scarfs down the last of his hot dog. "I told you before -- just because I don't run around advertising what I know doesn't mean I'm deaf and blind. I'm a folklorist, Seth -- listening to what people say is literally what I do. Connect the dots, see the story, observe what function it serves in society. I'm also a guy who used to travel with carnies and Romas. I know what 'mind your own business' means."

"Uh huh..." Seth says as he watches Ravn for a moment more before letting out a sigh and rubbing at his eyes. "Sorry. I'm tired, I haven't slept, and I am on a diet of coffee and Percocet. I'm half expecting Reyes' guys to pop out of the forest and retaliate for the other night. I might be a little paranoid on top of being majorly sleep-deprived."

"No need to apologise. I'm just telling you straight because I figure it saves us both some time. You know me, you know where I stand." Ravn grins slightly. "I hope you also know that if that was indeed to happen, I'd not just pull out the white flag of neutrality and walk away. As far as I am concerned, this Reyes guy plays for the wrong team. His man Liu used the shine to blow the head off a woman because she annoyed him. Reyes employs muscle like that, he's off the island as far as I'm concerned."

"I don't know anything about this Liu," Seth says with a roll of his good shoulder. "I'll see if I can't find anything out about him though. Information is key in a game like this. This is the guy that was at the police station, right?"

The enforcer sits down in front of one of the logs, resting his back against the log itself and rests his eyes, "So, where did you hear the name? Or is that a secret?"

"Yeah, that's the guy. The police lieutenant who lead the -- coup, raid, whatever the hell that was supposed to be. He's in custody, and he's Reyes' man. That's all I know about him. And all I know about Reyes is that he's Liu's boss, which is really all I need to know in order to decide that I don't like him." Ravn shifts the pistol from hand to hand, almost absentmindedly. He does have a habit of letting coins, sugarpackets, cigarettes dance on his knuckles -- why not firearms? At least the safety is on.

"Bloke who told me slipped it more or less accidentally," he adds. "But they weren't someone who's involved. Just someone who's worried about someone who is -- much like me, really. I do worry that you folks on both sides end up in a bad way. That's another reason things need to go back to normal. Whatever 'normal' is, I'm told it didn't involve blowing up buildings or burning stores or raiding the GHPD."

Seth nods in response. "Yeah, to my knowledge blowing shit up isn't par for the course around here. That was, well....I shouldn't get into it. Let's just say I heard that Reyes use to have a huge meth lab. Use to. He must have had a horrible accident at it. Some random flames hit something highly flammable. It's a shame really."

"As for Liu," Seth continues, "I am sure de la Vega will ask him some questions in a room where the surveillance just happens to be on the fritz."

"What a pity." The Dane's tone is glacial at best. "I don't like organised drug trade. Don't care that people do a recreational line of coke if they must, but organised trade ruins lives. Place like this -- meth heads and crack addicts are Veil chow. Ruined lives are bad enough, providing easy lunch for the Them is idiotic. I'm guessing that this Reyes bloke either doesn't know or doesn't care. Either way, not impressed."

He shakes his head and polishes off the sandwich. "Anyhow. "Used to" is good. Accidents happen. Ain't that a shame. So, question -- if I find myself needing to pick up a firearm in a hurry from someone who's gone down, is there anything I need to look for? Besides the safety -- anything like, don't hold a Beretta like this or it will blow up in your face, things like that?"

"Always a good rule of thumb to check how much ammo you have left. Last thing you want to do is point, shoot, and have it go click. Drop the magazine, assuming it is an automatic, and quickly count the rounds down the side. Otherwise if it is a revolver it can be a bit trickier to tell. You would have to look and see if the firing pin has been hit." Seth says as he takes another hot dog.

Ravn carefully inspects the pistol as instructed and nods. "I've never actually tried to kill anyone before. I guess there's a first for everything."

He dips into the other bag and takes out a soda to wash down sandwich and popcorn alike. Not usually one to prefer cola over beer, the Dane may be paying homage to the fact that both men are on assorted pain killers, and maybe tossing alcohol into the mix is not the best of choices. "So, anyone else you've met in town giving you a hard time? There are a few folks about whom I'll say, they are definitely on the wrong team as well. Pretty sure you're better at looking after yourself than I am, but it doesn't hurt to have backup if anyone who literally would toss you to the dark is looking at you that way."

Seth left Vic a note that he was heading to the clearing for some target practice. The other enforcer's truck settles into a parking spot and she begins the hike into the woods in jeans, boots, a Two if By Sea tee, and a thick puffer jacket to ward off the cold. She doesn't come up quietly, not wanting to startle a man with a gun. In one hand she has a drink carrier with two coffees in it, fresh from Espresso Yourself. She clearly didn't think he was up here with company.

"Coming up!" she calls ahead of herself on the trail, to warn shooters there is a person out here who isn't on their hunting license.

"If it comes down to it, you can't think about it. You just have to act. If you think you will hesitate, and if you hesitate you are dead." Seth says matter of factly. "Which it sounds like you did, you just missed. That happens., I'm just glad he didn't retaliate with lethal force and rather just decided to incapacitate you."

Seth eyes the duffle with the soda, "What else do you have in there?"

As Vic calls out, Seth turns his head towards the sound and calls out, "Acknowledged. Guns are down." before looking back to Ravn, "Just de la Vega. So far I haven't run into anyone else being a pain in my ass, or shoulder as the case may be, but he isn't on that side. If you do have names of others though, I wouldn't mind hearing them."

"I didn't bring beer. You're on percoset, we're handling firearms. Last thing we need is for either of us to get jumpy and accidentally shoot some inconspicuous jogger -- or your not-girlfriend. There's mineral water too, though." Ravn looks in the direction of Vic's voice and grins slightly. "There's a few people -- there's a guy named Geoff whom everyone seems to think is a big deal. I don't know him from Adam except that one time I did meet him, he promised me that if we ever ended up in the same dream, he'd toss me to the zombies to secure his own escape. Probably just your average asshole, but I wouldn't turn my back on him in a bad place. The others, I don't know the names of, unfortunately, but I'll point them out to you if I spot them while we're in the same place."

Vic steps into the clearing, and a look of pure unadulterated amusement lights her face at the sight of Ravn there. "Are you finally learning to shoot, my Apprentice?" she asks, in a low, growly, Palpatine voice. "If I'd known you'd be here I'd have gotten you some coffee too." She moves to hand one of the cups over to Seth, claiming one for herself. "I can share though if your teeth start chattering." She's moving with a slightly limp, very slight, and seems to be favoring one shoulder a bit. Seth's bearded cheek gets a kiss of hello and a warm glint in her eyes. So not-Vic-like.

Accepting the coffee with a smile and a return kiss, Seth chuckles. "Actually this is the second time I have dragged his ass up here, you also missed Clayton, but he wasn't shooting. For a beginner though, Darth isn't so bad. He's had some previous experience with rifles, but I have him on pistols today." the enforcer says as he motions to the laid out blanket that has about a half-dozen different firearms on it, all nine millimeters.

"Darth here was just telling me about how the precinct got attacked, how he tried to stab one of the cops in the face with some scissors, and how that backfired and he ended up with a broken nose. He also knows things about stuff. Like the name of our bestist friend we had a fireworks party for, and no it wasn't me that said it." Seth takes a sip of the coffee, letting the warmth of the black liquid spread from his gut and radiate out through his body. "He was also telling me that he knows some people in town that play for the other-other side."

"Oh," Seth continues, "There are also sodas and hot dogs. Bacon-wrapped with peppers and onions if you are hungry."

"I've gone on deer hunts enough to know how to fire a rifle and get drunk," Ravn replies with a small smile. His face is still a little red around the nose but apart from that, he looks his usual self. "Getting some small firearms practise in though, in case I end up in some dream where I am the last man standing and need to swipe somebody else's piece. Although I suppose I should indeed be practising my face stabbing, given I only managed to get myself knocked down."

He looks back with a small laugh at Seth's little speech. "There's bacon and chicken sandwiches too."

Vic's eyes roam over the guns hungrily. Clearly the way to her heart is with bullets. Uh, well not INTO...you know what I mean dammit. "Pistols are better for you," she notes to Ravn. "Easier to conceal, cheaper to maintain, easy to ditch if you have to." As to the fireworks party she grimaces. "It feels like half the town knows what's going on there. Sorry to hear you got a busted nose over it. I hate collateral damage. Who do you think is playing for the other side?" she asks with an arched brow, sipping her coffee.

She shakes her head to Seth and Ravn both in regards to the food. "I had a bowl of cereal already. I have to head in to work soon and make sure the fireworks party doesn't result in any retaliation there."

Seth nods in agreement with Vic, "Secrets in this town are few and far between it seems. Everyone knows something, I swear it comes to a point I don't know why we bother except for plausible deniability. Seems Ravn's friend was captured during the incident. I was commenting that I have a sneaking suspicion that de la Vega is going to have a conversation with the guy in a room without surveillance." The enforcer shakes his head and takes another sip of his coffee, "I've already gone over the basics with him. How to check the round count on an automatic if he swipes one off the ground, same with a revolver. I'd personally go for an automatic if you have the choice, but use what you can. What helpful tips do you have for our young Padawan here?"

Seth sighs, looking over at Vic as she talks about work. "Want company? I can make myself scarce outside on the patio so I am not taking up valuable customer space. Nobody is going to want to sit out there in this weather."

"I don't plan to start carrying a piece. I just want to be sure that next time I'm in a dream with someone who does, I will be able to step in and pick it up in case something happens to them. Or who knows? Live here long enough, I might change my mind. Yesterday presented a few good arguments in favour. But that's Gray Harbor for you -- everybody watches everybody. Which is also why it's easy for a bloke like me -- who's trained to do exactly that -- to pay attention and piece things together. I just don't want to be involved in turf wars that aren't Us against the Veil." Ravn nods and sips his soda; that's about the first time even Vic has seen him touch something sugary like that. "As for my new friend Liu? I kind of bloody well hope he gets the full de la Vega treatment."

Vic ponders a long moment before unloading her wisdom on the Dane. "Do not point it at something or someone unless you fully intend to shoot. Check your safety, if I had a dime for every idiot I've popped because they forgot to take theirs off when they pointed a gun at me when I was a cop..." she sighs at the dumb of some criminals. "Aim for center mass, you're not a sharpshooter, so picking targets isn't going to happen for you in the heat of the moment. That big wide swath of torso is where you can do damage to slow an attacker, so hit it. Then run away."

She sips her coffee and her eyes glint merrily over the rim at Seth. "You can drop in, sure. Having someone to actually converse with is nice. Most of the customers just get glared at." Ravn knows this. He gets another look. "Just because there is a bigger war going on versus the Other Side, doesn't mean we can ignore threats here in this world. That'll just get you dead. What's with the soda?"

Seth nods, a grin forming on his face as Vic reiterates the things that he has already told the Dane. "Yeah, she's right about the runaway part. Don't think you need to stick around to make sure someone is taken out, the point for you would be to incapacitate and get the hell out of there. Much like what I was teaching you for physical combat. It isn't about winning, it is about surviving...and the best way you are going to do that is getting the fuck out of there."

He looks over to Vic and nods with a smile, "Sounds like a plan, though I fully expect you to sneak me a steak."

"Painkillers. Not going to mix beer into it while holding a gun." Ravn salutes by raising his can of soda. "Let me know if you want me to drop by the Twofer as well. I haven't been back since... Well. It feels kind of awkward now. Wouldn't want to see the place shot up, though, or if it has to be, then at least let it be Marshall himself doing the shooting as usual."

He looks back at Vic and holds up the Beretta slightly to demonstrate that the safety is in fact on while he's pausing for a soda after murdering trees. "Got no quarrel with you folks going after Reyes. Got no quarrel with the cops doing the same, either. Would love to send him a thanks for last note on behalf of that woman who was killed at the GHPD. What I meant was, I don't want to be involved in, or know about, your -- everyday operations. Mostly on account of deniability, indeed."

That last piece of advice has the Dane nodding, though. "Like I told Seth earlier, I'm a one hit wonder. Hit me back and I go down like a sack of potatoes. Need to make my one hit count and then, if possible, get to safe distance."

"Don't think I can get away with a steak," Vic quips to Seth, "But loaded tots for sure." She winks at him. Ravn's explanation has her grinning. "Good boy, that makes me feel an ounce less anxious about a gun in your hands." She shakes her head at the Dane. "No need to come by though you're always welcome to. We hired another tender and he is aware of the weird shit too, so he can help cover besides myself and Marshall. And yeah, I don't want you mixed up in this stuff either. You didn't sign up for it, we did. We'll try to keep you as in the dark as we can, without putting you in danger." She sighs. "Ok I have to head in to work. I'll see you guys later." She gives Seth a farewell kiss, then she's picking her way back down the trail to her truck.

Taking a moment to watch Vic leave, Seth turns to Ravn and grins. "I'd make some comment about liking to watch her leave, but that would be silly of me. Seriously though, we don't want you involved, and for what it is worth I am sorry if you got involved in any way by me. I didn't mean to drag you into anything if I did."

Using his good arm, Seth runs his fingers through his hair as he combs it back, "Ok, get up to the line. Feet shoulder-width apart, one hand on the grip, the other under it to support it. Let's see you take another shot."

Ravn carefully positions himself as instructed -- and then reaches out to flip the safety off, only to repeat the procedure. He's not incapable, but let's be honest here -- there's more to being a skilled gunman than just pointing and pulling a trigger. "You didn't. I was perfectly content officially impersonating Jon Snow until Liu exploded the head of the woman next to me. I'm going to go right on playing King of the North as far as anything else is concerned. Unless the day comes you need a cat burglar or a pickpocket for a job that's about making life harder for the Other Side. If that happens, you have my number."

The unfortunate fir takes another hit. By now it's almost personal -- somewhere, surely, Greenpeace is considering taking names and kicking backsides.

"I'll keep that in mind," Seth says about the need for a cat burglar. "But I am not exactly going to advertise your services to the likes of Joey or Felix. I doubt you want them knowing of your unique skill set. I just wanted to make sure than hanging around me didn't cause these things to be a hastle for you."

Seth looks downrange as the tree and nods, "Not bad. You're getting the hang of things. Why don't you try the Glock? The plastic construction make s it lighter, so easier to hold aim..but the recoil will be more."

Ravn flicks the safety back on and puts the Beretta down next to the duffel. When not high on weed clouds he seems to have a basic respect of firearms -- not the kind that expects them to suddenly explode in his face, but the kind that knows that accidents happen, and when accidents happen it's usually because someone was drunk or stupid, or indeed, both. "Recoil, right. That's going to be fun."

He glances back at Seth. "I don't want to be recruited, no. But for what it's worth? Kelly's not a bad bloke. I don't know how he ended up involved with the things he is, but the man is a bloody street philosopher. If there's one fellow in Gray Harbor who could convince me he robbed a bank to help the poor, it's Coach Kelly. Haven't met your cousin, though, and to be honest, I kind of wasn't planning to."

"Don't worry, you won't." Seth quips in regards to meeting Felix. "At least not in any way that wouldn't be running into him as a social function that Cinth throws or something to that effect. If you ever do meet him at one of those things, just best smile and nod and not say anything other than hello or nice to meet you."

Seth takes a bite of his hot dog and chews, "If you meet him in any other capacity, well..." Seth shrugs his good shoulder, "Hopefully that is by choice."

"'Cinth?" Ravn can't help smile at the nickname. He raises the Glock experimentally, shifts it from one hand to the other a few times, and then finally flicks the safety off to attempt firing it.

It's a lighter weapon. Maybe that's why his aim is more accurate. Maybe it's just practise. The recoil makes the Dane go 'oomph', though; it's plain to see that sudden physical pressure, even in the form of his own arm and shoulder being jerked back a little, makes him uncomfortable. He rubs his shoulder lightly with the other hand and murmurs, "Better."

Then he glances back over his shoulder and adds, with a small laugh, "I don't usually end up invited to the social functions of the local gentry. I did get invited to a tour of Addington House once but since they neglected to mention it was apparently a suit and tie and meet the local millionaire kind of deal, I don't think I'll get invited again. I turned up in jeans and a shirt and pretty much hung out in the back with Clayton while some ghost was screaming her head off about a wedding dress."

"Nice shot!" Seth says as Ravn pulls the trigger. "The lighter gun seems to suit you. Maybe take a few more shots with that, unless you want to move onto another one."

Seth takes a sip of the coffee in his hand, "You probably dodged a bullet then. If it was a press the flesh kind of event he may have been there."

"Do I look like someone who rubs elbows with the penthouse dwellers?" Ravn can't help laugh as he fires the Glock again. At some point in the future somebody is going to be cutting this tree up for firewood or lumber, and wonder what it did to warrant such punishment. He looks at the result and nods his approval even as he rubs his shoulder again. "This baby stings, but I do seem to have more precision with it."

"Yes. Yes you do," admits Seth with a chuckle. "It's the clothes and the aristocratic air your Europeanness gives off. People just assume you are money."

He looks again at the target and nods. "Keep it. It suits you. I'm not asking you to carry it around with you, but at least have it at the trailer in case Liu has friends that look for retaliation or anything."

Ravn looks down at his worn jeans and just as worn wind breaker before declaring, "You're taking the piss, Irish. This town has several wealthy Europeans in it who dress the part, but I'm not one of them. Have you met Dante Taylor yet? Ask him how far removed from the British throne he is, there's posh for you. Still a pretty decent bloke, though."

He looks down at the Glock. "Never thought I'd become a gun owner. Hunting rifles, sure. I guess I'm a real American boy now. Thanks, though. Much as I hate it, you're probably right -- if you think there's a genuine risk that they might, I'm going to take your word for it."

"You forget, I've seen you clean up. Or maybe it is that I already know you are from 'a family', so I am biased." Seth shrugs his shoulder. "In any case, I think you could rub elbows with the best of them. No offense." The enforcer says with a wink.

"I don't know honestly. There probably isn't? But it is better to be safe than sorry. I would rather you have it and not need it, then need it and not have it."

"Well, please don't go bloody remind anyone," Ravn grouses good-naturedly. "This town's got all the ambitious upper crust it needs already."

He looks at the Glock again. "Right. This gets us to the part of the plan I had not considered in advance, then. I don't know the first bloody thing about how to maintain a firearm. Never cared beyond firing whatever rifle somebody handed me, in the general direction of wherever the buck was supposed to be. Pretty sure these things need cleaning, maintenance, that sort of thing?"

Seth lets out a little sigh and chuckles. "Well, then it is a good thing that I have to clean these anyway since they have been fired. I can take you back to my place and give you the rundown on cleaning and maintenance."

Seth stands, brushing the dirt, leaves and pine needles off of his jeans and moves to start packing things away. "I'll give you a kit and either a holster or lock-box for it. Which would you prefer?"

Ravn adds the Glock back to the collection and starts getting the rest of the little picnic kit together; he doesn't want to leave as much as a sandwich wrapper. Maybe he's got opinions on littering. "I think a lock-box. I have a fundamental problem with seeing myself as someone who carries a firearm around when he goes shopping or for a beer. I know it's legal. I know it's normal here. But I'm still from a country where you need all kinds of screening and permits to do so, and the idea makes me fifty shades of uncomfortable."

He sighs lightly and then can't help a small laugh. "Truth is? Should sleep with this thing strapped to one leg and a kit of lock picks strapped to the other. We should go to bed dressed for war. And pregnant frogs."

Seth grunts at the mention of pregnant frogs. "One frog gives birth on you, and you never live it down," Seth says with a grumble. "Lockbox it is, though keep in mind it isn't going to do you any good locked in a box if someone comes knocking. They aren't exactly going to be polite and give you the time to get the gun and load it. I'll at least get you a biometric so you don't have to fumble with a key or combination."