2021-01-28 - Antique Roadshow - Home Edition

Stuff. It really is Memento Mori's claim to fame. Yesterday afternoon was emotional in a bad way, and some times it's just good to get out of the shop and let Thomisina babysit Ully manage the business a while. Sometimes normal is good. And sometimes one needs to find contemporary haunted things for a haunted house or personal amusement.

"Ya know coming to places like this always makes me ask 'how much does one person actually need' and then? Well you just find cool stuff. I just gotta wonder," Says he looking at the ceramic duckie napkin holders, "You had a function to make something for and this is what they went with?" Everyone's a critic.

Finch strolls alongside Ignacio. Somehow, magically (right), those rumors about her have turned themselves around, and she's no longer being gazed at by residents like she's some psycho killer who is only free because daddy is Chief of Police. She'd been holed up in Mallard House outside of work shifts for months, but she used it mostly to work on a few online classes towards finishing her Masters. Still a long way to go, but it's something. She pokes at the napkin holders and grins. "If they have chicken ones, we have to get them." The golden corral girls and Nugget would surely approve, even if Gran might give them the old side-eye.

The petite brunette is bundled up for the icy foggy cold in many layers over a sweater, skirt, tights, and winter boots. She moves to blow some dust off an old Viewmaster like she had as a kid. The dinosaurs reels were her favorite. No wonder her BFF from the Veil is a mirror raptor.

Some people who suffer a bullet through one lung stay in hospital long enough to, well, heal. Those are the people who have not been in hospital for months, staring at the same four walls, hoping for time itself to die. Ravn Abildgaard is firmly in the category of people who have, and there is no way in any hell of any religion anywhere ever that he's staying in a hospital bed one minute longer than it takes to sign himself right back out of it.

Did the nice doctor at Addington Memorial approve? No. Did she have the shine? No. Did he try to explain it to her? No. An examination revealed that the patient was in fact doing remarkably well for someone who just had a bullet removed from his chest cavity, and there is no way Ravn is going to try to explain the interference of certain people with certain powers. This is Gray Harbor; it's probably not the first time somebody who should be in recovery for weeks has wandered off instead.

Spotting the figure of de Santos heading into that curious little shop he decides to stop in on his way back to the Kicklebury -- Huckleberry -- whateverfruit trailer park. He slinks inside, limping slightly and probably a little paler than usual, offering a smile and an upnod to the Spaniard and his fiancee, the girl with the bird name. "Thought I saw you headed in here," he murmurs.

August is already here, meandering among the odds and ends. His left arm is in a sling (a temporary measure, until the arm heals enough that he's not in risk of injuring it further), and accordingly he's in a black, OSU hoodie over a dark red, wool sweater. Denim jeans and hiking boots, but no heavy coat for the moment. (He deemed it too annoying with the sling.)

Hearing familiar voices, he wanders towards them, smiles to see Finch and Ignacio out and about, Ravn on his feet. For his own part, he looks tired, and there's an sense of emotional exhaustion about him. Too much in too few days. But at least it's over, for now.

"Hey," he says, moving towards them. He has an old, cloth hardbound, battered book in one hand.

Ignacio pauses and looks to Finch for the incredulous, but excited insistence that they find chickie napkin holders if there are some. He blinks and say without argument, "Well that answers that then. And I'm powerless to quash your vision of happiness in chicken effigy." He's pretty certain the chickens would give it the stink eye because it's not edible and they rarely blink.

Looking up at Ravn the lopsided smile warms but looks quizzical, "Suuuup mi amigo. What's with yous walkin like me now?" He gestures more formally, "Finch, Ravn, the one I write with in the mornings. Ravn, this is Finch. The one you keep hearing about that's one day gonna go Snow White on the veil and descend on it with an aerial formation for like 400 birds." There's a pause and he admits to her, "You might have been referred to as a combat assault Disney Princess in like" he looks up counting, "two stories regarding our field trips. So what happened, man?" Looking around the shelf he warms a smile to August, "Sup, jefe. I swear I'm not here to redecorate your office on you... Ully might though." Because Iggy might forward pics and plan this. Look winters at the B&B are slow.

Finch looks over at Ravn and she narrows her eyes. He doesn't look like he's moving comfortably. Her fingers begin a little dance as glowing wisps of glimmer, unseen to anyone but her, trickle from them and float over to the Dane to move through him, assessing injury. "You're hurt," she says to him flatly. Uh-oh, Ignacio and August both know what's coming next. August gets a similar assessment, but she seems satisfied his injury is minor enough for his wife to tend to, and her eyes focus back on Ravn. "I'm going to fix it." Pause. "Well help it fix. I can't just fix it anymore."

Finch eyes Ignacio then barks out a laugh. "Combat Assault Disney Princess, up there with other dad being a Combat Botanist? I'll take it. But really, I just need to roll up with Clever Girl. She makes an army superfluous." She looks between August and Ravn. "So what did you two get into that got back into you?" She points to the space right in front of her for the Dane to move to. It's NOT a request.

Ravn unceremoniously plops himself down on an antique chair with a price tag to catch his breath. Glimmer-flavoured healing or no, a slug through his right lung leaves him a little short of breath (and judging from the size of his pupils, he's paid his homage to the god Tramadol as well). "Hey," he says as well and tosses a slightly wider smile Finch's way. "Heard a lot about you from our Spanish lad here."

"The mall expo," the Dane answers the question. "Hard rain, as Bobbie Dylan would say. How are you holding up, Røn?" The Dane pronounces August's last name as one syllable, using a vowel sound that doesn't exist in English. He eyes Finch's fingers almost as if he's wary of them -- rather than of the wisps of shine that flow from them. Satisfied, it seems, that whatever she is doing is in fact quite helpful (and doesn't involve surprise touching) he smiles at her. "Thank you. Not going to complain about pain relief that isn't chemically induced, that's for sure."

Fortunately Finch beats August to the punch on the whole healing thing, so he settles for the relief it brings to not have Ravn's injuries prodding at his mind. He grimaces at Ravn's question, waggles the book in his hand. "I'll be okay. You know, at some point." He glances away a second, shakes his head. "It was those assholes who've been trying to muscle in on the area. Reprisal for that warehouse explosion, maybe." He shrugs. "The guy's in custody now, so hopefully that shit is over." He should sound happier, or at least satisfied, to be able to report that, but can manage neither.

Ignacio is pretty proud of himself for that assessment of his bird-girl. The concern shifts between the teacher and the combat botanist boss. "Yeah heard about that.." That's an unhappy Iggy face there. Instead of purging his friend for details he instead assures, "She got a lot of practice on me. She's good at it." Looking to Finch he says with that very serious face which means he totally means this, "Just don't do what you did to me that one time and give him arrhythmia so his heart beats out 'Rythem of the Night' by El DeBarge, Okay?" He's trusting you, Finch. Really his deadpan is pretty stage worthy. Hopefully funny enough Ravn won't think about his little cells trying to hold hands again.

He looks to August and frowns. "We can't take you anywhere, man. Glad you guys walked out though. That sounds terrifying." He looks back to August about some of the long talks they've had but doesn't rehash that now. "Eleanor okay? Itzhak? Those little baby plants you has us put in those little pots?"

The glowing tendrils seep into Ravn like smoke, and things begin to hasten in their repair. Finch's fingers move like a puppeteer, weaving the glimmer here and there, encouraging this to mend and that to slow, cells to move here or there, and inflammation to ease away. "If you come see me tomorrow, I can help you again," she says quietly, as the glimmer strands retreat back into her fingertips. "I used to be able to just fix it. Then they went and blew something up on the other side and a door somewhere slammed shut, made it much harder to heal people." She frowns. She can still, you know, unplug someone's spinal cord from their brain stem from a mile away, or throw an honest-to-God fireball at something, but she can't instant heal anymore. Her entire posture slumps a little in the wake of the healing. She can only do it once a day now too, which means Ignacio has to have a day without Finch-therapy.

Finch frowns at the news of what happened. She's been mostly out of the loop thanks to the stupid Revisionist and her stupid rumors. "Sounds like I missed out on something fun." Fun!? Well she IS Ruiz' spawn. "Is my dad ok?" Because everyone knows Javier wouldn't call her if he was hurt. He's stubborn like that.

She smirks at Ignacio. "I was just trying to make you grow an El Debarge mullet, ok?" She wasn't. Maybe. Possibly. She does, however, slide a hand into one of his to squeeze it.

"Some of the petunias didn't survive the ordeal," Ravn murmurs with a slightly guilty look. "And I think de la Vega is fine -- though I'll admit that I was pretty much down for the count at the end of it all. I vaguely remember being tossed into an ambulance but I think I missed a few minutes here and there -- can't quite recall what actually happened with the Hispanic bloke who thought he was giving all the orders, for instance. That is, Reyes, not de la Vega."

The Dane sits quite still; he's clearly got some level of confidence in Finch in spite of not really knowing her -- probably related to the other two men's confidence in her abilities. "I understand how that must be frustrating if you used to be able to do much more. But think of how this feels and looks to someone who's new in town -- I just walked out of a hospital less than 24 hours after they pulled a bullet out of my lung. I shouldn't even be walking. It all feels pretty damn miraculous from where I am sitting."

"I...suspect our healing got hit because we pissed off the guy responsible for shaping," August says, chasing it with an apologetic wince. "The Doctor, in the Asylum, remember when I told you about that? Turns out he's the 'source', they call it, of shaping. Messing with him messes with that power." 'Go team,' his expression suggests.

He nods, agreeing with Ravn about Ruiz, though has to duck his head and look away when it comes to Itzhak. "He's okay for the moment. Out of the ICU now, anyways. He's going to hate being in the hospital, maybe see him when you have a second." He swallows, having said that. He'd stayed in the hospital as long as he could take it, then gone to sit in the Venetian garden for a spell. Finally, home, where he didn't sleep much. So it went.

Dredging up some humor, he assures Ignacio, "Those petunias died doing good deeds. Ravn put them to excellent use. We'll grow more in their honor." We. Hope you like potting plants, Ravn.

"Me in a mullet? That'd be sexy as hell. You know it. And then I need to grow out a big big bushy mustache like mi abuelo." But the healing is done and Ignacio effortlessly wraps Finch in a hug for a moment with a smooch to her temple. Maybe that she can't let someone sit around in discomfort is a huge win with him.

"Bro, you need your lungs. You need help for a while holler." the withering petunias get his eyes to widen and a calm mournful look with a deep exhale. "They were only...children." Yup, the deadpan be strong but he's at least reliable for pushing levity while still focusing on what's being said. When August brings up the Doctor Ignacio's lips press into a hard line. "Yeahup. I remember em." Fingers tighten on Finch's shoulders hearing about Itzhak. The furrow in his brow continues and he pulls out the phone to text him now. "I need to bring him food." because that's love.

"I've been doing this since I was thirteen," Finch explains. She doesn't elaborate, but Ignacio and August know her powers manifested when her mother tried to kill her, in order to stop a family curse. "So having it change so drastically has been really frustrating for me. It was like all the good parts about what I can do, the kind parts, the peaceful parts, were crippled by this Doctor over There. The rest of it, the destructive side of the Shaper art...it's as strong as it ever was."

She frowns sharply at news Itzhak is in the hospital. "Sorry Abildgaard, I'll need to use tomorrow's juice on my bestie. Itzhak will want out of there whether he's healed enough for it or not, so better make sure he's healed enough. I'll have to smuggle Miss Mags in so he can have some rat cuddles too. Maybe Gran will come with, she'll fuss over him real good." Dove does love to fuss over the boys. She leans comfortably back against Ignacio. The pair almost seem to breathe as one.

Ravn winces at August's statement. "I'll see about dragging myself in for a visit. I hate hospitals. I spent far too long in one after my fiancee's death and my own breakdown. The smell of the cleaning agents alone is enough to make me want to climb out the window for an escape. Imagine Rosencrantz is just as excited at being locked up though."

It's a good thing that he himself is a confidence artist; he might actually take Ignacio's act at face value otherwise. It probably doesn't hurt that he's spent a good amount of time with the Spanish writer, and knows his very particular sense of humour. The Dane smiles at Finch's explanation and nods. "I've heard a bit about that from de Santos, yes. And -- yes, please. If you can get Rosencrantz out of there yesterday he'll appreciate it. I'll be fine -- just need to take it slow for a bit. Aidan Kinney does house calls for large amounts of burgers, and he lives next door."

August manages a real smile for Ravn. Despite how worn thin he seems, it brightens his face considerably. If he can't get himself into the hospital, well, he can stock it full of other people Itzhak can grouse at. "Food would be a good idea, that place has terrible...I don't even want to call it food. I realize they just have to keep you nourished but, Christ." As to healing him, well...Itzhak can feel free to hash that out with Finch on his own.

The smile doesn't last; his mouth flattens, and he nods at Finch. "Yeah. Figures. Destroying, on the menu. Fixing? Not so much." Except plants, yet its plants he doesn't need much magic to fix. Oh the irony.

Ignacio finishes his text and holds onto Finch for now processing his oldest friend/brother that likes him being in health problems. A look is give to Ravn he offers with the sort of empathy he always seems to have on hand gesturing to August and himself, "Weeeee get you. Trust me. Finch too." His heas swivels to August and says "Ya know the burgers really weren't terrible when I was living there last year and we will absolutely never drege up again. There's some favorites in food purgatory. Still I think this is a back-home-food kinda mission." That may mean coneys. God yes.

Finch begins poking around at other things in the shop. There are some dishtowels with chickens on them she hovers over, Gran might approve. A bird skeleton artfully assembled and standing on a little wooden plaque gets her interest. "Hm, blue-tailed bee eater. I think I have to have this," she notes to Iggy. As for Itzhak, when has the man ever been able to refuse Fincheleh anything? If she says he's getting healed, it's happening. "Have to make sure Dad is feeding Iris and Lemondrop for him too. If a shootout happened, he'll be so wrapped up in paperwork he might forget," she points out.

Ravn pushes off the chair with one hand to get himself back on his feet. He's still entirely too pale, and one doesn't need a medical anything to tell that he's been eating opiates like popcorn. "I'll see about visiting him tomorrow if they'll let me. If they won't, I'll send him six dozen dirty pictures on the phone, give him something to laugh at at the very least. For now, though, I think I better get myself home and in a horisontal position -- the doctor was pretty adamant about me taking it very slow and checking in with my GP regularly."

Somewhat wryly he adds, "I should get a GP. You folks all look after yourselves, all right? Røn, I'll come do penance to the surviving petunias when I'm a little less under the weather. Don't want to find myself staring at a giant petunia elemental of vengeance sometime I take a wrong turn in the woods."

He wanders off, back into the street and presumably, towards his home -- stiff and limping, but not quite as stiff and limping as he was before 'Fincheleh' got her magic touch on his aura.

"Atonement, not penance," August says as Ravn departs. He can't, however, deny the need to do it--this is Gray Harbor, and if people and animals can have ghosts, well, why not plants too? (Though he suspects it's more likely Ravn would find himself turned in to a plant, and--ugh, no, not that Dream. Don't think about that Dream.)

His nose wrinkles; he can't agree with Ignacio about the burgers. Of course, his opinion on anything hospital related is highly skewed. It's possible he would insist the water is bad, too. "Definitely a home-cooked-meal kind of thing." He studies Finch, nods. "Yeah, I'll stop by his place, make sure he's doing okay. You know...when he's there." And not stuck at police HQ, unfucking this situation.

Ignacio is still processing Itzhak being in the ICU. still, this is life in the harbor. Shocking yes, but the Team has a Plamn(tm). His eyes lift to the plate and picks up some energy with a nod. "Super cute. Do it." Looking around he finds one of those hand basket things for her to put that in. There's a pause with a wry grin, "You NEED to send him those pics regardless. he'll thank you for the entertainment. Hey, call me later and lemme know what they say."

Look the burgers didn't make him pray for death like one of Gina's 'omelettes'. Iggy looks over August too, "You know... I make a lot of food when I stress cook..." which is either invitation or forewarning that he's bringing some by his and Ellie's place. Looking back to Finch he considers her errands first adding, "We can fit in a zip-through to the Safeway." Then a pause and he looks back to August, "Why you haunting the old stuff today anyways?"

Finch waves a farewell to Ravn with one hand, the other clutching the bird skeleton like it's a magnificent prize. Well, for an ornithologist it is! "So that's the Danish folklorist guy you told me about, right?" she asks Ignacio. "Seems nice. In sooooo far over his head here though." Her eyes flit back to August. "Did anyone else get hurt? Civvies?" Meaning people without the shine. Collateral damage in this town is a fact of life. "Gran might want to start up a chain to knit them stuff or something while they're laid up."

August smiles at Ignacio, genuine if also wry. "I wouldn't say no to some home cooked food someone else made, so I can wallow a little more." Take a few more baths, work a little too hard, etc. August's usual methods of coping. Speaking of which...

He holds up the book; it's an old botanical guide, probably from the 20s. "Old plant book. These are great, sometimes they talk about cultivars and species we don't have anymore. Nice way to document the history of a region." He clears his throat. "I didn't want to go too far from the coffee shop. In case...you know." In case any of Reyes' goons were still around and wanted some payback. Because his anxiety says Eleanor is next. Because he can only do so much work with an injured arm, and passing out at the shop will get him sent home by Cy. And so on.

He shakes his head. "Mostly just...us." People with Glimmer. People involved in the mess. "Lilith, Joe Cavanaugh, that bartender of Easton's, Joey Kelly. Hospital's kind of busy."

He rubs at his eyes. "I'm gonna get back to the coffee shop, try and read a bit. Stay careful out there, yeah?" And with that, he's off to the register.

Ignacio looks to Finch, the smile faint but returning a bit. "Yeah, he had a good primer. Stuff where he's from isn't wholesale normal. But yeah, he's the one I'm looking to start my reach out program with." Speaking of Gran yes he's still got on his Gran Scarf from the Christmas previous to this one. It's quality! Looking to August he assures, "Don't worry about us. We're professional superheros. Disney Bird Princess and the Spanish Peacock got your back man."

He watches August go and while he holds it together it's scary as hell to hear. There's some pro fretting that's going to happen in food form. "Okay so... the world blew up and no one we know died, aaaaaaand everyone's pretty scared so... we'll do... something. Sure. no problem." Looking up he scans and plays another round of 'hideous or hilarious' with the things they're finding. He does spot a couple things:

• A teapot chicken (canary? Duckie??)
• A vintage trumpet
• (2) Boxes of vinyl LPs

"You know i'm of half a mind to pick something up for Gram while we're here." he points to the albums, "They might have some Carley Simon or some Connie Francis."

"I think Gran would love that," Finch agrees. "If they have any Simon and Garfunkle, or the Righteous Brothers, those are some of her favorites," she notes. She carried the skeleton of the little bird around with her as she looks through the other crap which might hold treasures. "Oh look at this, for Itzhak," she declares. It's a sheaf of blank sheet music. "Does he...does he read music or is it just in his head?" she asks.

Ignacio flip flip flips through the records to pull out some things that look like they're pretty close with that 50's and 60's era vibe going on. There's a pause looking up from where he's crouching (slowly, but he can do it at all!) up to Finch, jaw slightly agape as if trying to parse how to answer that.

"I think... the last time I told Itzhak it's all in his head he dumped a flapping salmon in my lap. If he doesn't know, though? He'll learn." There's a pause and a wry smile coming clean. "yeah when we play he can read it. Be good practice for him.

"Maybe he can write some music. He hears it in everything, if he can write it down...maybe that would be, I dunno, theraputic?" Finch offers. She grins as Iggy gets up from a crouch, a year ago something that would have definitely required help and pain meds after.

Ignacio is taking his time and looks back around making a mental note of things in the store and back to her holding up five albums. "Found also Tijuana Brass, Fats Domino, and Sam Cooke. Boom. Gram, and we are gonna love it." That look is determined. If it kills him he's going to find a solution. "Hey, we're not all down and out yet right? Let's grab him the sheet music for now. Surprise him. Seehow Ravn's appointment go and so help me if we have to wheel them into the barn for my birthday we'll sit and jam and maaaaaybe I'll even get to dance with you. But, that also reminds me later in the next week or so we need to kick out to Hoaquin. The grocery here doesn't have everything I want and I wanna do up a cool cake. Been having ideas. Serious...baking ideas."

Finch gives him a cooly arched brow. "Baking ideas? Devious. I am shaking in my boots thinking about what possible maniacal creations you're thinking up in that beautiful noggin of yours, Ignacio DeSantos." She grins and leans up to kiss his cheek. "Have I told you today I absolutely adore you?" she asks. She gathers up the sheet music and her bird skeleton to take up to the counter.