2021-01-30 - Phoenix in Bed

One resident of Vic Grey's Airstream approves wholeheartedly of Ravn Abildgaard having been shot -- twice, at that, once in the leg and once through the chest. Kitty Pryde isn't a vengeful owner of a human; it's not that she particularly likes the idea of her tuna provider being injured. But cat that she is, the skinny black feline rather approves of him staying in bed all day, and hence, keeping the bed warm. A cat likes a warm bed.

Ravn, on the other hand, has reached the conclusion that being shot twice sucks. The pain is not too terrible -- he's taken every opiate the hospital prescribed, and the healing touches of no less than four of Gray Harbor's people with Abilities certainly help. He's no expert on all things medical but without August Roen's touch during the actual gunfight? Might not have made it. Definitely would still be in the ICU if not for that, and Aidan Kinney. Would still be in severe pain if not for Finch de la Vega and Kyle Warren. And the opiates. God bless Tramadol.

And curse them too, considering they had him thinking he was doing great enough to take a stroll to the park yesterday. Now he's definitely paying the price for that mistake, curled up in bed -- under the cat -- in sweats and a shirt, pondering on the things he saw and heard, and wondering how much of that was a medicinally induced hallucination.

One of the things he gets to ponder is the knocking, knocking on his trailer door. It's Alexander, and Ravn might feel the weird tingle that means someone's using their Glimmer before the first sharp knock even comes. He knocks on the door like a cop, three bangs with the side of his fist. His other hand is occupied with a bag, but he calls out - trusting in the thin walls of the trailer - "Ravn? Are you able to see visitors?" Not are you there, because he knows that. And considering how much of his power Alexander has been using in the last couple of days? His reckoning is probably coming soon.

Much to the consternation of Kitty Pryde, Ravn gets up to answer the door. When he does, barefoot and mop-headed, he could have looked a lot worse, given the extent of his injuries. In Gray Harbor, he's learning, biology takes one look at the shine and doggedly works overtime. He smiles brightly at Alexander and steps aside to let the other man in. "What brings you out in my neck of the woods? I'm pretty sure there's no murder to solve -- both because they caught the guy already, and because I'm not actually dead."

His pupils betray the amount of painkillers he's on as he pads over to put on the kettle. "Please tell me there's no more bad news. No one died, things like that. It all got a bit intense back there and from what I heard, Grey and Rosencrantz both came entirely too close to punching out."

Alexander's eyebrows rise. "No bad news. Everyone who was alive is still alive. Itzhak and Miss Grey are recovering. Thorne and Lilith, too." His smile is brief and pained as he looks Ravn over. "I haven't managed to get around to everyone, yet. You fuckers shared the bullets around generously." He follows Ravn into the small trailer, looking around at all the things. "You left the hospital. I brought soup." He pulls a plastic container of deli soup out of the bag.

"I hate hospitals. I'm not phobic but -- not staying one minute longer than I have to. Reminds me of being locked up in a mental ward, I can't bloody well stand it." Ravn makes an all-encompassing gesture as if to suggest that Alexander is welcome to a seat -- any seat. On the bed, the green glare of his little black cat suggests that any seat does not include the corner of the bed that she is occupying. The soup gets a smile. "I appreciate it. Really do. Went to the park yesterday, really should just have stayed in bed. I'm not very smart in these matters."

He flops down on the kitchen bench within reach of the kettle, the cups and the instant coffee himself. That's the one perk to living in a tiny space like this -- everything seems within reach at any given time. "Tell you what, though, I could have done with just the one bullet. Or maybe without any of them at all. But what can you do? Somebody put Detective Wilkinson in a choke hold, and then they started shooting up the place. I don't think any of us actually knew we were walking onto a battlefield when we went to a mall expo about flowers. Once the manure hit the fan, there weren't really a lot of options beyond 'fight back'."

Alexander turns himself around a couple of times, although the movement is more doggish than feline; an old, wary mutt looking for a cozy place to come to rest. He eventually settles on a non-bed seat, his fingers tapping erratically on his thighs. The glaring cat is spared a smile, and he even leans to offer his fingers at the maximum safe distance for sniffing, if she so chooses. His gaze turns back to Ravn, and frustration crosses his face. "There's hiding. And running. Most people choose those when people start firing guns at each other in a public place." There is such disapproval in Alexander's tone. Although he adds, a little softer, "How bad were you hit?"

"I dove under a table. Didn't stop the bloke from plugging my leg," Ravn points out, smiling lightly. "Took a shot to the chest too -- somebody with a rifle, on the building across the street. No idea why the sniper singled me out -- probably just bad luck. I didn't exactly tear my shirt off, jump onto a table and challenge them all to a battle to the last man standing while pounding my asthmatic chest."

He fishes out a couple of cups -- one white, one black with a white print that reads Wears black, Loves coffee, Avoids people -- and distributes instant coffee into them while waiting on the kettle. A curious little feline face daintily sniffs Alexander's fingers and then pointedly tucks her tail over her nose as if to indicate that now is a time for sleeping and the humans are being very rude.

"Don't mind her," Ravn murmurs. "She's a little... Veil touched, but on the whole, harmless. Unless you're a fish. Then all bets are off."

"You have asthma?" Yes, that's the important point that Alexander took from that. Or maybe not, because he says, "I'm sorry. And it likely was. Bad luck. You stand out a little, and you've been hanging out with," a hesitation, "people who may have given the sniper the wrong impression of your particular loyalties and competencies. But it's just as likely that you looked like a guy who wasn't wearing an armored vest, so putting you down quickly was just efficient, so they could focus on the combatants." He withdraws his fingers with another smile towards the cat. "No need to explain. She's a cat. And I'm not usually a fish, so I think we'll get along fine."

"I've been a fish once. Maybe that's why she sticks around -- she hopes I'll turn back into one." Ravn glances at the cat with obvious affection. Then he nods. "I do. Kelly has me on this regimen of walking, lots of walking, to build my stamina up without compromising my lungs. I can't run, for instance -- tends to end in a coughing fit. As far as prime physical specimens come, I'm not it."

The kettle boils at last, and water is distributed. Ravn must have made a mental note that when he visited Alexander's, the other man took his coffee pure and adulterated, as does he himself; at least he doesn't seem to find it necessary to provide sugar, creamers, stevia, or any other strange things people do to innocent caffeine.

"I guess I do hang with the wrong gang in town sometimes," he admits. "It's a risk I'll have to take. I like Vic and Seth, and we need to stick together against the important problems here. Things like your dolorphages -- who probably not just ignore guys like Reyes and Liu but actively encourage them."

He pauses and then looks up from coffee preparations. "I freaked myself out yesterday, at the park. There was a woman there, reading fortunes. I am absolutely positive I've met her before, in a dream. Can they cross over like that, interact in our world like they belong here?"

"Not as futile a dream here as in other places," Alexander murmurs. "Better keep an eye on her just in case. I don't want to come by one day and find you half-eaten by your cat. It's never pretty." He takes in the other information with a thoughtful nod. Somewhere in his mental archives, the file of Ravn is clearly being updated, and possibly bits are being underlined.

He brightens, visibly, at the coffee that's handed to him, and wraps both hands around the mug with murmured thanks. He lets it cool as he watches Ravn. "Yes." A pause. "After I killed someone with my abilities, I had the best sleep I've had in two decades. For a couple of weeks, even. They like it when you use your powers to hurt other people. You don't get tormented as much if you torment others. Someone like Reyes probably never even realized they existed."

The last makes him frown. "It's hard to say. We still don't know a lot. Some things from over there have appeared briefly over here - little monsters. But nothing that looked entirely human, that I've seen. On the other hand, a person who spends a lot of time over there? I'm not sure that they really count as human, anymore. Not entirely. They could probably slip back and forth easily."

"Figured it was like that. Leave you alone if you do their work -- maybe even help you if you do it well enough." Ravn nods and taps his lip with a gloved finger; the man apparently does wear those gloves at all times, even when he's in bed with his cat and a book. "That woman at the park -- perfectly human to look at. Old woman, could walk past her in the street anytime and pay her no attention. Would have too, except I take a professional interest in tarot readers -- it's a common kind of scam and I've even done it myself. And I saw her in a dream, the one where my dead fiancee tried to kill people. Didn't do anything -- just, walked in when it was all over and asked for food, like it was a perfectly normal day."

Alexander nods. "Met some people who were formal about it. They were an acting troupe. Traveled around, found people with abilities, fed them to the wolves, metaphorically speaking. I think the leader of their group maybe had more of a relationship with the Shadows than the rest. They were able to pull us into a pre-prepared dream, and the Shadows were /waiting/ there. Watching, I think. But none of us have ever been able to guide where we show up in the Veil, especially not into a Dream. Or to consciously shape the Dream." He stops to take a sip of coffee, hissing slightly at the heat...then taking another sip. "I don't feel like that degree of conscious servitude is normal, though. I think some people are just good at leaving things for them to eat, without even realizing it."

It takes him a moment to shake himself out of contemplating that, and refocus. "I don't know. She could just be someone with experience who's smart enough not to try and reach out to the rest of us crazy people."

"She's either done insane amounts of research, or is a mind reader. Doesn't rule out someone with experience and smarts, granted." Ravn's long fingers curl around his mug as well as he savours the smell. Some people actually like instant coffee. "I never talked to her in the dream. But she knew my name and my background, bloody well taunted me with both until I agreed to have a reading done. Then gave me one that's horrifyingly accurate. From the looks on the faces of people there, she got it right every time. Might just be very good at what she does. I still feel -- creeped out? Like I want to ask our local Dick Tracy who the hell that was."

knock knock knock There is a rapping on the airstream door, not too loud in case the occupant might be resting in a pain reliever induced coma of some sort, but the pair of voices do give away that the occupant is not alone. "It's Seth," the enforcer calls from the other side of the door. "Can I come in?"

"Your local Dick Tracy has no idea," Alexander admits, with a half-smile. "But I'll keep an eye out. Did you get a name? And did she seem malicious in her reading or...what was she getting out of it, do you think?" There's a glance at the door when the knock comes, and then a faint smile at the identification. He gets up to let the man in, if Ravn gives the nod. And also points at Ravn to stay seated. Only one of the two of them is shot full of holes, after all.

"Let the asshole in, he'll hammer the door down otherwise." Ravn grins slightly and reaches for a third coffee cup. On the bed, the cat rolls her eyes. A cat just can't get a decent day's sleep around here.

"I heard that," says the asshole as he walks into the trailer, a smirk on his face. Seth moves through the door giving Alexander a nod as he passes him, and then over to one side taking up a position in the small trailer against one of the walls. "You alive?" he asks Ravn.

Alexander squishes back to retreat to his seat when the door opens, so that Seth has room to get in. The enforcer is given a brief smile, then a longer once over. "Did you get shot? I heard they took you in. Something about shooting Reyes?" There's no condemnation in that observation, just curiosity. Always curiosity.

"No, I'm haunting my own place." Ravn hands a cup over -- white, like Alexander's. The black seems to be reserved for his own use. "Honestly, I'm all right -- all things considered. Stoned silly on Tramadol, too. But, you know -- upright. And already grilling Clayton on next week's mystery because that's how we do things around here. How are you? How's Vic?"

Seth glances between Alexander and Ravn, "Well, if someone was going to take me in, they forgot to tell me. I haven't been arrested for anything, so..." there is a roll of the enforcer's shoulder. "As far as plugging a few ounces of lead into that asshole's chest, I can neither confirm nor deny any involvement in that matter. Let's just say I am not losing any sleep over his well being."

Seth nods as he is offered the coffee, taking a slow sip. "Vic is...Vic. Shot to hell, but a though bitch. She'll pull through and likely complain more about the new scar tissue than anything else. She's been asleep anytime I have been by to see her. As for me? I'm fine. Fine as I can be, anyway. I don't really even know what happened to be honest. I was..." he pauses, shaking his head before he continues. "I was in the bathroom when the text came through from Joey that shit was hitting the fan. By the time I got there, it was over...mostly."

"Good," Alexander says, with a firm nod. "I didn't find any booking information, so I thought it might have just been confusion at the scene. And whoever shot Reyes," a quick upward curve of his lips, "it seems it was thoroughly justified." He sighs. "I was able to talk to her, briefly. But her chart suggests she got severely wounded. I healed what I could, and I'm sure other people have, as well."

Ravn hitches a shoulder -- and then winces because that's actually not a very smart thing to do when you're still recovering. "I didn't get a good look at Reyes -- I was already down when he came in. But I saw enough to know that he needs to be somewhere he can't hurt the human race or, God forbid, pollute the gene pool. Passed out before you neither confirm or denied him a few ounces though -- pity."

He nods slightly at Alexander. "From what I heard, Vic and Rosencrantz got the worst of it. I got to admit I'm pretty floored by the whole -- healing thing. I signed myself out of hospital after 24 hours, after having been shot through the chest -- and I'm okay, really. Hurts, sure. Probably not going in the boxing ring anytime soon. But I ought to be hooked up to a monitor in the ICU."

"I...haven't done any healing on Vic yet. I probably should, but I didn't want to do anything like that without her permission. I'm sure she wouldn't mind, but I don't want to assume anything. Did she say anything about it to you, Alexander? I should go pay her a visit again today, assuming she is awake." Seth purses his lips, "What about you, Ravn? Do you need me to mojo things for you?"

Seth pauses, "I just wish whoever did shoot Reyes would have had the forethought to aim for the head instead of the chest. If anyone needed to have their frontal lobe turned into mush..."

"You should still be in the hospital," Alexander mutters at Ravn. "Magical healing isn't really much of a substitute for some decent bed rest and monitoring." Grumble grumble. He rubs the back of his neck, and says, "I think she'd let you, Seth. And I think she could use it. She and Itzhak did seem to be the largest bullet magnets of the evening, although damned near everyone caught a slug or two." And this makes him angry, for all that he's attempting to hold it back. It doesn't stop him from snorting at Seth's last words. "Center mass is a better shot, and you know it. It got the job done."

"I've had four people do their magic on me in three days. I think I've had my share -- nature needs to do the rest. Save your mana for Vic and if you've got some to spare, Rosencrantz. They need it more." Ravn nods at the ginger appreciatively. "But thanks for offering. Sure as hell do appreciate that people care. I have enough lead for a pair of earrings now -- now I just need my ears pierced, or something."

Then he looks at Alexander with calm grey eyes that aren't fazed in the slightest by the other man's frustration. "If I'd stayed, I'd have had no rest. I'd been on edge, angry, stressed. So I got out. And now I may have a lead on someone who's supposed to be on the other side, but who's reading people's lives in Addington Park. Someone who'll accept a lock of your hair or other personal item as payment. Someone who either reads minds or taps into the Veil for intel. Might be harmless. Might not be. Sure as hell was accurate."

"Wait, what?" Seth asks Ravn with his brow arched. The enforcer sighs with a shake of his head, "Now there is some new bullshit that needs to be dealt with? Christ almighty, can't we just catch a break for a day or two?" He says while reaching up to rub his temples like he has the world's largest migraine, "So, what does this one do now?"

Sipping his coffee, Seth closes his eyes for a moment, "I'll go check on Vic and Itz later. See if I can't help out at all."

"So don't give them a lock of hair or something personal as payment," Alexander says, with a sigh. "I could do that, just as easily, with a combination of cold reading and reading an object or just paying attention to your emotions as I tossed out guesses." He snorts. "If you aren't an empath, I could just adjust your memories until whatever I said was something that you remember, whether it actually happened or not." He takes a drink. "I'll keep an eye out, as I said, but mostly...if something looks creepy, don't poke at it until it eats you." Tips for survival in Gray Harbor.

Not that Alexander follows his own advice.

"She's an old fortune teller who reads people -- with the tarot. But even before doing so, she knows things -- for me, she knew my name, my title, and she certainly baited me into saying yes. I know how cold reading works. I'm actually rather good at it, it's the key skill for a confidence artist -- and it's not what she was doing," Ravn explains. "I'm definitely going to watch her, and pay attention. She did nothing hostile, and the advice she gave people with her tarot readings seemed sound. I've just been here long enough, I think, that I'm inherently distrustful of anything that looks like a free lunch. And more so since needing something personal to gain power over somebody is an archetypical trope in the magical realm. Even on this side of the Atlantic, you have voodoo dolls that require bits of hair or nails to function. What really creeps me out is that I met her on the Other Side, once, and now she's putting up a table in Addington Park."

He sighs and sips his instant coffee. "Not that you're wrong, Clayton. Don't poke sleeping dragons with sticks just because they're there -- and the advice she gave me was sound enough. Just going to watch."

Seth huhs as the two talk about the fortune teller. "I wonder what she would say about me," inquires the enforcer as he takes a sip of the instant coffee. "I'm sure that it would be a hell of a good time, but you are probably right, best not to test the fates with something like that. I should just let well enough alone. Because I am smart like that."

Alexander opens his mouth to mention the ways people might know tall, handsome, foreign Ravn's name in a small town...then closes it when he mentions my title. There's a blink at that information, but at least he looks less dismissive of the possibilities. "It's unsettling, to be certain. Not...illegal. But if I were you, I wouldn't give her anything any more than you already have. Our abilities don't really work by the old rules of ritual magic - thankfully - but there are more things under Heaven and Earth, and all of that."

He rubs at his forehead, glances back at Seth. "How are you doing?"

"I didn't give her anything that was part of me. I gave her my engagement ring -- which I wore mostly out of habit, but also to appease my fiancee's ghost. Who is now very dead -- something which this woman knows because she was there when Rosencrantz tore her heart out. In a way, it seemed as if I was closing the book on a chapter of my life that I won't miss." Ravn turns the kettle back on; his cup is empty and at the moment, he could probably subsist of a diet of opiates and instant coffee if not for helpful food offerings from concerned friends.

Then he looks at Seth as well, echoing Alexander's sentiment: "And how are you coping? I imagine getting hurt is one thing. Watching someone you care a great deal about getting hurt is another."

"I'm fine," Seth says curtly like maybe he is just telling himself that. "It's a hazard of our profession. Not the first time I have seen her with extra holes added, and probably won't be the last." But truth of the matter is this is the first time he has seen her end up in the hospital in as bad shape as she is. He wasn't around for the last hospital trip she had. "She will be ok," the enforcer says as he lifts the cup of instant coffee to his lips and takes another sip.

"Maybe that was the purpose of it," Alexander murmurs quietly to Ravn. "Not everything that's of the Veil is evil. I reluctantly concede that." His eyes remain on Seth, dark and intense - although at least he doesn't go so far as to try and read the man's emotions. "She'll be okay," he does echo. "But if there's anything we can do? I think that's the point of friends. To be there if you need them."

"Yeah. That." Ravn nods and refills whatever cups need refills. "I'm honestly not very experienced with the whole friendship deal. But anything I can do or help with -- you know that, Seth. Whether it's practical or -- well, I can buy a bottle of whiskey and forget what you said when the morning comes."

Seth nods quietly as he holds the coffee in front of him almost like a shield from his emotions either getting out, or blocking new ones from getting in. "I'll be fine. I think they are moving her out of ICU today, so she should be free of the tubes down her throat, " the enforcer says with a sigh. "Hopefully that means she will be able to come home in the near future."

Alexander watches Seth for a moment longer, then nods, and turns his attention back to his own coffee cup. "I imagine she'll check herself out as soon as she can. Try to persuade her not to until the doctors recommend it, though. Hospitals suck, but she's already been injured before." He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. "At least you've all solved the problem of Reyes rather handily. There will probably be a few lieutenants running around, but none so dangerous, from what Itzhak and Grey were saying."

"I'd kind of expect them to leave town before they have -- accidents." Ravn doesn't look at Seth as he says that but no one with two cents to rub together will be in doubt as to what he means. Some elements of society are self-regulating. Not always through stern letters. "Maybe lie low a bit, together? Find time to heal, if Gray Harbor will let you. Look after the bar while Marshal and Oakes are gone, do -- normal things. Get that house of hers ship shape. Pretty sure we'll all help there as much as we can, too."

"I'll do my best, but she is as stubborn as I am," Seth says with a chuckle. "She isn't the type to let a few bullet holes stop her from doing what she wants to do." But when Ravn mentions the Twofer and Seth lets out a soft 'Fuck. I didn't even think about that, there has been nobody there to watch the place. Damn it, I will have to swing by and see if there is anything I can do to help out over there. Last thing I want to see it the Twofer suffer in this as well. You used to work there, Ravn. If you weren't full of holes yourself I would ask you for help to keep things running in the meantime. Damnit."

"I'm just glad that Easton and Bennie were out of town during all of this," Alexander says, with a frown. "I'm sure they would have found some way to get shot up. But if there's anything I can do to help the Two If By Sea, I will." A long pause. "I don't know anything about serving drinks, though." He watches them both, eyes twitching back and forth as his fingers tap erratically on his mug and thighs and anything else he can reach that isn't alive.

"They hired a new guy," Ravn says. "I don't know him but Vic said he's like us, has the shine. I imagine she's clued him in on how to run the shop in her absence? It's not all that difficult to be honest, it's not like the place has strict rules and regulations. Mostly just, keep the place clean, keep patrons from punching each other, order anything that the bar or the kitchen ran out of."

He glances to Alexander. "Honestly, the drinks are the easy part. There's a manual under the counter. Patrons don't mind telling you what they want. The hard part? The guys who need to cry on your shoulder and the guys -- both genders -- who're there to pick up somebody, anybody. It gets boring as all hell to listen to after a while. Some of those guys use the same line evening after evening. New woman, same line."

"Still, I'll feel better if I at least go check and make sure the place is still standing," Seth says with a sigh that escapes his lips. "If nothing else so I can just tell Vic that it didn't fall apart under her watch. It might be her 'day job' but I think she still has some semblance of pride in it, that and I don't want her catching any flak from Bennie or Easton about it. She doesn't need that kind of shit right now."

"Who is the new guy? You know him?" the enforcer asks.

Alexander gives Ravn the baffled look of someone who has never, ever had strangers try to cry on his shoulder. "Oh," he says, after a long moment. "That does sound like it would get annoying. And painful. Bars are often painful." A nod to Seth. "I think that'd be a nice thing to do. I don't think she'd get flak - I'm not sure Bennie, for one, is even capable of giving any flak about anything. But still. Nice."

"I haven't been back to the Twofer since I quit. The situation was honestly -- very awkward." Ravn makes a face. "I tried to stick it out but... it wasn't going very well. Made me realise it's not what I want to be doing ten years from now. Also made me realise that 'rebound' is a very scary word."

"What was awkward about it? Did you leave on bad terms?" Seth asks Ravn with a curious look.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm sure Easton doesn't really care, and neither does Bennie," Alexander says, after a moment. "I mean, about the unacted upon attraction. I'm sure they care about you. Or, at least, that Bennie does. Easton might not." It's clear this is getting into dark, relationship-bound waters, and the investigator is flailing a bit. "And there's nothing wrong with wanting something other than being a barback, or bartender."

Ravn stirs his coffee. Not that it needs to be stirred but maybe he's a little uncomfortable with this subject. He thinks carefully before replying, at least. "It's more -- Marshall disappeared. Before I came into town, that is. And Bennie ran the place, on her own, hoping he'd return. But he didn't -- and at some point, people started talking. Grieving widow. Lonely. On the rebound. And here's me, good looking and exotic and -- I have no idea how it happened, honestly, but at the time Marshall came back, somehow this became some screwball triangle drama that was really not very comfortable for any of us. There never was anything between Bennie and me -- she's stupidly in love with Marshall, and I don't do casual relationships. There wasn't anything to sort out -- but it kept feeling that way. Bennie was awkward as fuck around me, and I felt like Marshall and I don't even speak the same language. So when Hyacinth asked if this was what I really wanted to be doing ten years from now -- I realised that no, it isn't, and that I wasn't enjoying it very much at all anymore."

"Yeah, but if it wasn't for that job the odds of you and I ever becoming tight like this were slim. To think that our friendship blossomed out of your inability to know that a whiskey neat meant no ice." snickers Seth after taking a sip from his coffee. "So, at least it gave you that."

Seth pauses for a sec, "I don't really know either of them all that well. I think I have had maybe one interaction with both of them, though I should get to know them."

"Bennie and Easton are good sorts," Alexander says, with a firm nod. "Easton is an ex-Marine, and he can be loud. But he's solid in every possible way. And Bennie is...she's good. A good healer, a good person. She works too hard, though. They're worth getting to know."

"Think I've talked to Marshall twice -- Bennie, a bit more but we were never close." Ravn shrugs lightly -- and winces again, he really needs to stop doing that with a fresh hole in his chest. "I mean, she was my boss. You can have a serious heart to heart with your boss off duty, sure, but she'll still be your boss on Monday. There's always going to be that wall between you, so to speak. Moreover, Bennie's someone who likes people and music and action -- and I'm the guy who pulled the quiet morning shifts that no one else wanted because they were quiet and dull. They're both decent people from what I know of them, though. Might get to know them better sometime now that I don't work for them -- though to be honest, I'm still not convinced that Marshall and I speak the same language."

He offers a lopsided smile at Seth's remark, though. "Yeah, there's that. Thank you, Twofer and weed cloud, for improbable but good friendships, eh?"

"I certainly would have never predicted it," Seth confesses. "But I am not sad it happened. If it took a weed cloud, badly made drinks, and the Waffletaco to set up this friend group, I have no regrets. Well, except maybe eating so many waffletacos. My gut still regrets that. Maybe once Vic is back in fighting shape I will hang more over at the Twofer and get to know Bennie and Easton better. If she is as good a healer as you say I wish she was around now."

"Easton speaks the language of punching," Alexander says, with a grin. "He punches his feelings. Don't take it seriously. He can come off as loud and," a pause as he looks for a word, "boisterous, and he is. But he's also smart and tactical, and cares a lot about people." His grin remains as they talk about the circumstances that led to the three of them hanging out. "I've enjoyed getting to spend time with you. I like you both."

"I didn't know Bennie is a healer," Ravn muses with the mild interest of somebody who knows that keeping tabs on who is may prove useful; people get hurt a lot around here. "I know she works as a paramedic. It makes sense."

He nods at Alexander. "That's what I mean. We don't speak the same language. Nothing malicious in it, just -- big, macho men who solve their problems by punching each other in the face are not my crowd. They tend to take one look at me and decide that I'm either an inconsequential nerd or a convenient punching bag. Or in Marshall's case, I presume, that I'm hoping to be competition. I tend to avoid the very manly types, it saves me a lot of headaches."

Seth finishes the coffee in his cup and sets it aside onto one of the nearby flat surfaces, "I didn't know either, till just now. I wonder if anyone has called them yet to let them know just what the hell happened here...probably not, and it's probably just as well. No need for them to ruin their vacation with this shit. Vic will be fine, so it isn't like Bennie needs to come back to help her." Seth muses. "As far as Easton goes, I speak punching pretty well. Maybe he and I will have a conversation sometime." Seth grins, "And I like you just fine, Ravn. I don't try to hit you."

Alexander frowns. "Easton isn't just a big, macho man type. I know he comes off as that, sometimes. But when things started...heating up around here, he was one of the first people who was nice to me, and he wasn't even from town. He didn't mind that I was...the way I am, and I was worse then. He's not a bully, and he's not insecure. I shouldn't have made it sound like he was. I'm sorry." He takes another sip of his coffee, draining most of the cup.

"You don't qualify for proper He-Man, Seth. You read books, instead of eating them. Sorry, dude, I've heard you quote The Prince." Ravn glances at Alexander. "And if Easton Marshall was a bully, he'd not have the number of friends in this town that he does. There are many ways people communicate. He certainly doesn't strike me as insecure -- quite the opposite. Just, the way I communicate and the way he communicates are radically different, and that means a bloke like Marshall and I might as well be from different planets. I'm the same with de la Vega -- I like the guy, but I don't understand him, and I don't think he understands me."

"What, a macho man can't be educated? I find that horribly biased of social stereotypes," Seth says in mock offense. "Just because I have read Machiavelli doesn't mean I am not a meathead," the enforcer claims with a stern tone to his voice offset by the grin on his face. "I'm offended."

Seth can only hold the facade so long, and just starts to laugh a long hearty laugh. "I don't think anyone said he was a bully, Alexander? You can be a big macho-man and not be a bully. It's rare, sure, but it can happen."

"Someone who sees other people as punching bags or nerds is a bully," Alexander says, quietly. "You don't have to say the word to mean the thing." He takes a deep breath, lets it out. "I'm just saying that he's a good person. Whether you like him or not." He puts the cup aside. "I should head on. But I'm glad to see that you're up and around, Ravn. Be careful, and if you need anything, let me know." He nods to Seth. "Nice to see you, too. Don't die." He offers a warmer smile briefly towards the cat, then sidles through the space towards the door.

Ravn watches the other man leave without comment. He knows Clayton well enough by now to realise that his abrupt departures are neither dramatic nor attempts to make anyone storm after him -- they just mean that the investigator has said what he has to say, and doesn't bother with social graces. In a fashion he respects it; there's certainly been times in Ravn's own life where he wanted nothing more than to give social conventions the finger and wander off without looking back. There's been times he did exactly that -- such as three years ago, when he packed a backpack and simply... left.

Then he looks back at Seth. "I honestly don't know Marshall well enough to like or dislike him. I didn't mean to imply that he's an asshole. Gun loving ex-Marine brawler meets scrawny academic. Mars, Venus. That's all."

"I got it. I don't know why Alexander didn't." Seth says with a shrug of his shoulder. "So..." the enforcer turns to look at Ravn, folding his arms over his chest, "Just exactly how did you end up getting a few new holes in you? Did I miss seeing you at the dance studio, where I may or may not have gave Reyes lead poisoning?"

"Yeah, I think you did, actually. I was at the mall expo outside, talking with Røn when the manure hit the fan. Got plugged in the leg. We all managed to overpower that lot and then the party started inside the studio and we all just -- honestly, I can't even tell you why, just, the police ran that way and there were really not a lot of them. It made sense at the time -- just follow de la Vega's lead. Only, I must look like somebody who's trouble or just have real bad luck, because I barely made it in the door before some rooftop sniper put a bullet in my lung from across the street. You probably missed me because I was busy passing out in the corner." Ravn makes a small face. "I honestly have no idea how I got to the hospital. I remember seeing Reyes walk in and give a little speech but I don't remember what he said."

"Some bullshit poem about skin, blood, and bone," Seth says with a sigh as he settles into a chair, having had enough of standing against the wall. "I'm not sure what he was talking about before that. I got there, snuck in, and plugged...er...allegedly plugged...a round in him to get him to shut up."

"Which we neither confirm nor deny, but somebody had to do it. You know me, Seth. I'm pretty big on ethics and second chances. I'm also pretty big on the idea that there comes a point where somebody needs to be voted off the island. Reyes put himself into that position. He made choices. They were obviously not good choices." Ravn starts to hitch a shoulder -- and then remembers not to, a far better choice.

Instead, he pours more coffee, clearly subsisting on it at the moment. "I'm... honestly not upset. I'm upset that people got hurt. That it's pure luck that no one died, that no 'civilians' got hurt. But on the whole? We won this round."

"A couple people did die," Seth says in hushed tones. "Nobody I really knew, but there were at least two casualties that I know of. Sad thing is, I couldn't tell you their names. One of them was Neil I think? I never associated with them, but I saw their corpses being hauled out. Still, it could have been so much worse. I just wish I had been there from the start. I fucked up. I should have been there, I should have gone along with Vic."

"I didn't see. I don't know a lot of the people who were in the studio -- which is not that strange, really. I'm not in touch with Gray Harbor's underworld barring, well, you and Vic. And that's how it should be." Ravn nods. "I'm sorry people did get killed. I hope that they were at least -- involved. The idea of some innocent housewife out shopping for petunias and ending up eating lead bothers me more, I'm sure you understand. It's about having had a choice."

He sighs. "And that makes my mind circle right back to that lady in the park. She was all about me making choices. Told me I was drowning in my past, and that I need to make choices, to move on and decide not to let myself be weighed down. She's not wrong -- but if I see her again, I kind of want you or someone else to go talk to her too. Find out what the hell she's about, if she was just lucky. If she's dangerous. Just, for heaven's sake, give her nothing that's part of yourself or ever was."

"Yeah, he wasn't an 'innocent'," Seth confirms. taking a sip from his freshly filled coffee. "So you don't have to concern yourself with that."

"As far as your mystery woman in the park, I'm game. If I happen to be with you and you come across her again, I'll bite the bullet and see what my future is. Odds are she will probably tell me I don't have one, but why not give it a shot," smirks Seth.

"She freaked me out," Ravn admits. "Not denying it. Called me out right there, until I felt I'd better bloody well get that reading lest she started to hand out my calling cards. And that makes me suspicious as hell -- because last I checked I'm not somebody important around here. She also came onto Hyacinth Addington pretty hard but given that Hyacinth runs half this town, that makes a lot more sense."

He shakes his head. "Anyway. Yeah. Let's check up on it if we see her again. And let's neither deny nor confirm that things happened at the mall that shouldn't. I don't think any more's going to come off it. If the police wanted statements they'd have come taken them. De la Vega, Wilkinson, the rest of them -- they all know what really happened. They're probably just going to shove as much under the carpet as they can, and then get on with things. It's probably best that way."