2021-04-28 - Hills to Die On

Pourhouse. After hours. Whiskey.

What more do you really need to know? Not much, if one asks Ravn Abildgaard at least. He's becoming quite the regular these days, dropping in from across the street every other night for a quiet drink and a chat with the lumber mill workers -- many of whom are nudging him for insider tips for the upcoming lobster fighting season. There's talk of a new breed of crayfish that's more vicious -- take your eye right out with a Swiss Army Knife strapped to one pincer, it will. Because this is the kind of logic that fuels the Revisionist's crazy illegal lobster fighting ring tale, and at least Ravn has long since given up on even trying to resist.

Those are some mean crayfish.

He orders a whiskey on the rocks from Chelsea, quietly appreciating Leon's gesture in stocking a few good bottles for the rare connoisseur -- read: Ravn -- and settles at the bar with it and a cigarette.

\Wandering in not long after, Seth holds the door open long enough for his companion to enter as well. He casts a quick glance over the bar, giving Ravn an upnod in greeting as he makes his way over in the Dane's direction. "'Sup, Ravn? How goes the charity business?" the enforcer asks with a bit of a grin, sliding into a stool by the other man. He holds up a finger to catch Chelsea's attention, "I'll have what he is having."

And in comes Vic Grey in Seth's wake, being a walking sense of irony in that she works in a fancier bar, but drinks in this one, which is more her speed. The enforcer is outfitted in darkwash jeans and a dusty blue v-neck tee with her usual tac boots. She looks tired, but healthy, which she aims to defeat with copious amounts of whiskey.

Ravn gets a grin as she moves up to air-fist bump the Dane, not making physical contact. "I need to drop by and see what I can help with at your charity thing. I have a lot of red in my ledger (Thanks Black Widow), and I should balance that karma out some." She glances at the tender, "So will I, sans ice."

"Getting some of the walls painted -- Kinney and Holt are going to have a party painting up murals on them, and you know Bax is going to want in there," Ravn replies by means of verbal greeting, returning the air fist bump and aiming one at Seth too. "That new accountant from out of town, Cameron -- she's giving our paperwork a once-over, trying to make sure that the previous owner didn't leave some juicy mystery for us too. And the assistant district attorney paid a visit this morning." He looks amused at the last part and adds, "Not in a professional capacity though, she just bummed a croissant and some coffee. How are you guys doing? Still modernising the nineteen seventies nightmare, Vic? I feel like I'm out of the loop there a little, everything's been so bloody busy lately."

"I know how you feel, Vic," the other enforcer says, "That's why I met with Rhys to see about making a donation to the place with some of that...beach find." Seth shrugs a shoulder, returning the air-bump before sliding into a stool, "Seems like a good use for it, you know before it decides it wants to be seaweed or something."

Seth turns his he's back to Ravn, "New ADA? Joy. I wonder if Joey knows."

"It's coming along nicely. Still spending most of my time at Seth's while the construction stuff is happening. It's safer that way. I don't feel the need to brain noisy contractors or strangle someone for getting drywall in my coffee," Vic smirks. Clearly these things have happened at some point.

She nods to Seth and leans against his shoulder side by side on the bar stools. "Yeah, she is a real ball buster. I think if I was ever put in a room with her, there would be blood," she chuckles.

"I think I gathered she's not so much new as returned? Either way, she doesn't have the shine as far as I can tell." Ravn taps his lip with a gloved finger, a give-away that his mind is working (or running in circles, it happens, he doesn't want to talk about it). "Seems -- hard edged, but then, I can't say I have a lot of experience with lawyers I wasn't paying or trying to stay awake next to at some family dinner. She did try to paint Holt and I a picture of Gray Harbor being essentially drug trade central. if that's true, it's gone over my head -- not that I have been looking very hard, admittedly."

He shrugs. "Makes you wonder what prompts investigation here though? The mall shoot-out? Something else? That 'something' which is coming 'very soon' according to the Veil creatures?"

Javier's not as much of a fixture around here as some, though he turns up for the odd karaoke night, when Itzhak or Joe manages to drag him out of the house kicking and screaming. This evening, though, it looks like he's making good on a beer with a buddy. Or the conclusion of, therein. The other cop's slapping him on the back and departing for the 'lot, and the acting Chief squares up with a couple of twenties on the bar, on his way out. When he spots a few familiar faces.

"Hey," he murmurs to Ravn, not even bothering to take a chance on his name. Vic and Seth get a quick twinge of his mouth that.. well, it might be a smile. If you squint at it a bunch.

"Oh, I just can't wait to meet her," Seth grumbles. "If she has the same reaction everyone else does to my surname, even better." He grins back at Vic and laughs, "Well, let's just hope I don't have to bail your ass out. I've done my good deed for the month. No punching ADA's or contractors."

And of course, de la Vega makes his appearance known, speak of the devil. The enforcer looks up as the C.O.P approaches and forces a smile. "Chief," he mutters out with a nod.

"I'd guess the whole Reyes fiasco and the former police Chief being killed, and half the police department having been on the take to Reyes," Vic mutters. "Normally I don't think they'd give a damn, except non-gang civilians got hurt, public property got trashed, and police corruption was exposed. If it was just Reyes and the local criminals killing each other, no one would notice."

And then speak of the police and one appears! Vic exchanges a look with Seth and gives Ruiz a faint smile and an upnod. "Heard that DA is back. How bad is it?" she asks.

"Speaking of, I met another Reyes the other day. Don't think there's any connection though -- it's a common name apparently? Not going to pretend I didn't jump in my seat." Ravn raises a gloved hand in a lazy wave to de la Vega. "How's life? Haven't run into you much lately, but then, I guess that unlike me, you have a day job."

He fishes a cigarette out and lights it with a battered old zippo, leaving the packet on the table. "I got challenged to karaoke in your name, by said assistant DA. Told me if she could get you on a stage, I didn't stand a chance. I'll die on this hill."

Ravn's comment gets a chortle from the cop. "Reyes? Common as dirt, yeah." A murmur of thanks to the 'tender, and he accepts the bottle of beer the guy gives him on the house in parting. Hey, it pays to be the Chief around here. "What assistant DA?" A beat. "Oh, Bennet? Look, she thinks she fucking took me down a notch, but she doesn't know what she's talking about."

He pops the cap on the beer and tips it back for a swig. Then snorts at Vic. "It's fine. So long as she does her job and stays the hell out of my way."

"So what exactly is 'in your way', de la Vega? Just, you know, so I can stay out of it as well. I can never tell from one day to the next." Seth mumbles out before his brain has a chance to say shut up. The enforcer picks up his glass of whiskey and takes a small sip as he looks to the chief.

He glances between Ravn and de la Vega, "Wait, you both have to sing? No how can I miss this? When is this lovely event going to take place?"

Vic grunts quietly at Ruiz. "I'll just remind myself to avoid her. I'm not as patient as you are with antagonistic people. And if someone tries to make me do karaoke, there will be blood. For sure." There are people who love to do karaoke; then there are people who would rather have bamboo skewers shoved under their fingernails. Guess which one Vic is?

Her phone vibrates and she glances at it, then tosses back her whiskey in one go. "Got some work to do, see you at your place later?" she queries Seth. Then she's off.

"She does strike me as the competitive sort -- but then, I guess you don't go to law school if you aren't." Ravn nods amicably. "Made me realise, though -- I haven't actually talked much to somebody in a while who doesn't have the... you know. Turns out it's actually more difficult than I thought it would be, not saying anything about Gray Harbor's weirdness. I don't envy anyone who has to explain their way around things in an official capacity. Hell, spent half the week breaking it gently to Isi Cameron -- that's the accountant you shoved a glimpse of the other side, Vic. She's coming around to -- well, not believe it all, but at least believe that she doesn't understand what the hell she's looking at, and I guess that's something."

He glances at Seth. "There is no way in fuck all I am getting on a stage to sing." Vic gets an empathic nod in passing as she gets up. "That. That there? I'll help you bury the body."

Ruiz very nearly chokes on his beer as Cassidy's described as the competitive sort. Which is understating things just a tad. He finishes his swallow, and settles back into a lean against the bar. "Nos vemos más tarde," he murmurs to Vic, with an upnod as she makes to depart.

Seth, then, gets a long look for his comment. And then he chuckles, and gestures toward the enforcer with his beer. "Tell you what. I'll let you know if I have a problem with you. Yeah?"

\Seth gives Vic a quick little wave as she heads out the door, the question of hers going unanswered since it was mostly rhetorical.

Turning back to the police chief, the enforcer eyes Ruiz for a moment, and then nods with his own little salute with his glass of whiskey. "Fair enough, de la Vega. Fair enough."

"What is it with all of you, afraid to get up on a stage and sing? It's not like you are supposed to sing well at karaoke...that is the whole point. Most people are too drunk to care anyway. You can be as bad as you think you are, and people are still going to think you are Neil Diamond or something. Come on, Ravn, I am sure you can belt out a decent rendition of 'Baby got back'."

"Well, for one I have asthma. I'd end up doubling over coughing for the rest of the evening, or sucking on my inhaler so hard that I get arrested for drug abuse." Ravn hitches a shoulder. "Second? I don't want people to look at me, you know that. It freaks me the hell out. If I ever get drunk enough, or marched up there at gun point, though, it'll be with an instrument. Because bloody asthma."

He smirks. "Or maybe Itsy Bitsy Spider. At least that was our assistant DA's suggestion for the asthmatic. Because it's short."

The asthmatic comment gains a glance at that cigarette Ravn lit up, and an arched brow as Javier takes another slug of beer. And then he observes somewhat obliquely, "Chapter seventy, section one-sixty dash thirty." Turning back to Seth, he snorts softly and points out, "I got up on the fucking stage and sang her damned song, what more do you want?"

"Hey," Seth smirks, "You know what might help asthma. Maybe not inhaling lungs full of smoke. Just sayin'" Seth and Ruiz on the same page without any verbal cue, that might be scary. The enforcer glances over at de la Vega as he spouts off number, and arches a brow. "What is that where Baby Got Back is in the karaoke book or the penal code for being too drunk that you think karaoke is good? " Seth says with a grin, "I knew you liked to sing. Probably have the voice of a damned angel."

"I know, I know. I shouldn't smoke. Figure something's got to kill me, though, and so far, the Veil hasn't managed." Ravn manages to at least look a little guilty. "I didn't smoke or drink a whole lot before I got here, but -- eh. Gray Harbor. Do I want to know what book chapter seventy, section one-sixty dash thirty is from?"

He doesn't look very worried. Being stupid with one's health is as of yet not an indictable offence. When Seth joins in the ribbing, though, the Dane shoots a victimised look from one man to the other. "Help, help, I'm being repressed."

"Ah, fuck off," Javier mutters at the enforcer without any real bite in the least. And in case Seth isn't sure what he means by that, the cop's tattooed middle finger is offered as a reminder. Then it's wrapped around his beer again, and the thing's tipped back for a long swallow.

His dark eyes travel back to Ravn with the question, bemusement in the twitch of his lips. "Washington State tobacco law. Which you're in violation of, mi amigo." He raps the knuckles of his free hand on the bartop, then points a finger at the Dane to indicate.

Seth chuckles as de la Vega gives him the finger and salutes once more with the glass of amber liquid in his hand. "Fucking off, sir!"

Seth takes a sip of the whiskey leans back against the counter to watch for the moment with some curious satisfaction.

"Aw, man." Ravn manages to whine in the exact tone of a five year old who's being denied ice cream, and it's definitely deliberate. His blue-grey eyes glitter with amusement all the same as he puts the cigarette out. "Fair enough. You win this round. I actually didn't realise but I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Smoking's outside under the lamp post these days, is it?"

"With all the rest of us filthy heathens, yeah," Javier agrees, watching as the cigarette's put out while dangling his beer bottle loosely in one hand. He tips his chin toward the taller man. "You got asthma though, you really shouldn't fucking smoke. And don't give me that bullshit about something's got to kill you. Because it's bullshit." He should know. The beer's finished off, and he glances at his watch. "I should get out of here."

"Good to see you, though. Last time got a little busy. Think I prefer meeting like this." Ravn nods amicably at de la Vega; there's little doubt that the Pourhouse is infinitely preferable to being used for target practise with live rounds at a mall expo gone horribly wrong. "Give my regards where appropriate? Might see you on the marina sometime, finally got the Vagabond back where she belongs."

"That means you are moving out of Vic's place?" Seth looks over and asks Ravn, "Oh, wait...you already did that. I forgot, how goes the roommate situation?"

"Yo haré eso," replies the captain with a curt nod. His empty bottle's slid back across the bartop, a thump of his knuckles in farewell to the 'tender. Then he pushes off and makes to depart with a murmured farewell to the pair of townies remaining. Ravn might, or he might not see the socially reclusive cop on the Marina some time. It's always a bit of a crapshoot with this man, after all.

"Eh, room mate situation hasn't gone anywhere yet, but then, I don't need to have it resolved until sometime in September." Ravn sips his whiskey and shrugs a little. "You know how it is in this town? Things keep getting in the way. If I'm not being assaulted by wooden carousel horses I'm arguing mythological semantics with a Russian trickster goddess. Last week I got turned into a plastic figure version of the bloody Sesame Street Count. I'm sometimes amazed that I remember to do the dishes and take out the garbage."

He raises his glass in a lazy salute to de la Vega as he too wanders off (although his salute does not mention fucking off, sir). "This town, it does a number on your head sometimes. Things that ought to matter a whole lot don't -- and things that aren't a big deal suddenly matter quite a lot."

Seth smirks and nods. "Yeah, I hear ya. Like I haven't seen hide nor hair of Alexander in ages, but I assume he is around just buried in a book or a case or whatever. People just seem to come and go."

"Me either," Ravn murmurs and then nods. "I think someone like that, though, we'd hear if he actually went missing -- as in, stopped paying his bills, actually disappeared. I prefer to think he's just gone so deep into some case that he's forgotten everything else."

He empties his glass and then looks at Seth. "Hey, when the evenings get a little warmer, let's go sailing sometime. Do a bit of fishing, just a small handful of us. Maybe remember that whole relaxing thing, I think I'm forgetting how it works."

Then Ravn too slides off his barstool after leaving a tip for the bartender (gotta stay on Chelsea's good side, she knows his brand of whiskey). "I'm beat. Going to go finish that cigarette while I walk home, and then just pass out. See you around, all right? Told you, de la Vega doesn't have it in for you personally, he's a tad abrasive with anyone."