2021-05-09 - A Glimpse of Whales

The Tenna II is not large as fishing boats go. It might be more appropriate to label her a refurnished fishing boat -- her trawl has been removed, and most of her deck is occupied by deck chairs bolted to the planks. She has a small bar, and a fully functioning kitchen on board. She has a couple of berths for seasick tourists. She is a charter boat, the kind that you go on a one day fishing cruise around the bay on. Some might consider the tall, blond Captain Chris Long to be a bonus. Others might laugh at the fish-skull and crossbones flag that she flies, proudly announcing that Dead Fish Tell No Tales.

You can bring your own gear and tack if you have it. Or you can rent from Captain Long -- he's got everything from a very child and amateur proof six foot beginner's rod to a fourteen foot Shimano rig that will shiver like the tiny hairs on your lover's skin if a fish as much as looks at the bait. Safety vests are required on board. A warm sweater is recommended because while summer is definitely in the making, it can get pretty damn cold out there on the blue wild yonder.

Tourists come to Seattle all the time to go fishing in Puget Sound. Some of them decide that it's too bloody crowded and head south, around the peninsula that is Olympia State Park, and end up in Gray Harbor, along with the yachters on their way to Olympia proper. Locals say that a trip around the bay on the Tenna II is as good a way as any to get to know the town and its people.

Okay, Chris Long says that. He makes his living renting out his boat, gotta draw in patrons.

Here he is, though -- a tall and muscular blond in an offwhite raglan sweater and a captain's cap with the boat name embroidered in front. All smiles and good cheer as he welcomes some fifteen people on board one by one, asking each what brings them out here today, and what kind of fish they're hoping to catch.

What does bring his customers out here? To some, the fishing, no doubt. To at least one paranormal investigator? A suspicious flyer giving off unpleasant and foreboding mental images that bear some kind of investigation. To a couple? Well, the ladies over there at least clearly think that Long is worth paying for the trip for -- eye candy is eye candy.

One man to turn up, leather jacket up around his ears and face half buried in a dark purple scarf because ick, ocean wind, is Ravn Abildgaard, one arm in a sling, and accompanying Diana Wilkerson, said paranormal investigator. The two are trailed, for some reason, by a tall, older man with a silver crew cut and wild eyes; the kind of shifty and ragged looking fellow you'd expect to live in a tent under the boardwalk. He smells like it, too -- a strange, meaty kind of smell, like something that was left to sit too long in the sun.

"You'll see for yourself," he tells them, agitated. "You'll see the girl fish! They'll come for you and don't you come tell me after that I don't done told you so! Nobody ever believes me, you're crazy, old man, they tells me, THERE ARE MERMAIDS IN THE OCEAN!"

It's possible that the couple might have wanted to try to talk the old homeless guy down -- but clearly, the local fishermen are used to the guy. Captain Chris Long shouts from the deck of his boat, "PISS OFF, DENNY! STOP SCARING MY CUSTOMERS!" -- and sure enough, the old coot scampers off, leaving a wake of swear words that might embarrass any rookie deckhand.

It's another normal, sunny day in Gray Harbor, full of ominous portent, crazy people, and hopefully, some nice, fat salmon. Who knows? Maybe the sonar will even find a pod of whales.

A few nights before Zach had been dancing at his regular Thursday night gig for the last month or so Thirsty Thursdays at R Place, a gay club in Seattle.. The guys were hot and the tips were nice. But he was starting to get antsy again, and starting to recognize people, and well that usually meant it was time for a change. At closing that night when he was counting the various tips that had been... Given to him he found the normal spread: mostly ones a few 5's and a rare higher bill. However that night there was also a ticket for a tour around the bay, along with lunch. And it was a new town not too far away to head back to Seattle if it was a bust.

He'd left that night and hitched a ride to Gray harbor. Which took a few days for various reasons. But here he was backpack in hand standing at the dock slight bags under his eyes hinting that he hadn't been sleeping well in quite some time. He'd looked a little dubious at the free lunch he was likely to get from this particular trip, and wasn't much into fishing. But there was a bar, and the captain. Well Zack wasn't sure which team the captain played for, but he was certainly going to try to find out. So he heads on board, and flirts playfully with the captain, just another tourist to most. Though this tourist has quite the shine on him.

Speaking of shine as he looks around and sees at least 2 people with a certain amount of glittery-ness, he heads straight over to the bar and pours himself something strong. He must be getting sober he's starting to see things again. He has a drink in hand as he hears the captain yell at the old coot, and hadn't quite gotten what the old man had to say, but didn't seem to care much.

Walking across the harbor at a leisurely pace (for her) that might make grown men weep for their calves if they moved like that 8 hours a day (like she does) is a short chubby pink marshmallow with a floppy pink beanie on its head.

Cassidy's eyes are fixed on her phone and thumbs are flying. Because it can be cold, she is wearing a bright pink fluffy parka. Then it's just black leggings and pink running shoes. On her head is a pink beanie that flops to one side with a fluffy pink ball at the top.

This isn't where she might usually be spotted but it is a weekend and the Groupon special insisted this was a good buy and there were no other plans. Plus the reviews said the Captain had a handsome smile and a tight little rear rudder that he is adept at using to steer the ship safely around the North Bay.

As she approaches the boat, she is nearly knocked over by a stinky loon who is swearing almost as much as she does on a typical day at the office. She eeps! out of his way. "Watch where you're going!!" she yells after the man. Then more quietly to herself, "Asshole."

The little blond sighs and then holds her phone an arm's length upward, flashes it the peace sign, makes a duck face and snaps a selfie. Do it for the 'gram.

The phone disappears into a marshmallow pouch somewhere in her giant jacket as she begins the process of getting onto the boat.

"Hey Rav!" she says very very loudly when she almost instantly identifies the tall Dane. It's probably the gloves and the arm sling that gave it away. "Cute scarf." And to Chris Long, "Hi Captain..." that one is delivered with an especially friendly smile and a couple of swats of her eyelashes. Then she leans a bit to the side so she can see Diana and she waves, "Hi. I'm Cassidy."

And judging by the way she is standing now it seems she has invited herself to be a part of the Ravn & Diana "group" and attached herself to whatever purpose they have for being on the boat.

Conner Hawthorne hasn't fished since he was a kid, and he woke up this morning with some real nostalgia for it. He'd called, been pleasantly surprised to find there was a spot on the boat, and had chosen to make his way down in a grey sweater over jeans and construction boots. All and all he looks a little less rumpled than usual, sipping on a thermos of hot coffee as he arrives, looking relaxed and ready for a fun day.

The old man wanders right past him, after his confrontation with Cassidy, and he and Conner pass like ships in the night. The old guy seems barely to notice him, and Conner just seems to be okay with that.

Ravn and Diana he knows, so he smiles and lifts a hand in greeting to them. Cassidy gets a more reserved but still friendly enough wave. He pauses to offer a hand and a soft-spoken introduction to the Captain, though, before doing anything else. Then he wanders over in Ravn in Diana's direction too. Zack gets another one of those reserved-yet-friendly lifts of his hand as he passes.

For Diana's part, she's been chattering non-stop on the way to the docks, increasing in volume and intensity as they reach the boat. She seems exceedingly thrilled to be going on this trip, foreboding visions or no, and poor Ravn gets to 'share' in her enthusiasm. She's dressed in an ugly red Christmas sweater that features Gremlins and warns in all caps, 'THE GREMLINS ARE COMING.' http://www.numskull.com/wp-content/uploads/Gremlins-Are-Coming-Xmas-Jumpers-NS-01-300x300.jpg When the old man calls out, her excitement somehow goes UP a notch, and she looks ready to reply to him when the Captain instead sends him off. "Oh, but!" But it's too late. He's gone. She sighs, glancing over at Ravn, and then turns to Cassidy as the woman shares her name. "Hey there! I'm Diana. Nice to meet you!" She smiles brightly at Cassidy, and even moreso at Conner, before giving the Captain and some of the others on the boat (including Zack) a polite wave.

Some people go to sea to fish. Some people go to sea to hold a fishing rod while they get drunk. The alcohol on display in the little bar of Tenna II is nothing to write a gleeful post about on your connoisseur's blog, but it'll get the job done. What's better is, it's paid for -- the ticket price covers that most dangerous and hangover inducing brand of them all, ad libitum. Presumably, enough patrons go on these trips to actually fish that Captain Chris Long doesn't lose money on boozing up the ones who just want to get drunk in peace.

Zack is not alone over there. At least a couple of other guys, burly men in flannel shirts, head straight for the beer. None of them have that sparkly, shiny stuff -- and neither does the captain. Zack, Conner, and Diana seem to be the babes with the power -- unless you count Ravn and the old coot on the pier, both of whom have a very faint glow.

Captain Chris Long may not have the shine -- but his eyes glitter as he lays eyes on Zack at least. The wink and the smile -- daddy likes what he's looking at, no argument there. Captain Chris Long probably thinks 'subtle' means waiting until someone's turned their back on you before you loudly declare them a bitch.

"That was Denny," Ravn murmurs, mostly to Diana but probably also for Conner's benefit. "The carnivorous mermaids guy from the HOPE centre. The flyer that you touched -- he probably brought it in. Man's convinced the harbour is a death trap." Then he returns Cassidy's greeting even as his gaze follows Zack a moment (somebody shiny with an unfamiliar face?). "Hawthorne, Bennett and Wilkerson, and the other way around," he introduces even as the little group boards the Tenna II as the last. Why he, and a handful of other people in this town, insist on using last names most of the time is anyone's guess.

A series of small bumps vibrate through the hull as the little fishing cruise boat's engines are fired up. She drifts away from the berth patiently, leaving that blank mirror like trail flanked by white seafoam as she half-turns to point towards the great blue yonder. The noise of the engine is clearly audible on deck but not to a point where it hinders conversation. And as one might expect, the cruise begins with a little pep talk by its blond captain.

"Welcome aboard!", Captain Long announces. "Today, we'll be heading out past Rennie Island and across the bay to Point Chehalis and the Westport Jetty, and from there, out on the ocean proper where we hope to spot whales. I can almost guarantee you fine folk that we'll spot porpoises, but if luck favours us, orcas and humpbacks are out there waiting for your cameras too!"

"Aw man," Conner sighs, soft spoken but with gentle good humor. "I actually did come for the actual fishing today...oh well. I guess if things go pear-shaped it's...fishing of a sort?"

He's just determined not to be daunted by anything, Conner is, even if it's carnivorous merfolk. He nods and smiles his way through the introductions, generally amiable. He briefly turns his attention to the Captain and his spiel, and leans against the railing of the boat.

He'll relax and enjoy the day until and unless it becomes evident it's not in the cards.

"You call me 'Bennet' more than my high school gym teacher ever did." Cassidy rolls her eyes and walks on further, "Come on Diana. Let's sit over here. What do you do?" She looks back and gives a sweet smile to Ravn, "How about a couple of sodas? Or water." She hmms... "Water. I can't have too much sugar. What do you want Diana?"

"Soda AND Water. Options are good." to Ravn.

"So what did you say you did, Diana? You look pretty excited for the boat trip. I am too." She nudges Diana with an elbow and upnods toward the Captain, whispers to Diana "I hear it's 70/30 that he takes his shirt off mid the tour. So this is my second time on board. He didn't last time." She giggles.

Zack does not miss the look from the captain, and gives him a look in return that promises should the captain have a few moments when he can get away that Zack would be more than happy to privately entertain him. Then all the rough looking men descend upon him and the bar. And he's being as charming as he can manage and tries to get a few to try something a bit more refined than a beer and if no one objects ends up behind the bar doing a little flair bar-tending for all that he looks barely old enough to drink legally.

Once the flannel wearing patron are all settled with beer or other concoctions Zack has made himself a drink and is staring at Connor and Diana from a distance, that glitter won't go away after his second drink. And both of them and the other black clad guy who has a fainter glow all acknowledged him. That was slightly so odd so after a moment he downs his drink and heads over to their grouping. (After getting a fresh drink.) And stands nearby not quite intruding among them but curious, this wasn't the first time he'd seen people that seemed a little sparkly but he'd never seen so many in such a short time period before.

With a nod of her head to Ravn, Diana says, "Ah," as regards Denny. "And to be fair to him, it is a death trap." She smirks, but she seems more amused than serious. Her gaze lingers on Zack a moment as well, but she tries not to make it obvious. When the boat starts up, she holds her arms up excitedly. "Wheeeeee!" she adds, for real, seriously. To Conner, she says, "There's always time for that. And yeah, it is fishing of a sort! As long as we don't get fished." He gets a grin, and then she turns to Cassidy, still grinning. "I suppose if they don't have milkshakes, I'll settle for a soda," she says with amusement, clearly not watching her own sugar at all. "And yes, I'm very excited. Living here, you'd think I'd go on these often, but honestly? I kind of forget I'm not in the middle of nowhere anymore. And I'm a paranormal investigator-- how about you?" She says that as casually as she would say, 'I'm a nurse,' or, 'I work in finance.' Like it's everyday. The whisper gets a broad smile from Diana, who notes quietly, "Those are good odds!" She laughs, and then notices the approach of Zack. He's given a wave, and Diana extends a hand as though to shake. "Diana Wilkerson, nice to meet you! Always good to see new faces. I haven't seen you around town before, I don't think."

"It's Gray Harbor. Something always goes pear-shaped." Ravn's murmur to Conner is interrupted by Cassidy's and Diana's requests -- with which Ravn complies without comment, since acting the part of personal waiter means less headache than the complexities of human interactions. He nods at Zack as they pass each other -- one heading towards the group from the bar, the other being sent to the bar by the group. The Dane patiently gets in line behind various mill workers in flannels trying to decide between cheap craft beer and cheap other craft beer. One of the guys ask him a question in hushed tones; the words Homarus gammarus come up but the man quickly lowers his voice as if no one else needs to hear his inquiry. Ravn's answer goes unheard but he nods; affirmative.

The engine throbs gently, its thumping vibrations radiating through the metal deck under the passengers' feet. Seagulls circle overhead, occasionally screeching, occasionally gliding down on a lower trajectory, probably hoping that someone needs to dispose of a bucket of fish guts or similar over the railing. The wind is fresh and smells of salt and seaweed, much like one might expect this close to shore. The sky competes with the bay for the most brilliant shade of May blue award. Gray Harbor's actual harbour soon becomes a splotch of grey and brown along with other splotches of colour along the coastline -- predominantly green from the surrounding woods. The more elegant residences with an ocean view stand out; the rest of the town sleeps peacefully behind them.

So far, nothing about this expedition says 'awful'. Captain Chris' gleaming white teeth shine as if trying to compete with the sun overhead as he drifts from one group of passengers to the next; the actual pilot of the ship is a small, compact fellow who minds himself and his teeny tiny bridge.

"Tried out those freeze-dried sea worms yet, Larry? Still swear by them wriggling myself, but Rodney caught a whopper on 'em last week," the captain tells one flannel shirt. "Got live shrimp for trying out when we get to the banks," he tells another. "Can't go wrong with Rapala," he tells a third who's attaching a bright cyan fish-shaped lure made from wood to his eighteen foot ocean rod. "It's Finnish, you realise."

The Tenna II heads straight for the narrow opening at West Jetty and Chehalis Point; once in times of yore, the ocean must have broken through there, to form the bay at the bottom of which lies Gray Harbor -- situated there, no doubt, because an incursion like that creates a calm and protected natural harbour with very natural protection against oceanic storms and riptides. The fact that West Jetty has been enforced and made much longer with concrete and steel only adds to the tranquility of the bay; and once the cutter slips past, the waves will be taller and the wind will have far more bite. Out there, on the ocean proper, is where the sonar will be used to search -- for shoals of fish, and for whales slipping out of sight in the deeps. There, fishing will begin.

Here's to hoping Denny's wrong, and the fishing will be people hunting fish -- rather than fish hunting people.

"So - does that, like, mean you are paranormal when you investigate, or do you investigate the paranormal?" Cassidy asks Diana with incredible intrigue. She leans in a touch and whispers, "Can you read my aura?"

The hilarious blond laughs at that and then looks stern over at the beverage line, "Any day, Rav! Just tell those guys to move." She switches the foot she's balancing on and with two fingers lets out a loud whistle at picky beer-guys in line ahead of Ravn, "If you're not ordering, get out of line!" Then she smiles a bright smile, holds her bag with both hands, forearms dropped and arms coming together as she bends forward a bit, "Please? We are trying to get some soda and we're reeeallly thirsty..." Then it's a wink for the mill workers (not Ravn).

Cassidy's smile remains for when she looks back to Diana. "I work in the District Attorney's office. Maybe you can use your 6th sense to help us solve some of the stickier murders that seem to happen around here."

With a rueful shake of his head for Ravn's grim pronouncement, Conner just declines to even get a pole or bait. He leans against the railing, folds his hands, watches the water, and enjoys a moment of peace. He smiles at Diana for her quip, but lets her have her conversation with Cassidy without commentary from his particular peanut gallery. If they get all the way to the place where they're actually going to be fishing and nothing pops out? Then. Then he'll try the live shrimp bait and one of the Captain's poles. He'll have a beer, he'll relax, he'll enjoy.

But since the jury's still out? Why fill up his hands with something he might have to cast aside or break later?

He turns though, when he notes Zack coming up to them, and offers a hand when he gets there. "I don't think I've met you yet. Conner Hawthorne," he says. Soft-spoken guy, despite the fact that he's got some size on him.

"Zack Lockhart, " He says with a bit of a cocky grin, and offers the hand that doesn't have his beverage, first to Diana then to Conner, then because it's be rude not to extends his hand for Cassidy as well. He is looking a little hard at both of the shining people. Then his eyes go back to Captain Chris and his shining smile. And he's trying to decide which he's more curious about, but as his cup begins to empty and the 'shine' hasn't gone away. "I'm just passing through. Someone gave me a ticket and I didn't have anywhere better to be."

When Ravn heads off, Diana follows his progress, tilting her head. She frowns just slightly as she sees the hushed exchange, but whether or not she heard the murmured words or not is unclear. At any rate, she's distracted by her thirsty companions-- and the lucky Zack, who's already got a drink! "Well met, Zack! Free tickets are always a benefit, especially when you have nowhere else to be." She smiles at him, and then grins outright at Cassidy's questions. "'fraid not," she answers in response to the whispered question, shaking her head. "It'd be a very useful talent, but it's not one I possess." She chuckles at Cassidy's whistle and the wink that follows, and then shrugs in response to the murder question. "I don't know that I'd be useful in the case of a murder. I did cut up more than one cadaver in school, but I'm a little too rusty, these days," she says with amusement. "Besides, I'm sure there are far sharper talents than mine to help out in that respect. Oh, and to answer your earlier question-- I investigate the paranormal. I'm working on a book about it, in fact, with my co-writer. He's been polishing up my more... dry commentary."

Sometimes, when a small, attractive woman pulls a bit of attitude on a group of beer bros, she gets a laugh and the compliance she desires -- because why not, who doesn't want to impress a cute blonde? A couple of the flannel guys chortle at the diminutive DA's attitude and start to move aside. Another couple, though, give her looks that make no secret of how they feel (and they're happy to include Diana in their scowl sweep while at it): These two are in violation of unspoken rules. Fishing is a man's sport, and the only place a woman has here is in the capacity of long-suffering girlfriend dragged along to look on admiringly while the boys play providers.

"Barely out of the harbour and already whining," one man murmurs, stroking his salt and pepper beard.

"Tell your girl to stop being a bitch," another says to Ravn in a tone that manages to mix 'we understand what you have to deal with here' up with 'why the fuck did you have to bring her, though'.

"Lay off, Rick," a third says and basks a little in Cassidy's wink. "Girl just wants a drink. Want something sharper than soda, sweet cheeks?"

"I'm fairly certain that if you call Ms Bennett 'my girl' one more time she'll use your balls for bait," Ravn murmurs back, clearly unimpressed with the idea that the conduct -- or indeed presence -- of either lady is somehow his responsibility; though technically he might be at least considered conductive to Diana's.

"That's the Assistant District Attorney, Rick," he last man in that small group helpfully advises Mr Salt and Pepper whose name does in fact appear to be Rick. "Don't pick a fight with someone as works for the fuzz."

With grunts and mumbles, the small group of flannel fishermen move off -- though not without a last dirty glance towards the women from Rick. Ravn -- who appears to be part of their social strata even if failing to wear the appropriate attire -- finally obtains two beers and two sodas, and makes his way back to the little group. "Sorry about that," he says and distributes colas to Diana and Cassidy. "Rick's got some trouble at home. He's a little -- eh, there's a lot of old superstition about women on boats anyhow."

He offers the other beer to Conner before opening his own and leaning against the railing and adds, "I see some of those guys pretty often on the marina." And because the ADA is indeed present, the Dane leaves the rest unsaid: That's three days a week for illegal lobster fighting ring meetings. Just because something is absurd doesn't mean it's not a crime.

The water of the bay is blue, of course, but with an undertone of green and muddy shades of brown and grey. As the Tenna II exits past West Jetty Point and turns south along the coast, trailing along Cohasset Beach, the Pacific Ocean is a brilliant shade of blue in comparison -- and endless. There's nothing out there on the horizon to the west but water, water, and nothing but water. The air turns brisk and has a distinct bite of winter only just gone, and the reflection of sun in the waves stings the eye.

You can tell who's accustomed to the sea; they're the ones now dipping into pockets for shades. Captain Chris for one -- and Ravn who professes to having grown up in a country that's essentially a peninsula surrounded by an archipelago.

Captain Chris' attention is caught by a gesture from his pilot. He walks into the ship's very small bridge room and through the window it's not difficult to tell that the pilot is showing him something -- and that they are debating it for a few. Then the engine cuts, leaving Tenna II adrift, bobbing gently on the ocean waves.

The captain emerges, all brilliant smile, and claps his hands to catch people's attention. "We're in luck, folks! The sonar is picking up a small pod of what's probably porpoises hunting in the deeps. And that means there's something here to hunt, so let's get those rods out and ready, boys. They'll surface soon when they've rounded up the shoals -- make sure to not throw your lures directly in their path or you may find yourself needing to shop for a new rod!"

A few of the flannel fraternity members are too busy with their beers to pay attention; but most people on board do notice the gust of water on the horizon and then the leaping porpoise out there to starboard.

Maybe it's that Diana is a paranormal investigator expecting to find something wrong here -- and that Ravn hails from a country where leisure sailing is the pastime of half the population; maybe it's just the way the sun gleams in the surface of the ocean that makes them both certain that for a moment there was something else there -- something that rode on the porpoise's back much in the fashion of a rider on a horse.

Everyone on board notices the sudden drop in temperature though -- just a few degrees, but fast.

Cassidy watches and waits with perfect poise while chatting it up with Diana. The men can grumble. They can call her names. Flash her dirty looks. It's okay because all that matters is they /did/ move and Ravn /is/ getting the soda. She is a results person. The rest is noise.

She seems a bit disappointed in Diana's response. "Oh," she says, "So stuff like that Ghost Hunters tv show? Isn't that all a bunch of hoo-ha? Disembodied spirits and such? I would've stuck to medicine. Besides - probably more wandering souls hanging around their dead bodies than on a boat with Captain Chris...or with Rav."

And ooooh mai Captain Chris..... 70/30 the shirt comes off... Cassidy is hopeful!

When Ravn finally returns with her soda she claps a little clap and accepts it with a very faint curtsy-esque motion. "Thanks Rav! You're the best."

"Nice to meet you, Zack."

To Ravn: "Thanks man," Conner says, accepting the beer. He'd been giving the flannel crew the world's most Disapproving Looks as he heard them start throwing around words like 'bitch.' The silent censure of an older man who can't believe they were raised so very poorly.

Cassidy's dismissal makes him wince, and he's awfully slow to go for those poles there. He blows out his breath, watching it fog, and turns to look into the water, shading his eyes. He can't see anything yet, but he just doesn't even go for a pole. It's not going to be that kind of a fishing day. He's getting more and more sure of it by the second. Something about Cassidy dismissing it just as the temperature drops just ramps up his feeling that this is not going to end well.

Zack was chatting with the people, still unsure what this shine was, and why it wasn't going away as he drank. Alcohol usually took the edge off . He knew nothing about boats so he he thought maybe the sudden drop in temperature was normal? Maybe? He clutches to his drink more. And looks around perhaps he's picking up on Conner's nerves, but he has a bad feeling about this. And he just looks around at the others with a brow raised curiously. "Is something going on here?"

"Could have sworn there was something else," Ravn murmurs and looks at the spot of ocean into which the porpoise disappeared -- as porpoises will, given that they neither have wings nor the ability to levitate, and thus are subject to the pull of gravity.

Around them, flannel fisher bros and other tourists ready their fishing rods -- most of them picking shiny lures in the shape of small fish that gleam in the sunlight, sparkly and brightly coloured on top, silver bellies; whatever fish the porpoises came here to hunt also came here to hunt -- and the lures resemble the smaller fish that mackerel or cod might indeed be hunting in turn. A number of the lures look like small herring -- others, like psychedelic, neon-coloured herring preparing for a Flashdance performance.

It almost looks like some kind of cinematic effect as twenty or more little silver fishes fly through the sky and hit the waves with a little plop and splash each. The rods move slightly as their owners reel in the line in slow, jerking movements to make the bait move through the water like curious little fish, attracting the attention of bigger fish.

It's a show and dance of a sorts; enough to occupy the eyes of most on board. Not enough, apparently, to distract the eye of Conner Hawthorne whose gaze drifts to the railing and the water below instead. There's a face there -- looking right back at him. A pretty face at that -- if one fancies one's pretty girls to have skin in the blue-green shades of deepwater kelp, and hair that floats in the water much in the fashion of said kelp, bobbing on the current and forming a halo around her head.

The eyes though. Fish eyes. Shark eyes. Dead, black ovals in her face, emotionless, expressionless. Cold.

And then she smiles at him, revealing a double row of jagged, triangular teeth that would make a Great White proud.

Is something going on? Zack asks, and Conner says: "Yep."

He points down to the fish girl smiling at him so Zack can get a good look as well.

He smiles down at the fish girl in turn though. No need to assume this is going to get violent right away. He leans against the railing and says in the world's most reasonable, quiet, placid tones: "I don't suppose you can be convinced to just let these nice people have a fun day on the water without violence, mayhem, and attempts to eat people? We're not bothering you...there's really no need for you to bother us, is there?"

He's not really tempted by pretty people of either persuasion, as it happens, but even if he was he wouldn't be particularly tempted by the fish eyes, so there's that.

"You've got plenty of fish to eat," he adds. "I understand you might have a taste for people. No judgement. But we're also a pain in the ass. We tend to bite back."

Is he concerned that he's going to look like a crazy person, negotiating with something in the water? Not really. This is the guy who goes around talking to carousel animals like they're his drinking buds. Conner stepped off the 'caring what people think about him' bus some time ago. Besides, this isn't the world's worst way to alert those who might be paying attention to the fact that. Oh yes. There is trouble.

Zach was entranced by the show until Conner pointed out the fish woman. He just blinks as he looks down. This can't be real can it? "Does Captain Chris Spike his booze?" It was a reasonable question though from the way Zack was staring he wasn't blindly dismissing it the way someone without glimmer would. He just doesn't know how to react. "Is that a mermaid?" He wasn't even remotely interested of course, now if the fish person had looked like Captain Chris there might be a chance that Zack would be affected.

Cassidy is chatting it up with Diana. She hear's 'is that a mermaid?' but does she look in the water to see if it /is/ a mermaid? Of course not. She looks at the person who asked if it /was/ a mermaid and just shakes her head and rolls her eyes. Then Connor is talking at the water. Lord almighty.

She looks back to Diana, "Looks like a couple of the boys had a bit too much to drink too early in the morning."

Insofar a face with dead, dark shark eyes can betray much emotion at all, what's going on there is confusion. The mermaid -- for lack of a better term -- stares back at Conner. She -- it? -- is listening. Is she understanding a word? That's anyone's guess. She's still got way too many teeth for such a small mouth. And she's watching the man with an expression that is half I bet you'd be good with oyster sauce and half I'm a fish, I don't have human expressions.

"Doesn't look much like The Little Mermaid," Ravn murmurs -- and he's right; if the statue in Copenhagen had shark teeth and eyes like that, odds are she'd get decapitated less and photographed by tourists less. Want to piss off the collective consciousness of Denmark all at once? Decapitate The Little Mermaid. Or cover her in paint. Or write 'racist fish' on her base. It's been a thing since some artist decapitated her with a saw the first time in 1964. They never did find out who, nor did they ever find the original head. All of which Ravn could probably give a speech about in his capacity as a folklorist but now might not be the time.

Does Captain Chris Long spike his booze? Maybe. More likely, he just knows what his audience wants. Lures are out; the dorsal fins of playful porpoises cut through the waves in long, gliding arches; the weather is gorgeous; the beer is plentiful; and cell phones are out. Any good showman knows when to up the ante and give the hussars what they want -- this is indeed the time where the good captain seems to have dressed a little too warmly for the weather. He shrugs out of that shirt, revealing toned, bronze abs, and if any of the flannel bros are taking a few pictures in that directions for the wifey, it's purely coincidental and don't you dare say a word, Mike.

Four more blue-green heads plop out of the water next to the first. One pair of shark eyes is on Conner. The four others are very obviously on the captain.

Maybe he would be good with oyster sauce.

Speaking of eyes on the Captain...

Cassidy joins the flannel clad men in picture taking of Captain Chris. She remains oblivious to flesh eating people-fish.

"I told you!" She whispers loudly to Diana with unchecked glee!

"No," Conner agrees with Ravn. "No they do not. And yeah, Zack. I'd guess so. I mean. This would be the first I've seen."

The fact that Cassidy is utterly oblivious-- and Conner can hear this-- seems to up the ante a lot. The fact that the mermaid is listening seems an encouraging sign. But now there are four more of them. One more shot to try to end this without violence...or without poor Cassidy getting her mind blown when the poor DA is just trying to enjoy a nice day out on the water looking at man abs.

Conner reaches out with his mind, and tries to speak to all four of them that way. We're more trouble than we're worth, guys. I promise, we are. It's a pretty day. Let's just let each other be.

It's worth a shot, anyway.

Zack speaks slowly, "Um uh. Yeah. We wouldn't taste very good and we'd poke back. It'd be more fun to just let us go." He also had the power to talk to animals, though he didn't know it and was subconsciously using his powers to communicate it to any animals nearby is he did so. Doing so made his bag roll over and a certain white fluffy ball bounce out and soon there was a Fennec fox on Zack's shoulder completely distracting him from trying to talk down the fish people. Zack's drink ended up on the deck of the ship, and as he saw out of the corner of his eye that the Captain was shirtless he cussed. He'd wanted... He shook his head strange fish people hallucinations are probably where he should be focusing.

Let's just let each other be.

It's such a fundamental suggestion for solving most of the problem of this world and the numerous worlds that overlap right here in Gray Harbor. It's such a simple and obvious solution that clearly, by its very existence it must offend some. Take one look at any politician or preacher suggesting something similar -- and you will find a politician and preacher who tends to get ignored a lot, because living and let living isn't fun. Stepping on somebody else's head to get closer to the podium in order to complain about how mistreated you are is human nature.

The fishgirl five are not human, though. Two more heads swivel to look at Conner. Looks pass between them. Are they considering his suggestion, or are the mermaids mentally going through their notes on best sauces for serving man? With faces this expressionless, it's hard to say. They all smile, though, showing too many sharp, triangular teeth.

"I'm starting to agree with Denny that they're decidedly carnivorous." Ravn states the obvious, and then offers what might or might not be an actual useful bit of information: "He claims that they sing to him, to lure him to sea. If these girls start singing we might need to pull an Odysseus and stop people from jumping into the sea. Christ, I hope he's wrong." The last bit is added with a glance to the flannel bros; there are far more flannel bros than shiny people on this boat.

Two fishgirls are still staring at Captain Chris, much in the fashion of a housewife in a charcuterie, trying to decide between white or dark meat. It's possible that some kind of spiritual connection is being established right now -- a potential Captain Chris Long Appreciation Society, with members above and below the waterline.

A number of the tourists -- in flannel and otherwise -- turn and look as well, though their attention are not on fishgirls and not on the porpoises either. It's the small predator with the large ears on Zack's shoulder that seems to be a sudden topic debate; observations range from 'what kind of weasel is that?' to 'Probably one of those guys who charge you to have your picture taken with an exotic animal'.

The most unsettling part of this entire scenario -- to at least four of the people present -- may not be the toothy mermaids as much as it's the way no one else registers them. What do the not so shiny people on the Tenna II think they see?

Porpoises. A cute fennec fox, cheerful weather, and the promise of a good catch. A guy snaps pictures of the fishgirl five with his cell phone, and at least Ravn, Conner, and Diana are old enough hands to realise that there will be nothing but adorable porpoises -- possibly harbour seals -- in those pictures. That the guy is genuinely convinced he's looking at harbour seals, too, because accepting this reality is too much to ask of someone who have not been touched by the Veil. Must be nice to go through life with your eyes shut like that.

Head bobbing up and down with the waves, fishgirl number one sucks in her breath visibly before opening her mouth. Maybe she wants to ask for directions to Puget Sound.

Conner realizes this isn't going to work. That fish girl opens her mouth, he's pretty sure it's to sing, and he closes his eyes for a moment and shakes his head. Humans are often disappointing to him. It's part of why he withdrew from the world for so long in the first place. It seems like humans and the Veil share some fundamental links and tendencies, and Conner finds this disappointing too.

Which is maybe ridiculous. He is literally trying to peacetalk carnivorous fish women.

So. Plan B.

"Right. Odysseus," he tells Ravn with a nod of his head. Only given they're all seeing porpoises, Conner knows nobody's sticking cotton in their ear today. Not until it's far too late.

So he turns utterly uncharacteristic. He whirls from the railing, turns to Captain Chris with the world's brightest smile, and says, "Hey Cap! This is a party right? Let's crank up some tunes!" And he tries to nudge him with his own glimmer, transmitting the emotions of 'good humor' and maybe 'wooooooooooo!' right at him in the hopes that this will get him to agree to do it rather than to argue that it'll scare off the fish. It makes him feel a little sick, honestly, to use his Gifts in this way, but if it saves lives, if some pounding rock or alternative drum beat on the water drowns the singers out entirely, then in this one singular case, he's feels he probably has some sort of ethical high ground. Maybe. A little.

*Zack is trying to calm down Carby, and poses for one or two pictures, because he can't help himself. He is however looking at the scary fish people and back at the gawkers and is very confused. Maybe this is all part of the show. Then he notices the look that some of the fish women are giving the Captain. The shirtless captain that he'd really REALLY wanted to... Well ... Anyway And he stood resolutely between them and the captain, not sure what the heck he'd do. But he wasn't going to let any girl steal a guy from him, ESPECIALLY not a fish girl.

When Conner starts being crazy he watches apparently not having heard what Ravn said while dealing with his white ball of fluff and ears. But getting it he quickly puts earbuds in his ears, and even a little set on Carby, from his pocket and turns on some music. Again he's not doing to dive to his death for girls. Now if it was a bunch of hunks like the captain... Maybe.

Cassidy remains oblivious. She twirls a blond tendril around one finger. MMmmmmmm Captain Chris.

Diana definitely saw whatever she saw on that porpoise, and she points for Ravn's benefit, whether he sees it or not. She's being awfully rude to the ADA-- and, frankly, everyone else on this boat save for Ravn-- as she just stares off at where she saw that potential rider, maybe attempting some mind mojo, or maybe just lost in thought. She even misses half-naked Captain Chris. Damn, it's hard being a paranormal investigator. Eventually, she shakes her head firmly, says in a vague murmur to Cassidy, '...something like that,' perhaps referring to the somewhat long ago mention of ghost hunters on TV-- or maybe Captain Chris? And then, as distracted and serious as she seemed, she takes a page from Conner's book, throwing up her hands and shouting, "WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" With all those Os and everything. "Party time out at sea! Let's crank it up and pump up the jam!" She points at Cassidy, saying, "You know what I'm talking about, right??" With a grin, she looks to Captain Chris. "Yeah, turn up the tunes, please! I feel a distinct need for PARTY TIME!"

The Fishgirl Five are sucking in their breath for a performance. Sharktooth Spice is ready to take the stage. No one has a ready supply of bee's wax with which to plug their ears in the fashion of Ithacan sailors. There are probably a few folks on board who'd gladly volunteer to help tie Captain Chris to the mast like a chiseled Odysseus.

However, Captain Chris Long hears his audience, loud and clear. There might be one or two among the flannel fellowship who may later point out that turning up the base and dropping a solid beat is not exactly the optimal fish catching strategy but they'll be saying it to friends with pounding hangovers (and empty fish bags). The Tenna II has a far larger sound rig than any fishing boat needs.

I'm comin' up so you better get this party started
I'm comin' up so you better get this party started

Get this party started on a Saturday night
Everybody's waiting for me to arrive
Sendin' out the message to all of my friends

The beat is twenty years old but the message is timeless. For what it's worth, the message might be identical to whatever the Aquatic Quintet there was preparing to perform -- the party is on, let's get wasted, let's get down to business (and nevermind the fact we'll be drowning you a little bit and eating you a little bit, at least you'll be having a good time). The powerful oontz oontz oontz of speakers designed to blast the brains (and money) from drunk tourists drowns their attempt at alluring song right out. When Captain Chris Long sways his narrow hips and fist pumps the air, yelling "Better get this party staaaaaaarted!" -- that's dropping the bass on the mermaids. Figuratively, and with the power of this sound rig, literally.

The porpoises scatter like sea mammals whose survival depends on sonar and a working sense of hearing. Up there, on the Tenna II's tiny bridge, the other crew member could testify (if anyone could hear him over the music) that every fish within a mile's radius is trying to move itself out of that mile's radius, too. Overhead, the seagulls circle and screech in disapproval but it's not like anyone can actually hear.

Did anyone want to have a conversation? Here's to hoping they speak ASL, then.

Ravn does open his mouth to say something -- and then gives up. Instead, he just nods his approval of the quick thinking of Conner and Diana. He may have a pounding headache for a week after this. Not also getting fishgirl tooth marks on his backside makes the noise worth it.

If the noise bothers the five sharktoothed heads down there, it's in the capacity of disarming them. Their faces, expressionless until now, contort; they exchange looks and frowns over dead black shark eyes. Do they speak with each other telepathically? Are they a communal intelligence, an aquatic hivemind? Or do they communicate in ever so subtle expressions and gestures? It's anyone's guess, but the message is not difficult to interpret: They are not happy about losing their number one weapon, and they have yet to acquire dinner.

The coastline is out there, in the distance; a dark green shadow on the horizon to the starboard. There's a gap in that line, and beyond that gap lies the bay -- and beyond that, Gray Harbor. If the Tenna II fires up her engine and starts moving now she can make it back to port in about forty minutes, an hour, during which five hungry sirens might do -- well, who knows what they might do?

And of course there's the little fact that

Get this party started
Get this party started right now
Get this party started
Get this party started
Get this party started right now

the party's only getting started.

Alright. Problem #1 is dealt with. Now they still have another problem, in the form of fish girls who aren't exactly giving up. Conner shoots a grim okay now what? look at Diana, Ravn, and Zack. His brow furrows as he generates-- and easily rejects-- several dozen ideas, all increasingly implausible. He shakes his head at the three of them, just a little, to let them know that he's hit that unwelcome point, the one colloquially known as guys, I got nothin'.

Hopefully one of them will have somethin'.

Meanwhile he shoots his thumbs up at Cap'n Chris with a wide smile. Good job buddy! Way to satisfy your customers! Well done!

Then he decides on a somethin'...he rubs his hands together, picks a spot in the middle of the fish girls which he hopes is...far enough away from the boat...and sends a ball lightning right in the middle of the water between them.

Tase Fish!

"What?" Cassidy looks at Diana. Breaking her gaze from Captain Chris allows the music to reach her ears. "oh! YEAH!"

She puts her arms up and and shakes her head from side to side - blond hair whipping in each direction - hips moving as she walk/dances toward the center of the boat, "I'LL BE YOUR CONNECTION TO THE PARTY LINE!" 🎶

Not only does the Tenna II have a bar and a sound rig that could be used for armed warfare -- it seems to also have a special effects light rig which is definitely beyond awesome if you ask anyone who's had a bit too much to drink already and came here to party, not fish. That bit there is fairly important. Because no one's going to get a lot of fishing done under these conditions -- least of all the fish themselves, heading for Puget Sound as fast as their tail fins will take them.

Lightning explodes on the water and spreads in bright, white-blue ripples, forming a fractal pattern spreading out from the ship like a snowflake, as electricity seeks the path of least resistance before finally fading away. A cheer goes up from the audience; now that is special effects! If it looks cool now, imagine what it'll look like when the sun sets!

Five heads with dead eyes turn and look directly at Conner.

Five mouths open. Five mouths break into screams that can't be heard above the oontz! oontz! oontz! of the loudspeakers.

You don't need to be a certified electrician to make out the reason, though -- electricity plus salt water equals ow ow ow ow. It's nigh impossible to predict the saline levels in any given cubic foot of ocean water, current and undertow and surface temperature play their parts, and all in all, the factors needing considered in the equation here are far too many to predict much at all. But the one thing that can be expected is ow.

Most of the people on the Tenna II this day will go home with a memory of five harbour seals leaping out of the water only to come down with loud splashes, and trashing about in the surface before descending into the deeps. Some of them will probably add that when you think about it, it's a tad careless on Captain Chris' behalf. Tasering seals for shit and giggles is probably against a couple of laws. Most of them will be talking about how they were looking at the porpoises fleeing and then the seals following them, when the humpback surfaced.

And it does.

Some of those guys are going to be talking about the little blonde picking up the lead and making herself the centre of the party on deck. Most of them, though, are going to be telling stories of just how big a humpback whale is when it surfaces just off the port side -- and trashes about like an animal in extreme pain.

Humpback whales are big.

On the bridge, the pilot stares because somehow, the sonar missed an animal almost fifty feet long. Then he rushes to the steering wheel and spins it, to get the Tenna II out of the way of that trashing tail. If the big whale is going to throw itself around in the water like that, it's not going to be sinking the ship -- but it most certainly can do some serious damage to the hull. Also, tourists coming home to describe how a whale committed suicide against the port side of the hull would not be very good advertising. Every tourist on that deck has a cell phone.

Tenna II changes direction as her engine fires up, swerving out of the whale's path.

The whale, disoriented from shock and pain, throws itself after.

The impact with the ship's aft end reverberates through the entire hull and deck. The sound is worse, though. The screams of a very large animal capable of putting out sounds that travel for a literal ten thousand miles under water. The slurping, chopping noise as the ship's propeller cuts through flesh.

None of these pictures are going to end up on Captain Chris Long's website.

Ravn looks after Cassidy and might possibly be about to try to say something, anything when the sound of knives through flesh and the screams of a humpback whale manages to drown out the beat. He turns a paler shade of green and holds on to the railing as the trashing marine animal causes the boat to lurch sideways.

Then it's gone; leaving a trail of blood on the surface, the whale manages to clear the ship and dive, leaving a mostly silent, shocked audience on the deck.

You'll have to hand it to the fishing cruise captain, though; he's a showman and a performer, and he bounces back fast. Signaling to the pilot to kill the music Captain Chris jumps onto a crate on deck and yells, "Take it easy, folks! Accidents happen at sea, and so do rare natural phenomena! What you just saw is called St Elmo's Fire! It's a rare electrical discharge that happens under very specific weather conditions! It's very unfortunate that the humpback -- that was a real humpback, boys, and a big old male to boot -- was struck, but I assure you, our propellers aren't powerful enough to do him serious damage. He's headed down to the deeps to rest it off and he'll have some fancy scars to show his lady friends but he'll be fine!"

He takes a breath. "Unfortunately, the big boy's trashing about means we're going to have to head back for port. Everything looks fine but them's the breaks -- you guys all know insurance companies, right?"

A few mutters, a few nods. Everyone does. If anyone knows enough about freak weather to be able to point out that St Elmo's Fire does not work like that, they say nothing.

And then, the one thing most of the people on deck have been waiting to hear: "In return for us having to cut the day short, though, the bar's open and free while we head back!"

One moment Diana's grinning at Cassidy, trying to keep her occupied and away from the fishwives, and then-- whale screams, and blood, and the tearing of flesh. She pales considerably, watching in horror as the creature's hurt. She doesn't turn away from the sight, though, which means she does get to see it make its escape. She's one of those stunned and silent passengers, and seems relieved when Captain Chris-- hero-- steps up to explain the lightning and cheer up the passengers. Her throat clears, and she turns to Cassidy, saying in a dry tone, "Shirtless as hoped, and a free bar to boot." A pause. "...you okay?" She then turns to look for Conner and Ravn, ensuring they're all right-- and then she even checks on Zack before her gaze takes in the rest of the passengers, looking for anyone wounded. No? GOOD.

"Fan-tas-tic..." Cassidy drawls to Diana whilst snapping a few shots of shirtless Captain. He's definitely getting a good Yelp! review.

The whale hits the boat and Conner stumbles around, arms windmilling. The man is not exactly athletic. Somehow, some way, he keeps his feet. Does not fall on his ass and give people other things to film. He grabs the railing and blows out his cheeks. And looks dreadfully guilty.

Until the Captain explains that the whale is probably going to be fine. He lets out a long sigh of relief.

But hey, the fish girls are dealt with, for today. "One of these days," he murmurs to Ravn, sotto voice, "this tour is going to get people killed."

But hey. Free booze. Guess who can use some of that? The apartment manager joins the line at the bar. He figures yeah. Yeah, it's definitely time for a cold one. Maybe a bunch of cold ones.

Ravn returns Diana's look with a small, lopsided smile; yep, he's all right (and somewhat indifferent to the shirtlessness of Captain Chris Long who will in fact be getting a pretty terrible Yelp! review too -- seriously, St Elmo's Freaking Fire?!). "One of these days for sure," he murmurs. "Though we might just make it back without anyone becoming mermaid kibble -- and no small thanks to you and that whale, Conner. I'm never going to question Denny again when it comes to mermaids, man clearly knows what he's talking about. Think we validated that mermaids exist, Diana."

Free booze sounds really good now. The Dane doubts that Chris Long has anything he himself considers worthy of the name of whiskey (he's picky about his whiskey) -- but at this point he'll take just about anything with alcohol content.

When the Tenna II's loudspeakers crank up the volume again, one might wonder: Is the pilot possessed of some wry sense of humour that his captain doesn't get, or did he just put on the wrong track?

When the music's over
When the music's over, yeah
When the music's over
Turn out the lights
Turn out the lights
Turn out the lights