2021-06-15 - Cinnamon or Ash of Lizard?

Cold, raining, and an ominous storm off the coast. Don't you just love summer? Anywhere else, people might be thinking it's a good time for a vacationn, but not in Gray Harbor. The thought just.. doesn't happen.

So tonight, like most other nights, Ashley Jones is grabbing a coffee before heading in to the station. He's still working through the worn, old, dog-eared copy of War of the Worlds, sat at the counter, hunched over with book in one hand and coffee in other. He's in the jeans and red-and-black flannel again. Today's t-shirt is red and says, in white, 'I doubt skeptics exist.'

The door chimes, and there's a figure in draped in black, face obscured by a hood, lifting a pale hand. Like something out of The Seventh Seal.

.....until it complains in a sighing drawl, "Jesus, it's colder'n a witch's tit in a brass brassiere out there," and flips the hood back. Turns out it's just a guy in a really dark blue poncho; Death presumably does not wear hipster browline glasses or beat-up work boots. The poncho hasn't done too much good, for the newcomer squelches his way to the counter, and there are raindrops pearling in the cloud of blond frizz the man's longish hair has been reduced to. Despite his complaint, he's cheerful enough, as he hitches up onto a stool and starts thrashing his way out of the poncho.

Some droplets from the poncho splash their way over onto Ash and his book. And coffee. He hesitates a moment, staring down at each as if unsure which offends him more. He blinks, shakes off the book a little. "Wetter, too." As if that somehow makes sense. Look, euphemisms don't have to make sense. That much said, he lifts his mug and drinks deep; sliding it across the counter in time for a refill when the waitress next passes.

Joe has grace enough to realize he's committed a serious offense; he grimaces, looking sheepish, and hastily snags a napkin from the dispenser to proffer it between first and second fingers. "Sorry," he says, as he drapes the poncho on the empty stool on the other side from him. He proves to be wearing faded dark jeans and a t-shirt that depicts an astronaut standing on the moon with the caption Seriously, we went to the damn moon, y'all. Then he's turning over the mug before him, and looking hopefully around for the waitress.

The napkin is accepted and Ash dabs at the pages in his book. Not that the water did anything to it that time hasn't already. "It's cool," he says. The waitress does meander over before too long; coffee pot in hand. Ashley's mug is promptly refilled and he drags it back in front of him. One of those types that drinks it black. He fumbles the book in one hand to try to turn the page; gives up and leaves the coffee be for a moment to use the other to flip to the next page instead. This one even has some marginalia along one side.

If Joe happens to look, it's not very interesting. At some point in time, someone scribbled their grocery list. 'Milk, eggs, steak, bread, ashes of a thrice dead lizard, apples, cat food' - you know, the normal stuff.

Joe also gets coffee, but he raises a hand when the mug is half-full, stopping the waitress. The rest of the mug is doctored with creamer and sugar until it's only a pale tan. He's apparently of the mindset that coffee is dessert, one way or another. He is not, however, so absorbed in this ritual that he doesn't dart a quick look at the notes. "I wonder if the ashes were meant as seasoning," he muses. "Or if the whole list was to propitiate some strange cat god." As comfortable as if he and Ashley were old friends. Certainly not an iota of shyness to him.

"Huh?" Ashley is caught off-guard and takes a moment to glance down at the page. He tilts his head and goes 'huh' again, but less questioning and more in awareness of the list. As if he's reading it for the first time. Or more likely he'd forgotten it was there. "You can see that?" A glance back up at Joe and he squints a moment. Finally, lifting his right hand to -- in a subconcious, long-practiced gesture -- push up his glasses, AJ nods. "You're one of those, huh?" He waggles the book a bit as he reaches with free hand to pick up his coffee. "My producer swears it just says cinnamon."

Joe looks up enough to look at Ashley over the tops of his glasses, before he straightens up fully. "I assume, when you say those in that tone, that you mean those who Shine. Yeah, I am," he agrees. "I mean, can't you tell by sensin' it? I sure can with you." What other option those might represent he apparently doesn't intend to speculate.

The waitress swoops by again, and he orders chicken and waffles. Not bothering to really turn on the charm, he's clearly distracted by the book. "I don't recall havin' seen writin' that acted that way, though. I take it that's not your note in it?"

"I usually have to pay attention." Might have to do with the fact that his abilities don't extend into the world of energy at all. At least not in the sense of feeling the energies of people or plants around him. Or maybe he's just one of those people who gets absorbed into something. Like a book. Ashley shrugs, picks up his coffee and takes a drink. "Nope, it's not. Got the book at one of those library sales. Showed the list to my producer a couple years ago, laughing about the line. He thought I was fuckin' with him."

There's a conspiratorial grin from Joe, at that. But before he can say whatever it was he was about to, his phone chimes. Apparently it was in a pocket in the poncho, for he has to scramble for a moment to dig it up. At least he doesn't fling more raindrops everywhere. He nearly fumbles it, but gets it to his ear in time to says, "Yeah?" A beat, and then, ".....is that so? Listen, I don't think you need to take him to the hospital...." A sigh, and he mouths at Ashley, "Sorry to be rude, gotta take this."

Whereupon he's slipping out into the relative shelter of the diner's entryway, like he doesn't want to be one of those people who hassles everyone else in a restaurant by a brayed cellphone conversation.

Ash watches Joe get up and go, making a sort of 'huh' sound. He's doing that a lot tonight, it seems. When the waitress asks if the man will be back, AJ just shrugs. He does toss down enough to pay for the other man's food and asks for it to be packed up. If Joseph doesn't make it back to eat, Ash can just take it with him into the station.

He spends enough time to finish his chapter and finish his coffee before heading out. Time for another long night keeping people company with music and weird news.