2021-11-30 - The Honey Trap

Oak Avenue. Suburbia, the American Dream, the picket fences and the lawns; a place where a kid can leave a bike in the driveway overnight and a little old lady can attempt to adopt the entire neighbourhood. Nothing could possibly ever happen here except those sad occasions when Mrs Densey's cookies for the church bake sale inevitably burn. (And those times giant cats from hell abduct people, or the floor is lava, or carpet sharks are real, but that's not particular to Oak Avenue -- that's just Gray Harbor being Gray Harbor).

The tall copper blond in black who strolls down the avenue is still getting the occasional glance from long-term residents; he only moved in a few months back and everyone knows you need to live somewhere for seven generations to be truly native. Apart from that, though, this part of town has been friendly enough to Ravn Abildgaard and he's not really paying any particular attention to the world outside his skull as he walks -- gloved hands buried in windbreaker pockets, all black. The only spots of colour on the man are a dark purple scarf and the coppery highlights in the untamed squirrel's nest that he calls hair.

On this particular day in Small Town America, there is a disturbance in the force. This could go by the glimmer knows glimmer aspects of drawing one in. Sure, some call it chemistry, others know it's rich for explosions and mayhem. Or it could be the fact there is a new car found on the street with it's trunk open. The car? It's a mellow yellow VW bug convertible. Sure, it's a better car for say California, but it's paid off.

If one were to look closer to the trunk of the car, it's blocked by a wiggling denim clad rear. Could be female. Could be male. It is definitely short, since she's on her tip toes to reach over the bumper and into the vehicle. "Just a small town girl living in a lonely world..." The singing is definitely female, it also borders on tone deaf. A box is being pulled over as she streeeeeetches to get it in a better grasp. Oh that house she's in front of? Gail's.

For a moment Ravn is tempted to just whip out his phone. He chides himself for the impulse -- based on an instinct that somehow, he is about to miss out on an excellent opportunity for blackmail of a person he doesn't even know yet. Call it foreboding; he knows he's going to regret letting this one slip. He does have to hide a lopsided grin behind one gloved hand as he walks up -- and then makes certain to clear his throat once or twice, lest the person attached to said denim clad bottom turns out to not appreciate strange men sneaking up on them.

Could be some relative or acquaintance of Granny Gail's -- woman's been in town for a week and seems to have adopted everyone already. Could be some acquaintance or friend of Aidan Kinney -- his and Aidan's house are on the opposite side of the street from Gail's, after all, and lord knows Aidan Kinney knows everyone in Gray Harbor (and has probably patched most of them up at some point or other). Hell, it could be a friend of Isi Cameron, the girl currently crashing on Aidan's designated Most Comfortable Couch In The World.

"You need a hand, miss?" The accent is definitely foreign; it's the kind of accent that really wishes it could get a job with BBC London but which probably isn't actually British.

The scream that rips out of her frame is the scream heard around the world. There are sure to be curtains pulled aside to peer out of. In fact, right now the gossip circle is probably starting: Did you see that guy in all black tried to attack that new girl? Nah, she has California plates, you know how special snowflakes those Californians are. Probably eats kale and wants to take our land.

Gabriella whips around to look at the person who spoke, cleared throat ignored. Those big green eyes are even moreso when she stares at him. One hand is pressed to her heart and the other seems to be fumbling for her keys (or perhaps the pepper spray on it). Which she drops. And it rolls under the car. "Damnit." This comes with a foot stomp and it's not very effective at anything other than cute.

Her eyes slide down to follow her keys and then come up to his with a narrowed look. "Look Dr. Who, you didn't have to just walk up and startle me." Wait. Help? The words are sinking in as she sighs and drops down to the ground to peer under her car. "I mean, I'm also not going to say no to you lifting the heavy things." Her hand feels around for those keys but they are /just/ out of reach.

"Car trouble?" Ravn inquires. He may be able to keep his amusement out of his voice but his blue-grey eyes glitter with laughter. "Got started on the Christmas shopping early?" He squats down to glance in under the car. "I'm impressed. You managed to throw your keys all the way in there. Am I really that scary?"

He really isn't. Sure, black is ominous but old jeans and a wind breaker really aren't. And while the man may be quite tall, he's not particularly wide; definitely not a body builder or athlete.

A searching glance is shot back up at the girl -- who is after all the taller one when he is squatting down. "I don't suppose you're secretly a master of telekinesis or possessed of a handy stick?"

Gabriella straightens back up as he's looking under the car now. She crosses her arms over her chest and tries to look fierce. Grr. Of course, being five foot nothing, slight of frame, and wearing a t-shirt that reads: HEDGEHOGS - Why can't they just share the hedge? - does not help matters in the slightest. "No, but I'm not sure I would ask you for help if I was having car troubles." Her lips quirk just a bit at her own restrained humor. "If I had the trunk open instead of where the motor thingie is, I feel you should realize that's less a car issue and more a heavy box issue."

Her eyes slide over towards Gail's house. "I'm moving in with my grandma until I figure out the meaning of life and how many bad choices I can make. I was thinking what might get me pitchforks and torches by dawn. A mad mob." Her eyes slide back to him and then downwards. "Do you know her? My grandma? Gail Leigh? I'm Gabriella." She allows her eyes to move over what she can see of him in an assessment. "Sometimes the worst monsters wear smiles."

Moving on to that. "Now if I told you those things, how would they be secret? Then it would be open knowledge. That's a bit forward of you to ask my secrets without asking me on a date first or at the very least buying me food."

"I wouldn't say I know your grandma well," Ravn admits with a grin and looks up again. "She moved in just a week or so ago, after all. But we've met, and she seems rather nice. I live there -- " he nods at the craftsman's house opposite " -- in the winter months. But there's only three of us there at present so we may have to settle for a very small mob of pitchforks and torches. I can do dawn, at least, I have to get up early to take video calls from Europe."

Those blasted car keys lying in there, just out of reach. Girl's a relative of Gail Leigh? Gail "Gray Harbor ain't got nothing I ain't seen before" Leigh? Ravn decides that she's either seen it all too or she will soon enough, so might as well. A flick of a finger, and the keys obediently scoot into his gloved hand. He stands up, uncertain of whether she even saw or noticed, and offers them over. "There you go. And I'll be the first person to admit I'm no mechanic -- I usually walk wherever I need to go. Got a friend who is, though, if you need one."

And amusement is back in his voice as he straightens up. "So, do strange men often walk up and offer to take you on a date in the middle of the street, or do I appear particularly creepy?"

"So is this mob on my side or running me from town?" Gabriella's eyes slide over to his house for a few moments as she ponders it. Then her eyes not so casually move to his left hand, zeroing in on his third finger. Not one part of her tries to conceal this either as her hand comes out for her car keys. "I'm not going to lie. If I'm up at dawn, the chances are I haven't slept yet. I am unwilling to set an alarm to get up before the sun. I have to really like you for that."

Her lips quirk upwards a bit more to this as she tries not to laugh. There is a press of her lips before she pouts out her lower lip at him (and up at him as he's in all that tall glory again). "Are you saying I'm ugly? That I should not expect men to see me, fall instantly enraptured and ask me out?" Her hands find her hips now as she says this. "I feel like such heart-breaking insult to my beauty and my character means you do now have to buy me dinner. Something expensive too." Is there anything like that in this town? Doubt fills her eyes to that thought. "Or a gift. I could use one of those. Something that shows how very apologetic you are for calling me ugly and un-dateable."

Yup, everyone knows everyone in suburbia, or more accurately, knows when people don’t belong. Now Benjamin isn’t one of those neighbors that peers out through slatted blinds, but he knew Granny Gail’s house. He also knew she’d moved back to town alone, so someone parked in the front of Gail’s place stands out to him. Mix in Ravn’s foreign nature and dramatic style of dress, and you’ve got yourself a curiousity stew going.

Benjamin had just walked out of his house, rolls of plans tucked under his arm, dressed crisply in a clean blue button down and work slacks, The shoes were actually boots, rough enough for a worksite, nice enough to pass for business casual. He tosses his plans into the passenger side of his Martin Construction branded pickup and was making a poor attempt at seeming covert at the eyeballing he was giving these folks.

He walks down toward his mailbox, theoretically to check for mail, but truly just to get closer to earshot and let them know by presence that he was here, please don’t break into ol’ Granny Gail’s place.

Ravn does look floored a moment; then he can't help laugh, and this time, he fails to conceal it. Why does the man wear black kidskin gloves? Maybe he's got cold fingers; either way, they obscure fingers, third or otherwise from view, which is probably either the sneakiest pick-up artist move in history, or entirely coincidental.

He shakes his head lightly, amused. "Let's try this again. Hi. Ravn Abildgaard. I live across the street from your grandma during the cold months. Do you need help with those boxes, if your car is all right?"

And with a glance towards Benjamin, oh so casually sidling past, the Dane adds, "I'm sorry to disappoint, but I am actually not a mugger -- I'm a history teacher. Not very dramatic." He's seen the logo on the pickup around town -- isn't that the company handling the high school roof repairs? He raises a hand in a lazy wave to the other man; in Ravn's perspective, neighbours looking out for each other a little is a good thing.

No, no, no, no. This target stepped into her web, he's not getting off that easily. There is a slight re-calculation in Gabriella's mind on how to play this out. Stupid gloves. Her eyes also slide over towards Benjamin as he's noticed by Ravn. This also has to factor into the 'how Gabriella gets free food' game she so enjoys to play. A slight consideration before she looks back towards Ravn and offers her left hand in a handshake.

"Hi Ravn Able-d-guard.." Is that even right? Her nose scrutches up as she is pretty sure she just butchered that. "I'm Gabriella Leigh, I just moved from California to hang with my grandmother. I would adore help with the boxes from you and..."

Gabriella looks towards Benjamin. "You can help if you would like too. Unless you are on your way somewhere. It would make it so much quicker if I had two strong men helping to carry in all those boxes." A soft sort of woe-is-me-damsel-in-distress pout appears on her lips. She did make sure he could hear her name and she has keys to the residence.

Should Ravn take her hand in a polite greeting, she'll try to check for a ring. "I mean, for that meal you are taking me for. Is your spouse going to be with us? Children? You said you lived with three people. I'm so glad that you suggested it. It was the right and neighborly thing to do."

Benji was coming into this one blind, but at least folks were greeting him, so he had a excuse to amble over and say hello. His hand is raised in greeting, before he offers it out, first to Gabriella, then Ravn as was probably polite.

“Hey, Benjamin Martin.” He introduces himself, a warm grin on his face, someone with sales experience that knew how to charm a client or two. “I live...” There. He points. They probably saw him walk out. Maybe. No accounting for self-absorption.

“Oh you’re movin in?” He asks, pointing to the boxes she’d voluntold him to ’Mush, get with it and step lively’ into the house. He just had a quick, clarifying question, “With your Grandmo-therrr-“ The syllable trails, like he was hoping for a name to be provided, because the easiest way to check was if she actually knew the person inside’s name. She could have checked the mail, but maybe Beni wasn’t all that subversive.

He did have a grin on though, at how this girl was working Ravn for dinner. Guess she smelled money.

Ravn's handshake is firm, if a little confused at the lefthandedness. He obliges, however -- people do strange things, they tend to have reasons for what they do -- and there is indeed no ring concealed under the gloves. The glance he shoots to Benjamin is highly amused and a bit flustered; a pickup artist this man definitely isn't. Probably not quite accustomed to being grilled on his marital status within sixty seconds of meeting somebody, either.

"Abildgaard," he returns, chuckling. "I live with a room mate, and a friend is staying for a few days while she gets some issues sorted with her place. The woman who rules my life has four feet and black fur, and she's already engaged in a battle of dominance with your grandma over who owns this neighbourhood."

He may be recognising what Benjamin is trying to do; at least he stops himself from supplying Gail Leigh's name. Just because he heard her say it a moment ago doesn't mean the other man shouldn't have a chance to reassure himself that the girl is no grifter. Though she totally is a grifter. And this, for some reason, strikes him as absolutely hilarious.

"Let's pick up some boxes and prove our manly selves, shall we?" The copper blond returns Benjamin's handshake and adds, "Ravn Abildgaard. I'm pretty new to this neighbourhood myself -- but I'm pretty certain I've seen you, or at least your truck, by the high school?"

There is a distinct lack of food being offered. In fact, Gabriella blows a strand of hair from her face at this. FIIIINE. It's as if she's handing it over to the universe. "That is so great of you both to offer to assist me. In return, I'd be happy to make you both dinner at one of your places. My grandmother doesn't always let me into her kitchen. Something about making messes or moving her measuring cups or something."

Amusement plays across her features at Benjamin stretching out the term grandmother. "Yes." That is all Gabriella offers. "It is a change of pace." She does not supply a name. There may be another cat on the street that enjoys playing with her little mice. Her lips curve up a bit more towards the construction type man. "So do you own your own business then, or just a work truck?"

Then back towards Ravn. "Oh. I so do adore animals. I will have to bring the little furry beastie some tuna or something of the sort. Oh. Do you allow her human food? I always forget to ask that." Look, dimples for days right now. She bounces a bit on her feet. There are only two boxes left. Seems easy right? No so fast humans. They are last because they are filled with books.

If Benjamin still had reservations, Gabriella’s little factoid about Gail’s particularity with cooking in her kitchen rung pretty true. Of course, this was Gray Harbor, and maybe he was remembering wrong, but it felt legit enough, which meant Gabriella was basically a Townie. He nods knowingly and the smile may look a bit less forced and a bit more amused.

“Yeah, I remember she always had to be the one getting us lemonade when we did work in her house.” Ravn’s prodding earns a shrug from Benjamin and the man leans into the car to retrieve a box. Sure, it was heavy, and he looked dressed for an office job, but his rolled up sleeves showed corded forearms that pluck it right out. He adjusts his grip once, but looks comfortable enough to take it inside.

“Yeah, Martin Construction. That’s me.” Answers both questions, near as he could see, head swung briefly toward said truck, “We’re doing a share of some of the rebuild, then letting the other’s come in for HVAC and plumbing.”

"You'd certainly not want me to offer to make you dinner," Ravn tells them both, with a small grin. "At my finest, I can microwave whatever someone's left on a plate for me. And since I like to be alive, I have learned to open tuna cans. Believe me, I don't tell my cat what to eat -- she tells me what she wants, I get it for her, I get to live another day. It's a very fine arrangement we have worked out there, and I am very thankful for Kitty Pryde's kindness and most infinite mercy."

He's a cat owner all right.

"Pleasure," the Dane returns. "I was there while we turned the place into a hurricane shelter. The -- structural damage -- to the roof was pretty bad. Sounded like something very big was jumping around up there during the storm. But then, this is Gray Harbor, right?" He doesn't have a lot of that shine, the special something that some folks around here have -- but just enough that he might remember things such as sixteen ton dragons doing the River Dance on the high school roof in a hurricane.

He leans in to pick up the other box -- and oofs at the weight. There's two kinds of men present here -- a strong construction worker in good health and the other guy. Ravn is the other guy.

Gabriella is a cat?! Gabriella listens for a few moments about Ravn's cat. "So then... you are good at doing what you are told to do?" Excellent. There is a little tick of storing that away for the future. Her eyes slide over the man as he lifts the box from her car. The 'oof' involved causes worry in her eyes. It's more a 'don't dent my car' worry, but it could look like actual concern.

Then there is Benjamin. This look lingers just a bit longer on the muscled arms as the flex and lift the books. Is it warming up out here? Is spring coming early? "Martin .. construction hmmm? Do you need a receptionist?" Who will probably always be late and may not actually show up. May show up hung over.

Then a shake of her head as she offers a bright smile to the both of them. "I'm sure that we can dinner at both your places. Just the three of us. We could become really great friends." Pause. Lower her lashes and pout out her lower lip. Sigh just right to lift her upper carriage to view, release as if she's just long-suffering. It's all a well-thought out move(s). "It's just that I know no one here. I was born here but then we left when I was so young." Her fingers come out to touch Ravn's arm and then Benjamin's arm. A light flutter up at both of them. "You both will be my friends, right?"

“Just hired one, actually.” Benjamin responds after a short bark of laughter, “Like, literally today.” He shakes his head and grins at the happenstance of it, shrugs as if there wasn’t much he could do about it. “But I can take a resume if you want in case she doesn’t work out.” Speaking of working out, this box was one of them, but he was striding toward the house, because Ravn collapsing with the box would likely be a little embarrassing, and Benjamin seemed like the type to lead. There was a passing look, a pregnant silence that told of his total understanding of the commentary on happenings in Gray Harbor when the Dane talked about it, but that was where he left it.

There’s a sideways glance at the touch and the question from Gabriella, a brief flicker of an eyebrow, “I mean, we can talk about it over dinner.” Because why should she get to be the only overt flirt? Then there’s a glance traded with Ravn that was equal parts joking and teasing, “But why do I feel like you’re about to ask to loan you some money?” He drops his jaw open and quickens his step, as if knowing the joke might not go over well and he needed to get a step or two ahead to avoid slapstick reciprocity.

"Well, if anyone's having dinner, they better hope and pray I am not cooking it," the Dane inserts, definitely trying to not let it show how heavy that damned box is. He's no wilting flower, but an athlete -- definitely not. The kind of good form -- from the looks of him -- that comes with walking a lot, but which apparently is not quite sufficient for box carrying. It must be a familiar experience, too, because after a moment he gives up on pretending. "I'm asthmatic," the Dane murmurs. "Not really doing a lot of heavy lifting most of the time."

Ravn might be focusing most of his oxygen intake on carrying this damn box. And on not flinching too visibly when Gabriella brush fingers over his arm -- talk about overreacting. He doesn't pursue the subject of roof dragons either; it's Gray Harbor, we all know how this one works.

"I'm with the HOPE centre," he tells Benjamin, a little short of breath. "Odds are we'll probably run into each other a lot -- us trying to shelter people when things go down, you trying to repair what remains of their houses. Business has to be good around here for a man in your trade." Hell, let's move this flirting game full circle, because why not.

Gabriella starts to move for the door and stops. Her eyes move towards Benjamin as he mentions dinner. There is a bit of a pause as if she's trying to decide who is in who's web on this one. Sure, of course, she stops right in front of Ravn. That can't end badly at all. Not at all. "Oh you are?" This is said to Ravn as her brows furrow downwards and she offers, "So you are good at math then?" Did she just sound like her IQ went down by 20 points? Why yes, yes she did. The flinch might be noticed. Hard to tell. She's got two little mice to attend to.

Ravn is the first one as she unlocks the door and opens it for him to set the box inside. "I would never make you cook. Our dinner..." Because they are both going to have one with her. ".. I'll cook. Your kitchen. But I'll cook." She flutters her lashes at him. She also might still be in his way in box carrying. Accidents and all.

"When is our dinner?" This is said to Benjamin in a cooing fashion. Something like a human purr. "I will need to know what to wear and I do hope that I have something just right." A soft pout. "Your receptionist won't get upset? Also if you need me to work under you. You know where I live."

“Oh yeah? I think we bid on the job for what you needed done on your center, but... yaknow.” Benjamin’s face was a little more serious than wistful, “Weeks just flew by. Wait, what?” At least Benjamin knew the word Ravn had just used. “Addlebard, but that down, I’ll come back for it.” Yup, used to leading.

Gabriella gets a raised eyebrow as Benjamin realizes she not only ignored his tease, she was still going with the hard sell. Some guys knew how to play the game, afterall. “I just hired her.” Timeframe and demarcation of relationship in one deployment of ’just’, “But I’ll get your number after this and we can pencil something in.” Statement, not a question.

Gabriella had stopped moving, so Benjamin just tilts the box in his grip, angling it so he could hold it against his chest with one hand, then reaches to try the knob and carry it in. Big beefy jerk.

What you haven't got in your legs you better have in your head. A solid Danish proverb which Ravn lives by -- at least in the sense of noticing that Gabriella is right in front of him before he walks right into her, and then managing to step out of Benjamin's way before a similar collision becomes a risk. "We do most of our repairs by hand," he tells the other man. "Not because most of us are that particularly great at it but, well -- it's a volunteer operation. I do think somebody needs to come take a look at our roof too, sometime -- and that somebody had better be an actual professional. I wouldn't know a weak support beam until it fell on my head."

Then what Gabriella said catches up with him and he has to pause to chuckle. "I'm actually not that great with maths. I tutor, but the humanities. You know the drill -- you want fries with that?" Not every nerd is a math genius, thank you very much. "Might be we can come up with a communal dinner invitation at some point and turn it into a kitchen battle royale -- last man standing cooks?" Easy for him to say, he'd be the first man out of the ring.

Gabriella manages to finally step away from the door so the books can be set down. She glances between the men but has nothing to add to the construction side of things. She does take the time to actually watch them though. It's a different sort of look when it's unguarded. It's that sizing up not of sexuality compatible, but of good or bad. If these people are going to hurt her or not. It is as if she's trying to figure out the motivations behind the men before her. She allows the study before she drops her lashes to take back on that bimbo sort of feel to her.

"Benji.." Yeah, she just called him that in the most adorable way ever. "Could you set that down just inside? I'll unpack them from there." Her lips curve upwards just a bit. "Then I'll get both of your numbers. However, so far you are the first to actually offer me food, sooo.." She waits for more details on that one.

Then back to to Ravn. He gets a longer study for reasons. "I feel you are attempting to avoid a date with me. Should I be insulted by this?" She does move out of the way to clear the path for him to set it down. "It's just dinner. It's not like I'm going to eat you." Pause. That smile can't be good. Nope. She's enjoying his discomfort a bit too much. "But we can negotiate on dessert."

Gabriella was jumping straight to nicknames and the natural nonreaction to it lands that one squarely as something Benjamin was used to being called. He sets the box down as instructed, then moves back toward Ravn to claim that box as well, because he was serious about the fact asthmatics shouldn’t be shouldering boxes full of books when there was someone ugh more suited to it that could do it instead. This probably put him quite assumingly in Gabriella’s space, considering she was blocking Ravn, and Benji didn’t seem awkward about it at all.

“Like I said, weeks flew by.” meaning he had no idea what happened with the bid other than the fact he saw one was made and never followed up on, so he was just accepting whatever Ravn was saying about it. “But yeah, definitely.” Once the second box joins the first, Benjamin was slipping his wallet out, sliding a pair of cards from it, and handing them. Ravn is offered it without guile. Gabriella, on the other hand, gets a quick snatch back once, as if playing keep away, a confident grin... And a wink as he finally hands it over. Maybe he hadn’t heard Gabriella’s straightforward question to Ravn about a date. Maybe he did and didn’t care. Maybe he was hoping being Gail’s granddaughter would mean she was actually a nice girl. Time would tell.

"Oh, I'm quite happy to have dinner with the neighbours, either side of the street," Ravn returns with a small, lopsided smile. "Dates, however, tend to be sticky things that come in small boxes for Christmas, and everyone wonders why since no one actually eats them. I haven't gone on a date of the other kind since -- 2015."

He pockets the card , lip quirking in amusement at Benjamin's playfulness; flirting games are highly amusing, and more so when it's not him who has to figure out the next move. "I don't have a business card of my own," the Dane notes, a little apologetic. "People in town who need me either hunt me down at the HOPE centre, or at home, or they turn up on the marina during the lobster fighting season. I can give you my number, though." 'You' remains unspecified. Maybe he means both. "Town this size, most of us tend to know where to find each other in a hurry if need be." Us gets a bit of special inflection; people who see things, people who can do things.

Benjamin is given an amused sort of smile and look when he tries to play keep away with her. Gabriella laughs and when it's sincere it's open and without any sort of apology attached to it. She does put her hand out. "Phone please?" She phrased it like a question, but it really isn't. She seems to be waiting for Ben to hand over his phone for her number.

The comment about 2015 causes Gabriella to look at Ravn for a longer moment and then she smiles in the most angelic way possible. "Well, it's time to you know... change that. How about this week? I'll pick the place. You just show up." And pay. Paying in the important part. "Trust me."

Phone provided. Benjamin slips it out of his pocket, unlocks it with his thumb and clicks through to Add Contact. He sets it in Gabriella’s waiting hand. There’s something that strikes Benjamin as odd about what Ravn said, some sort of memory or news article. Maybe he was misremembering. He doesn’t voice the thought. His brows lift and he shakes the idea away, waiting for his phone back.

“Just call me. I’ll save it.” He says simply to Ravn, since he had taken his business card. Look, he spent the money, he might as well make sure it gets used. There’s no recognition on his face about an us besides the fact they live in this town. The town was always the town, so separating people into categories just didn’t occur to Benjamin.

"The last time I went anywhere near a restaurant, a random woman waltzed up, grabbed my arm, and declared that we were having our photo taken together for the Gazette," Ravn murmurs. "And if I have avoided the Casino and the restaurant connected to it since, now you know why. I'm really not a crowds kind of person. When I go somewhere for a drink, I usually go to the Pourhouse -- it may be the smallest hole-in-the-wall kind of dive bar in town, but at least I know most people there."

And he's got a special arrangement with the bartender; there may only be one patron there who drinks European whiskey, but they get it for him at least.

He straightens his back and looks back at both, smiling a little. "I could be talked into some kind of get-together on a more private level, though. Meet the neighbours kind of thing? Are potluck dinners a thing in the States?"

Gabriella takes Ben's phone and types her number in it. Then she flips the camera to 'selfie' on it. The phone is held over her head as she looks like her most adorable self and then a soft 'click' can be heard. She brings the phone back to her and types more in it. The contact in his phone? It is all (heart)Perfection(heart). Because who needs their real name in a phone right? Then she pulls hers out to take a pic of Ben and then of Ravn. Fear the reeper with this one, guys.

Ravn gets a glorious smile as she sildes a bit closer to him. There is aomething like a surpressed groan to her as he's still not taking her bait. Ben: 1 Ravn: 0 Gabs: Uncertain. She moves a bit closer to him and offers. "I'd love to help you handle your fears. We could use exposure therapy. You take me out on a date and you will see that they aren't all bad." Pout of the lower lip. Pout. Look at that pout man, look at it. "Then you will be far more ready for the .. person.. you are into when the time comes. Think of me as a learning curve." All curve, very little learning. "I mean, my granny said you would." Not really but that's off point. "She said you were such a nice man. I'm sure she'd be disappointed if I told her you refused to take me to dinner. Don't you?" A few bats of her lashes here.

Still that hard sell, and Benjamin still seemed amused by it. Maybe she was playing a game, trying to make him jealous by making it clear Ravn was getting all the attention. When he gets his phone back with it’s own selfie and title, he grins, and makes a show of rubbing his chin in thought while he looks at it. Then, because he has the gall to check to see if the number is real, he sends off a quick text, as she’d taken his picture, but not entered his number.

(TXT to Gabriella) Benjamin : Benji

Benjamin doesn’t wait, confident enough, a click heard as his phone relocks and he slips it back in his pocket. He’d played moving boy, and the best way to leave an impression wasn’t lingering, so with a final look around the place, he steps near the door.

“Good to have you in the neighborhood, and to see Gail has someone here with her.” He states, “If you need anything.” He taps the flat part of his pocket, then lifts fingers to tap his forehead as if saluting.

"You're assuming I want to handle my fears," Ravn murmurs, a little less obligingly than previous. "I'm not really a -- dating kind of person. Or any other kind of public affair person, though sometimes I can't dodge it entirely." It became harder, for one, after he somehow ended up being the guy who seems to know everything and everyone affiliated with the community centre. Somehow managing to get himself tangled up with illegal betting on, of all the insane things Gray Harbor has ever inflicted on anyone, lobster fighting, hasn't helped, either.

Benjamin has a point: Now is a great time to make one-self scarce. "I'll see both of you around, I'm sure. I won't be moving back to my boat until April, so there should be plenty time to get acquainted. I get the impression that Grandma Leigh is the kind of grandma who gathers up the entire street under her wings if she gets the chance."

Edging towards the door too? Definitely.

Gabriella considers both of them for a few moments. Her eyes drop to her phone and then back up to them. One can tell she's debating how she wants this to play out. A soft sigh to that and then she will move over towards Ravn. If he doesn't shove her away, she'll lift up on her toes to hug him. "Thank you for your help today." Then she's... gasp... releasing him? Yeah, that's happening. Or maybe she is releasing him back to his other people. It's hard to tell.

This draws her back towards Ben. "So what is there to do in town? I found a pizza place. I've sort of walked around a bit. Apparentl, there is a casino." She turns the full effect of her green eyes upon him as she waits.

Benjamin grins at the question, maybe slightly amused at it. It was a very California thing to wonder what there was to do in a town like Gray Harbor and finding out... It’s a small town. Did that mean Benjamin didn’t know? Of course, to hear the answer, she’d have to actually be following him to his truck, which he was happy to turn backward and talk toward her as he walked backward toward his truck. He did have a pretty good idea of space and his area, afterall.

“Plenty, when you know where to look. Good bars,” A nod is made toward Ravn who’d suggested the Pourhouse earlier, “There is a casino with a pretty high-end restaurant and piano bar. There’s a dance club.” He shrugs, “We can talk it over.” A wink, another wave.

There's backing away from something one is not quite comfortable with -- and there is taking several steps backwards very quickly in order to dodge a hug by any means necessary. Ravn goes as far as to hold his hands up in front of himself and actually turns a shade or two paler (that takes effort, as he's not exactly burdened by melanin in the first place). "I'm happy to help. Anytime. But, please, no surprise touching. I have neuropathy -- touch can be extremely painful if I don't see it coming."

Might be another reason there that he's not really a hit on the dating scene.

The look the man sends after Benjamin is wistful, at least. There goes someone who's got his shit together. Someone who knows how to deal with a situation like this. "The piano bar is rather nice," he offers weakly. "I have a friend who performs there. He's very good."

There is silence for a moment. Has Gabriella overplayed both hands? Her head tips to the side as she walks with Ben a few steps. Look, he’s saving Ravn from the blonde!

This returns her to Ravn though. She looks rather interested. “Are you asking me to go with you to the piano bar?” Her lips curves up to that.

“Does the pain stop if you expect the touch?”

"Somewhat, sometimes." Ravn replies to the question with the routine of somebody who has answered these questions a kabillion times. "It helps if I see it coming. I'm not really -- a very physical person, though. For somewhat obvious reasons."

He glances after Benjamin and makes a mental note to look through HOPE's paperwork later; a bid that went unanswered? Not the best way to win the hearts of local entrepreneurs, and a volunteer based community centre somewhat depends on those.

Then the Dane turns back to look at Gabriella. "I do realise you're having a laugh. And I don't really mind, either. But more seriously? I'm not dating material. The first girl I dated ended up killing herself and blaming me for it. The second, so busy with work that I haven't seen her in quite some time. There are far better catches in this pond -- but we can definitely go hit the local dive bar, get you introduced to some of the wildlife. Most people in this town are pretty damn friendly."

Gabriella arches her brows slowly and then they shoot up quickly at the other comments coming. It is her turn to hold up her hands to him, "Rav, honey..." Her voice drops to something overly sweet. As one might talk to a cornered puppy one is trying to save and sort of sure it's going to try to eat their face. "A date is not a marriage. I'm not even saying I'd bed you." There is a pause and a look towards the house. She can feel the look of 'don't you dare say that' before she clears her throat.

"I'm not so hard-pressed as to force someone to spend time with me." She smiles in that cute way of hers. So cute. So adorbs. "I mean, Benji is apparently down. So you can just tell me I'm not your type. Or you aren't interested. I will pout a bit, but I understand. However, saying you are not datable because of the actions of others, is not your bag. You cannot control what a person does or does not do." Pause.

"So are you saying you are not interested and I am not your type?"

Ravn can't help laugh softly; he seems a bit more comfortable addressing things head-on, maybe. "I don't need to tell you that you're cute, you own a mirror, I presume. My type, however? Somebody I have known for a long time, somebody I trust. It's not looks, or for that matter, gender, or race, or religion. If you're still single six months from now and we've somehow sparked a deep friendship? Maybe we can have that conversation. Until then? Happy to go for beers and a pizza somewhere, but not really looking -- not for dates, not to get laid."

He hitches a shoulder slightly. "I'm sorry if that sounds very entitled, as if I take for granted that you're even genuinely interested. I don't. I just find that it saves me and everyone else a lot of headache to not do that whole dance of will they, won't they. "

Gabriella puts her hand out and offers, "May I see your phone please?" That's all she says and does. She waits for this as her hand is in front of him. Waiting. Just waiting.

"...Sure?" Ravn dips into a pocket in his wind breaker to procure -- a bright, sparkly pink cell phone casing with a battered Hello Kitty motif. He hands it over and murmurs, "So, when you're backpacking across Europe and the US, it's actually not a bad thing to own electronics that are so hideous no one else wants to own them."

Gabriella looks up at him from the phone she's typing on. "I think it's cute." She starts to type on the phone and is setting an alarm (or event) on it. For May 30th, 2021. It simply says: Ask Gabriella out for a date. Then she takes her photo and adds her contact information. Her fingers type across his phone: Hey sexy, wanna come over and Netflix and eat food? --- She sends this to herself for his phone to be recorded in her phone.

There is a smile. "So I'm good with friends. I will flirt with you though, I find it amusing. Also, I'm pretty touchy. I can try to hold off on that, but you should probably prepare for touching when I'm around."

Ravn can't help a slightly amused wince. "Please, at least let me see it coming. I may scream rather embarrassingly if I don't."

Then he returns the smile, a little easier than earlier. "I don't mind being flirted with -- I have several friends who flirt with me like they got paid per innuendo. I should introduce you to the lot of them -- apparently my lack of interest makes me a good target for that kind of banter. It doesn't bother me at all, I just find it saves a lot of hurt feelings to be up front about where I'm at."

Awww, Look at Gabby being her actual self. It's strange and she is actually adorable this way. "Well I mean we are pre-dating, so you better tell them to back off my tall drink of water." There is a lot of tease in that. "There is nothing wrong with being up front. It's a refreshing change of pace." Her lips curve to that. "Soooo.... bestie soon to be love bunny... how do you feel about Netflix and popcorn on your couch later?"

"Sounds like a plan," Ravn grins back. "My room mate might join in. You'll like him -- name's Aidan Kinney. He's a pretty laid back guy -- he's in a long distance relationship and I live on a boat half the year, so getting a place together for us to stash our stuff in made sense. If we ever serve food -- he's the one who made it, because I am utterly hopeless in a kitchen."