2021-12-03 - (Probably Not) A Mad Axe Murderer

It's been... a week or so? It's hard to tell when the days largely blend together, but it's clearly been long enough for Garrett to get at least partially settled in as Perdita's temporary (?) roommate. Settled in enough that he's doing dishes, anyways, music coming from a phone on the kitchen counter, slightly nasal vocals singing over a folksy sounding band, Garrett's head bobbing and lips moving wordlessly as he works. He is dressed unsurprisingly casual, a plain black t-shirt over khaki cargo pants and black socks.

Somebody rings the door bell. Pizza delivery? Probably not, those things tend to require somebody to pick up a phone and place an order. Perdita's crazy ex? Probably not, unless his tracking abilities improved considerably over the last week. Must be somebody else, then.

And it is. Whether Perdita's got her surveillance camera up and working yet or one glances through the door spy, the visitor is a tall copper blond in black from top to toe -- jeans, turtleneck, wind breaker. The only splash of colour is a dark purple scarf suggesting that whoever this guy is, he's probably not the local priest. He's got a couple of coffees-to-go from Espresso Yourself in one hand, which seems to suggest that if he is an axe murder he's at least a polite one (and may need to ask to borrow an axe). Whoever he is, he seems at home enough to drop past unannounced, on the off chance that Perdita is home -- and has bad enough timing to do so at a time she isn't.

Garrett's head snaps towards the door and immediately he's cutting the music, drying his hands, and moving towards the door on light feet, eye to the peep hole. Given that his social interaction has mostly been Perdita, who would not be ringing a door bell, he's not exactly sure what he's looking for. But, the man on the other side is only armed with coffee, so some chances are probably worth taking. Making sure the chain on the door is secured, he opens it as far as it will allow.

"Hi?" he greets, just a hint of London in his accent as he assesses the stranger.

And gets assessed in turn, though the other man's expression goes from well, that ain't Perdita to friendly fast enough. "You have to be Garrett who fell out of nowhere and landed on Perdita," he ventures and then, balancing the coffees carefully on one hand, extends the other, gloved in black kidskin. "Hi. Ravn Abildgaard, I'm a friend of Perdita's. Thought I'd drop by since I haven't seen her for a few days and she did ask me to keep an eye on her, with a stranger in the house and all."

Might as well be up front about it, seems to be his philosophy -- and the accent, curiously, is a little bit British too, although in that fashion of someone European who probably learned it from a Brit, rather than actually native.

Suspicion. It's the dominant expression at first, and Garrett's name already being known does little to make it fade. But then the stranger offers his own name and explains things and realization dawns and the suspicion melts away into a smile and Garrett is nodding.

"Ah! Right. That makes sense. One second." The handshake is briefly ignored so Garrett can unlatch the chain and open the door properly and not try shaking hands through the gap. "Perdita has mentioned a Ravn. Safe to assume that's you," he reasons, stepping aside in an invitation. "Not sure where she's off to just now, but probably won't be out too long, I'd guess."

"Off to do what a Perdita does, and I suspect it is wise to not ask too many questions of cats or women," Ravn suggests with a small, lopsided grin. "And to my knowledge I am the only Ravn in town, though we have a couple of Ravens, most of whom are named Jeremy or Michael on their student cards. It's not too uncommon a name in Denmark."

He slips inside, balancing the coffees on one hand and miraculously managing to not spill a drop (the lids help). "This has got to be a pretty wild ride for you, though -- falling out of the Veil into someone else's home like that. Have you found your feet yet, figuratively speaking?"

And just in time for the awkwardness to be (mostly) over, there's the interior elevator dinging and the owner of the building is stepping out into the penthouse, raising both eyebrows as she spots Ravn and Garrett interacting. Hair up in pigtails, wearing a black bodycon dress that leaves a lot of leg exposed, a pink faux fur coat and designer stiletto heels, she looks like a rich girl trying to look like a streetwalker... and failing only marginally. "You are, in fact, the only Raven Applebard in town." Perdita teases.

A pair of golden eyes peer out from the shadows of Perdita's room at Ravn and Garrett, the rest of the form hidden by the darkness. Please be Tsinyorri.

"Something like that," Garrett agrees with a grin and a small nod, reaching to help with... nothing, because Ravn has the coffee balancing under control. He raises an eyebrow, but he probably shouldn't be too surprised that his story has been shared. It's an interesting story, after all. "The time was more of a shock than the location, but my feet are as under me as can be expected at this point, largely thanks to Perdita," he answers, raising his voice a bit as the elevator dings and the woman herself appears. "Speak of the devil," he says with a smile.

It's possible the Dane picks up on the raised eyebrow. "She didn't tell me a lot about you -- probably figures that if someone should be telling stories about you, it should be your choice what stories are told. Just the bit where you turned up here and are staying for the time being." Privacy respected, more or less.

He half-turns at the elevator ding and tosses a smile Perdita's way. "Speak of the devil indeed, and in high heels as usual. Thought I'd drop past and check on you like I promised," Ravn tells her -- and in his world, that apparently passes for a greeting. "Nice dress. Been out inspiring more heated arguments in small town folks whose usual level of scandal goes up to I saw the way you talked to Jolene next door at the Hansen potluck party?"

"If you're going to call me divine, you could at least call me Devlaika." she shrugs out of the faux fur, pushing open her bedroom door, which sends her furry friend scattering under the bed. Her coat is tossed onto said bed, and she steps back out, still in those ridiculous heels and utterly confident in them. "Actually, I was out getting bloodwork done and being a responsible," she pulls a face at that, "adult. The good news is, I'm not pregnant." she rolls her eyes with a smile.

"Ravn Abildgaard," see, she does know the proper way to say it, "This is Garrett Marcus. Garrett, Ravn."

"Fair," Garrett concedes to Ravn; very reasonable things to share about the stranger that fell into your lap. He snerks at the scandal level of Gray Harbor as he watches Perdita. "If you're any sort of supernatural being, I'm putting most of my money on some sort of succubus," he teases, then turns towards Ravn as the more formal introductions are made. "Oh, /you're/ Ravn!" he exclaims as if they hadn't already gone through the introductions. "That's your 'going to the doctor for labs' attire?" he asks Dita, amused.

"When she goes to wash her car, they prepare a cardiologist team to stand by at hospital, just to be on the safe side," Ravn tells Garrett, chuckling. "I plan to recruit her come spring, to help me prepare my boat for the season. I figure that if we set up a betting pool on the following week's divorce rate, we can make a killing."

Maybe there's a reason the Veil decided to force this guy to run an illegal lobster fighting ring. It's probably not love of seafood.

"Anyhow, I brought coffee -- three, one latte, one black, and one with everything Della at Espresso Yourself thinks coffee ought to be. I'm positive it contains a bucket of pumpkin spice. Who wants which?" Here's to hoping somebody else likes pumpkin spice.

"Awww, that's so sweet!" she says, sounding genuinely pleased at being called a succubus. That girl ain't right.
"I was wearing a coat, too!" Perdita points out, gesturing vaguely toward her room as if it excuses the fact that she's somehow managed cleavage and showing off most of her legs. With the coat on and fastened, she looked like she was about to flash people. "I didn't cause any accidents when I helped scrub it down before... and that pumpkin spice has my name on it, unless you want it, Garrett?" she tilts her head slightly, clearly willing to be nice and let someone else have what sounds like a favorite treat of hers.

Garrett laughs out loud at the betting scheme, grinning over at Dita and her response to his 'compliment'. "If you go help with boat prep come summer, let me know. I have something very important to do at the marina that day." The coffee gets a small shake of his head. "Not much for coffee since I've been back," he says, tone vaguely apologetic. "More pumpkin spice for you, though," he adds a bit more brightly before glancing towards the living room. "Unless there's a reason to continue chatting by the door, I'm going to go sit." And so he does, moving to claim a seat at one end of the sofa after a brief detour to deposit the dish towel still on his shoulder back from whence it came; to be continued, dishes.

"I'm not cat enough to insist that every door in the house must be open if I have to guard it to make sure it stays that way," Ravn grins and follows the man towards more comfortable arrangements. "Also, late March. My boat's the Vagabond on the marina, and after last year, I am somehow pretty certain that a lot of folks will be turning up the day we prep her for the season. I'm not saying that somebody gets a kick out of showing off, but somebody absolutely gets a kick out of showing off."

He picks the black coffee for himself. Maybe he thinks it fits his appearance.

"Got to help a little that everyone lost time recently?" the Dane directs to Garrett. "Everyone seemed to somehow lose twelve weeks. I know only two people like us who didn't -- one was out of town and claims the town went incommunicado for those twelve weeks while she was in Toronto. And the other lost more like six months."

Letting the menfolk take the couch, Perdita disappears into her room for a second, only to return with a little padded vanity seat. Of course she has almost no furniture, but has a vanity. Once it's settled, she takes the pumpkin spice latte for herself, sitting with her legs crossed. "I have no idea who you mean. Garrett's fully dressed and you're never in less than head-to-toe black, Ravn." Her expression is the picture of innocence.

Garrett looks around before leaning towards Ravn, adopting a dramatic stage whisper. "It's you, isn't it? This is just the winter wardrobe?" he 'accuses', grinning as he sits back. "Because I'm sure you would /never/," he directs at Dita. He shakes his head when his own name is mentioned. "You don't need to rule me out; we've only just met, there's no way you could know if I like showing off," he says lightly to Ravn. Regarding lost time, he makes a hand wobbling gesture. "A little? But I think I still have the high score at a year and a half, give or take," he says dryly, then shrugs.

"It's me," Ravn stage whispers back. "Sometimes when it is very hot, I take off my jacket."

Presumably to reveal that turtleneck below. He really doesn't show much skin, not even that on his hands. Also, this is not the time to mumble embarrassingly about actually owning a pair of cargo shorts, it's true, honest to God.

More seriously, "Do you have any idea what actually happened to you? What would cause a time lapse like that? It's hard to not wonder what the hell we were either doing, or what we were not supposed to see, you know?"

"No, never." Perdita murmurs demurely, currently wearing less than most people wear to bed... and utterly comfortable with that. She takes the lid off her drink, carefully, breathing in the aroma silently, with a smile, before taking a cautious sip. Still hot, but not so hot as to scald. Perfect. A longer drink is taken.

From under the bed stalks an elegant huntress, a creature of the night... an adorable derpcat. Tsinyorri pokes her head out the doorway once more, winding her way into the living room and up onto the couch, watching Ravn from behind Garrett. Garrett is known, now, and tolerated. Ravn is new and strange and smells of other cats.

"Absolutely never," Garrett echoes Perdita solemnly. His eyes widen, though, and a hand raises to cover his mouth, very clearly scandalized by the thought of a jacket-less Ravn, an amused smile on his lips when he lowers the hand. He offers Tsinyorri a hand to sniff and maybe even be pet by when the subject turns more serious.

"Well, and this is my highly scientific opinion on why it happened like to did for me.... the Veil does whatever the fuck it wants, to whoever it wants, and treats time largely as a suggestion." /Very/ scientific. "I've got a friend that went missing for a few weeks maybe two years back who said she basically lived a life and grew old in there only to be spit out basically the same age she went in. Then there's me. I don't even know how to say how long it felt like I was in there. Looking back sometimes it seems like I was in there a few days, sometimes it feels like years, and I don't know how much of that was the Veil playing games with my head, and how much is just mundane PTSD or something." Garrett pauses, taking a deep breath, holding it a few seconds, and letting out a heavy sigh as he shakes his head. "The whole town losing a few months sounds like its own flavor of weird, especially since it sounds like you all lost... control and memories, but were still at least kind of here during that time?" He shakes his head once more, clearly at a loss.

"Hell if anyone knows," Ravn notes, and in doing so, registers his general agreement with Garrett's sentiments. "Some of us just went on with our lives like good puppets. Some just blinked and didn't exist. One guy woke up to an apartment full of empty fast food boxes, having gained a fair bit of weight and apparently not done a lot of personal grooming. Others found out they'd gotten fixed addresses and become property owners -- that's Perdita and me. I am now the proud owner of a craftsman's on Oak Avenue, together with a room mate, Aidan Kinney. I mean, Kinney and I get along fine and we had been talking about getting a place together since we're both de facto bachelors -- his girlfriend lives in England."

The hand is, indeed, sniffed, then headbutted, once, marking Garrett as hers, before the cat leaps from the back of the couch to disappear into the kitchen, where her food and water are kept. Ravn, having shown no interest in her, is ignored, the cat's tail forming a question mark as she walks off, rubbing against walls as she goes.

Perdita watches the interaction with faint amusement, but then the topic's more serious, and she looks... slightly concerned for Garrett. Aw. "We assume we were still here. The mundanes seem to think we were. But... how much weirdness do they ignore?" she asks, a slight tilt to her head, before she takes another sip of her latte. "I really don't like the idea of my body being controlled by someone else during that time period, got to be honest."

The acknowledgement from the cat gets a little smile; almost enough to help with the melancholy of the conversation'subject matter. "Right? So did they take control, or just wipe memories of those months? You both make it sound like you didn't wake up, at it were, somewhere you would have expected to find yourself, but maybe something happened in that time that made people act a bit more impulsively on ideas? Or fall into a depression and not care about much, depending?" His tone is very stream-of-consciousness as he thinks out loud. "I don't really know what to make of it. You all lost time in a very different way than I did. I'll ask some people I know, closest to experts on the Veil I can come up with, see what they think, might have happened," he offers, even if he doesn't sound overly optimistic about any of it.

Ravn glances after the poor ignored cat. Little does the cat know that there is only room for one small black cat in his life, and that small black cat will enforce this -- when your cat has Veil buddies to call on, you learn to respect her whims.

He lets his attention wander back from feline to homo sapiens, two specimens of which are in the immediate vicinity. "I've been talking to a lot of people, trying to find some kind of pattern. There isn't one. The only thing we can establish as hard fact is that whatever did happen, and for whatever reason -- well, the haunted lumbermill is no longer full of Baxter ghosts. They went to the carousel instead, and seem to be gone from there now, too. And the Exorcist did a table flip and quit -- I was there for that."

He must have decided to that Garrett's sounding, well, local enough to be familiar with those stories.

"I'm not a fan. Even if I'm coming to appreciate the building I was apparently bought. Jamie insists I was acting perfectly like myself when I called them, knew everything I should know... So if it wasn't me, they had access to my memories and at least enough of my personality to be convincing. So I've decided I'm treating it like a fugue state, and I just... don't remember everything for three months because the trauma of finally owning property short circuited my brain. Because it's either that, or the fireman was that damn good in bed. Which... no." Perdita smirks, just a little, before taking another sip of her pumpkin spice with obvious appreciation. "Definitely let me know what your friends come up with, though..."

"A shit show no matter what way you slice it," Garrett sighs, shaking his head again. "Were all those changes, the various...hauntings,I guess, changes that happened during the lost time, or just changes that have also happened recently?" he asks Ravn, then looks back to Dita. "As good a way to cope as any, I suppose. Poor fireman, though, discounted so quickly." The latter is added with a half-smile that's interrupted by his phone ringing from the kitchen. "Hell, right back," he says, moving towards the incoming call.

Ravn's gaze follows the other man as he exits towards the kitchen. Appraising him? Absolutely. The verdict must be good, though, because he glances back at Perdita and smiles a little. "Poor guy. Seems pretty decent, though? Let's haul him down to the Pourhouse for a proper beer sometime -- after all that time in the Veil, a man deserves to get to drink himself under the table and have his mates carry him home."

"Trust me, I tried again. It was... nice? It was nice." Dita says of the fireman. Ouch. As Garrett heads toward the kitchen, there's something approaching real, genuine fondness that flickers across her pretty face. Is Perdita having emotions again? Ew.

"Absolutely, though you'll have to do most of the carrying. My hands get tired." she tells Ravn, holding up her hands as if she hasn't been busting ass and hauling antiques around for days.

Garrett isn't gone long, and there's a bit of a smile on his face as he comes back. "Meeting with the boss man tomorrow afternoon about getting my job back," he informs the pair, though clearly directed a bit more towards Perdita than Ravn. He was on the phone, so missed their conspiring towards his possible future intoxication, and so doesn't comment as he re-takes his seat in a much better mood than he had been in. "So. Did you two knkw each other before Gray Harbor, or...?" he inquires of the duo.

Ravn shakes his head. "I drifted into town a little more than a year ago. Was hitch-hiking towards Portland, but you know this place -- when I'd been here a few weeks, I realised I kept putting off moving on. At some point you realise this is where you were going all along. Hate it or love it here, place has its claws in you and probably had for a long time. I mean, it took me three years to get here."

There's a thumbs up from Perdita to Garrett, "Just don't... push yourself too hard." she says, softly. She's probably just eager to not officially become a land lady, right? Right. "I don't think we'd ever met. I'd remember those cheekbones. But we probably know some of the same people, if we really sat down and wrote it out?"

"Mmmm." Garrett makes a vague sound of agreement at how the town draws people in. "I thought I was just lucky when an affordable house to rent came available just as I was looking for something close to work. In hindsight...." He trails off as his attention shifts to Dita and her concern, a slightly playful light in his eyes. "I mean, if you really want me to just loiter and be your personal eye candy instead of be gainfully employed..." He makes a show of stretching, an effect diminished slightly by his still somewhat underfed-looking frame, and when he's looking at her again the way he wrinkles his nose suggests he's not as enthusiastic about the suggestion as his tone might have let on.

"More likely we know the names of some of the same people," Ravn observes with a small chuckle. "As in, Perdita tried to grift them and I tried to avoid them."

A glance at Garrett and perhaps taking notice of the change of tone; the Dane nods. "Finding your own feet is important. No one likes to feel like they're imposing. Though this town is pretty good about supporting each other; I guess we all realise that it could be us next."

The effect may be diminished, but Perdita's eyes still... linger. "More that I want you to be gainfully employed when you're mentally and physically capable of it. Though if you can get back to work as a park ranger, I could see nature being... healing. For you. Not for me. Nature and I have an agreement. I appreciate it from my rooftop terrace, and donate to 'Save the Dolphins' and stuff like that. Even if dolphins are nature's assholes."

"Ravn, you wound me. I didn't try to grift them."

"I succeeded."

Do the lingering eyes have Garrett sitting up just a touch straighter when he's done stretching? Maybe. His expression is definitely pleased, though. "Assholes they may be, but they still don't deserve to end up in a tuna fishing net," Garrett says with a shrug. Dita's 'accusation' of Ravn offending her gets a curious look, right up until the other shoe drops and he laughs quietly. "Yes, hopefully they'll be under me with only minimal stumbling soon. Ish," he agrees.

"I am still disappointed I never got to see you in action," Ravn chuckles and winks at Perdita. "This is what I get for being a social recluse."

If he notices any lingering gazes he pretends not to notice. Some people are quite oblivious like that. "I have issues with tuna fishing, though. Mostly because one of my first experiences here involved me being turned into one, and I got stuck in poison kelp. I still have a few burn scars. It was a vastly overrated experience, and I feel rather sorry for any tuna that have to go through it. I did have a very nice tail though."

"Honestly, as much as Tsinyorri and Ms. Kitty Pryde may disagree with me, nothing deserves to be in a tuna net." Perdita murmurs... but the mood is back to playful again when Ravn says he wishes he'd seen her in action. "We'll hit up Seattle, get a couple high rollers to buy us something shiny... whether they realize it or not." she promises, amused, before taking another drink of her PSL.

"Well, at least you had a nice tail," Garrett says dryly; safe to say that he's not convinced that makes up for the rest. Then they're discussing 'business' as it were and he shakes his head slowly, grinning. "And here you made it sound like you were all grown up and setting down roots," he teases Dita. "It's got to be like shooting fish in a barrel for you, huh?" Pause. "But not fish in a net."

"She's anything but grown up," Ravn smiles and throws Perdita a glance that is genuinely fond, in a slightly conspiratorial way. "She is taking a break. Lying low for a while. People like Perdita never settle for good -- it's not in their blood. Even when they try, they find themselves with a chance that is just too good, just one last heist, one last grift."

He glances at the ceiling and blows a tuft of stray hair out of his own face. "Not that I'd know, of course. I am the embodiment of law abiding. Straight and narrow, all the way. I say please before I take a toothpick from the table basket in a restaurant."

"I'm only twenty thre- twenty four, I refuse to completely grow up." Perdita tells Garrett, smiling, "I was denied a healthy adolescence, I reserve the right to steal from the rich and give to myself and also charity sometimes. For the dolphins."

"I'm mostly retired from the life... at least for now. In a year or two, we'll see how I feel. Or if I want to go on vacation..." A slight shrug and a smirk at Ravn, now. "Mmmhmmm. You'd never run a con, never pick a pocket, never pick a lock. It's the neuropathy, you know. His fingers just... can't manage safe cracking."

"So I should make sure to enjoy your company while I can, then," Garrett says, grinning over at Dita after Ravn offers his input and Dita replies, Garrett leaning back and listening to their banter with a smile on his face. "Sounds like quite the list of skills to never use," he muses out loud, glancing at Ravn with a raised brow.

Ravn at least has the decency to look a little sheepish. "Well. We do have some professional overlap. It's been a long time since I was an actual thief, though -- I may have picked a few pockets and run a few easy roadside grifts to pay for bus fare and hostels on my way around but nothing in Perdita's league. We used to move in similar circles somewhat for a while, but I had the misfortune of belonging to them."

"I generally recommend that of friends, regardless. My great uncle Studivares died right after his wedding, before he could even get to the wedding night. Granted, he was like seventy and it was his third wedding. First wife who outlived him." Dita shrugs, smiling slightly. That sounds made up. It's hard to tell with her family, though. "Life is short. Enjoy it while you can and don't wait for the wedding night."

"It's not been that long for me. Old habits die hard, but... I tried to be good when I was in Seattle." Tried.

Garrett gives a faint nod to Ravn. There's no judgment in his expression; no doubt that would've shown up already if it was going to. "Perdita. A less gentlemanly sort would absolutely choose to interpret the wording on that advice /very/ inappropriately," he points out, eyeing her, then chuckling. "Well, at least you tried," he commends. "It's the thought that counts, I hear."

"Always thought that was the perfect way to go," Ravn muses. "Age hundred and twenty, shot in bed by a jealous husband. And knowing Perdita as I do by now, I am tempted to argue that if you think her words can be interpreted in an innocent fashion, that's where you go wrong."

He looks amused. "Or maybe I'm just no gentleman either. Did Seattle think you were good?"

"Oh, no... you're interpreting it correctly." Perdita tells Garrett and Ravn, both, her expression ever so innocent as she takes another sip of her latte. There isn't even a hint of a smile. One can practically see the halo glowing behind her.

"Seattle thought I was very good."

"Oh, are we choosing ways to die? Put me down for one Tyrion Lannister," Garrett says, then laughs at Perdita, shaking his head. "You weren't joking about having no shame, were you?" He sounds almost admiring as he says it, brows lifting slightly at her report of how Seattle found her. "I'll sure they did."

"How does that one go again -- women and wine? Not the worst way to go, either." Ravn grins lopsidedly and then shakes his head. "She wasn't. But she's pretty damn fun about it, and if she can get a blush out of you, she'll chalk it up as scoring a point. Doesn't hurt for me at least that I find the idea of rich assholes getting run around in circles hilarious. I'm not in Perdita's league at all when it comes to grifting -- and hearing her stories about some of the stunts she has pulled makes me both wish I'd been there to see their faces, and grateful I wasn't there lest I'd ended up a mark."

"'For a long time I was ashamed of the way I lived. Did I reform, you ask? No. I’m not ashamed anymore.'" Dita shrugs slightly, smiling. "Mae West said it best. Own who you are, and the world can never shame you..." When Ravn admits he might have ended up a mark, the smile turns into a grin, "I don't think my charms would have worked on you. They haven't yet, after all." she shrugs to Garrett, "No accounting for taste, right?"

"That's the one," Garrett confirms, nodding at Ravn before hearing Dita's outlook shift and nodding admirably. "It's a good phrase to live by," he agrees, then chuckles, glancing back to Ravn. "I'm impressed," he informs the other man. "....or sympathetic. What is it like living with such a lack of taste? Is it why you took the black coffee; extra flavor is wasted on the tasteless?" he teases, winking at Dita.

Ravn laughs. One could get the impression he is quite used to being ribbed on for how dull he can be -- and also that he doesn't particularly mind. "I'm an old fashioned romantic," he says with a smile. "Slow on the uptake, and besides, there is a woman I've kind of got my eye on. I like to think she doesn't feel quite different -- although I'll admit that the fact we still haven't managed to actually go on a date after six months is not encouraging. Still, I'll live in hope a little longer."

"It's because the only way he can get it in this town is all specialized roast hazelnut with oat milk foam and a caramel drizzle and the like. The baristas love to mess with him, and he's an addict, so he takes his fix however he can get it. We're lucky it's not something stronger." she explains, finishing off her own pumpkin spice deliciousness finally. Garrett's defense of her (extremely) dubious honor gets a little smile.

"She's a busy woman, doesn't mean she doesn't care, just means she's busy, right?"

"Nothing wrong with that," Garrett says of being old-fashioned, not that Ravn particularly needs his approval. The fact that he already has his eye on someone gets an only thinly veiled look of curiosity. "Is that so?" But he doesn't pry, and settles for nodding his agreement with Dita. "Busy happens," he agrees.

"Just one barrista," Ravn corrects with a smile. "It's just my bad luck that there is only one coffee shop down town, and she's the day manager of it, which means the rest of them do the same to stay on her good side. My feud with Della is the stuff of legends, and some day I am going to invite her out for coffee in Hoquiam just to show her what proper coffee is like."

He cants his head. "Or continue to guilt other people into ordering for me. Ever noticed how de la Vega never has trouble getting plain coffee at that place?"

"Della knows the power and influence she has over this city. I wouldn't be surprised if she got Safeway to stop selling you and the HOPE Center black coffee for your coffee pot there, just to make you suffer even more." Perdita tells Ravn, flashing a smile at Garrett, as if to suggest she might just see about making that very thing happen.

There's a snicker from Garrett. "You came to a smallish town like this and made an enemy of a barista? Seems like a poor choice," he comments, looking amused. "Hmm, maybe I'll invest in a decent espresso machine if I take up coffee again..." He muses. "I might even share, but only if you don't tell. I don't need to get blacklisted as an accomplice," he teases, returning Dita's smile.

"It wasn't deliberate," Ravn murmurs. "I ordered coffee, and when they asked me what kind, I made the mistake of saying 'just, you know, coffee'. Apparently no such thing exists. And Della is on a mission to get me to place an order with at least two surplus ingredients. I usually manage to haggle her down to just a hazelnut roast. Then I leave the hazelnut flakes in the cup."

"Honestly, I'm probably the only woman in this town you haven't pissed off at least once, so far, Ravn." Perdita tells the man with amusement. "Just remember to be particular with your phrasing for Della, Garrett. I think she might be Fae."

"I was usually more of an evening person at Espresso Yourself. Speaking of which, do you know off hand if Hazel still works there?" Garrett asks, looking at Ravn, tone curious. "You might not know if you're mostly a daytime person there, though," he supposes a moment later.

Ravn cants his head to think back -- or at least think back. "You're probably right," he cedes after a moment, still smiling. "I never claimed to be good with women. In fact, I'm fairly certain I've stated a number of times that I am quite bad with women."

He thinks back, and then shakes his head. "I honestly have no idea. It's not a name that rings any bells, but then, I'm not on a first name basis with all of them, either -- not even the day staff. Just pretty much Eleanor herself, and Della, because really, Della's day is ruined if I don't give her a fight."

"You may have mentioned it once or twice." Perdita tells Ravn with amusement, tilting her head at the man slightly, before telling Garrett, "I tried flirting with him multiple times and he never once caught on until the ship had already sailed."

Garrett gives Ravn a skeptical. look re: being bad with women. "Right. Sure you are," he 'agrees', an eyebrow quirked upwards. And then Perdita tells her tale, and he reconsider his judgment. "You didn't pick up on..." He glances at Perdita, who is, in his experience, not overly subtle, then back at Ravn. "Well. Nobody is perfect." The lack of familiarity with any Hazel at the coffee shop gets a small, unconcerned shrug.

Ravn hitches a shoulder and sips his coffee, black and drab as it is. "It might be easier to get my attention by just telling me that one is interested," he says blithely. "It sounds so simple, and yet so few do it. My life is too short and too comfortable as it is, to play those games -- they only end with somebody getting hurt in the end, anyhow. I have been single most of my life, I don't mind it."

The young woman shrugs at Garrett, as if to indicate that she thought she was being blatant, too. "I honestly figured you were either gay or asexual. Or both. You could have been both. I practically backed you into a corner, semi-don style."

Perdita shrugs and smiles, clearly amused by the situation now. "Blatantly telling you ruins the fun of the chase... and the chase is so much fun."

There's amusement, but no disbelief, as Dita recalls just how blatant she was; that seems to check out. "Games aren't for everyone," Garrett agrees, slowly nodding along with Ravn. "...but they /can/ definitely be their own sort of fun," he tacks on, winking at Dita. "Building anticipation and all that."

"To each their own," Ravn agrees with a small chuckle. "I do not enjoy the chase much. People get excited, they get their hopes up, and then they actually get around to have that talk some day, only to find out that the other person isn't at all what they conjured up to their mind's eye, and everyone leaves disappointed."

Cynical, who's cynical?

"Games can be a great deal of fun... provided everyone involved likes the game being played. Some people don't, and that should be respected." Perdita smiles fondly at Ravn, before smiling, with a little more heat, at Garrett. There's a chase happening there to be sure... though who's chasing whom?

"Indeed. No fun if you don't find out until later that you're playing different games," Garrett agrees. "So... is this lucky woman you've had... less luck than you'd like with someone I might know?" he asks before quickly returning Dita's smile.

Ravn shakes his head. "It doesn't matter. If we find the time, somehow, all's well. If we don't, then there's no reason to invoke her name and start rumours that she might prefer to not have started. Maybe she finds herself thinking she is not so lucky after all."

He smiles and puts the empty coffee cup down. "And perhaps I should be on my way -- as far as I can tell, you're not a crazy axe murderer, Garrett." Maybe the Dane figures that when the chasing gets going around here, he has no particular desire to be the thing everyone runs in circles around until they catch one another.

"If he is, he's taking his time. I don't even think he has an axe." Perdita points out with a smile. "Thanks for the coffee, though." and, of course, for stopping in to make sure she hasn't been axe murdered.

Garrett gives a respectful nod and doesn't try to pry a name from Ravn, then grins. "Ah, so I've lulled you into a false sense of security," he says. "Bwahaha!" He shrugs at Dita. "If I'm spending money on an axe, it's probably for work. Not gonna mess up a good axe murdering with it."

The Dane gets up and shrugs back into his coat. "I'd suggest spearing her on a sharp wit but you might find that to be an equal battle with this one. Instead, wear her down with extensive physical activity until she is too tired to move a finger, and then -- go on doing that, she'll die from a heart attack in fifty years or so."

It'll be a fun way to go at least?

"I'll check in again one of the days, yeah?" Ravn smiles at both. "Not so much to check for axe murderers, maybe, as just to hang out, maybe go see Alexander's office."

"Plenty of men have tried to spear me with their sharp wit." Perdita retorts, gathering up the empty coffee cups, ready to carry them into the trash in a second. She has no comment about the extensive physical activity, however.

"You'll like the office, I think. Alexander's thrilled with it." Another fond smile, "Mind the roof harpies on your way out." she tells Ravn, heading toward the kitchen. She's probably joking.

Probably.

"Spear and physical activity. Ravn, I'd like to hire you as my doctor. That's all it takes to write a prescription, right?" Garrett grins and offers the man a nod. "Until next time, then. Pleasure meeting you. Good luck with your lady friend," he adds with a good-natured smile.