2021-12-09 - Meeting of Minds

Alexander's suggested a time when the Two if by Sea is between rushes; about two thirty in the afternoon, on a bleak day where the sky is overcast and the wind comes off the sea smelling heavily of ship oil and dead fish. Thanks to that, the bar is almost empty, and he easily claims a booth with a view of the water...and more importantly, the outside leading up to the door of the bar. Any true paranoid wants to have a decent view of who might be coming in after them, after all. He's already bought a cheap bottle of beer, but it's mostly untouched as he stares fixedly out at the sea.

He's dressed badly, as usual, with just a bandage around one wrist that's new since the last time.

Gabriella is dressed as always in jeans and a t-shirt. This one has a fox on it and says: I've not no fox to give. Yeah, she's fricken elegant this one. Her hair is in windswept disarray as she looks around and then slides in the table across from him. Is she blocking the view?

"What did you do to your wrist?" There is a look of slight alarm to what a person might have done to their own wrist.

Alexander stares at the shirt for a moment, then smiles. It's a quick thing, blink and you'd miss it, but genuine for the moment it lasts. She doesn't seem to be blocking the view, or at least he doesn't complain about it. He looks down at his bandage, momentarily surprised. "I got Lost." The capital letter can be heard. "It happens sometimes, here. It'll heal." He finally takes a sip of his beer, and studies her. Slowly, like he's being prompted, he asks, "How are you today?"

Gabriella offers a lift to her shoulders to that. "Every day is the same right? I mean no harmonicas following me around. No one asking me out." Lingering moment as she winks towards Alexander. "It's just a day, but it's ours right?" There is a pause as she surveys if he has food before him before she offers, "Also, it seems that Ravn doesn't have a girlfriend. I'm not sure he liked the saying he did."

"Every day is not the same. How could it be? Unless you were stuck in some horrible time loop. I don't recommend it." Alexander takes another sip of his bottle, watching her with flat, near-black eyes. He does blink at the last. "Huh. Did they break up? Because he did say he was dating Hyacinth. He texted it. I have proof. I didn't imagine it." The idea that he might have seems to agitate the investigator a little, and he pulls out his phone, going back through his text log until he can confirm it. "Yes. He typed, 'Although I am in fact dating someone, not that I saw that one coming, either.', and then later confirmed that it was Hyacinth Addington. I even established that it was voluntary dating, and not some artifact of missing time."

There's a firm nod to himself, as he reasserts control over his perception of reality.

Gabriella shrugs her shoulders. "He said that he's not. He asked her out. They have never been out in like six months." She doesn't seem too put out by it. "I'm not his type anyways. I did tell him I like to push the line a bit. Like poking the bear, so I'll still tease him about going out on a date." She settles in. "So how have you been, Alexander? Been stalking more people?"

"Hm." Alexander thinks about it, then puts the phone away, and shrugs. "Insufficient data, clearly. I'm sorry. For misleading you. Sometimes I think people say something that is clear, and it turns out that it's not very clear." He grimaces, and peels away the label on the bottle, starts to shred it into tiny, even little strips. "Sorry," he says, again, eyes on the paper. The question in return seems to stump him. "...no. I think? I found someone who murdered a homeless man. But I didn't stalk him. Just found where he was storing the body, and then the police were called."

His fingers pause, for a moment, and he flicks a look at her. "Why do you poke the bear?"

Gabriella allows a slow smile to curve her lips to that as she looks him over. She answers the last question first. "I like to push people to see where they push back. I like to see their lines and then how they react to them being crossed. You learn a lot about the people around you by making them a bit discomforted." There is a toss of her blonde hair to this.

Alexander just stares at her. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't break contact. He just stares, looking faintly baffled by the entire idea.

Gabriella doesn't seem to break eye contact either. There's something... off about it perhaps. It's like a person who's had to stare down her fair share of people in life. "So, what did you do with this man that killed a homeless man? Just turn him in?"

Alexander doesn't seem to mind the unrelieved eye contact. "...no. He showed up while," a pause, "I was investigating the victim's body. I hit him over the head, and then turned him in." He thinks for a moment, then says, "You're lucky, you know. To be able to choose to make people discomforted. I make even people who tolerate me uncomfortable, and I'm not trying at all." A long pause. "Usually."

Gabriella shakes her head. "I think I would like to come by it naturally. I tend to just disappoint people. Don't worry, I'd say it will happen to you, but you've already stated you don't like me." Her lips curve upwards. "You know all the stuff, blah blah.. young mom.. blah blah.. didn't want me. My mother doesn't have this.. shine thing. So she was pretty sure I was just crazy a lot of the time. It's probably why I went into psychology. It's proof no one is actually crazy, they just have different ways to cope with their environment. Mine is to push people away."

Alexander stares, and listens. More, he listens intently, like he's going to be tested on it later and he's an overachiever. There's a long silence when she's finished, relieved only by the sound of shrrrrp, shrrrrp as he shreds the label. "My parents didn't stand out, either. It can be hard. When you...when people tell you that the things that are real aren't real, and they all agree, so you must be the crazy one." There's no sympathy in his voice, not exactly; it's just an observation of fact. He looks down at the pile of shreds. "You should order a drink." Another pause. "...are you even legal for drinking? I didn't ask. I should have asked before suggesting a bar."

"I'm sixteen. I mean, that's old enough right?" Gabriella looks at the older man inviting the underage girl to the bar. She lets this linger for a moment and then smiles fully. "Nah, I'm twenty-five. I'm old enough to drink." Although, dressed as she is, she's probably still going to get carded and get that card inspected.

Gabriella adds, "I'll take whatever he's drinking."

"I...no, that's not old enough--" And then she smiles, and Alexander slumps with a sulky sort of look. "I don't like when people lie just to lie," he says. Then adds, "I'm drinking shit. You can probably afford better." But the server doesn't editorialize, and soon another cheap bottle of beer manifests. "Do you...want some tots? They have good loaded tots here, if you want food. Or food adjacent items." A shrug, before he clears his throat. "Anyway. Your grandmother wanted me to give you the Gray Harbor primer. I guess. Do you have questions?"

Gabriella looks up. "Of course, I want food. That is never in my life a question. If you see me eating, I still want more food." Her lips curve upwards to that. "I burn it off in nervous energy, I think." She makes a happy 'come over please' indication to get food. Because food is amazing and she wants some. "Primer? I wouldn't even know where to start. So.. why don't you tell me what you know about here and the people."

The server is happy to bring food. All the greasy, delicious bar food that any heart could flee screaming in terror from. Alexander orders onion rings, and waits until the orders are all taken and the server is gone before he says, "Um. It's a lot. And I'd have to consult my files for all the details, especially on specific people." He pushes the shreds of label into a small pile. "Broad strokes, a family called Baxter owned a lot of land around...at least they sort of did. They may have fucked over alternate dimensions and torn a hole in reality in order to own the land. But that doesn't matter so much because the Addingtons came along and took the land and then started systemically trying to murder them and grind their bones to dust in the old sawmill so that their souls couldn't go wherever souls are supposed to go, because when they do, they have the ability to take out some of the abilities from the world. In return, the Baxters tend to go crazy and murder the shit out of people, so really, both bloodlines are filled with assholes. Gray Harbor is built on sort of a thin spot in the world that...attracts people who stand out, like a pitcher plant. Once you're here, you're pretty fucked, because the Shadows hunt you if you use your abilities, wring out all the pain they can, and then usually kill you or drive you to suicide." He takes a drink of his beer. "There used to be an asylum in the Veil where a lot of people who stand out were sent, especially if they were violent - but not exclusively. We sort of wrecked it, but I'm still not sure what was being done there, other than feeding patients to the Shadows." His eyes flick towards the window, studying the view out on the beach. "The other side of the Veil is a place. It's not all Dreams, and there appears to be a mirror of Gray Harbor, but fucking weird. Even by my standards. There are three entities that seem to run shit: The Doctor, The Director, and The Collector. If you stand out, and you die in the Veil, you might end up one of their assistants for...a long time? I don't know if it's forever. So don't die over there."

Well, she asked.

"So the Addingtons are bad people as are the Baxters. Got it." Then there is a lot more to unpack there and Gabriella just sort of stares at him for a few moments as she takes a very long draw of the beer. Her eyes watching. "So, if I die in the Veil, I don't come back here?" That one is interesting, "But yet, I'm not actually dead either." Let's unpack that for a moment. "I know about crossing over. I've done it a few times, most of my... abilities. Tend to just happen. I don't always control them."

Alexander shrugs. "Historically, they both have a lot of assholes. But, uh, they're people. I mean, my dad is fine. He's not an asshole and hasn't killed anyone." He notably doesn't use himself as an example of a non-crazy and non-homicidal Baxter. "And if you die, you don't come back anywhere. You're dead. It's sort of what dead means." He takes another sip of his own beer...and about then is when the server arrives with the food they ordered. Alexander pauses to snag an onion ring while it's still hot and deliciously greasy. He eats very neatly, with almost mechanical bites. "Do you move things? Mostly it's the movers who cross over voluntarily. I can't go unless someone brings me, or it's a Dream. Dreams are different. They're prisons, and you can't go in and out of them at will."

Gabriella considers thoughtfully. "I tend to detect things and control emotions, in animals too. I also tend to be shocking in more than just my personality." Her lips curve up to that as she tries to think what she can actually do. "I haven't explored it a lot, to be honest. I can move things, I can find the thin points of the veil, I can walk into it.." She shifts a bit. "I can unlock doors without keys..." There is a glance around. Most people don't like that ability of hers. "I find things that are lost or that I want. Like if I really want a beer, I tend to find lost money. I can do some basic things with healing and harming, but I tend to avoid most of that. "

"Your personality isn't that shocking," Alexander says, after another few bites of onion rings, and thinking about it for a bit. "It makes sense. You make sense." When he's finished with the current ring, he carefully wipes his fingers as he listens. "All three of the main...uh, schools? Categories? I don't know that we have a real taxonomy about them. Moving's very useful," he says, sounding a little wistful. "I don't have any of it. I don't think it's in me. I'm mostly," he reaches up and taps his temple, "and then a little bit of healing. Enough to keep swelling down or make someone feel peppy, but not enough to do much more."

Gabriella nods her head to that. "Mine is mostly about emotions but I've just always found things. I haven't really.. I mean.. how do you.." She stops and looks at him for a longer moment. "How do you hone it? You know what I mean? Like do you just tell yourself you are going to do it and it happens?"

Alexander reaches for another onion ring. He eats it mechanically, wipes his fingers, takes a swig of beer, all without answering. Finally he says, "Practice. I think. But practice is dangerous, because it attracts Them. But I thought it was worth it, to have control over what I do." He grimaces. "It took a long time to get that control. For healing, I started a garden. Plants don't really feel pain, and that's...better. To practice on. The empathy is hard to shut off. I use it a lot. More than I should. But as my abilities sharpened, I practiced with them. The electricity. Animals. Reading objects. Other things."

Gabriella leans in and starts to make a cardinal sin. One better slap that hand of hers. She's about to try and take one of his onion rings. With her fingers. Her bare fingers. Touching his food. "So where do you practice? Do you do it in the veil? I could kind of see the enhanced powers there. That line of reality not being real for everyone. Or do you do it here. Maybe like I could study you and see what you were thinking or feeling?"

Alexander draws his hand back sharply - but when he realizes she isn't touching him, or trying to, he nudges his basket of onion rings closer so that she can snag as many as she likes. "No. I can't get into the Veil. No moving. Someone else would have to let me in...and then I couldn't get out if they died or left me. So I mostly don't go unless I'm really needed. I don't like it over there," he adds, in a mutter. "I've practiced here. With people, sometimes. You...if you're strong enough to touch animals, you can probably establish mind to mind contact with someone else like me. Once you do, you can reach them anywhere, as long as both of you want to communicate."

Gabriella looks very excited about the food. It's the way to her heart. Also, she eats like she's never had food in her life. She's not messy but damn how she burns it off. She's a bad trope. A very bad trope. "So I could establish that with you and we could talk anywhere? Like seriously, anywhere? You don't have to be in sight of me or anything like that?" Her eyes round out. "It would be like having my personal bat signal?"

There are adorable animal videos out there where some sort of large and grizzled animal watches in bafflement as a smaller, fluffier animal gorges itself on the larger animal's food without shame. Alexander is clearly playing the larger animal in this video, watching his onion rings disappear with a furrowed brow and an expression that perfectly and silently portrays helpless sorrow. But he doesn't try and stop her. He just reaches out to claim one before they're all gone. "Um, yes. If we both wanted to talk. It can be a very shallow connection, or a deeper one. You can't force anyone to show you anything they don't want you to see. Sometimes things will slip through, but mostly because someone wanted to talk about it, but also didn't? Subconscious influences."

"So let me get this right. I could totally swim around your brain, but I can only see what you want me to? What if I want to see more? Can I just do it to you to see what you are hiding from me? Or if you show me are you actually wanting me to see it?"

The tater tots are following his onion rings as she leans on her free hand to study Alexander a bit more. Gabriella is more than a little interested by this. "I've always just sort of known the intention of people for the most part. It's why I tend to keep things superficial."

Alexander considers, shakes his head. "No. We're not telepaths. You won't ever be able to take...stuff from people's brain. Not with any sort of regularity or specificity. I can get a sense of people are lying, or telling the truth, or intentions, as you said." He pauses for a sip of beer. "But the mind-to-mind communication is very intentional. You'll see what I choose for you to see, represented how my mind wants or thinks of itself. Some people are straightforward, others are more abstract. But I never have to show you anything, and you can't ever take any more than I show." He frowns. "Think of it as meeting on a bridge, not going into someone's head. The bridge has a room that we both shape to share what we want."

Gabriella tips her head to that. "So what happens if I'm trying to see something that a being doesn't want me to see? Or what if I'm trying to read an area? That happens sometimes as well." Her lips curve up to that. "Do you.. do you ever get that? That sensation about reading the area?"

Alexander hums. "Anyone can resist, if they're good at noticing when people are...interfering. Or if they have the same abilities. Even people who don't stand out can sometimes twig that something's off, and push you out. What happens then largely depends on the person...but you can also experience some backlash. Like being smacked with a drawn rubber band, except inside your head." A brief, bright grin. "And yeah. Areas have a feel to them, sometimes. Objects are stronger. If you're strong enough to pick up an object's residue, you can sometimes see bits of the past...even find the person it belongs to. But you have to be careful. It can hurt you."

Gabriella looks interested in this bit of information. "How could it hurt you? I mean it's just an object, right?" Her green eyes watch his with interest.

Alexander meets her gaze unflinchingly, but his own dark eyes are a little bleak. "Sometimes you see things. Sometimes you experience things. You pick up a gun, read it? You might see the last time it was used. You might feel your skull cracked open by a bullet." He shrugs. "You have to be careful. Even innocuous things can have some fucked up shit in them. You never know when the last time someone used that aluminum baseball bat in the garage was to beat their kid to death."

Gabriella is silent for a long moment as she turns it over. "That would fucking suck. If I saw that, I hope I see the jerk that did it so one can kick his ass with that same bat." Her eyes are more than a little angry on that note. Her emotions don't need to be read to be seen on this one. "Did you have that happen to you?"

Alexander makes a low, wordless sound. He looks down at the table, using one finger to push around the pile of shreds, restlessly. "You think that. But would you? Would you want that responsibility? To be judge, jury, punisher? Go to sleep knowing how it feels to have someone, even a bad someone, break under your hands?" He starts braiding three of the tiny little shreds. "A lot of people say they want to do that. Most don't understand how it feels to do it."

Then he looks up, at the last question. "I investigate crimes," he says, flatly. "I'm very good at it. Partially because I'm willing to do the stupid thing and let that into my head. Just in case it's useful. So. Yes."

"Yes."

Gabriella's voice rings in a way it probably shouldn't. Almost like she would jump at the chance. She shakes her head to that in thought as she tips her head to the right for a moment. It's almost like she can feel the moment. Her eyes don't see him, they see through him. A shake of her head to that before she smiles at him.

"I heal emotional trauma. Actually, that's a lie. I can't heal anyone. I just give them ways to deal with their ill ease in life."

Alexander's lips press together in clear disapproval. He doesn't say anything, just stares at her, eyes flat. He softens, a little, at the last. "Is that what you do?" he asks, his voice a little dry, a little skeptical. "Well. You will find more than enough of it here in Gray Harbor, Miss Leigh. If you can do some good with it, then I'm glad."

Gabriella lowers her brows. "Which one? I don't go and get vengence for assholes, however..." There is a moment. "There have been some real assholes in my life and I wish someone kicked their ass before I ran into them. So I'm not sorry that I would want to protect the next person. There is always a next person, Alexander. Always."

Then there is a shift. "I have a Masters in Clinical Psychology and I try non-medicated therapies. I can't write scripts, but I'm not against them. Sometimes you just need help, you know? However, I find most people just need to be heard. They need to be assured they aren't actually crazy." Her eyes move to Alex's. "They.." Does she mean him? "... are not actually crazy."

"I meant the therapy. Not the vengeance." Alexander scratches at the stubble on his jawline, then sets one tiny paper braid aside, and starts on another. "And there's a difference between protection, and vengeance. Between justice and torture. Or murder." He nods to the list of her capabilities. "You should talk to Henry Covington. He's a native. Just came back. Psychiatrist. Works at the hospital." His lips twist with a bleak sort of humor. "Sometimes they are crazy, Miss Leigh. Maybe they're not wrong about everything. But it doesn't mean they're not crazy."

Gabriella shakes her head. "A lot of times they are not crazy. They are dealing with the aftermath of the trauma they have lived through. They create things to deal with so that their brain can rationalize what it is going through. This creates a bit of dysfunction in the world around them." She stops for a moment with a toss of her hair a bit. "My family thought I was disassociating from reality because of this shine. It's... hard."

Alexander nods. "Yes. People hurt. They try a lot to stop the hurting, whether it's drugs or behavior or hurting other people., or just deciding that this is the way the world is and they need to bend to it before they break. Most people, even some of the worst people, are just hurting and don't know what to do about it." His lips twitch, faintly. "And some of them are also crazy." He takes the last sip of his bottle. A long pause. "My teddy bear tried to cut me open and replace my innards with stuffing when I was about eight. It never really got any better. My parents thought I was hurting myself, because they couldn't understand what I was trying to tell them. Not didn't want to. But couldn't. People who don't stand out hardly ever get to remember anything that happens, and you can't make any proof of it. The Veil protects itself. That's good to remember."

Gabriella nods her head to that. "My mother had me very young. I mean people have children at sixteen all the time. She grew up here. She doesn't have the shine and I think the town made her mad. There was so much she couldn't remember. There was so much she lost." There is a shake of her head. "We always talk about how we are treated liek we are crazy, but she must have felt the same living here." A breath is pulled into her lungs a bit to that. "So we moved when she was twenty one to Texas." A shake of her head. "She didn't have any real skills and she had a five year old. She just made some bad choices. Then this five year old saw things and moved things and could always find things. Then things came after her that her mother couldn't see and remember... "

Alexander nods. "We suffered. But people who don't stand out suffer too, here. I think, if I have to choose, I'd choose to know, and remember. But I know other people think differently." He swallows hard, hand moving to stack up the shredded label pieces into a neat little pile again. "Anyway. The only way out is through. That's the thing to remember."

"What about you? What's your story? You have a job, so you are not held back there. You have a relationship, that is going well for you? The job is going well? Tell me about them." Gabriella offers as she eats some more of the tatter tots.

Alexander blinks a couple of times, looking a bit uncomfortable with the direct questions. "Um. I'm an unlicensed private investigator. People usually only hire me when they don't think anyone else will take the case...although since the Revisionist decided that everyone remembered me being very good at investigation, business has picked up a little." A long pause. "I rent a house. Isabella is in Alexandria. I think she may have forgotten about the town. But that's okay. She's too good at her job to be stuck in a place like this." He sits back. "What about you? You like poking people, but you held it together well enough to get an advanced degree. That's not nothing."

"I had to. If I didn't I would be pregnant at sixteen and repeating the trends that brought me where I was." Gabriella smiles softly to this and then she watches him a few more moments. "I was convinced I was crazy. So I started learning about it. I could feel other people's thoughts and emotions, so I thought I should use that. I figured if I learned enough I could prove I wasn't crazy. Then I realized that other people are out there... the walking wounded if you would. They are lost in their heads and in a world no one else can understand. So.. I can help them." Her lips curve downwards. "Do you miss her a lot? Do you date others?"

"Good," Alexander says, after a moment. "It's good to have purpose. What do you do for fun?" He pauses again at the questions directed back at him. His expression twists into pain. "...yes. I miss her." A hard swallow, and the feeling is pushed aside. "No. I don't date others. She wouldn't like it. And I don't want to." A glance out the window to make sure the beach and sky still exist. "What about you? You're pushy. About dating. You say it's because you like pushing boundaries and see where people push back. But what if someone said sure?"

Gabriella laughs. "They don't." Gabriella offers easily. "Or if they do, they just try to get me into bed. I know the drill. They know the drill. Rarely does one ever see past a cute, little, blonde girl. They think I'm vapid and in to get a buck or two. How people react tell me about them." Her lips curve up a bit and then she looks him up and then down thoughtfully.

"You didn't answer. About the fun. What you do for fun." Alexander doesn't seem to mind being looked up and down, or remark on it. He seems to be focused on her with an impolite intensity. "You project an image. Then blame people for not seeing past it. You're right. What you said. You do push people away."

"I am a psychologist. I know exactly what I do and why." Gabriella offers. "Fun.." She looke uncomfortable for the first time before she offers. "I like to dance. Do you want to go dancing? I mean I do it badly. I enjoy photography. I love to cook. Do you have your own place?"

Alexander arches an eyebrow, not even bothering to hide his skepticism. "No one knows exactly what they do and why. If you think you do, it just gives a good picture of at least one of your blind spots. While extrapolating quantum mechanics to realms outside of their field is the sign of a quack, generally, Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle does apply. To some degree." His smile is brief and sharp. "And no. I don't dance. But there are a lot of people in town who like dancing. Photography is nice. Cooking is also nice. I rent a place on Elm. I think it mostly belongs to the bird and the cat, but I pay the bills."

Gabriella smiles. "Maybe I am a quack. Who can be certain?" She doesn't seem put out by any of this as seh looks at him curiously. "I should come cook you dinner. Not a date. I respect your lines. What is your favorite meal?"

"I meant me. For moving quantum physics out of its field. It's the kind of things quacks do." Alexander shrugs. Then his brow furrows. "Why? I eat regularly. I don't really...have many favorites. I like ice cream? Um. And...lasagna. Which is closer to actual food, I guess." He picks up the paper shreds and starts feeding them into the mouth of the empty beer bottle. His hands really do seem to have trouble remaining still. "You can come over, if you want. But you don't have to cook anything."

Gabriella smiles. "My love language is acts of service. So.. I like to cook for people. It's the first steps of trying to be friends. I'll make lasagna. I'll make it at home and just bring it over. I do tend to get lost a lot. So Elm, hmmm?" Her lips curve up a bit.

"...love language?" Alexander is back to looking wary. But after a moment, he sighs and visibly caves. "I, uh, if you want." His brow furrows. "You want to be friends? You...don't have to carry pastry through the streets or anything. I have the ingredients." And if he doesn't, he will have them by the time she comes over. But his body bristles defensively at the last sentence and the smile. "Yes, Elm," he says, voice flat. "It's what I can afford."

Gabriella cants her head at the defensiveness. It is clear that she has no clue that it might be rough or not. "I was just repeating it so I don't forget. I think everywhere here is a tree of some sort. So I didn't want to get lost. I tend to do that." Her brows lower in confusion. "I'm not judging where you live. I'm freeloading off my granny."

"Oh." Alexander immediately ducks his head. "Sorry. People hear Elm and it's...uh. It's not the good part of town. You should be careful if you visit." Then he looks up, frowns at her. "Mrs. Leigh doesn't seem the sort to tolerate an actual freebooter. She must like your company."

"She's my grandmother. She loves me by DNA." There might be a humming about coming back and a hundred percent that bitch. Then Gabriella shrugs. "I've lived in some very... dangerous areas. I'm good. I'll swing by. Just have stuff to make dinner and maybe popcorn."

"That's not how that works," Alexander points out. "Take a few domestic cases, and you'll see." He takes her at her word regarding where she's lived, though, and just nods, briefly. "All right." He doesn't seem overly enthusiastic about the idea...but not entirely hostile. More confused that it's a thing that's happening. "Do you...like ice cream? Not in the popcorn. I can get popcorn. But, uh, ice cream is a good dessert. If there's a flavor you like."

Gabriella smiles, "I like most ice cream. Vanilla is the one you can do the most with. What do you prefer?" Her legs swing as she sits there. It's a feel that she likes most food to be honest.

"You do that a lot," Alexander notes. "Brush by an answer to a question about yourself, counter it with a question about the other person." His fingers tap out a nervous rhythm on the edge of the table. Not loud, just constant. "I like Rocky Road. Most times. Sometimes I like other things. All of it's pretty good." A glance out the window again. "Did you have any other questions?"

"I have so many questions. I never run out of them. However, I'll let you go for now." Gabriella offers with a smile. Especially, since she has free food on his tab. "So I'll let you go until our sleepover at your place." A pause. "I would normally hug here. Are you pro-hug or anti-hug?"

"I don't like to be touched," Alexander reminds her, gently but firmly. He even smiles a little. "Thank you for asking, though." He slides out from the booth, and pauses, two fingers rubbing at his temple. She feels a tickle at the edge of her consciousness; a sort of ghostly hug feel, without any physical contact, faint and easily ignored or pushed aside. "Don't die, Miss Leigh," he says, after a moment, then walks away without another word, going to the counter to settle his bill and tip the server, before leaving.