2021-12-12 - Sunday Morning Coffee

Since coming back to town, Espresso Yourself has become a favorite haunt of Benedict's. It's downtown near most of the goverment buildings, and the day shift manager remembers his name. The pastries are good, too. He's currently sitting near one of the windows, watching the wind through the trees slightly grumpily. There's a coffee, two bagels, and a muffin in front of him.

Everyone likes coffee. Even Alexanders like coffee, although on first glance, he doesn't look like he can AFFORD coffee, with the oversized olive green jacket, an army surplus from some thrift store, worn over a sweater that is both offensively green and offensively festive: the worst possible attempt at a Santa cross-stitch takes up a good portion of the visible front. Like the jacket, it's at least three sizes too big and hangs almost down to his knees. He's got some shopping bags dangling from his hand, and is humming, just a little, to himself as he enters - it's Hark! The Herald Angels Sing for those who are up on their Christmas carols.

Tanasha made arrangements to meet Ravn here, another coffee, with a proposed upgrade for the system. The motorbike roars as she pulls up outside, removing her helmet and shaking out her curly hair. The backpack on her back is grey, and a black jacket is thrown over a bright purple poloneck sweater, and jeans. She moves with energy, heading directly to order coffee and a muffin, her smile coming quickly and departing just as fast.

How Ravn Abildgaard wishes the day shift manager didn't remember his name. Her name is Della -- and while he's been in town for over a year now, he has still not managed to acquire one cup of coffee, black, no frills in this place. There's a nugget of life advice to be harvested here, people: Don't ever stroll up with a strong European accent to tell an American you want American coffee. Unless you like getting served dessert in a cup -- which is exactly what the tall guy in black seems to be getting. Pumpkin spice, vanilla syrup, almond sprinkles, extra soy milk, and chocolate chips.

"I asked for coffee," he complains, in a tone like someone playing out a ritual that's been played out a thousand times before.

"There's coffee in it," Della beams, as always.

And just like always, the Dane gives up because what's the point, and raises a hand in a friendly, gloved wave at Tanasha -- and then Alexander.

Benedict perks up at the sound of an engine roaring outside, leaning forward to examine the motorbike as best he can through the windows. He also takes note of who actually owns it, or at least who is riding it, as Tanasha comes in. But it's Alexander who holds most of his attention. It may have been years since they last were in each others orbit, but he still looks familiar. His dealings with the DA's office probably don't help that.

The tap of stilettos announce the arrival of Perdita Leontes as surely as the swirl of a truly luxurious faux fur coat that would surely drag the ground behind her if not for the heels. The little metallic silver dress covers very little, and the fishnet stockings don't do much to help against the cold, either, one presumes. If not for the flawless make up and high ponytail, one might assume this is a walk of shame from a night of clubbing. No, this young woman decided she was going to put on that outfit for coffee. She steps into line with a bright smile for Della. It seems they've bonded over their mutual love of torturing Ravn.

Alexander has a well-deserved reputation for being twitchy and paranoid, so before there's any making his way to the counter, he stops just inside the door (apparently oblivious to the person he's blocked from coming in), to scan the interior. Ravn's friendly wave gets a flicker of a smile in return - but it dies as soon as he sees Benedict. His eyes narrow, and he skitters past, finally making it up to the counter to order a coffee, black. And a cinnamon roll.

Both of which he gets without any teasing from Della. He keeps looking back at Benedict, though. And once he has his cup and tiny plate, he makes his way over to the other man. "Benedict Addington." And now he's staring.

That bike is a Lightning LS-218 electric bike, so it takes effort to make it roar. She turns, her gaze seeking Ravn, her lips quirking into a smirk briefly at the sight of his ridiculous coffee. Hers - a simple black one - arrives, and she hesitates, her eyebrows flying up. "Benedict Addington." The words are echoed, softly, with a tone of surprise. "What on earth." She turns, jerking her head to indicate the man to Ravn, and murmurs something to them.

Ten months ago, Ravn might have bothered to complain about how some people apparently can get a black coffee. He did, once or twice, and the only thing that came out of that was that Della's assistant baristas are now in on the joke. The only times he's managed to actually acquire the black coffee he wants here has been when either Eleanor the actual owner was behind the counter, or for some reason, the Chief of Police decided to throw his weight in. And yet for some reason he still goes here; sure as heck isn't for the service.

He returns Tanasha's little look and hitches a shoulder slightly. "Well, let's go say hello, then. Business can wait a few. Can't say I know the bloke, but then, the Addingtons are legion."

Benedict probably would have recognized Tanasha by now, but his attention is entirely held by Alexander. And that stare. He rises from his seat, and for a moment something seems to pass between them. It's complicated, whatever it is. But then his face breaks out in a warm smile. At least he'll try and start this off on the right foot. "Alexander Clayton!"

For her part, Perdita orders a large hot chocolate with whipped cream and a peppermint drizzle, a small black coffee, two apple danishes and a chocolate chip cookie. Either she's expecting to meet someone, or she's expecting to make a meal out of her sweets. "Ravn, how's the hickey from hell?" she asks, once she's got her goodies in hand and is making her way to the table nearest Benedict's. That small black coffee is set ever so casually off on its own, slightly, calling to the man. You know you want to, Abildgaard.

Alexander doesn't even bother to hide his suspicion of the warm smile; even takes a slight step back, like it might burn him. "Yes. That's my name." There's an pause that's just long enough to be (more) awkward, before he adds, "I heard you got the AD investigator job." Someone with some actual manners would say congratulations and stop bothering the man. Instead, Alexander just sort of stands there, although as Perdita comes by to take the table nearby, he says, "Perdita. Hi."

"Wait a moment." She is studying the two men, watching with slightly narrowed eyes, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. "A hickey, Ravn?" Curiousity killed the cat, and Tan is a big believer in the second part of that saying. But only part of her attention is there, the other lingering on Benedict and Alexander, that odd amusement there. She leans against the end of the counter as she waits, as she watches.

Yeah, that's what Benedict suspected this might be about. "I did, yes." He agrees. "It was time to move on from the Sheriff, as much as I enjoyed road patrol." His tone is still friendly, but it's clear he appreciates how awkward this is. "How's Coach doing?"

Ravn shoots Perdita a look of pure and utter incredulity before it dawns on him a) what she's referring to, and b) that she's taking the piss. He shakes his head, chuckling. "Better. And so's the hangover."

And then, deciding to not be too coy about it, he adds, to Tanasha, "I got a little too close to a very large dog while drunk. Turns out I'm not very good with tequila." He moves towards the table next to Perdita because very conveniently, this lets him claim a chair that leaves him facing everyone. Some men are naturally drawn to not turning their back on a room.

"Hi, Alexander." Perdita gestures toward the chairs at her table, inviting the hobo-looking man to join her, even as Ravn claims a seat for himself.

"I thought it was more of a silver fox, Ravn." Perdita teases lightly, bringing her hot chocolate up to her lips, both hands steadying the mug, ankles crossed primly, her full lips curling into a positively wicked smile. He interrupted a very nice evening, and while she was happy to help, now is the payback, it seems. Still, upon hearing that the man at the other table is an Addington, her brows raise ever so slightly.

Tan bites her lower lip, her eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh dear. Or dogs then? No wild animals though?" She claims a seat with Ravn, one where she can watch the two big dogs bristling at each other with that wry amusement in her face. She leans back in her chair, her hands curled around the cup, inhaling the scent of the coffee. The black coffee Ravn couldn't get. "Silver fox, was it? Oh Ravn, was it an older man, maybe..."

Alexander's shoulders droop. "Well." There's a long pause. "Fine." It's grumpy, but resigned. He takes the seat Perdita offers, which at least stops him from standing over everyone like the ghost of Christmases Best Forgotten. "Pa's fine. He'll be happy you asked about him. I'll tell him." His eyes flick to Perdita, Ravn, and finally to Tanasha, narrowing his eyes at her. He points at each in turn. "Perdita. Ravn. I don't know the other one." Then points at Benedict. "Benedict."

"Ugh." Ravn reaches up to pull down the collar of his black turtleneck a little. "I should be so lucky, at least I'd be having a good time. Do these look like love bites to you?"

Oh, they do -- if you're a love starved mastiff. Something with large canines had a good chew on that neck; it looks most of all like he might have been attempted dragged along like a misbehaving puppy.

"Thank you." Whatever issues may exist between the two, it's clear from his tone that Alexander's father is probably just below his own in Benedict's estimation. And then introductions are being made, and he looks from Pedita, to Ravn, to...and then blinks. "Tanasha Jones? It's been forever!" The big smile is back. "And a pleasure to meet everyone else."

"Well, it kinda depends. I mean, I don't know how ..." She pauses, a moment to let the next word hit a little, "Ruff you like it" Her eyes are laughing as she teases Ravn, and then Benedict's greeting earns him a laugh. She rises from her seat, leaving that lovely black coffee unguarded as she offers the man a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Took your time. What are you doing here? " She glances at Ravn, "This is an old friend, Ben, from home... I've known him years." Her grin flashes and goes again, "I would introduce this lady too, but Ravn hasn't introduced us. I'm Tanasha, by the way..."

"Perdita Leontes, it's the first time I've been called a lady in a while." She offers a friendly smile to Tanasha and Benedict, though her gaze lingers on the tall man a beat longer than it does on Tanasha, as if trying to place where she knows the face. "Pleased to meet you both." she takes another sip of her hot chocolate and, having made enough room in her mug now, pours about half that plain black coffee into it. The rest is set aside, clearly discarded, as she starts in on her apple danish.

The scowl Tanasha nets herself from steel grey eyes is epic -- and probably not all that sincere. He nods towards Benedict, and offers a polite smile, the sort you offer to someone you do not know, and more importantly, you do not know the standing of, nor do they know yours. "Ravn Abildgaard. Pleasure to meet you, I am not the boyfriend. The lady is Perdita Leontes, and at the moment it hurts my tongue to call her a lady."

He places his own dessert cup on the table next to Perdita's half full coffee mug -- and then, hoping she doesn't notice, switches them around.

Alexander winces at Ben, and mutters, "His name is Benedict," under his breath, while keeping a wary eye on Tanasha as she moves around to greet Benedict. He slumps in the seat, putting the bags down at his feet while his eyes dart this way and that, finally trying to piece together the disparate conversations. Ravn's neck gets a thoughtful frown, which deepens as he pieces together overheard bits and translates them. He takes a swallow of coffee...but doesn't narc on Ravn when he notices the switching of the coffees.

"What am I doing here? Why, this is home." Benedict explains to Tanasha. "This is where I grew up. But to answer the question you're probably really asking, I switched over to the Reserves about two years ago. It was just time to come home." Alexander's wince just earns him a grin. "Ah, it's alright Alexander. She's called me Ben forever. Eventually I just gave up on fighting it."

Tanasha's gaze catches that wince, and she smiles at Alexander, the quick wry one that flickers through her eyes, her lashes covering it. "Weird. I stuck a pin in a map, and moved here. " She tilts her head, adding lightly, "I could go back to Benny if you prefer." Sweetly spoken, her lips twitching. The glance she casts at Ravn earns him a roll of her eyes as she spots the coffee swap. "So here for good?"

If Perdita notices the switch, she doesn't say anything, nor does her expression betray anything. She merely sips her hot cocoa and coffee concoction with an entirely too innocent smile. "Mmm. Perfection."

"It's not your name," Alexander mutters grumpily; but at least he's not a teenager anymore, and therefore not jumping to punching people over their flagrant use of nicknames. "You talk to Erin, yet? She'd like to reconnect with family, I think." He takes another sip of his coffee, seeming otherwise content to watch the conversations with a blank, reptilian sort of focus, for the moment.

Ravn leans back a little on his chair, pleased to finally have acquired something that is not diabetes in a paper cup. He raises the stolen mug and sips it -- and then makes a face that's half surprise and half why does God hate me. He turns to look at Perdita. "Mint? You're pure evil."

He shakes his head (and then winces, because ow, neck). "I'd say welcome back to Gray Harbor then, Benedict, but, it feels a little awkward given you're a native and I just turned up like a stray cat a little more than a year ago."

"You're right, it's definitely not my name." Benedict agrees. "But it's better than Benny. And no, I haven't been in touch with Erin. But I'd like to, especially if she's looking to reconnect." All the coffee drinking reminds him of his own, and he picks it up to sip on it for a moment. "Here for good, yes. What about you?" Ravn gets an easy grin. "Well, thank you anyway. Thought that counts, right?"

"So I shouldn't call you Alex then. but I've got worse I could call him than Ben." Tan smiles, with a touch of overly-sweetness to it, her eyes glinting for a moment as she steps a little back from Benedict, to study Alexander. "Look, here..." She reaches into her back pocket, sliding a business card out. "Call me. Come over." The broad grin she shoots to Benedict is quick, friendly, and more relaxed than she usually is. "Catch up." Illiteration. Always fun.

"Mint? I ordered a plain black coffee to add to my hot cocoa." Perdita explains, glancing back up at the counter with a raised eyebrow. "You've infected me with your curse, clearly." either that, or the grifter's a good liar. Who knows? "Also, that was my coffee, anyway, how very dare."

Alexander actually flinches at Alex, like Tanasha threw something at his head. "My name is Alexander Clayton," he snaps back. "Don't call me by things that aren't my name." He eyes the business card as it comes out, and his curiosity prompts him to ask Tanasha, in only slightly more friendly tones, "What do you do?"

Ravn pushes the stolen coffee mug back to Perdita, resigning himself to once again simply going without. "I'll make you make me coffee in that very nice penthouse of yours sometime," he tells her. "I plan to go see Clayton's new office anyhow. And we never did finish our basement explorations, either."

He reaches for the little condiments basket at the centre of the table and steals a packet of sugar; it dances across gloved knuckles from one hand to the other and back. People have weird tics when they can't get their caffeine fix.

"Definitely." Benedict takes the business card, tucking it away in his wallet. "Sometime soon." The talk of contacting and catching up prompts him to ask Alexander "Do you have good contact information for Erin? Or if you don't feel comfortable with that, I could give you mine to give to her?"

"I won't but Ben lets me call him that." Perhaps out of self-defence, "I write software." The answer is friendly enough though, the snap seemingly bringing the wryness into her eyes . "Tanasha." She makes the introduction lightly, "Friends call me Tan." The lift of her eyebrows at Alexander is teasing, the woman's eyes laughing, "You can pick either, depending on how annoying I am being to you." She pauses before she calls over to Ravn, "Take mine."

"I wouldn't do that. Della will add you to Ravn's embargo list and you'll never get anything right, again." Perdita tells Tanasha, her tone light. She takes another bite of her apple danish, sighing happily. The flavors don't really go together, but... it's probably another dig at Ravn. "I'd hardly call it nice right now. It's barely more than a rooftop tomb. Garrett's got some furniture for his room, at least, and I have a table and chairs, and a coffee table now. I need more furniture, but I can only restore so much so fast."

"She never invited me to call her Tan, but now she's giving me coffee. Clearly, I am the boyfriend." Ravn nods solemnly -- and reaches for Tanasha's coffee because do not make an offer like that to a guy who can't get a decent cup of coffee in the town's only coffee shop. "Or maybe it's just that I'm a paying customer."

Alexander twitches with distress at every nickname, but manages to rein in any reaction more significant than a glare in the woman's direction. Instead, he turns his attention to Benedict and rattles off Erin's phone number and address, without even having to pause to look it up. It's Ravn's remark that lightens his mood. He perks up and says, "It's a very nice office. It's only tried to kill me once, so far." He slides back the bunched sleeve of the too-big sweater to reveal a heavily bandaged wrist. Sitting a little straighter, he adds to Perdita, "Let me know if you need help with hauling things. I've been doing some repairs on my floor. Just a few things."

Benedict pulls out his phone and inputs the information Alexander hands over, and then slides it back into his pocket. "Thanks. I'll give her a call later today." When Ravn proclaims himself to be Tanasha's boyfriend, he can't help but grin mischiveously. "Well, congratulations to the happy couple, then. Clearly we do have lots of catching up to do! How did you two meet? Any shared pets? How long has it been?" He rattles off the questions in the manner of one who knows very well he's being annoying.

"I can cope with the curse, I'll drink anything with coffee in it. And you, Ravn, you'd call me whatever you want to, and you know it. Boyfriends aren't my thing though." That wry smile comes and goes, rather like her coffee. "There isn't much I can shorten Ravn to though. I'll have to think about it." She claims a chair, dropping her backpack down beside it. "And you know better." The look at Benedict is laughing, her eyebrows flying up, "You know well enough he isn't my type..." She leans back, her legs stretched out in front of her, comfortably.

"You'd be surprised at how people, anglophones in particular, manage to mangle my name," Ravn returns, chuckling. Correct denomination seems to be far less of an issue for him than it is to Alexander Clayton. "But, same, boyfriends aren't my thing either."

"Wait, it actually tried to kill you, already?" Perdita asks Alexander softly, eyebrows going up slightly, before her gaze flickers to Benedict and back. When he shows his wrist, she winces. "What happened? Massive... desk splinter?" she's certainly not going to be asking for help hauling when his wrist is messed up, that's for sure.

Benedict eyes Alexander's wrist sympatheticly. "That doesn't look good at all." He's apparently done harassing Tanasha for now, grinning and shaking his head. "Yeah, I know exactly what your type is. No boyfriends for you."

"I got Lost," Alexander says with a shrug. "Wolf gangster bit me. Might happen again. Felt like it wasn't finished. Doing whatever it wanted to do." He's clearly not much for euphemisms or avoiding the subject, even with complete strangers around. When Benedict looks at the bandage, though, Alexander frowns and hastily tugs the sleeve back down over it. "It's fine. It's a good office." His eyes flick back to Tanasha, studying her for a moment. Then he asks, "What sort of software do you write?"

"If either of you actually need help with anything, I'm just a call away and all that. I'm not that great with hauling heavy boxes but may be I can help with -- desk splinters." Ravn loses a bit of the cheeky attitude; the look he bounces off Perdita and Alexander is serious enough. "It's not a far walk from Oak Avenue, and besides, Lola Bianca needs her walkies."

He pauses a moment at 'wolf gangster'. Nah, probably not a euphemism, not the same pair of canine teeth.

"Ow." The word is soft, and she glances down at his write, her eyebrows drawing in. That gaze flickers towards Ravn, a brief question in it and then she returns it to Alexander, "I like Ruby but I can do most of them now. Mostly I write programs to order." The reply is frank, and she tilts her head slightly, studying the man in return. "What do you do?" Her question is equally blunt, her eyebrows arching a little, her eyes warm with amusement.

"Wolf gangster." Benedict echoes. "That sounds like you were pretty seriously lost, Alexander." But he doesn't seem overly bothered by it. This town has always been weird, after all. Some things never change, and he goes back to sipping his coffee with the easy comfort of one who has no idea just how weird the world around him really is.

Perdita shakes her head slightly at the mention of wolf gangsters, looking worried... and then taking another bite of danish, because if anyone can survive Wolf Gangsters, it's someone like Alexander, right? "Just... let me know if you need any help." she tells them both. "Even if it does pull me out of a very nice evening." a glance over at Ravn.

Ravn at least has the decency to throw Perdita a sheepish look and murmur, "Sorry. Usually I go scream into a pillow on my own instead of bothering others."

"It's fine. I'm fine," Alexander mutters, shoulders hunching a little. Tanasha's question gives him a moment of pause. "I'm...I look into things. If people want. People pay me to look into things. Sometimes." He reaches into one of the big pockets of the jacket and brings out a small, plain business card, that just has his name, a web address, and an office address. "Here. If you want." He slides it towards Tanasha, leaning to put it on her table.

Her eyebrows drawing together and upwards, a glimpse of temptation crossing her face and Tanasha gives into it, "Are we talking about dating or Wolves here?" The murmur is soft as she slants a look at Ravn, "I''d offer too but I don't know what one is so I doubt I could help." She reaches and takes the card, twisting to take one of hers out of her pocket, "Back at you." The smile is quick to appear, her eyebrows arching a little.

"I think the topic switched to wolf gangsters." Benedict observes to Tanasha. "As long as we're not talking about dating and wolves at the same time, I think it'll be fine. Although I saw some people like that, once. Was on a training assingment, Air Force put us up at this great hotel off base. They were having some sort of convention there. Well anyway, I call the elevator and the door opens and there's all these people...only they're animals. Like in mascot suits, you know?"

"I don't really do the dating thing either," Ravn murmurs and rubs his neck. "I don't usually get dragged around by wolves either, but you know this town -- no two days are alike and boredom is a much-sought luxury."

He blinks and glances at Benedict. Maybe the idea of being called out as a furry next is not all that appealing, either. Better steal a third sugar packet and let that dance across his knuckles too, because sometimes, it's very good to let your mind go decidedly not down whatever road is being offered up and really, no, just, no.

"Furries, Benedict. They're called furries, and most of them are incredibly kind, friendly people. Their costumes take a lot of work, too." Perdita's smiling, glancing over at Ravn with a slight head tilt, clearly sensing the man's discomfort and relishing every moment of it, because he's alive, dangit, and doesn't have alcohol poisoning, either. "Did you like the selfie on your phone, by the way?"

"And the mascot suit things are called fursuits," Alexander adds, with a nod. "I don't like them. They hide the face." He eyes the business card Tanasha offers for a long moment, but then reaches out to take it. It's studied carefully, before being tucked away into another pocket. One eyebrow arches. "Selfie? Ravn, what did you get up to?" And now, it's just possible that Alexander is teasing him, the tone of his voice suddenly light and playful.

Tanasha speaks lightly, with that quick smile, "Good for them..." The murmur is soft and she rises abruptly to her feet, heading for the counter. "Black coffee please." She makes the order lightly, leaning against it, Her expression is thoughtful, as she listens to the conversation in silence. The coffee arrives and she smiles, paying for it and returning to her perch. With a black coffee.

"The -- " Ravn pauses and then dips a gloved hand into a wind breaker pocket to procure an older Android in a bright sparkly pink Hello Kitty casing. He flicks it open and looks through recent pictures -- and then winces. "Preserved for posterity, one tequila fuelled headache in the making. I don't even remember that part. If I have learned anything this week it is to ask more questions, and not drink tequila."

"Furries, huh? And they make those uh, fursuits, themselves? Impressive. I assumed they just brought them like sports team do." Benedict shrugs, apparently fairly neutral on the topic of furries for all that they clearly left a strong impression.

"Of course you don't. You were mostly passed out on Isi's couch. But what kind of friend would I be if I let you forget that we were there for you? Isi even gave you ice for your neck." Perdita smiles fondly at Ravn. "No more tequila for you. Stick to something with less of a bite."

"They usually represent how the furry views themselves as an anthropomorphic animal so they're custom made if they can be," Alexander says, answering a question that absolutely no one asked. He frowns at Ravn, then, and says, "You should be more careful. Always ask more questions. Questions are good." He turns his attention to his cinnamon roll, stabbing each piece with a fork and eating it in quick, mechanical motions.

"It's difficult to ask the right questions when you do not know what to expect," Ravn objects in a murmur. "I'm not sure there is a user's manual for -- this kind of psychotherapy. It feels very improvised. And, I think I might have asked more questions if I'd had less tequila first, not going to pretend otherwise."

He doesn't appear to have an opinion on furries. 99 problems, and a fursuit ain't one.

"Fascinating." Benedict murmurs at Alexander's explanation, before digging into one of his bagels and finishing the rest of his coffee. He doesn't feel qualified to discuss psychotherapy, especially a psychotherapy that invovles getting incredibly drunk on tequila. Well, maybe he's pretty qualified for that last part.

"The best type of hangovers." The murmur is soft, "When you get flash backs of what happened, waves of horror...." Tanasha lifts her cup, taking a sip before adding lightly, "Less drink and more talking, Ravn?" The amusement is real, and written across her whole face.

Alexander stares at Ravn, frankly disbelieving. "You, uh, asked for that sort of help from him?" He doesn't have to add the what were you thinking because it's really clear in his expression. "No wonder you got bitten." He shakes his head as he finishes off the cinnamon roll, and then the coffee. A sidelong look is thrown Tanasha's way, and his lips twitch upwards, just once.

"I feel relatively safe," Ravn murmurs. "The worst thing that I did, as far as I am aware, was throw up in Isi Cameron's bathroom a couple of times. And I cleaned it up after, too."

Then he glances at Alexander, surprised at the amount of sheer disbelief in the man's voice. A small defensive shrug, and the sugar packets dance back to the condiments basket, leaving gloved hands idle. "Who else to ask? This town has a lot of things, some of them quite fantastic -- but help with these things? It doesn't, not without considerable risk. Guess I just have to decide if it's worth it."

Benedict excuses himself briefly, since he's not really involved in the conversation, and heads up to the counter to get a refill on his coffee.

Tanasha glances between them, her eyebrows drawing together, before she adds quietly, "I'm not sure I understand. Should I? I mean ... you asked someone for help that you shouldn't have and they bit you?" The quick summary is really a question, and she returns Alexander's look, deliberately widening her eyes slightly at him, teasingly. Then she begins to dissect the muffin, pulling little pieces off and eating them.

Alexander scratches at the line of his jaw. "He's not...he's a lot. Up there. More a hammer than a scalpel. Be careful." He looks disgruntled, then rises to his feet, scooping his cup and plate together into one hand, grabbing his shopping bags with the other. "Gotta finish my shopping. Don't die," he tells the table, with a brief nod to Tanasha. Then he goes to put his trash away, and gives another of those brief nods to Benedict as he passes him.

"I asked some for help, and they helped me. The biting was an unfortunate side effect which I would have seen coming and would have dodged, if I'd been less drunk-for-courage and had asked better questions." Ravn's tone is quiet but somewhat firm; he's the one who may or may not have screwed up; not whoever did exactly what he was asked to do. "I have a lot to work through because of it, and I have learned that tequila is very much not my friend. I guess Perdita's right, I'm as white a boy as a white boy can get. It's a miracle I'm not addicted to pumpkin spice lattes."

He nods at Alexander as the other man gets up. "That's a good analogy. Sometimes, though, what you need is a demolitions expert, not a surgeon."

Benedict nods back to Alexander as he returns to the table. "Good to see you again." He seems to mean it, even though things between them will likely be forever strained and awkward. "I dunno that the two necessarily follow. I mean, I'm definitely whiter than white but I get along with tequila just fine. Although I do like a good caramel latte...."

Tan gives Alexander a nod in reply, an echo of his, but with a glimmer of a smile on her lips. She eats around the blueberries in her muffin leaving them on the napkin. "If you need to talk, Ravn, come on by. Its not like there is anyone else in the crazy house." She pops another piece of muffin in her mouth, "I make no comment." The wry amusement in her voice is obvious, and she shakes her head.

"I have lots to talk about," Ravn murmurs and glances at his gloved hands. "However, finding someone with the qualifications to talk about these matters with is the problematic part. Which is not to say I might not come running for a regular chat. But some things require -- personal experience. I think. To be honest, my head is a mess and I still have a hangover. My judgement is probably not at its finest today, either."

A little wave and smile for Alexander as he heads out from Perdita, "Be careful with those... desk splinters, okay?"

"Stick to Akvavit, Denmark." Perdita tells Ravn with a saucy little smile. Her phone is out, and she's now texting someone, only half listening to the conversation with a distracted expression on her face, not quite frowning as her phone vibrates softly.

Benedict moves on to the rest of his late breakfast, listening to the conversation going on around him. He's not avoiding it, per se, but what's that saying about fools rush in? Mental health and qualifications is definitely one of those areas.

Tanasha gives Ravn a thoughtful look before she shakes her head, "I'll catch you later, when you aren't so hungover." The light mocking in her tone isn't sympathetic at all. "Ben, call me, yeah? Come over, have wine and pizza..." She gathers her backpack up, leaving behind an empty cup and a small pile of blueberries on a napkin. "Small world... "

"Schnapps hangovers are overrated," Ravn returns to the Latina. "If you mix anything else in there, you'll be emptying your stomach everywhere all of the next day. The point of akvavit is to have one or two, to keep warm, not to empty the bottle and get drunk." Well, he should know, he's from the country that makes it.

He nods at Tanasha. "I'll be back to my usual contained self by tomorrow, I promise. I don't usually wake up on people's sofa, not remembering how I got there. And I don't usually do my breakdowns around others, either."

"Definitely." Benedict waves back to Tanasha. "Wine, pizza, catch up. It sounds great." He's currently over by a window table with several others present, although most of them seem to be departing or preparing to depart.

A soft sigh, and Perdita's gathering up her food and garbage, leaving Ravn with both of the coffee cups, "Dhvani's being a little shit again, I've gotta go." she's smiling, though, as she waves to the others assembled, and starts heading for the door at a quick pace, as if she wasn't wearing stiletto heels and about to head out into the cold air wearing less clothes than most folks wear in summer.

"Call me if you need anything," Ravn calls after Perdita. "Also with, you know, things in the basement."

He curls long, gloved fingers around the coffee cup that contained cocoa and coffee in a mix -- apparently it meets his standards of 'not too horrible, or he's just that ready to kill to actually acquire caffeine. With a glance back at Benedict he adds, "First week in her new place, we found a hundred year old body in the basement. Never bored in Gray Harbor, right?"

By contrast, a short woman comes in wearing MORE clothes than people do in the arctic. She has on a huge marshmallow pink parka with a white faux fur collar, a scarf, huge sunglasses and a pink beanie with a little poof at the top.

Huge sunglasses are often a disguise but in this case they are a trademark. It's Cassidy. And she's cold. (Because it's freezing. But, yes, she is also cold.)

"Never boring in Gray Harbor." Benedict shakes his head at the talk of a hundred year old body in a basement, but it's far from the weirdest thing he heard growing up here. Then Cassidy comes in, and she's given a little half salute by way of a greeting.

A gloved hand goes up in a small wave at Cassidy as well; the Dane obviously knows who she is. He looks a bit amazed at how much clothing can fit on such a small person but then, he's a Nordic and to him this weather is just -- normal; Washington State and Denmark have much the same climate, though Denmark's lack of mountains also means a lack of glacial melt. "Bennet," he greets the small woman with a small smile. "Been a while. Heard you had some problems at the precinct."

Cassidy takes off her glasses and squints at the salute. Then Ravn speaks and she huffs while tossing her glasses into her purse. "You work for the Gazette now, Rav?" She frowns. "Haven't seen you around. Thought you moved. Have you been avoiding me?" Her lips press together and she hmms. Then she looks away and progresses to the counter to place her order.

Benedict looks between the two, taking note of their interactions. He doesn't interject himself further for the moment, though. He and Ravn are over at a table by the window, that judging by the amount of stuff on nearby tables had previously hosted quite the crowd.

This is the best place in town to get a plain old black coffee with nothing fruity in it. So this is where de la Vega winds up, more often than not. Today, he's clearly on some sort of break between shifts; he's still wearing his badge and gun holstered at one hip, despite the grungy civvie attire and baseball cap that tries to suggest he's not a cop. He moseys his bulky frame up to the counter to order while digging his wallet out, and of course Della recognises him and chats him up a little.

"I read the Gazette," Ravn returns and sips the horrible concoction that Perdita left him. Whether he's been avoiding the diminutive woman goes unanswered. "Suspensions that high up on the food chain tend to draw headlines. Glad you all got it sorted." A glance from Benedict to Cassidy and back. "Am guessing you two know each other already?"

And then rescue arrives. Literally. In form of one of the two people on this planet who can convince Della to actually fork over a cup of black coffee for a certain Scandinavian ex-grifter. Ravn raises a gloved hand to wave at de la Vega in greeting -- and gives the various empty cups on the table a pair of blue-grey puppy eyes. The only cup that remains untouched is exactly what you'd expect -- the one filled with whipped cream, sprinkles, and other horrors that the day manager likes to inflict on him.

It could be the second ice age. The sun could have fizzled to nothing but rock. Cassidy is still going to make her coffee a giant cold brew with copious ice.

"I don't work at or for the station, Rav. PD problems aren't /my/ problems." Of course it's all sorted out, making it moot anyway.

Her eyes shift to Benedict for a moment, then back to Ravn. "I don't know him should I?" She looks to Benedict and asks, "Should I know you?"

"Probably you don't." Benedict agrees with an easy smile. "I recognize you, though." He offers a hand, then. "Benedict Addington. I took the open investigator job at the DA's office a little while back, but we haven't had occasion to work together yet."

The wave from Ravn is caught, and returned with something more a quick baring of teeth than an actual smile from the cop. He's trying to be friendly; that's just how he comes off. His coffee doesn't take long to make, at least, and once he's paid, he snaps on a lid and ambles over for a moment to murmur, "You doing all right? After the, uh." He scratches his nose. Does he need to spell it out? Cassidy and Benedict are observed, though not interrupted.

"I was hoping I could somehow manage to get you to order for me too," the Dane murmurs. "But, yeah. For a value of all right. I think I might be more careful with the tequila next time. Had no idea I was this much of a light weight for the stuff. I'll be hearing about it for a while, obviously -- I decided, in my drunken wisdom, to go crash on Isi Cameron's sofa with Leontes holding my hair."

"Oh!" Cassidy bounces a bit at Benedict's introduction. She reaches and shakes his hand with the sort of loose, feminine grip one might expect from a girl draped in pink. "Cassidy Bennet. Pleased to meet you."

Benedict's handshake is solid and strong, equally what you would expect from someone who looks like he does. There's an easy smile. "Good to meet you too. Here, I've got my cards in case you need anything after hours..." He hands over a business card, that has his work cell and such on it.

"Yeah," the cop replies, with a hesitance like he wants to say more. But for reasons involving muggles at the table, he's going to leave it right there. Once the handshake's concluded between the prosecutorial pair, he favours Benedict with a sliver of a smile. Really just a crook at one corner of his mouth. "I think you just made Bennet's day." He doesn't offer his own heavily tattooed hand to shake, but does scrape together enough manners to introduce himself as, "Javier de la Vega. I'm sure we'll be getting to know each other."

"Pull up a chair," Ravn tells the police officer. "Although at this rate I feel like I walked into the wrong treehouse. My reputation as an honest grifter will never survive this day." Honest, stupid, former, whatever.

Right! Business cards. Cassidy takes the one offered and digs in her her purse for her own. She gives Benedict a business card that looks exactly the same as his but it has her info on it instead.

"Well, it's a rare day when I get the opportunity to make someone's day." Benedict smiles. "Pleasure to meet you, Chief." He recognizes the name, seeming unruffled by the lack of an offered hand. "Clearly I have a lot to live up to, if my mere existence has made someone's day."

Does he really want to be hobknobbing with the likes of these two? That's certainly what goes through Javier's head when the offer's made to pull up a chair. They may work together on cases, but the GHPD and the prosecutor's office are hardly on glowing terms with one another these (or any) days.

He clears his throat though, mumbles something about how he can stay a couple minutes, and settles into a chair between Cassidy and Ravn. And proceeds to sip his coffee while digging out his phone.

Ravn, still coffee deprived, does momentarily entertain the notion of trying to help himself to the Chief's like he tried Perdita's a couple of moments ago. In the end, common sense and survival instinct win out, the boring sods. "I think I might have some questions to ask at some point," he tells the older man -- the one with the baseball cap, seeing as that both men are older. "But maybe not until the headache clears."

"A viable lead in that McNeely murder case would make my day." Cassidy says to Ruiz as she sits down. She looks between Ravn and Javier and shakes her head. There's a little eyeroll in there as well. She knows what's going on here. She's used to it. It's /fine/.

"Well, I'll dig into whatever we have at the office Monday morning and see if there's anything that hasn't been run down yet." Benedict offers to Cassidy. He has no idea what's going on here, when it comes to whatever is passing between Ravn and Javier. He also doesn't seem to notice, or at least it doesn't draw his attention or concern.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Yes, of course he's been catching those desperate little looks aimed his way, since he wandered over with that cup of steaming hot, black coffee. "Have it." The cop shoves his drink toward Ravn, tugs the brim of his baseball cap down, and returns his attention to his phone. Without looking up at Cassidy, "Let me get right the fuck on that. I'd hate to disappoint you."

"If I say I love you, it's going to be awkward, isn't it." Ravn beams. Finally. And they say the Police Chief doesn't have a heart.

The McNeely case he has no comments on. The Gazette tries to keep Gray Harbour up to speed but he's somewhat lost faith in it since that incident where the paper paired him with a certain blond ADA who may or may not be sitting right at this very table, and he was not impressed by a reporter's attempt to pretty much get Everett Woods to make out with her rather than let himself be interviewed.

Cassidy can't be blamed if Ravn is still sour about the night Cassidy let him buy her a drink. But she does perk up and smile when Benedict speaks. She gestures to Benedict like he's a showpiece and looks to Ruiz. "You see that? Initiative!" She pats Benedict on the shoulder.

Benedict doesn't flinch at the shoulder pat, albiet that it was unexpected. He's not really sure what's going on between the ADA and the Chief, but he can stand being a showpiece. Given sufficient prompting, he'll probably even pose appropriately.

Initiative, thy name is flappy bird. Or at least, that's the game Javier's engrossed in at the moment. "So," he murmurs to Benedict, still without looking up from his phone and the game he's playing, "Addington, huh? You know Hyacinth and Erin and those girls?"

The side glance Ravn sneaks Benedict at that inquiry contains mixed elements, not all of which are quite clear, either. Maybe he's just curious. Maybe he's impressed -- Addington is a big name around here, after all. Maybe he's just wondering what the man's relation to the mayor is. Maybe he's just busy enjoying his not quite honestly acquired goods; whoda thunk puppy eyes was the way to de la Vega's heart, or rather, coffee supply.

Cassidy just sips her iced coffee.

"Yes, although it's been a while since I've caught up with any of my cousins." Benedict answers. "I'm hoping to remedy that soon. I know I was told Erin in particular would likely want to get in touch." If he's aware of that side glance from Ravn, he doesn't show it.

"Mm, is that so." Hard to read into his tone of voice there, but something about the statement seems to amuse the cop. Of course, anyone in the know knows he and Erin had a thing going for a little while there. "Well," he grunts, checking his watch and making a face as he loses his game, "I should get the fuck out of here. I te veré por ahí." The phone's shoved into a pocket of his jeans, and he eases to his feet with a slight wince like he's favouring his right leg.

Ravn is not in the know. Nor would he have cared if he was; he's got no stakes in the fire there, either. He empties de la Vega's coffee cup and nods. "I guess I should be on my way too. Lola Bianca isn't going to tuck herself in, after all. See you around, Chief?"