2021-12-12 - The Morning After, Oh God, What Did I Say

Take 1:

Ye Gods. What did I drink And where's the bathroom?

Take 2:

Where the hell --

Take 3:

Oh God, it's all coming back. I hope I didn't say anything too embarrassing.

Take 4:

Maybe I'll just lie here and pretend I'm dead.

Which is how come Isi has an apparently comatose Dane face down on her sofa. He's breathing. And badly in need of a shave and a fresh shirt.

Poor Ravn. He fell asleep on the sofa of the only person in Gray Harbor who won't coddle him. She didn't even bother to be particularly quiet when she wakes up and starts moving about. Lots of loud door closing, running water for a shower, opening and closing of drawers.

How is Ravn's head feeling?

Take 5:

I should crawl somewhere else to die in peace.

Ravn sits up, slowly, and almost immediately regrets it. "Could the world stop spinning for a moment, please?" is the only plaintive murmur. Maybe he is at least not one of those guys who blame everyone else for their misery when no one actually forced them to drink half a bottle of tequila and get their mind twisted into a pretzel by a high end empath.

Isi steps out of the bathroom as Ravn begins his rise into mobile zombie portion of his inebriation. He gets eyed and then she jerks her head towards the doorway. "Give it five minutes and the hot water will refill a bit. I have an old boyfriend's shirt you can have, but you'll have to stick with your own pants."

Into her room she heads and a bit later emerges with a t-shirt that says "Got Milk?" to offer to him.

"I'll take it, and I'll return it newly washed," Ravn murmurs and disappears bathroom-wards. From the sounds from out there, he doesn't mind washing up in cold water. He does sometimes claim to have lived on the streets for substantial parts of his life.

When he does re-emerge, he is wearing the shirt. "So, the Chief likes to wear one like this. Explained the joke to me -- says Soy Milk, and a very confused looking Spanish guy."

Isi has discarded her towel by the time Ravn comes out and has settled into her confidante but lacking in all style clothing. The longer she lives in Gray Harbor the more her pretty things stay tucked away. What is even the point of trying when at any moment the clothing can be ruined?

She had some coffee dripping, so poor Ravn will at least have that.

"It doesn't matter, I don't even remeber the name of the guy I never returned it to. Keep it, go matchy with him." Him being the chief. "Here," said mug being offered up. It isn't the best coffee and it isn't the worst, it just is.

"Oh thank you." It contains caffeine, what more can a man ask for? Ravn flops down on the nearest available kitchen chair. "Look, I -- I don't usually turn up on people's doorstep and expect them to look after me like that. It's not going to be a regular thing."

Isi stays standing when Ravn flops down. Not sitting in her own place is becoming a theme.

"I perversely feel better to pay off some of my debt to you." No, Isi hasn't given up that idea. "So what actually happened to you?" There is a particular intensity to Isi's question that poor hungover Ravn may or may not miss.

"The empaths -- they can do a thing. They connect to your mind directly." Ravn winces. "I've only seen it happen once before. Apparently, everyone has some kind of spirit form in their own mind. And de la Vega's terrified me, though he did in fact do nothing but help. I even clawed his face because I genuinely thought he was going to eat me. He is this terrible, fearsome fire wolf. I have no idea how these forms get assigned, but I want to file a complaint because all I get is my mother's inbred Siamese."

Isi considers this for sums time, pondering. Her fingers tap tap tap against her mug as she gets lost in thought.

Terrible host habit, #2.

"The collar. I was wearing it." Ravn shudders. "With the little fucking bell on. And he carried me around through my own mindscape by the scruff of my neck like a misbehaving kitten. And then bit it off me -- the collar, not my neck."

He pauses, and thinks back before suddenly sitting up straight. "And it's not supposed to work like that. This was not a dream. The collar -- it should not have come back with me. It fell into the Hudson in my mind. And you can't bring anything back from dreams. Something is screwing with me big time."

That has Isi looking up, "Its suppose to be all in your head huh?" That is an interesting fact she will consider.

"Okay, what makes you think it is screwing with you? Alexander says that sometimes the veil is... helpful? " There is a hesitation there on that second part, because that isn't the right word.

"It can be. Not all of the Veil is malicious. A whole big part of it is just alien." Ravn nods -- and regrets it because ow. "But that's the one thing the skilled movers keep saying -- you can't bring things back. If you try it just turns into something mundane. Given the places we go -- I mean, think I wouldn't be fencing Maid Marian's jewels if I could just hold on them when we woke up? If I'd tried, at best I'd have gotten a couple of rocks on a string."

He looks at the blue pet collar, still lying next to the sofa back there. "I suppose a pet collar is pretty mundane but. It shouldn't have come back with me."

"Fucking with you. Sounds like the whole town." Isi mutters, pushing away from the wall and heading for the bathroom. Some rattling around and she comes bath with a small bottle of aspirin that gets tossed on a cushion near Ravn.

"That's Gray Harbor." Ravn manages to stop himself from nodding this time. "You realise the whole thing about moving on is not a joke, right? I know no one ever does. But it would be the wise decision to make. Alexander Clayton is absolutely right on that account. As for me? I'm not going anywhere. I don't need a degree in psychology to figure out that something in me was taken off the leash last night. What I need to figure out is what."

"Fuck Alexander Clayton's advice," Isi replies. The words hold no heat though, mote its like Isi expects herself to say them rather than they are something she just believes. "I leave when I'm ready, so shove it."

Back to the wall Isi goes to lean again. "Wouldn't it be nice if it was your touch thing?"

The Dane sips the coffee at last -- and then washes down several aspirins to go with it because really, this hangover is entirely overrated and he feels no obligation whatsoever to tough it out. "If I get a choice, I could do without the anxiety. I wouldn't be sorry to lose the neuropathy but I'm used to it. Anxiety you never get used to -- you just learn to fake it."

"Sounds like you don't get a choice there. Like, look, I'm not particularly touchy-feely, but to not be able to fuck without someone forcing my brain to accept it?" That elicits a shiver from Isi. NO THANK YOU.

"I can do that," Ravn murmurs with a bit of bruised ego, perhaps. "I just have to -- be careful. More than really is worth the effort most of the time. Most women actually don't feel that great about it. And I don't feel great about the feeling that someone might be putting up with me out of pity. So I largely just don't bother."

Men. Not a eunuch, damnit.

See, this is Isi just leveling a looonnggg loaded look.

"With a good partner it is ALWAYS worth it."

"I'll take your word for it." Well, that's honesty at least?

"You should." Isi replies pertly, but this conversational hole has died so she'll just move on.

"So what are you going to do to figure it out? What the collar thing did or didn't do to you?"

Ravn shakes his head and rubs his temple. "I'm not tossing shade at the women I've slept with. A particular one, in fact, could do that mind and nerve calming trick, and I am sure as hell not throwing shade on her; I wish I could set her business calendar on fire so she'd have time for me instead. I'm the one who's not worth it. Because like most things I do, it's over-complicated and convoluted, and I get nervous and start giving a speech instead."

He takes a few deep breaths. "I'm going to watch myself. And see if anything changes. What else can I do?"

See, that last about being worthless snaps something in Isi - probably a bit of her that believes the same thing. She takes a very aggressive step forward like she is going to slap Ravn, but stops herself, still several steps away.

Deep breath, deliberate turn, walk away. Deep breath deep breath.

An empath might pick up on the turbulence; Ravn isn't one. What he is is a grifter, someone accustomed to watching people very intently in order to predict what's coming, play his cards right, and make the pretence stick. Something in that deliberate turn speaks to him, loud and clear.

"I'm sorry," he says and takes another deep draught of the coffee while it's there. "I'm that bloke who keeps telling people we need to have each other's backs, be here for each other. And I mean every word. But on a more personal level? There's half a dozen reasons a guy like me might go through most of his life alone -- not as in, doesn't have a girlfriend, but alone. Used to be a pretty introvert guy, kept moving away from others until I was at a point where I used to not talk to anyone for days, sometimes for weeks. I'd be on the road, never sticking around anywhere long enough that anyone asked my name. Work the three cups grift for a day on a boardwalk, play my violin at a bus stop, make enough to be gone before anyone paid attention to me. I had my reasons to run -- angry, undead ex among them. And I was happy that way. Told myself that no one needs me and I don't need anyone, either. But it's not true. Humans are not meant to exist in a void. This town is a fucked-up disaster area, but it's the only place in my life I've felt like I have any value at all."

Oh great. Confession time is here.

Usi tries to turn the wall away into something more productive than pique. To get kitchenette she goes to put her mug in the sink. Weirdly, she just isn't feeling the rest of that coffee any more.

"Don't sell yourself short then. You feel like you belong here? Good. Keep it up. Just don't be a fucking hypocrite."

"I'm not being a fucking hypocrite. I tell you we need each other. Wouldn't be here if I didn't believe it." Ravn upends his cup (and from the looks of him, he could probably do with like, five more, and then a shot of adrenaline to the heart). "So much easier to just go it alone."

That gets a grunt from Isi. GRUNT.

"You aren't making much sense. We need each other but it is easier to go alone." She shakes her head and glances at him. More coffee. Well, she can do that much. Here comes the pot, but not that kind, the coffee kind.

"I make perfect sense. We need each other. It's a lot easier to go it alone -- need no one, owe nothing to no one. And when the shit hits the fan, what have you got? Nothing, no one. It's a false narrative. I am trying to teach myself to do better." Ravn holds his cup out, and the look on his face is grateful. Forget food. Food is optional. Caffeine, however, is life.

Caffeine is given, sorry, must be taken in liquid forms. No IV possible.

"What if you are wrong? " If Ravn wanted someone to make him feel better he wouldn't have landed on Isi's couch. There are more sympathetic people he could have turned to. "Maybe it is better to be alone cuz when the shit hits the fan it splatters "

"Lived most of my life by that philosophy." Ravn nods his agreement. "And most places? I still would. Because when push comes to shove, most folks will rush to assure you they got your back but when the shit does in fact hit that fan, they're out of there because no one wants to mop up somebody else's disaster. It doesn't work like that here because it's never just one person. How many dreams have you had here, where you were the only person? Shit's going to hit half the town anyway, might as well aim for damage control instead."

He shakes his head again. "Look, I'm not a hypocrite. I really do believe we need each other. But that doesn't mean it's easy. I don't like people very much. Most of them frighten me, a substantial amount of them just seem shallow and selfish."

Well, Isi can't argue with that as she falls into the shallow and selfish pool herself. And so that is exactly scary she will say. "I've got nothing for that."

"Agreeing with me is not a commandment, you know." Ravn cracks a lopsided smile over the edge of his coffee cup. "And laughing at my infernal hangover almost is. Guess it's up to me now to figure out what losing my collar means. And hope that the shit isn't about to hit the fan, and if it is, that it doesn't splatter."

"Shit is always about to hit the fan." Isi replies dryly, offering the last of the coffee up into his cup.

"I can't decide if you're a liar, or just a really good actor... or even if there is a difference between the two."

"Well, if I'm a liar, I'm lying to myself as well. Wouldn't be the first time." Ravn shrugs and stands up (slowly because ow). "Doesn't matter, though. I want to live somewhere people give a shit about each other. Means I have to do so myself. You know how that goes -- be the change you want. Or, you know, don't -- because the only one who should tell you what to do is you."

Isi probably has more to say, but nothing particularly helpful. So instead she goes to grab her phone and coat. "Want me to order you an uber or walk you home?"