2022-01-06 - New town, who dis?

It's a new year and man has it already been an interesting one. At least for one Gabriella Gail Leigh. Still a new town. Full of new people. Lots of new decisions. It's all a classic too much moment for an empath/mentalist/person. So what do Gabby's do when they like to reject their own emotions? They first text all the wrong people. Then they just show up somewhere uninvited. Which leads to this moment.

KNOCK KNOCK

This is the door to Ravn's place if he answers. Gabriella has a bag in her arms and it most likely has items in it that she's more than willing to share. She's in her typical jeans, but her sweater this time is just a gray one. No comments or slogans. She's probably warm though.

Ravn answers the door, a little surprised and disappointingly put together -- when you knock on someone's door uninvited they could at least do you the courtesy of running from the shower wearing just a towel, or be in their night clothes, or something else that's at least mildly amusing. Ravn, from the looks of him, was just reading a book or something. Normal, every day, boring. He's probably not a regular face in Gray Harbor's throbbing, pulsating nightli--okay, no one can finish that sentence with a straight face.

"Fancy meeting you here," he says with a small laugh and dismisses the idea of asking what a girl like her is doing in place like this because the looks of the woman does in fact not vibe 'playful banter'. It's more along the lines of 'shit went down' -- a very common mindset in this town. "Coffee, tea, whiskey?"

Gabriella is still very much herself. Those green eyes slide up to the man and she sighs in the most put out manner. "I was hoping for you to come to the door in just a towel. But no, here you are.. all dressed and I'm just left with the gaping hole in my heart at it." She smiles, it's not her overly vibrant one, but it's sincere.

"I come with gifts and ice cream. Then I couldn't remember if you eat dairy, so I have oat ice cream too. I've heard it's delicious, so I'm overlooking the fact that it's existence is a lie." Another curve of lips.

"Whiskey. Straight."

"Glenfiddich is my usual poison but I have a couple of others. Any preferences to type?" Trust Ravn to be a whiskey snob; the Pourhouse keeps a bottle of the good stuff just for him (and he is indeed the only patron willing to pay the price they ask for it, too). "As for food? If it's not wriggling too much I will eat it. If it's wriggling I'll beat it up with my fork first."

The small cat sitting squarely in the exact middle of the dinner table looks the newcomer up and down with the kind of green-eyed reservation that comes with not having decided yet whether the intruder is Competition for Food, Competition for Warm Spot on Sofa, or New Servant.

"Let's Glenfiddich it up." One could note that she's storing information away for her next visit. "There is this smooth Irish whiskey I had and liked. Have you tried it, it's called Green Spot? I think they have different colors for probably their ages. I've only tried the green one." Her lips curve up to that as she nods her head the fork threat.

"It's more like Christmas gifts delayed. You should feel loved. I didn't buy one for everyone." Everything about Gabby freezes as if her words registered. "I'm not saying I love you. More of a phrase. So, don't go literal on me." She moves over to the table as if she's already familiar with the house. Maybe it's the secret hidden cameras. She also moves towards Kitty. "Hello gorgeous, I didn't forget about you."

From the bag is lifted a few smaller things. It's a saucer like that for a delicate tea cup. Then another saucer AND the tea cup to go with it. She assumes Ravn is getting drinks while she caretakes to the cat. The cup is filled with a few dashes of cream. The other saucer has... wait for it.. salmon. Yeah that's right. The real stuff. If allowed she will scratch Kitty behind the ears before moving towards the fridge to put the remainder of the small bottle of cream away.

Ravn procures another tumbler besides his own, and whiskey goes into both. "Ice?"

He walks over to the table and offers the glass over. As for the queen of piscine consumption, she's already pretzeling around Gabriella's leg and other leg and up on the table to bump her head against her elbow and back down to pretzel some more, repeat until salmon happens. Because salmon. You don't argue with salmon. The Veil could toss this cat into a Dream about Moby Dick and her reaction would be, score!

"So, basically, you're subverting my cat. You and Isi." Ravn laughs softly. "Isi bribed her yesterday, to go look at dogs. Apparently my cat is a dog expert."

"I just like cats. I understand them. They love you but they don't want you to know it. They want to be waited on, but they will take care of you. I get them. Probably some form of spirit animal." Gabriella offers, even though she's also got that mental link that helps with animals too. She doesn't use it though. She just makes sure that Kitty gets her 'gifts'.

"Not normally, but if that's how you drink mine. Then pretend I'm Marilyn Monroe and ice me." Gabriella pulls out the ice cream and puts it in the freezer. Really, she's making sure there's no bodies of victims. It's always the quiet ones. "How were your holidays, do you celebrate them?"

A larger wrapped gift is pulled out and put on the counter. This is followed with unknown leftovers being put in his fridge. She's feeding the Dane and his roomie. "There is some beef roast in here, some fried chicken. I fear it's a little cajun style as that's how I learned it. Also some ribs. I have green beans, squash, and then some zucchini salad. I didn't know your thoughts on vegetables. I brought chicken noodle soup for now, because I wanted it and wanted someone to eat soup and ice cream with."

So naturally, she came over to him and did that. Then she turns to sort of look at him a moment. "Mine has ginger and sesame oil in it, so I hope you aren't allergic."

"Oh, I'm only allergic to work and politics," Ravn replies with good nature. He takes ice in his drink -- and so Gabriella gets ice in hers as well. It's a neat thing, these American fridges that come with built-in ice makers.

He quirks an eyebrow but he's not going to argue with donations of leftovers -- two single men, there's definitely mouths enough to stuff food in (though Aidan at least knows how to cook when he's not too busy or experimenting with deep fried turkey for Thanksgiving). "I don't really do much for holidays outside of what HOPE does. It was all a very big deal to my family back home so if I have to be honest, I've seen enough tinsel for a lifetime. I'm not anti-holiday, just... Kind of done with the big show to impress everyone. How about you? Had a good Christmas, New Year? I imagine Gray Harbor must be a pretty damn quiet place for a New Years' party if you're accustomed to the big city."

Gabriella moves through the space and there is a pause at the counter asking of her holidays. In fact, it's a heartbeat before she answers. "Yes. It was a good time. I had an unconventional date for New Years." She smiles a bit and turns to look at Ravn. "To be fair, I like most of my holidays.. private. The idea of masses of people getting drunk around me doesn't really appeal to me. I mean, I've gone to some crazy ones in the past, but..." She shakes her head.

"Christmas with Grandma. Of course. New years... well.." She looks at him longer. "You are going to judge me so hard for this one. I cleared out all the furniture from the living room. I made a huge pillow fort with fairy lights and made the poor person watch The Last Unicorn with me." There might be a slight blush to that before she offers.

"That reminds me. I got you a gift. Oh! What did you do?"

"For New Years? I went and sat on a rooftop with a friend. We drank too many Black Russians and talked about some ideas we're working on for HOPE. So work, kind of, but in very good company, and a perfect position to watch the fireworks." Ravn laughs. "Who am I to judge anyone? My idea of a good time tends to involve a book and a bottle of good whiskey. I think the traditional thing is to wear silly hats and sparkly clothing, and get very drunk, and then get laid -- which must be complicated when one is very drunk, but if there's a will there's a way, I figure. Can't say I'm familiar with the movie, though -- fantasy, from the name of it?"

Ravn wanders over to the sofa arrangement in front of the fireplace. Several comfortable seats -- and not one armchair that matches anything else; a thrift shop would be proud to have someone like Aidan Kinney finding and restoring things. "There is a custom in Denmark -- a saying. That what you do when the sun rises on January 1, you will be doing all year. In which case I will be working on HOPE projects -- and I am somewhat all right with that."

"I should start up those classes at HOPE if you still want. I mean I can do the cooking classes, but also the therapy groups. If anyone needs to talk about things, I'm not struggling at the moment in money. Just pass my information along and I'll do it at no cost. I'll offer that through HOPE, to get the name out there?" Gabriella offers and then smiles. "Oh, I'm going to make you watch the movie too. It's more dark than it sounds, but it's good. It also has a pirate cat in it. So..."

There is a pause at that and her nose wrinkles just a bit. "Oh, that's not going to be what I'm doing for the rest of the year." She moves over grab up the gift to hand over to him to unwrap when he sits. "I'm glad you started the year off good with friends. I should attempt to make some of those this year... maybe." The gift is nudged closer. Even if she's just handed it to him.

"I think you should if you're interested," the Dane agrees. "Heaven knows we have takers enough for pretty much anything -- therapy or bachelor cooking, therapy while bachelor cooking. And it's even the quiet time of year -- a lot of the homeless trek south for winter, and then come back when the boating season begins. "

Ravn glances at the present. "I feel a bit silly," he confesses. "I didn't really think to get anyone anything. I'm not very good at this whole game of who you should get presents for, or when, or how much. And I'm not enough of an indifferent asshole to be like my mum and hire some personal shopper to deal with all of it."

A smile, and then he reaches for it to unwrap it. "But let's see what it is. Please tell me it's nothing too fancy. I make a point out of not fancy."

"I only give gifts sparingly. Growing up, I didn't really get gifts. I sort of had to take what I needed or convince others to get it for me. It's one of those things you learn when your parent isn't parenting." Gabriella pauses to that and then shakes her head. "So don't feel silly. I can usually convince someone to get me something all year round."

There is a bounce of her foot that tells there is more nervous energy about giving him a gift than she's letting on. "I mean.. it's okay if you don't like it. I just...um.." She falls silent for a moment. At least Kitty liked her gift. And Gabby did supply food too.

Inside the wrapping is a pretty basic box with random things in it. They might need explanation.

There is an old book, it's a reprint, not a first copy. There are some vials of liquid. A solid roll up that looks like deodorant that has a label: Gabriella Ease on it and then a few bags labeled Toms Skilpadde -- that Gabby probably has no clue what that is.

Ravn looks at the little display curiously. "I am familiar with the turtles of course -- I'm sure I don't need to tell you that they're a Danish thing. But you're going to have to tell me about the rest of these -- because a display like this, there's a story for each item, you didn't just empty a supermarket shelf into a bag." He grins slightly and pats the sofa. "Story time with Gabriella is go."

The black thing on the back of the sofa is a cat. Curiosity hasn't killed her yet.

A little more seriously, Ravn sips his whiskey and adds, "Absent parents are a vastly overrated thing. My mother was always present but never present -- the whole notion of children should be seen and not heard. So I ran away from home a lot, taught myself to pick pockets and steal cars. It got her attention now and then, usually when she had to pick me up at the police station."

"I was normally one the one picking her up. Or getting her out of situations. Or sobering her up." Gabriella's smile falters before she shakes it off. "I'm not a big fan of people or holidays for that reason." Her lips curve up sincerely to that.

"Oh good. It's edible. I just ordered it online and prayed. I was half worried I would come up with something that was a poison or a trick or disgusting. I mean... I don't know the language. Perhaps you should teach me it some time. Okay.." Story time.

"It's really sort of easy and not a good tale. The vials are essential oils. Frankincense and myrrh are known to help with numbness and burning sensations that come with neuropathy." She did research for his gift. There was actual thought, but she might deny it later. "Then the others are lavender and chamomile to help with easing racing thoughts and relaxation." She points to the Gabby ease. "That's a massage stick with coconut I believe. It will melt with body heat to an oil. It has pain and calm essential oils in it. I made the label to rub your temples when I drive you too crazy." Now the book. This one has her looking nervous for another reason. He doesn't have to have mind reading to see it's a place she's uncomfortable with. It's like a slight giving of her or something.

"So the book is a copy of an outdated book.." Her voice is starting to get softer and a mighty cagey sounding. Confident Gabby she is not. ".. it was written 1890 by William James." The title reads Principles of Psychology. "It is thought to be one of the first books on the subject I'm most interested in. Soooooo, I thought maybe you'd like a copy too. That way it can take your interest of folklore or research and my interest in psychology and blend them in our shared interest in reading and um... maybe um... give us a link to share something." Uggggh.. she's so uncomfortable.

"I mean it's totally outdated by now, but still it is the beginning of one of my chosen paths. It's okay if it's not anything you'd be interested in." That part is said quickly as she downs half of the whiskey she's supposed to be sipping.

Ravn cannot resist picking up the book and turning it over in his hands. "That's a curious coincidence. If either gentleman had lived in this state, I'd say it's probably not a coincidence at all. The founder of psychology, in 1890 -- and the founder of folklore, William Frazier, The Golden Bough, also 1890. Those Victorians had a thing or two moving for them."

He looks up. "Our fields overlap a lot, you realise? Folklore is stories -- but the stories are about social dynamics. You can't understand how that works without at least some insights on how the human group mind works. We don't go in detail the way therapists do with the individual mind -- but herd psychology is absolutely involved. You can't understand a culture if you don't understand why they made the choices they did."

Talk science to an academic.

"The Golden Bough is horribly antiquated in exactly the racist and misogynist ways you'd expect from a book that's a hundred and thirty years old, but it still documents the theories that are mainstream now, for the very first time. I didn't know that your field predated Freud, I have to 'fess up and admit that."

"There are many that come before Freud actually. I mean they call Freud the grandfather of psychology, but it's more in the method of it. He was on the front lines of experimentation and treatment of psychosis. However.." Gabriella smiles a bit to this in a rueful manner. "If you get more in depth into the life and trials of his. He actually stole a lot of his ideas from his lab assistant. So the Freudian method is the birth place of the the Jungian method. This is because Jung was the lab assistant."

There is a nod of her head to this as she watches him a few moments longer. She's trying to tell if he actually liked the gifts. Then she smiles. "Of course, you can't have psychology without sociology. Then you have to break it down to the mores and such of the culture, which then ties into the folklore of your studies. There are few things in life that do not tie in together."

"Jung is a big name in my field because of his thinking about gestalts. Folklore taps heavily into that -- what do the figures in stories actually represent, what is the underlying message, why is it being delivered like that, and so on. Interpreting dreams or interpreting folk stories, it's really kind of the same deal." Ravn nods and puts the book down carefully, with the deliberate touch of someone who understands full well that the value of a book is not always whether it's a first edition folio -- it's also what it contains, and indeed, how it was obtained.

He looks at the little treasure trove. "You're very considerate when you put your mind to it, for someone who claims to form no attachments. If I was the psychologist in the room I'd wonder at this duality. No one likes an amateur trying to lecture the professionals, though, so I'll spare you."

"Don't look too much into it. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar."

Gabriella curls her feet under her a bit and then takes a sip of the whiskey. There is silence. Maybe the most that she's given since she even got here. There is a cant of her head. Clearly debating a back and forth.

"Do you think I'm a bad person?" This is probably spawned by whatever put her on his doorstep to begin with.

Ravn looks up again and fixes grey eyes on Gabriella; an eyebrow shoots up. "I'm going to ask a counter-question: Do you?"

He shakes his head. "I am not going to say I don't ever think of people as bad. There are definitely people who are rotten to the core. Most, though? They make choices. I don't agree with all the choices. But unless their choices affect me, I don't usually form much of an opinion. People confuse me all the time -- and even more so where relationships are involved. Most of their motivations? I don't understand. I don't pretend to understand. I don't even try to pretend to be interested because I don't like lying to people. So if there's something you want my opinion on, you're going to have to ask me straight out about it -- since I've likely either not noticed whatever thing you did and worry about, or I've decided that it's none of my business."

"Oh I sort of believe like you. I don't think that people are good or bad. I actually think the majority of people want to be the type of good that we come to state is good. However, every person has their own choices they make and there is something to be said to how they were raised and taught to live life as well."

Gabriella shrugs. "I think that I'm just me. I operate to survive. I'm stuck in war brain and I probably will for a bit of time. It's just what it is and how it is to who I am. That does not mean that I don't have time for self-reflection from time to time." There is a cant of her head.

"I went on a date with Benji." This is not bad in and of itself. "It was a good date. He's single. I made sure to ask upfront. Then we ran into Erin who had an interest and he had an interest. It wasn't horrible or anything. No hair pulling. I don't compete. You know?" Gabriella offered. "Then I went on a date with this other person. Who has a primary. It's not my place to dictate their relationship. I made him go back and talk to her before I'd go on a date. I made him have uncomfortable conversations about it. I tried to do all the right things in it. Then he came back and told me that he's free and clear and that they are good go. So I went on this date. It was fun. I had a great time. But... it was perhaps not okay with the other person. They said it was, but it wasn't and now... I don't know. I'm struggling with both."

She gives a rueful laugh. "I don't mind trying to get stuff from a person. I don't mind stealing their drink. I don't mind hoarding my money because I remember when I didn't have food or heat. I just don't want to willfully hurt a person you know?"

"That sounds very complicated." Ravn sips his whiskey. "I'll be the first to admit, I don't understand how polyamory works. I have no panties in a twist about it in terms of morals -- I just don't see how it's not going to dissolve into jealousy and competition. I do know a handful of folks who make it work, though -- but I'm also perfectly sure that if I was in love with someone and they were seeing someone else, well, it'd end the first time I felt like second choice. I can't control what others do -- only what I do. I know where my boundaries are. And I still screw up sometimes because I don't realise where someone else's boundaries are."

He looks up and reaches over to pat Kitty Pryde's head; the cat tolerates it -- this time.

"I don't know what advice to give beyond 'go for blokes who are entirely single'. Of course I realise that there's often a reason very single blokes are single, and you should probably also keep those things in mind."

Gabriella shakes her head. "Nah, I stepped back out of the one with a partner. So no worries there. I'm not emotionally invested in any of them at this point. I don't tend to get emotionally invested. If it's my relationship. I'm monogamous. Which isn't always what one wants either. I just.. I don't like the fact that I tried to put all my ducks in the row and it's still like feels awful. Not the loss of a date." Gabby waves her hand to that. "But the idea that someone might be hurt by it when I tried not to hurt them. You know?"

There is a laugh.

"Or I just don't date. That seems fine too, but I'm a very very broken person, Ravn. Like a shattered one. So I know I'm not good. I just try not to be bad some times that means contact with people. My grandmother is fine, but so far she's managed to slut shame me almost every time we talk. Or tell me how I have to leave those nice people alone, when they are the ones doing the chase. So she's not really in my corner. It's fine. It's different elements of generations. She loves me. She just..." There is a pause.

"Confession."

She looks at him. She doesn't do well with her own emotions. Others? Sure. Hers? Nope. "I don't mind dating people in an established open relationship, because I know it has an expiration date. I know I'm not their primary the one they would choose to be with. However, I don't want them to cheat with me. You know? However, there is probably a part of me that would maybe want a person that chooses me first, but.. how do you find that without dating and..."

She shakes her head and drinks more of the whiskey.

"Maybe I should get a cat."

"Beats me." Ravn hitches a shoulder, commiserating and glancing at the cat he does in fact have. "What you describe is what I do. And I am not unhappy -- but I also realise that what sounds like a nice, trouble free time to me sounds like social suicide to most other people. I will spare you the usual platitudes -- that there's someone out there for everyone, you just need to find them, and so on. I like to say that I'm sure there is, and if you see my destined someone, feel free to give her my number. There's a feminist saying from the 1970s that I like -- if you want to find a prince, you have to kiss a shitload of frogs. And since I don't particularly enjoy making out with amphibians, I'm just going to let Princess Charming find me."

He pats the cat again. "Mind you, the cat got me."

Gabriella smiles to that. "I have kissed a lot of frogs. I mean. I've kissed nice people too. They just weren't my people. New years guy is great. He's amazing and if he were single and free, I'd think about it. You know. He makes me laugh. He doesn't judge me." She lifts a shoulder and lets it drop into place. "Benji is nice and great too, but ... an Addington? She'll ruin him if she's not the one picked. So I should probably back out of that one. Like I said I'm not emotionally invested. I don't want fancy shit. I've been really poor my whole life. I only ate if I got someone to buy it for me and now, it's a reminder I still can if I'm suddenly there again."

She tips her head to the side. "Don't get me wrong. You'd adore my mom now if you met her. She's a soccer mom. Her husband put her on the right path. This family she has now.." She has, not we have. ".. she's doing everything right. She's on the PTA. She's invested all her time into them." There's a slight bitterness there. "So people grow and change. I just want someone to... be in my corner. I want to be able to curl up and cry near them when I feel like I need to. I want them to cheer me on. I want to know that when hell comes knocking they are in my corner and they know I'm in theirs. At the same time..." Rueful look. "... I don't like to form attachments because people let you down. They hurt you. And I've lived through a lot of hurt, Ravn. I don't know if I want to do it again or if I can do it again."

"I'm not sure I would." Ravn shakes his head. "My parents were like that -- all about appearances, traditions. I never lacked for anything -- except human contact. Money and high social standing does not impress me a whole lot. In fact, it fails to impress me enough that I thought long and hard about getting involved with Hyacinth Addington. As it turned out, that was not the problem that came between us though -- and I still feel sorry for her, so busy trying to build up her own empire so that she can free of Margaret's. I can't help think that she might be better off scaling her ambitions down, living a more -- ordinary life. But the one thing we never get to do is tell other people how to live their lives."

He shakes his head, again. "And I don't believe in starting over. Your mother met someone who got her on the right path? Good. Did she come back for you, offer you support in return for all the years she wasn't there? You don't discard kids. That's the one thing my parents did right -- they hated having one enough that at least they didn't get more."

"I was an adult by then, Ravn. There was nothing to come back for. She reaches out. She tries. Some of it is on me. I still get angry at some of the situations she put me in as a child. I'll work through them. I talk to her. I love my siblings. They adore me. My step-father is nice. It's not his fault. There's just a lot to be unpacked between my mother and myself."

Her lips curve up. "When you are ready to start dating give me a call. I mean, we'll be great together. You know, except for that not interested in me part. I've dealt with worse." There is a tip of her head. "Why don't you help her build it? That way you can spend time together. You can see each other and you can get back to being what you were."

"If I wanted a business career, I'd have stayed at home." Ravn shakes his head yet again. "That's not the life I want -- and I can't bring myself to even fake an interest. I don't want to be the leading anything in town. I don't even want to be the arm candy of the leading lady in town. I want to teach my overseas students, write blog entries that no one reads, and do my bit against the Veil through HOPE."

He chuckles and rests a hand on the back of the sofa, close enough to Her Feline Majesty that she could touch it if she wanted to -- which she doesn't, because the one thing the cat and her owner agree on is that touchy-feely is for other people. "You're not obliged to make up. You're not obliged to make things right, or have a Hallmark ending. Sometimes, it doesn't work like that."

Gabriella studies him for a long moment. It continues. Unblinkingly.

"How are you still single?"

It's not her typical teasing way. She's being honest. She's also not hitting on him. She's straight up just asking.

"I'm single for several reasons." Ravn chuckles and then pretends to suck in his breath for a long speech. He leans back and looks ceiling-wards. "Let's see. For one, I genuinely tend to not realise it when women hit on me -- Rosencrantz ribs me for that all the time. When I do realise -- it's usually at a time where the poor woman has given up and moved on. I'm actually kind of boring -- I like quiet, private time, and most women want to do at least the basics, such as going out, going to the occasional party, having fun. I have no idea what they were wearing yesterday, I don't care what they do with their hair. I live a down to earth, no big splurges life, so that rules out anyone with gold digging tendencies. Most of my friends are queer, which tends to lead to people assuming I am too. And I talk a lot, which most women seem to find quite droll."

He chuckles. "I think those were the major complaints I've heard. And of course there is that whole part where I am not looking. I'm not saying never -- but at the place in my life I'm at right now? They'd have to work hard to convince me it's worth the effort."

Challenge accepted. Nah, be the better person. Or you know both of those seem so right and SO WRONG at the same time. So here we have the now native Gabby in a non-normal place in life. Should she dial this up to eleven. Should she dial it back to 0. Should she say fuck it and go for how to make Ravn's head explode in sixty words or less?

So much thought. First, let's try honesty. "I think you can assume that every woman you talk to is interested in you. You are a rather great guy." See sincerity. Next, challenge accepted and declared. "So you are saying that I just have to convince you? I can do that." Then to what the world wants to see, the biggest fail in all of Gray Harbor. Wait for it.. it will have the ability to read things wrong. It will have the ability to create mass havoc to a good scene. It will have kermit flailing. It will have rejection. It will have a cat skittering away, salmon bringer be damned. Wait for it.. the dice have declared a double fail and thus one shall have it... wait... for it...

Gabriella moves very close. There is a distinct warning she's about to kiss the man. All systems on alert. All things worried about. Then she leans in to whisper to his ear. "I'm pretty sure I could cause more pleasure than pain for you. An allowed touch here. More than a lot of sex there. Just say the word and we make this challenge official."

Thank you cosmic dice. Thank you a lot.

Give the man with neuropathy credit for not flinching at suddenly having someone not a cat in his personal space.

Then take it away because his response is -- laughter. Quiet, controlled, and not at all patronising -- the kind of laughter like someone just told a damn good joke. One of the really great inside ones that no one outside this room will ever get.

He puts his whiskey glass on the table; maybe out of fear of dropping it -- which would be a terrible shame, it's a rather expensive whiskey. "I am sure you could produce a hell of a lot of pleasure -- or pain, if that's someone's preference. I told you before, I used to make a living reading people. You're in absolute control of what you do with your body language, your voice, your movements. I have no doubt whatsoever that you're fantastic in bed. But the one thing I want in a woman is the one thing no woman seems willing to put up with: I want them to be my friend -- not for a week, not for a month, but for all the damn time. I let myself be convinced twice that such a thing could happen. One of those women is dead, the other seems to have forgotten I exist. I'm not going to burn my hands again, Gabriella -- and I am inclined to say, almost no matter how good the offer. I wasn't joking when I said, talk to me about it again in six months."

Did... he.. just... laugh... at ... her?

Gabriella pulls back just a bit. To be fair, the little small tiny show of her heart in her playing this game is that she in fact, did not touch him without permission. But is he laughing at her? There is a cant of her head as she just watches him. By golly, he is.

Ravn can see all the Nuh-uh starting to well up. All the things that he's accusing her of, to deny them. Then there is a tip of her head the other way. Well, I mean. Sure okay. Her brain is discomforted by this call out. For her skill of shoving people away that are getting too close, she flops on the couch beside him. "You laughed at my flirting. Rude."

Then she shakes her head a bit. "Sure, sure.. talk to you in six months. Then talk to you after that. Or talk to you next week when you are so heavily involved with a person but you neglected to mention it. Or..." She shakes her head at him. However, her lips are quirking up a bit. "Ravn, I'm trying to put this on lock here. I'm trying to seal a deal. Trying to cash in my chips in the poker gambit." Her lips curve up more.

"FINE." It's not a real pout as she crosses her arms. "That was like... May right? Our date? May. Got it. Five months man. You better single up in that time if you are with someone." Then she moves to get her drink, but comes to sit next to him but not too close to him. "She hasn't forgotten you. She's just busy, Rav. She'll come around. If she doesn't, it's her loss and the next one will. What about the one sleeping on your couch?" Look at her going back to just normal talking as if she hadn't just been laughed at and rejected. Her lips curve those.

Ravn blinks and glances in the direction of The Comfiest Couch in the Universe, in the 'library' (book room) upstairs. "There's someone on our couch? There easily might be, but I didn't get the memo. Or did you mean Isi Cameron? She did stay a week or so, a while back, after some bloke tried to kill her. Either way, as far as I am aware, Cameron's into girls."

He shakes his head. "Sounds like this happens a lot? Blokes forgetting to mention the other woman? I want to say that surely that's not common but, it is. I see it a lot, all genders. Lies of omission are still lies. It's part of why most women find me to be a wet blanket -- I don't play games, I don't flirt with them, I don't give them any signs of interest. Because I don't want them to think there's anything hidden, no secret depths, no mystery. There's just me, blue-ribbon misanthrope."

"I find a lot of people are fluid in that regard. They aren't gay. They aren't straight. They are bi, or even they identify a different way. I've never tried to classify myself. I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm straight because I tend to like men, but.." Gabriella lifts her shoulders and drops them. "Isi... that might be the girl that called me a traffic cone." Her lips curve up a bit to that as she nods her head.

"I don't know if they forget or they aren't mentioned. Or they say they are cool with things and then they aren't and.. I don't know. It weighs on me sometimes. I try to pretend I'm cool with it, but just once I'd like to feel like I wasn't a homewrecker when I tried to do it all right. It's not like I see a person and I'm like oh, I must have what they have. It has to be mutual. If I'm coming onto someone, they gave me a reason to it. Or.." She indicates Ravn. "There's an ongoing joke about how not interested in me they are." A pause. "For five more months at least."

"I don't find you a wet blanket I find you..." There is a pause and her nose scrunches up. "This is going to sound awful, so I'm going to say it and then explain it." She takes a breath. "Safe." There is a look, a look. "Now hear me out. I don't mean safe like, you aren't sexually interested so I don't have to worry. I just feel like, you are one of the.. you might be the only person. I can just be like fuck, this is me. Look I fucked this up again. And you nod and tell me yup. Then we drink whiskey and you let me pet your cat. I like you don't play games because everyone out there does. I do." Another heft of her shoulders.

"I don't know what it's like to feel safe, Ravn. Men meet me and if I don't flirt with them. I'm a cold bitch that they have to ignore and put in their place. If I do flirt with them, well I'm a slut and should be treated as such. Men come in my life for one thing. Sleep with me. Then to leave. Every Time. Usually, it's fine. Sex is fine. This last one... it hurt. I don't want to admit it, but it did. It hurt. We'll be friends. I'll move past it, but I ... I tried everything to make sure it was okay. Then it still happened. You know? Like oh hey, I promise I'm not going anywhere. This isn't a one time thing. Hah. Just kidding."

"So, I like there is no mystery, but my trauma response is always going to think there is." Gabriella takes a drink of the whiskey and then studies which glass as more. Surely, she wouldn't think about stealing it. "People think I'll be fun to date. Gabby wants to jump off planes. She builds pillow forts. She's happy. But.. dating me is so much different. I need reassurance the person isn't going to leave. I might just text them and be like hey are we good, out of the blue. I need to know it's okay to be me and okay to disagree. So.. really, I"m too broken and fucked up to be in a relationship. However, I'm in a town where I know not many and.. I"m making all sorts of bad choices with people."

"Well, science is inclined to agree that gender is a social construct. I think of myself as straight but I doubt that such a thing as 100% anything actually exists." Ravn sips his whiskey. "The joke goes over my foreign head though -- traffic cone?"

He rests his other hand on the back of the sofa again, and crosses one leg over the other, comfortable in front of the fireplace even if it is not currently lit. There's a stack of books on the table -- local history, travel guides, sights worth seeing in Washington State, womens' shelters in Washington State. "Feeling like a home wrecker can't be a good feeling, whether it's true or not. But you do make me wonder at one thing -- you say that when you are actually dating, you are monogamous. How do you reconcile that with being the other woman in a triangle?"

Then the Dane laughs, softly. "You're certainly not the first woman to call me safe. If I had a dollar for every time I have heard, 'at least I can trust you to not try anything', I'd have -- enough for a decent meal at the Black Bear, drinks included. I don't mind being safe. It certainly beats being someone women don't want to risk being alone with. I'm not going to tell you that there aren't men who think exactly that -- that a woman who doesn't put out is a frigid bitch and one who does is a slut. What I am going to say is, it's not your damn problem what they think; if someone isn't interested in having a conversation once they realise you're not planning to fuck them, then what do you want with that somebody?"

He shakes his head again. "That happens to me a fair bit. I strike up a conversation with some lady, typically someone like us who's new in town -- and I give them the Hotel California speech. Somewhere about twenty minutes into it they realise I am in fact not planning to chat them up -- they sit through the rest but I never see them again except in passing. It is what it is -- they're not interested in me, I'm not interested in them, no one is wasting their time. The one who is interested -- he or she will accept that we have flaws. He'll be the guy who doesn't mind you texting him at three am because you need to know he's not left."

"I fear that wasn't an American joke. I was literally dressed in neon yellow track suit when she came onto... no wait. Phrasing. When we were introduced. I mean I'm sure she checked out my ass, just as I'm sure you do. Because, I worked for it to be how it is. It should be admired. So she called me a traffic cone. I will say we are not best friends. I should try to find her in town." Gabriella does tend to find what she is looking for in some aspects. Ask her how she gets numbers she shouldn't have. Poor Javi.

"It's easy to reconcile. It's not my relationship. I mean I have a walk-on part for awhile, but I'm not the main cast. It's their relationship. It's their rules. Like if you and Aidan were together." She pauses to toss him a smile at that joke. She knows he's heard it more than a few times. "However, the relationship you have with him, is an open one. I meet you and think how I'd like to get you naked and make you cry out my name and find a new religion. So as you are both okay with the other one having other partners, then I'm good with it. I just make sure that I don't catch feelings. Then when the time has passed and I bore of them or they bore of me. We part ways in a civil fashion and hopefully all of us remain friends. It's when one gets insulted by it that it feels like... cheating. I don't like that feeling. Now, if I'm in a relationship my feelings are invested. When that happens. I want to close down the doors to hurt me more. So in that. I prefer monogamy. I also need reassurance from the partner I'm going to invest my heart in. I don't have many pieces left to give away."

"Also, I am still hoping you will try something. It's just.." Gabriella trails off and tries to think about it for a few moments. A deep breath taken into her lungs and released. "Life hasn't been all glory and sunshine. There are men out there that don't respect boundaries. They sometimes call it dominance and it's not. As someone who tends to be bossy out of the bedroom and more... willing to ... listen..." Did she just blush? She just blushed. "..in the bedroom. You have to know your safe points. It's not that I don't think you would try something. It's that I know you will respect if I say stop. That I don't have to be so on guard." She gives him a soft smile. "Also, you don't seem too interested in me... much as I put it on Santa's list."

"Well, I'm not going anywhere. Even after you are not dropping me into bed. I keep showing up with food and salmon." Gabriella's eyes slide over to the fuzzy Kitty there. It's a moment as if she's perhaps searching the cat's emotional and mental state before she looks back towards him. "Sometimes it's better not to get too close. You find out that people aren't what you hoped they would be." There is a chuckle. "Yes, but will he star in my TikToks and my Insta?"

"I think that is exactly where our views on dating fail to mesh," Ravn observes; he doesn't seem bothered by it -- it's just a fact for his academic mind to observe and to turn over and look at, much like an interesting rock or a curious flower in the lawn. "Most people are capable of and interested in getting naked, crying out someone else's name and finding a new religion, with someone they do not know very well. They often find that unfamiliarity to be part of the attraction. I find the idea of getting that intimate with someone that I wouldn't trust with my house key to be somewhere between repugnant and terrifying."

Kitty Pryde glances from one to the other as if wondering why humans spend so much time flapping their jaws when clearly, so little food is being shoved in there. What is the point? Why are humans?

He hitches a shoulder. "I don't mind -- living the way I do, not really seeing wife and kids in my future. Most marriages don't seem to last anyhow, and heaven knows my parents spent as little time together as possible. It's all very overrated, blown out of proportion in my view; sometimes I get the feeling that a lot of people don't feel validated as human beings if they don't have at least one regular sex partner, one person to be madly in love with. And that makes no sense to me because there are many ways to love. I love a lot of people here in Gray Harbor -- even if I feel no particular urge to climb into their beds."

Gabriella starts to say something and then she smiles at Ravn. There is a clear barrier coming up, he did not offend her, but she's not ready to go somewhere yet. Her eyes glitter with humor the next moment. "I don't know anything else different, Ravn. I watched my mom flit guy to guy. It's practically a handshake to me. I know I talk with people with impairments, but mine... mine are deeply rooted as well. It's why I have different standards for different things. Or maybe I'm just lying to myself and no one sticks around long enough to find that out."

Her eyes slide towards Kitty for a few moments as she holds out one finger. Just one finger. Is she going to take the kitty bait? Will she be able to resist sniffing that extended finger in her direction?

"I've never thought about a husband and children. I.." Gabriella pauses as if she's thinking about and then she tips her head to the side. "I guess I don't have a thought on it one way or another. It seems almost senseless to bring a child into this life, especially here, but I don't dislike kids. I just..." Her brows lower. "I don't want to raise my children in a broken home and I 'm not sure I believe that marriages work." There is a shrug of her shoulder.

Ravn dips into a pocket and takes out a cigarette -- no, wait, that's exactly what it isn't. A plastic cigarette, the kind you might acquire if your tobacco addiction is more about having something to do with your hand and your mouth than with the actual nicotine. It's not a vape -- just a plastic stick tasting faintly of menthol. He toys with it, validating the idea that it's the equivalent of a fidget spinner, a distraction for fingers that do not like to be idle.

"You cannot think ahead, and plan this sort of thing. That's the mistake my fiancée made. She had everything worked out for her perfect storybook life, from she was a little girl. All she needed was someone to play the part of loving husband on her arm. Things were perfect between us as long as all that mattered to me was impressing her enough that she'd stay." The Dane turns the cigarette over. "She did all that work, all that planning, all those mental preparations -- and all it got her was dead before thirty. I don't mean to suggest that dreaming of marriage and a happy ever after is pointless. But planning for it, without consulting the other people involved on what they want and desire -- that is. "

He smiles slightly. "If the right bloke -- or girl, for that matter -- turns up, it'll work out. If not? There are other things to enjoy in life."

"I have the bad habit of not thinking about anything. Or.. secretly thinking too much about it." Gabriella offers after a moment of thought. She sucks some air through her teeth before she shakes her head and smiles. This is getting to be too personal for her and it shows.

"Besides, Ravn, I'm holding out for you. Remember? You are going to be the one that..."

Gabriella stops. She just stops mid-thought and mid-teasing. "I don't want happy ever after, I mean in a general sense. I really just want someone who sees me and doesn't try to change everything. Or they accept it. That's harder than one thinks to find." Especially if one doesn't show their actual person. "However, I've probably been talking too much and should let you get back to your plans."

"The one who saves you?" Ravn chuckles and then shakes his head. "I don't even know how to save myself. Probably better to make a rope from your hair and scale the wall down from the tower and rescue yourself. Prince Charming is not all he was talked up as."

He sets the whiskey glass down on the table. "For what it's worth, I hope you find that someone you're looking for. But I suspect that like me, you are too narrow in your search. And that like me, you'll find that if you ask for too much, you will not find what you are looking for. It's not the end of everything. Let me walk you out? That's the least I can do, for the way you spoil myself and my cat with random donations of food and company."

Gabriella gives him the strangest look to that. "Save me?" Then she laughs. "No, I don't need you to save me. I don't need a white knight. If anything, I might need to be my own white knight. I was going to say something far more truthful and intimate than that." Of course, she she was going to make a sex joke of some sort. Her eyes meet his for a moment.

"You are going to be the one that I am truly myself with. My person."

Then she flashes her smile at the polite kick out. "I don't think I'm worried about finding the right or wrong person right now. I think.. friends. RIght? I mean until May." She winks and comes up, trying to pet Kitty a bit before she heads to the door.

"Damn straight you don't need someone else to save you. That's rule number one -- don't look for a white knight, be your own saviour." Ravn nods his approval. "It can get lonely in the ivory tower, but at least you know what the cat drags in. People are inherently trouble when they get too close."

Kitty Pryde approves firmly of the attention. Gabriella earns a headbutt and an arched back, and all the signs of favour that Ravn certainly never gets (unless he's holding a can of tuna, then all rules are off the table). It's hard to tell with that cat -- does she dislike men, or is it just Ravn she enjoys bullying? Whichever the case, he's the one with the opposable thumbs and the can opener, so the balance of power is probably not as uneven as it might seem.

"A word of advice?" Ravn rests his hip against the back of the sofa, watching the woman and the cat. "Don't show people your entire poker hand -- and don't expect them to show you theirs. I know Granny Leigh sees that nice young man across the street, with the cat and the strange fashion sense, very good boy, not a spot of trouble in him. But for all you really know? I could be an ex-criminal with a rap sheet a mile long. The only thing we know for certain in this town is that people like us who shine have to find ways to get along somehow, because we need one another."

"I don't care if you are an ex-con with a rap sheet. I don't care if you are less than ex-con." As in openly conning. "I find that who we are even if it was yesterday, might not be the same person we are today. So far, I enjoy the person that you are. That could change. You could start hiding when I come over."

Gabriella smiles to that. "I'm pretty sure most people don't think I show anything honest. So I think I'm good. Thank you though for the conversation and drink."