2022-01-08 - The Great Coffee Caper

It's snowing. Not the lovely, fun snow that gracefully drifts down and forms fluffy white mounds just begging to be made into snowballs and snowmen. This is Gray Harbor, and it gets snow that's half bullets of frozen ice, and half stinging slush. Which means that the coffee shop is considerably more busy than it might otherwise be, filled with people who dove inside when the snow started falling, and are now looking out of it like sad, starving children looking at a banquet - but in reverse.

Alexander is not really happy about this. It's crowded, and he can feel the irritation of the crowd coming off in waves. But he got his drink and a cinnamon roll almost as big as his head before the snow really drove people inside, and he's not leaving. Instead, he's staked out a table in the back corner, and is doing a crossword in the paper as he watches people come in and out. And the asshole does the crossword in ink, of course.

There was a decision about ten minutes ago, that Gabriella will always seem to regret. It was the one to come out for coffee. To get out of the house. Wanderlust seems to strike her as much during the day as in months spent in one place. There is a shake of her head as she enters. The wet snow/ice clings to her golden hair to twinkle before falling in disarray to the ground. A soft sight passes her lips as she can already feel the ends frizzing up. It's not going to be a great hair day.

She moves easily to the counter. A pause. A glance. There are so many people that it's almost too hard to find someone to purchase something warm for her. Then.. ah yes.. a younger guy. Well, he's around her age. She starts talking to him. There is a laugh. A touch of fingers against his forearm. A nod of agreement. It's only a few moments of her life, but then she has a hot chai latte and she's moving over to Alexander's table to sit with him.

Alexander is paying attention to who comes in and out with the twitchy alertness of the paranoiac, so he sees Gabriella come in, and his dark eyes track her as she moves to the counter. When there's a glance in his direction, he lifts his hand, just briefly, in a tentative sort of invitation, but doesn't say anything until she's making her way to the table. Then he smiles with just the corners of his mouth. "Hi," he says.

A sniff at what she bou--had bought for her. "Chai. Chai is nice." His eyes slip back towards the younger guy. "He not gonna be disappointed you didn't sit with him, instead?"

"Doubtful." Esme offers as she looks back over her shoulder to smile at the man and then back to Alexander. What was the purchaser's name? Ron? Rob? Roger? The fact she's thinking about this might actually play upon her features as she sits with Alexander. While Gabby can be a hugger, she reaches out a hand and lets it /hover/ above Alexander's in greeting. Then she pushes her hair back out of her face.

"I think it is more about the opportunity to meet and greet a person. I think very few are actually into the work of getting. There is more interest in the chase. The chemical release that it stimulates. However, it can't be held as it's artificial joy. So when the person leaves, it allows the balance to maintain. If you notice when people are into you, their eyes dilate."

Alexander arches an eyebrow. "Very clinical," he murmurs with amusement. "And convenient for you getting what you want." He cuts off another neat piece from the cinnamon roll, which is only about a fourth gone, and pops it in his mouth, chewing. Once he's swallowed, he says, "How are you?" The bruises on his face from the other night have faded into green and yellow shadows on his weathered skin, and only a couple of his knuckles are bandaged.

Gabriella glances at the cinnamon roll. It looks so warm. So gooey. So 'should be shared'. There is a lift of her shoulder as her green eyes come up to look him over. "It's less about clinical precision and more about survival. I mean, I could probably just buy a cup of tea and a cinnamon roll." Pointed look here. "However, if I can still find ways to get people to buy me food and such; I know my skills to starve off going hungry still work. I don't mind control them to do it or anything." Her eyes slide over him up and then down. "Nightmares, but you look far worse. How are you? And what happened?"

Alexander stares at her a moment, his expression holding all the flat, unemotional intensity of a lizard. Then he moves and cuts a segment of cinnamon roll, moves it to a napkin, places the napkin before her. "Why do you want people to give you food when you can buy your own food? If you don't have to beg, you shouldn't," he says, with a roll of his shoulders. He reaches for his coffee, takes a sip. "My animals got kidnapped. Someone didn't like an investigation I was doing." A pause. "What were your nightmares about?"

"Because I need to know that I can." Gabriella offers with a wave of her hand a bit. "It probably doesn't make sense to the masses and I'm quite okay with that." She sips her latte as she studies his face thoughtfully. There is a smile to the offered cinnamon roll. This will cause her to reach out and pluck it up with her fingers to put it in her mouth. "The worst kind of nightmares. Memories." Then she moves on. "Did you get the animals back un-harmed?"

Alexander shakes his head. "It makes sense. Those subject to deprivation in formative times of their lives often develop methods to assure themselves that they will never be deprived again, even when these methods are no longer needed and may be counterproductive in daily life." He cuts a piece of cinnamon roll. "It's not unusual." He pops it in his mouth, eats, then says, "Yes. Luigi is still recovering. He doesn't like people and he was abused before I got him. It took a while to get him to trust any human. Now he's been shaken again." His expression twists with a combination of anger and regret. "But we'll get there again." Another look back at her. "What sort of memories?"

"Do you want me to see if I can assist with him? I .. think your skills are higher than mine in the area of mentalist. However, I can sort of have an influence upon animals." Gabriella is offering but it's clear she won't take offense when he says no. "I do not understand why people hurt animals or children. I cannot say that I don't understand why they hurt other people. We are all walking wounded in our own ways and still finding our salvation through it." A pause. "I mean that in a non-religious one." She nods her head to that. "What do you dream about when you dream?"

Alexander shakes his head, but smiles. "Thank you, but he already trusts me. I try not to use abilities on him or Bluebell any more than necessary to help them understand some things they otherwise can't. Otherwise, it's just rebuilding his sense of safety. I've done it before." There's another sip of his coffee. "When you feel weak, sometimes you want to prove you're strong, but you don't feel confident enough to attack a worthy target. So you attack something weak and defenseless, and it gives you that rush, that feeling of strength. Without the risk." He grimaces. "I have a lot of nightmares myself. Also memories, sometimes. Sometimes Dreams."

The last time making dinner has made solid that Gabriella speaks to Alexander with that mostly honest. Maybe they will be... friends? Maybe. "Well, there is always the clinical reasoning and for that it's usually a power thing. They want to feel empowered. Sometimes there is more to it. Like a physical manifestation of the pain that is welling inside of them. It is just I have been.. in dark places. I'm sure I will be again. I just never." She stops.

"That is a lie. I have wanted to hurt people. I have wanted them to feel how they made me feel. You know the saying..." Gabriella smiles in that adorable and innocent manner. "You can't have pretty without petty." There is a nod to that. "What do you have memories of and nightmares of?" She sips the latte and eats a bit of the cinnamon roll. Her feet swinging back and forth.

Alexander cocks his head to one side. "I haven't heard that saying. So I don't know it." His head drops down and he does a quick answer on the crossword puzzle. "Pretty people don't seem to be any more petty than other people, in my experience. But maybe people notice it more. Either because they expect better, or because they envy what they imagine someone attractive's life is like." For a while, it doesn't seem he's going to answer the question, but instead divert it to another subject. But he swings abruptly back to say, "Hurting people. Being hurt, but mostly hurting people. What about yours?"

Gabriella taps her fingers upon the tabletop. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. "It's just a saying. You know, because the letters of petty, p-e-t-t-y are also the letters needed for pretty. So you can't have the word pretty if you don't have the word petty." There is a cant of her head to that answer. "Do you fear more in these dreams that you are hurting someone else or that you are being hurt? I mean, I could go into dream interpretation, but most of that is just based on chances and... well here.. dreams are sometimes just a feeding ground, yes?" There is a moment as it appears she may not answer now. "Making the mistake to let people too close."

"That's what it means in letters, but it pretty clearly has a metaphorical meaning that you can't have someone who is pretty without that someone also being petty. It's not a very nice thing to say about people, or yourself." Alexander pauses to hum thoughtfully to himself, the humming picking up the rhythm of Gabriella's taps for a beat or two. "Yes. Both. They're both scary, in different ways. I don't know that I could put a 'more' to one or the other." He shrugs. "There's no need to interpret them. I know what they mean. Just as it seems you know what yours mean." He ducks his head again, and says, "I'm sorry. That you're hurting and having bad dreams."

"Sooooo..." Gabriella offers with a brighter smile. Fear that smile. That is not the smile of good intent. "What I'm hearing is that you think I"m pretty?" She could say more. She should say more. She's going to let that one sit right there, though.

"Of course," Alexander says, with a shrug. "You're attractive. I don't think that's a surprise to you." He glances back towards the poor guy with the unremembered name, who is sitting at a tiny table near the door, staring out at the snow. He looks back to Gabriella and takes a sip of his coffee, those flat, black eyes watching her.

"Just because I might be attractive in a conventional manner doesn't mean that I'm attractive to a person. We all have tastes and things we are attracted to. I enjoy a person that can be.." Gabriella smiles. ".. calm." Yeah, that might not be what one expects. "Or a challenge of sorts. I like them if they can engage me mentally. What about you? You have Iso--bella?" She can't remember which is his girlfriend and which is his roomie. "What is your type?"

"Isabella," Alexander agrees. His brow furrows a little. "My type? Hm." He actually seems to need to think about it for a bit. "Brilliant. And an interesting mind, when I touch it. Confidence. Strength. Purpose. Ambition." His mouth twists in a bit of rueful self-mockery, "Isabella once pointed out that I'm naturally inclined to be submissive to abusive sociopaths. She wasn't wrong." He shrugs. "But that's different from attraction. It just tends to overlap." He thinks about it some more, then adds, "I can have sex with anyone, if they want it and they're aroused. But that's not the same as being attracted to people." He tilts the cup towards her. "What about you? Do you have a, uh, type?"

Gabriella was thankfully not drinking her hot drink when that comment about sex came up. For a moment, her eyes round out, but she gathers herself. See, right. Cool and collected. She swings her legs a bit more. "I mean, sex is sex. As long as there are not feelings caught. Feelings are by far the worst STD known to man." Her lips curve up a bit as she listens to his list. "Well, fuck. I don't fit any of those. I suppose I shall just have to be sidelined to the friendzone." She taps her finger again on the table top. "My type?" That's an excellent question. "I don't know. I think it depends on what I'm looking for in the moment, what my type would be." Her lips curve up as Alexander and Gabby are sitting and talking. She already has a drink and part of Alexander's cinnamon roll.

The Chief's not coming; he's going, by the looks of it. Nearly unrecognisable in an off the rack charcoal suit and bright blue tie, the cop seems to have had a working meeting with some lawyer or other to attend to. But the meeting's done, as is his coffee; and once the manly handshake and backslap's concluded, they part ways.

Javier, of course, veers immediately toward the counter for another cup of joe. Probably to steady his shot nerves. He's not yet noticed the familiar pair of faces as he waits in line and digs for his wallet.

"Well, I'm not very calm," Alexander says, with a quick little smile, "so we can consider it mutual incompatibility." He glances back down at the crossword, fills out another word; it doesn't seem to be deliberately rude, but just a matter of needing something to keep his hands occupied. "Feelings aren't bad? I don't think they are. Mostly. Some can be toxic, but mostly they're good." Another twitch of his eyes towards the room, and then a quick, warm smile as he sees Ruiz is done with the meeting. A tentative hand is raised in the cop's direction, a silent invitation if he can catch his eye. Either way, he looks back towards Gabriella. "That makes sense. To vary according to what you need."

Gabriella did not notice Ruiz at first. Her buy me a drink censor must be broken. When Alexander's hand goes up, she turns to look in the direction and then looks the man up from bottom to top and then top to bottom. Her lips curve as she pulls out her phone. However, there is a look back to Alexander and a wink. "I mean they say opposites attract. Which is actually, probably why I seek the calm aspects."

(TXT to Ruiz) Gabriella : Is that a shiny badge in your pocket? Because I can see me in your pants.

The girl behind the counter knows his order by now, and has it rung up before the cop even makes it up to the register. He manages a murmured gracias as he pays for it, and digs his phone out once he's ambled off to wait for it to be prepared.

And only then spots the invitation from Alexander. It's returned with a crooked little smile, and some sort of reply composed on his phone as he ambles on over slowly.

(TXT to Gabriella) Ruiz : What, never seen me in a suit before?

"Opposites do attract," Alexander says, "but it's not necessarily good. Or bad, really. It just is." His eyes remain on Ruiz, watching the man until he's acknowledged, and then watching him approach. His expression brightens into a brief, sunny smile. "Javier. Hello. You're wearing a suit. Is it about a case?" Naked interest there in his expression, his eyes twitching back towards the door to the coffee shop, despite the fact that the other fellow has hurried away through the bad weather and can no longer be seen.

"Javi..." Gabriella greets with something akin to a purr. So far, she's not breaking out in Spanish. It might still happen soon though. Then she looks at Alexander. "Relationships are work. You have to be prepared to work on it daily. Have tough conversations. Well.. I'm preaching to the choir. You are in one and I'm so far avoiding them. So far." Her lips twitch at the phone as she types. Social media is her friend, so is texting.

(TXT to Ruiz) Gabriella : I'd rather see you out of one 🍆

It's not an expensive suit. But it fits his bulky frame decently enough, which is something. The boots are buttery calfskin with a slight heel that elevates his height to nearly six foot even. Nearly, but not quite.

"Nosy feds, actually," Javier mutters as he sinks into a seat and runs his fingers through his hair. Which has been styled with some actual product today, to tame his scruffy curls into something closer to a wave. He glances at his phone when it chimes, then glances at Gabriella. And chortles, crow's feet aplenty as he watches her. "You two enjoying the snow?"

There's an exasperated correction from Alexander at Gabriella's purr: "His name is Javier." But before he can get really in a dander about it, Ruiz speaks, and Alexander's eyebrows go up. "Feds? Here? Feds don't come to Gray Harbor," he says, sounding...a little bit worried, really. "What are they here for?" Ruiz's question in return is batted aside with the wave of a hand for a moment, his gaze fixed on the Chief.

"Who's missing or who died? Isn't that what brings them out most times?" Gabriella offers before she looks at Alexander for a moment. His dander causing a slight smile. "I call you by your full name. It's okay if people call me Gabby or I call other people by other names." She tips her head to look at Javier for a moment. Her lips quirk. She's about to do it again. "I'm not. I've lived in southern states far too long."

Gabriella's question has the older man glancing up at her with a look that's half amused, half perplexed. Surely she's aware of the little town's unfortunate reputation for far, far more than its share of violent crime and people disappearing, and meeting otherwise unfortunate ends. There's a reason his department's stretched thin most days. But Alexander's right; the Feds aren't usually very interested in them.

"I can't talk about it here," he murmurs as one of the baristas drops off his coffee. He offers up another murmured gracias, and goes to take a sip. To Gabriella, "Where would you be right now, if you could?"

"No, it's not okay," Alexander tells Gabriella, quite firmly. His jaw sets into a stubborn jut, and he shifts on his seat. But the encroach of the feds still eats up a good portion of his attention. "The human traffickers?" he asks, blithely unconcerned with things like confidentiality. But when Ruiz asks Gabriella that question, he quiets, and turns his attention onto the younger woman, his own curiosity sharpening.

Gabriella gives Alexander a look that says that they are going to have to agree (will he?) to disagree. "Wait, human traffickers?" Then she's being asked where she would be if she could be anywhere right now. There is a tip of her head. "Are you going to take me away on a vacation, Javi---er?" Yeah, that's friendship right there Alexander. "Really, I'd be curled up in front of a fire with someone petting my hair while I read a book." What? Look. An honest answer.

"You know, Alexander, when I say I can't fucking talk about something, I generally mean I can't fucking talk about it." Javier's dark gaze sits steadily on the younger man's, his inked fingers resting loose around his coffee cup. Then Gabriella's answering his question, and he goes for another sip, and scratches at the bridge of his nose with his thumb before murmuring, "Sounds, uh. Homey."

Alexander meets Ruiz's eyes for a moment, that near-black gaze looking like it wants to pry the information out of the policeman's skull. And then his shoulders droop and he looks down and away, back towards his cinnamon roll. "Fine," he mutters, acknowledging defeat. He takes out his frustration on the pastry, cutting a bite free with unnecessary force and eating it. At least his mood passes almost as soon as it arrived, because there's no rancor in him when he remarks, "I think it sounds nice. That's a place that could be anywhere, but is always a good place," to Gabriella, with a touch of wistfulness.

"Thanks, Homey. I mean if you want to pet my hair sometime and tell me a story. My hair is yours to rub." There is a lifting and dropping of her brows Also there is an inching of her fingers towards Javier's cup. Ignore she has one in front of her. "Well, perhaps you will tell us some other time and place. When we are alone. Without others around. Just us." This includes Alexander in the 'just us' part.

Javier's eyes narrow slightly when he sees those fingers sneaking closer to his cup. He pulls it toward himself with a stern look for the blonde in question, and relents after a moment with a mumbled, "Yeah. It's about those fuckers from Spokane." He rifles his fingers through his hair again, sighs, and goes for another drink of his coffee.

Alexander considers Gabriella for a moment, then shakes his head. "I don't really like to touch most people. Or be touched. But it's still a nice idea, and I hope you find someone who wants to." Then he brightens, noticeably, at the fuckers from Spokane remark. A flash of a grateful smile for Ruiz - and, as proof of gratitude, he actually doesn't ask any of the five dozen nosy questions that are seething, almost visibly, in his brain. Instead, he says, "You look tired. Would you like a piece of cinnamon roll?"

Gabriella gasps! Did Javier just pet himself instead of her? There is a low comment to him. Okay, it's overheard. "Not the hair I meant for you to pet, Chief." Then she looks more than a little interested in this. "Spokane?" Yeah, look at her looking between them. However, her phone chirps. A sigh and she looks at it. "Fuck. I have to go home. It's time for dinner." Like she's thirteen and trying to beat the street lights.

The cop sort of stares at Gabriella for a few moments, like he's not entirely sure how to interpret that comment. About the hair petting. He starts to answer, but then the younger woman's phone is going off, and she's got to go. "Nos vemos más tarde," he murmurs, watching her for a beat as she prepares to leave. To Alexander, "Cinnamon roll? Do you even fucking have to ask?" And, well, since it was offered so graciously, he leans in and opens his mouth like a baby bird waiting for worms.

"You're going?" Alexander frowns at Gabriella. "...it was nice. To talk to you. Don't die." The frown flickers to a smile, and then an outright chuckle as Ruiz leans in and opens his mouth. At least he doesn't add injury to insult - a chunk of cinnamon roll is quickly cut away from from the rest, and Alexander forks it over - literally - to the waiting Ruiz, holding it so that he can take it at his own pace.

The hunk of cinnamon roll is snagged right off Alexander's fork, and Javier slouches back in his seat to chew on it thoughtfully. "How's your, uh." He gestures with a wave of his fingertips. "How's your business? You know, your new place." The pastry's washed down with a swig of coffee, dark eyes seeking out the investigator's curiously.

Alexander cuts another piece of cinnamon roll, this time for himself, although he toys with the fork rather than eat it immediately. "Um. It's alright. My door got broken down and my pets were kidnapped because of one of my cases, but I got them back." He rubs briefly at the bandages still on his knuckles. "But not a lot of people want to come by the office. That's okay," he smiles, "it's still a great office. And Perdita has plans to rent out the rest of the building, so as it fills up, more people will come." He peers at Ruiz, in turn. "How are you doing?"

The little bell on the door rings as Shawn walks in, yawning as he slips his hat off his head to tuck it under his arm. No one gets acknowledged right away - he's going to go order coffee that is way too strong for this time in the evening.

But then he turns and a large smile washes across his face. "Alexander! And,... Chief de la Vega, yes?" They've totally been int he same room, it's fine.

Mention of Alexander's pets having been kidnapped makes the cop furrow his brows, tonguetip worrying at a canine as he watches the man across from him. "You should've called me," he murmurs. Right, because de la Vega has time in his caseload to track down missing cats and birds.

"I'm fine," is mumbled into his coffee. Never mind the dark circles under his eyes. He looks up at the greeting from.. "Shit, what's his name again?" said in askance to Alexander, as Shawn walks in.

"Probably," Alexander acknowledges in a low voice. "But I was scared and angry. I didn't want to wait." Just don't ask how the other guys ended up. He brightens, though, when he sees Shawn walk in, his eyes tracking the ME to the counter. "Dr. Young," he says, maybe with /extra emphasis/ for Ruiz, once Shawn has his coffee and has seen them. His own smile is just as bright. "Hi! Would you like to sit with us? How are you? About to go on shift?"

"Shawn is fine," Shawn says, tossing away the need for the honorific before his last name. Ruiz gets just as bright of a smile as Alexander. A glance back at the counter that's going to take a bit of time to put together his over-caffeinated drink so he sits down to wait. Hopefully Ruiz is good with this. "Yeah - dead bodies, ten to six, I'm your man!" He's way too happy about this fact.

Alexander seems just as happy that Shawn is happy; he's just invited the man to sit with himself and Ruiz, and Shawn has accepted. "I'm glad. You're a good person to have in there," he declares. "I was reading a book, a Christmas present, about a coroner and a dentist who abused forensics to put away innocent men and build their own careers. Things like that are too important to have bad people in charge of." A firm nod of approval. "How are you, Shawn?"

For one who just woke up and will be awake when others go get shut eye - Shawn is much too happy about life. "Ohh, true story, or fiction? What is it called?" Shawn is not above reading about his work after hours.

His coffee order arrives and he smiles at the woman who drops it off. "You're amazing - thank you!"

Well, there's a distinct possibility the Chief'll still be up when most self-respecting folks are bedded down for the night. Speaking of which, he's wearing a suit this evening; charcoal grey, with a bright blue tie that he occasionally plucks at like it's choking him. He looks up at the ME joining them, and squints when he offers that enthusiastic praise for the barista. Like, is this guy for real? "Hola," he greets curtly, before guzzling more coffee.

"Non-fiction. I don't read fiction very often. Poetry, sometimes. But there's too many not-true things in the world as it is." And, of course, conspiracy theories, but Alexander doesn't necessarily think of those as not true. He seems pleased at the praise to the barista, for his part. "The Cadaver King and the Country Dentist: A True Story of Injustice in the American South. It's very good." He glances at Ruiz, then at Shawn. "Have you read anything interesting, lately? You still should come over some time and take a look at my antique case files," he adds, earnestly.

Poor Ruiz - Shawn is annoyingly authentic. Just right out there. The smile is turned onto the Chief and he'll just repeat that greeting, "Hola." Except with basically the worst accident one could ever wish for with that word. "Oh man, I need..." as Alexander shares the title he looks around. "Do you have a pen? I need to write that down." Eyes from Ruiz back to Alexander again. But then Alexander asks him a question and he pops right to the next question. "Oh man, I would love that. I finished collecting stuff for our experiment!"

It's cold outside. Cassidy comes in wearing a huge fluffy coat and a pink beanie. Also hug bug eye sunglasses. She orders a giant iced coffee. She is fixated on her phone while she waits for her order.

Javier visibly cringes at the return greeting from Shawn. Hackles up, he takes a slow drink of his coffee, and digs out his phone when it buzzes. Ostensibly to check his messages, but probably just to distract himself from that godawful accent. And the discussion about terrible books. He hasn't spotted Cassidy yet, but given the fluffy coat and ridiculous sunglasses, it's only a matter of time.

Alexander pulls out his phone, and texts Shawn the information. He has a pen; it's sitting right on top of the crossword he had been doing a little while ago. But instead he texts. "Wonderful. Maybe this weekend? I'm free. And if something goes wrong, we'll have a couple of days to recover before work. If your schedule doesn't include weekends," he adds, thoughtfully. He does see Cassidy, because his eyes twitch towards the door every time it opens. He watches her warily - but his phone also starts buzzing, distracting him enough to look down and read it. "Mmph. Client asking me to meet them." That's surely safe. "I should go. But this was nice. It was good to see you both."

"YES. Want to come over to my place? I think Ravn's the only one who's been there, but it was - " oh but Alexander has to leave. That's unfortunate. "I'll text you!" Said as Alexander slips out.

Said slipping also brings the blond DA into view and Shawn abruptly drops his head down slightly and brings his hat up over his face. To Ruiz there's a whisper, "Is she coming closer?"

Cassidy is indeed coming closer after she gets thats giant iced beverage. Not that anyone can tell where she's looking behind those outrageous glasses. But she sits next to Ruiz and stares at her phone. "Hey Doctor Shawn," she says as she scrolls through some feed or other. "Javier." Without looking up.

Javier pretends to ignore the murderbro date plans that are unfolding right next to him, and focuses on his game of flappy bird that he's on track for a high score of. "Mmhm," he mumbles distractedly to Alexander. Then, "See you later," with a brief flick of dark eyes to the departing investigator. Which happens to take in the approaching tiny blonde, as well. He studies her a second or two, then returns to his game.

"Yep," he replies to Shawn. "What, you got a crush on her or something?" Of course, he says that loud enough for her to hear as she sits down beside him. And gets a mumbled greeting of, "Hey, Bennet." The Chief? Is in a suit today. Horror of horrors.

"Crap," Shawn tries to hide a little more, "No! No, she's - " but nope, Cassidy's sitting right there. Even if she isn't bothering to look at them. His voice is a half note higher when he turns to her. "Ms Bennet. It's nice to see you again. Outside of court. Here. With coffee, that we drink - that's some nice coffee there."

Shawn shoots a glance at Ruiz - help!

"Awww. You're so sweet Dr. Shawn," Cassidy coos. She even looks up at him and smiles and angel's smile. She looks back to Instagram or whatever. "Nice suit Javier."

The cop's no help at all; he's thoroughly absorbed in his game, tonguetip trapped between his teeth as he focuses on it to the detriment of the conversation. Such as it is. Then, "Ah, fuck, you made me fucking lose." That's directed at Cassidy with a scowl. His phone's set down, and he tugs at his tie to try to loosen it. "What's the news with the case, anyway?" He probably means the McNeely case.

"Just Shawn - or Dr. Young, I guess is the right...." But Shawn will just trail off slowly as he looks between the pair of them. He lacks a filter and blurts out - "You know they're collecting your behavior patterns with those - right?"

Cassidy giggles at Shawn. "Oh no! A blond likes dresses and high heels! What blackmail!" She looks to Ruiz and leans to try and see what's on his phone. "I don't know. It's not my case. Is that Flappy Bird?! What's your high score?"

Javier looks back to Shawn, brows furrowed at the little outburst. He'd been in the midst of reaching for his coffee cup, but pauses with his hand around it to watch the ME curiously. Then Cassidy's asking her question, and he switches the phone on to show her, 312 apparently. "Who's taking point on it, then?" The case.

Shawn opens his mouth to respond to Cassidy but then nothing comes out. His jaw works a few times because this is a really weird feeling.

"I - I should - go to work. Yeah. Work. I should go." The large man stands up abruptly and leaving his coffee cup behind walks right out the doorway.

This is cool. It's fine.

"Oh..." Cassidy says a bit unimpressed. She sips her coffee then goes back to her own scrolling. "I mean it's not a bad score."

"I think he likes you," Javier points out, watching Shawn go. Then he finishes off his coffee, and collects his phone, shooting Cassidy a scowl. "You fucking think you can do better?"

Cassidy pointed her lovely blue eyes in the direction that Shawn left as she sips her coffee. She shakes her head. Then she looks over to Ruiz and his phone. She pulls her lips off the straw and says, "Yes. As a matter of fact." And she punctuates it with, "...old man."

The cop raises a brow slowly, dark eyes fixed steadily on the ADA's blues. "Yeah?" he murmurs, to her old man. Then switches his phone back on and pushes it in front of her. The game's still running, so she has her chance to prove it. He settles back in his seat, gives the remnants of his coffee a swish, and tosses it back with a pull of his adam's apple.

Cassidy slowly pulls her coffee aside. She removes those giant sunglasses. Does she set them on her head? Oh no. No. This is GO time. She puts those on the table. Open.

Petite hands take Javier's phone. Cold eyes staring frost at the old cop. They slide to the screen. Then...it's on...Flappy Bird.

Old? Old? He's not even fifty yet, god damnit. Okay, so there's some silver in his beard, but not a one on his head, thank you very much. "Haz lo peor que puedas," he all but growls at the little ADA as he watches her get to it.

Cassidy 's thumbs are blazing as she navigates the flight of this sad stupid bird. Her eyes narrow. Brow draws to a frown. Eyes wide! "No! Nononononoooo FUCK!" she slaps the phone face down and turns to grab her coffee. Exactly 312.

No interruption from the Chief, just in case she complains that it forfeits her game. No, he watches on in mute silence. Jaw set, tattooed fingers resting atop his empty to-go cup. And when the phone's slapped down, he calmly leans forward and turns it over to check her score. And promptly breaks out in a belly laugh when he sees it.

"Are you fucking shitting me, Bennet?" He flashes the screeen at her. "The fuck is this? I thought you were going to blow me away."

Cassidy indolently slides her drink over. She wraps her lips about the straw and silently drinks. She doesn't respond to the taunting, but clearly, she is /very/ disappointed.

The phone is held there accusingly, maybe 6 inches away from the blonde's face while she sips her drink. Javier clears his throat like, I'm waiting.

Cassidy lifts her eyes to the phone on her own terms. She takes a deep breath as she pulls away from her coffee. To the phone she squints. Leaning in. "Is that...Did...Omg! Did someone just send you a dick pic?"

"I don't know, you tell me." He doesn't appear all that concerned about it, if they did. Nor does he yank it back and double-check the screen to see if she's trolling him. Probably because he's reasonably certain no-one has, or he'd have heard it ping.

Not that dick pics aren't a thing occasionally. Because, let's face it, they are.

Cassidy grabs her phone and takes a snapshot of Ruiz. Then she texts it to him. "Yes!"

She tosses the phone in her bag, grabs her coffee, and storms out.