2022-01-10 - Welcome home Elsa

Even very large dogs eventually tire. It takes a while, certainly. Elsa explores everything that she is allowed within a nose length of -- and probably a few that she's not -- but in the end, she lies on her side on the floor, flat as a flat thing, eyes closed, asleep. She's an intelligent dog -- and while she may not yet have realised that this new place, Isi's pad on Elm Street, is home, she's definitely computed that this place beats the shelter. No German Shepherd wants to spend its life in a kennel. She seems to have decided that this place is Safe.

"I'll take a cup of coffee -- real or instant," Ravn murmurs. He's opted to stick around -- just in case. He's not so worried about Elsa. It's more that Isi shares this place with a few other renters -- he's pretty certain he's heard her say that? Maybe during his drunk spiel of self pity after overdosing on tequila with de la Vega? -- and one of them might have issues.

There is a certain privilege in height. He can stare down anyone who's less than six foot three.

No one's turned up to complain about the dog so far, though. Which means he's earned coffee. Right?

Yes, the house has been subdivided into smaller sections, one of which is Isi's. Other than paper thin walls she is alone in her little space.

Ravn will have to wait for his coffee as Isi cleans out the water bowl that Elsa decimated, and puts out some fresh kibble for her new friend.

Eventually there is literally nothing more she can do for the sleeping pooch and Ravn will get his coffee. Real, because she isn't a monster.

Then back towards him so she can sit on the floor next to dog and run her hands though it's soft fur. Cue a sappy smile.

Why not? There are worse things to sit on than a floor. Ravn squats down to sit cross-legged, curling long fingers around the coffee mug and watching the little show. He would not have imagined Isi capable of that kind of happy expression -- but it's heart warming to see. He reminds himself that it is not healthy for anyone to be made solely of sass and thorns; even the spikiest lychee fruit has a soft centre.

He likes it. It's always easier to like grumpy and stand-offish people when you know that there are things that can bring out their inner glow. His own facade may be smoother than Isi's (less swearing, certainly) but it's the same thing -- a mask to wear, to conceal his true thoughts. It's interesting in a way, to see a bit of raw, honest emotion.

"I think she's going to fit in just fine," he says, quiet as to not wake up the sleeping Shep. "Give her a week or two to realise that you are the centre of her universe and this is her place, and I quite frankly pity the burglar or the Veil monster who tries anything here. Big guard dogs are a big no-no for burglars -- unless you have something that's really worth the risk, there are just so many better, less dangerous options."

For a moment there Isi had almost forgotten that Ravn was in the room. There's a fluffy dog, not a puppy really, but henceforth will be called puppy, passed out on her floor. It's his sitting down on the floor that brings her back into the moment. "I hope so - I mean, I don't want her to get hurt if that should happen. But just... give me a heads up so I can hide or something. Barking at the doorway is something I'm going to let her do for sure." Pity the poor idiot who comes to the door and hears THAT sound.

"You don't have to sit on the floor, I just, you know. I don't want her to be anxious when she wakes up in a new place." Isi's embarrassed by THAT admission ad she look down and smooths back Elsa's ear from where it has flopped back to show the pink within.

"I'm perfectly happy here." Ravn grins lopsidedly. He looks at the dog but does not touch her -- why would he? He has no reason to disturb her sleep. "It's a good position for you to take. You didn't buy a war machine to defend you against all the terrors of the night. You adopted a best friend who has sharper senses than you do."

Isi IS going to keep petting the crap out of that dog though, and poor Elsa is probably tired enough at this point to be 100% okay with it. She is a flopsy butt of fur She'll probably wake up and be all !!!!!! PLAY TIME.

"Yeah.... I should be a better host or whatever, but fuck if I can think about anything else right now."

"If I thought you inviting me home today was in order for you to fawn all over me I'd question whether you should be adopting a dog in the first place," Ravn murmurs, amused. "Want me to order some kind of take-out so you can stay right here with her? I'm thinking maybe Chinese, or pizza -- something to eat right out of the packaging so you don't need to set a table or do the dishes afterwards."

Startled introspection for a moment as Isi blinks before looking chagrined. "Wow - I didn't eat today at all." Beat, "I was too nervous that something was going to go wrong and I wasn't going to get her to eat." Then there was the walk across town. She shakes her head quickly to refocus. "Yeah - Either, or. I'm down for both. Chicken or beef whatever? Ah, I think I have some menus...."

A vague wave of her hand back towards the kitchenette. Some drawer. Go ahead and do the thing.

"You're talking to a guy who can't boil an egg without setting off a minor nuclear disaster." Ravn chuckles; he's got the menus and apps of most local fooderies, and what's worse, he's on a first name basis with several delivery guy. The weird dude in black, on the marina in summer, on Oak Avenue in winter.

He decides on hamburgers and fries. Not because those are what he's craving -- 'food cravings' is not really a term that exists in Ravn's mind -- but because he's pretty damned sure that a considerable part of the food is going to end up inside a certain four-legged somebody, and Elsa's digestive system is probably happier with beef patty and potato than it is with various kinds of noodles, bamboo sprouts, and teriyaki sauce. It may just be his bland and vanilla Danish palate voicing a conservative opinion, but surely some of that stuff is too hot for a dog.

Do dogs eat potatoes? It is a good question which, while Ravn goes to order, Isi will look up on her phone quickly.

Also bread. Pickles. Ketchup. Mustard.

Wow there are so many things to google about what people foods dogs can and can't eat. She goes right down a rabbit hole there where she forgets for a moment went she was googling these things.

Ravn on his end knows that dogs eat anything that's dropped, whether they're supposed to or not. "Let's not order any chocolate or grapes for dessert," he murmurs. "Both of those can be poisonous to dogs. Raisins, too -- but I suppose that makes sense, since they're just grown-up grapes."

He glances at the sleeping pooch. "My father used bits of carrots as a reward in training. I don't think they have much nutritional value to a dog, but they taste good and they're crunchy, and the dogs love them."

Ravn either read her phone or her mind; in this town, either is possible. Isi bliiinnkksss as she pulls herself out of googling.

"Ah- carrots. Okay. I don't think you've ever talked about your father beyond vague, 'some rich noble family guy. ' and something about dogs."

"Well, I never knew him very well so there's not a lot to talk about." Ravn chuckles. "He was not one to do a lot of -- family things. He got married and he had a kid, that's as far as duty goes. Being a family oriented person is not a requirement. Sometimes, when I hear people talk of their families and how close they are, I am envious. And sometimes, when I hear of families that are -- not so kind -- I am grateful."

He places the order for delivery and then simply sits and watches. "You needed this more than you realised."

"Heh..." Isi replies about families. One hand continues to gently stoke Elsa's neck. "Families are... complicated." And that is where she will clam up on that point. Rather, "Has the veil used Kitty Pryde against you? Other than, you know, the uncat and the weird ass kittens?"

Ravn shakes his head (and decides against prying because lord on rollerskates does he know what it feels like, not particularly wanting to discuss your family). "The Veil definitely uses her. Or rather, the Uncat does. But they go off to terrorise the Veil together -- I have no doubt that there are parallel realities with myths and legends of the horrible black cats that arrive out of nowhere."

He shrugs. "Just like ours, I suppose. First thing people told me here, about Kitty? Everyone asked if I was sure she's not one of the Christmas cats. I haven't seen those, but apparently they were -- very destructive black cats that appeared at Christmas a few years back."

Isi blinks and raises her head to squint in Ravn's direction at that little bit about Christmas cats. "Ah..... aren't cats a Halloween thing not a Christmas thing? Did the veil screw up it's holidays or something?" Yes, turn the conversation to the Veil. It's moderately less heart-pokey than some of the other things that they could choose to talk about.

In her sleep Elsa abruptly sneezes and it brings the dog to full awareness. She jumps to her feet and shakes herself vigorously sending tufts of fur into the sitting-by-her-side Isi's face.

"Apparently, Yule cats are a thing. I was kind of hoping to see them this year but no such luck. I've heard them described as black cats like mine, or as blue or white cats, very large. Either way, whatever they are, a lot of people around Gray Harbor have a somewhat reasonable fear of cats." Ravn decides against giving the full lecture; in part because he has not yet seen one of these creatures himself and in part because they don't exist in any other folklore he's familiar with.

He shields his face behind a gloved hand as Elsa suddenly bounces back into this reality. "And now you're about to learn how quickly a nap will rejuvenate a big, young dog."

Elsa gave the house a thorough sniffing before passing out, and from the way she puts her nose to the ground she fully intends to do so again.

Isi COULD ask more about Yule cats, but, well, dog. Getting up she goes to snag the bag of treats pre-procured for just this moment. "Elsa, come."

The German gives a very longing look at the corner with the trash can, but after Isi repeats the command she comes to her and is VERY HAPPY when said coming gets her a treat.

BEST DAY EVER.

Ravn remains where he is. Isi may be busy with her new best friend, but this leaves him time in turn -- to conduct a study of Isi Cameron.

He's been here before. Drunk on tequila, miserable, and very confused after a very powerful dream experience. At the time he was a little too busy wallowing in hangover and self pity to pay much heed to his surroundings. Now, however, the Dane is alert and aware -- and he scans the room with the keen eye of a thief. Not because he intends to steal from Isi, nor even cares much what valuables she might or might not possess -- but because he wants to know more about this strange woman who seems to consist of nothing but fire and anger, until suddenly she's a ray of sunshine, teased forward by a dog.

Isi Cameron who has a good job at Town Hall yet lives barely a step above homeless. There's a lot of story here that he has not been told. And while he is not going to ask and stick his nose where it does not belong, he is going to observe.

Isi HEAPS praise upon the dog following the direction given. "It's not time to eat yet - for you, but let me think... do you need to pee?" How does one know if a dog needs to pee? Isi frowns at the creature trying to decide. "I'm going to take you out just in case. Dog shit inside is not something I want - Ravn," calling out to him like she doesn't realize she was talking and is now repeating herself, "I'm going to take her to piss. Be right back." A sweatshirt gets pulled on quickly, leash acquired (with more treats and praise when Elsa sits patiently for the leashing) and led outside. The door thumps behind the pair of them leaving Ravn to observe to his heart's content.

Isi's place won't give much m ore of an answer to Ravn's thoughts than to point out that she is a contradiction in all things. Her place is filled with hand-me-downs and second-hand furniture. There are hints everywhere of her native heritage between the colors she chooses and the occasional symbol. On the mini-fridge is a hand-drawn picture that looks like it came from a child saying "THANK YOU." Among all of that she has a few high-end things. Her computer is nicer along with a few other quality items. She has TONS of clothes, if Ravn chooses to look within. Overall it's pretty surprising she's responsible for the town's money, because damn, she isn't with her own.

There's a fine line between learn what you can about your friend and be the dick who goes through someone else's drawers, and Ravn is not about to cross it. He touches nothing and opens no cupboards; he just looks. And evaluates what he sees, with the eyes of a thief and of, well, someone with his background.

Finances: Not good. Reasons: Unclear. Isi is clearly an impulse buyer -- but not to the extent that explains everything. Her house is not full of unopened boxes and packages, or nice things that have been used only once each. She likes a good computer and she likes clothes -- but a genuine impulse shopper she is not. More likely, she enjoys proper tools for her work -- the computer is her work station, after all -- and clothes is the one place she does comfort shopping on occasion. His own place is testament to how cheap and second hand by no means has to mean that you can't afford better, thanks to Aidan Kinney. A good eye for form and colour will get you very far.

Native heritage, not surprising. He knows Isi used to live on the Rez. He knows she has ties there still. Friends, family. And some reason to leave -- which was probably part that career options on the reservation are limited and the woman is ambitious, but there's more to it than that; he's picked up enough from her over time to know that something or someone happened. Hints that her finances aren't as good as she'd like. But whether she's in debt, or sending back money to support family back home -- well, it's impossible to tell without crossing that firm line between curious about a friend and nosy asshole.

Maybe some day she'll tell him about it. The woman is proud and independent, and the last thing she's looking for is some privileged white guy to swoop in and tell her how to fix everything according to how he thinks everything should be fixed.

It isn't too much longer before an open door and blast of cold air rushes inward to herald Isi and Elsa returning. Isi busies herself getting fresh water set out before going to settle on the sofa. It goes without saying that Elsa WILL join her and Isi doesn't bother to set that boundary. This sofa will just be forever covered in dog hair now.

Oh. Right. Ravn is here. "Sorry - I'm really not much of a host."

"Define 'host'." Ravn chuckles and makes no move to get up. "In some cultures, you're not the host until you have shared bread and salt. Then you are as brothers for three days, and killing the bloke to take his camels would be considered most offensive."

Trust the folklorist/historian to have a nerdy observation for everything. "And in some cultures, you are not officially a host until you have offered me whale blubber and your wife. All in all? I think I prefer having a nice spot of floor to sit on and a cute dog to watch."

"... no blubber but there is bread and salt in the drawer in the kitchenette i think." Isi squint at the kitchen a of she isn't actually sure if there is bread. Another Isi-ism. She doesn't bother to grocery shop till almost everything is gone.

Except for Elsa food. There are cans and bags up out of dog reach. The pupper is much prepared for.

Having just finished a nap Elsa isn't quite ready to settle on the sofa, so after a few scratches she jumps up and with her tail as a flag goes to assault Ravn with sniffs and pounces. He is on her level, so obviously this is what he wants.

Also, he has been there most of the times when Isi visited, so clearly he is daddy. Obviously.

Ravn is not a dog person per se but nor is he hostile towards dogs -- or afraid of them. Giant enthusiastic pupper being all the friendly? He's not going to reject her advances; time to give a big girl a belly rub. She's earned it (and maybe he doesn't think the idea of Elsa mentally labelling him Friend as a bad thing, either). "You're just one big hairy ball of friendly, aren't you, Liebchen?"

Because a German dog should obviously be nicknamed in German. And as he sees her advance and then pretty much flop down on top of him coming, his nerve system is even kind enough to not throw a fit about it.

Or maybe it's because she's a dog, rather than a person. He's left a therapist or two in his wake who might air a suggestion like that. And who found themselves out of a patient when they did.

Isi curls her legs under her and fetches a blanket to lay upon her lap. She will not be saving Ravn from Elsa, but she will sit and smile at the doggy assault.

"I hope Kitty Pryde doesn't make you pay for smiling like dog too much. Remind her that she approved of Elsa."

"Knowing that cat she'll make me pay my way back into her good graces with ample amounts of fresh fish -- and then casually let me know that she approves of someone else doing the dull job of entertaining me." Ravn smirks. "You realise that my cat does in fact not like me very much? I am convenient to her. And she is convenient to me -- it's more of a mutually beneficial relationship."

"You put up with way too much shit without raging about stuff. I think the only time I've seen you stand up against stuff was when Jules and I were taking about colonial attitudes regarding natives." Isi shakes her head slowly. "I would be screaming by now and hitting bitches."

Ravn arches an eyebrow. "About what? That my cat is -- a cat? And not a very affectionate one?"

He laughs softly and rubs Elsa's ear. "I suppose part of it is -- being who I am, coming from where I come from. Stiff upper lip, keeping up appearances, don't make a fuss in public. I was annoyed that Jules misunderstood me -- because she heard me say something I was in fact not saying. It's my job as a historian to try to understand the motivations of the people I am studying -- not to pass judgement on them. I can do that on my own time -- and believe me, I do -- but when it comes to Dead Asshole Irving, what Una and Jules need from me is not my opinion, it's Dead Asshole Irving's. It did annoy me to have her presume I'd share those views."

"See enough Halloween with people in fake deer skin, feathers in their braided hair, and a painted face and see if you don't assume everyone else is a bigoted asshole." Isi replies. She gets why Jules went where she did.

"But not even that, like how the coffee shop fucks with you. Why put up with that shit?"

"Oh, I get it, as much as any white guy can. I know how I feel about Hollywood vikings -- which is not to say I understand on my own flesh what it's like to be part of a minority that was nearly wiped out by people who look like me." Ravn continues to scritch dog ear, much to the dog's contentment. "Did you know there was a big kerfuffle in Danish media about that, a few years ago? Copenhagen University put a ban on students wearing 'ethnic' costumes for Halloween parties and similar -- no more 'sexy squaw', no more 'cute geisha'. Cultural appropriation is not a good thing."

He looks down; a pair of warm, brown eyes look up at him. Then he chuckles. "I'm not sure why I put up with Della, actually. I think in some way I prefer it? When you've been treated like a title with a man attached enough times in your life, there's a certain -- relief? -- to just being some guy people aren't shy of hassling. Besides, it's not like anyone's harmed by it. If I was genuinely bothered, I'm sure that a few words dropped in Eleanor Roen's ear would put a very quick end to Della's antics."

"Heh..." Isi shakes her head. The amount of privilege that he is talking about is completely unfathomable to her.

Some fifth dog sense has Elsa turning to look at Isi then turning her back on Ravn (wacking him in the head with a tail in the process) and leaping onto the sofa to lock Isi's face frantically.

No bad feels mommy! Elsa got this!

Raising a gloved hand to protect his face from inhaling half a ton of silky dog tail, Ravn nods. "You realise, this is why I don't -- usually talk about it? Our culture -- white European culture, and by extension, white American culture -- defines success as being wealthy and influential. And I'm some guy who was born with a silver spoon, and then walked away from it. People don't know how to handle that. They get awkward about it, or they get angry about it. And on my end, that's not what I want people to know me for, either. I want to be liked or disliked for things I have done."

"What if we decide to dislike you for not using that wealth to help people - hypothetically thinking?" Isi is fighting Elsa's licking tongue and so she giggles through trying to say that sentence. Finally she wraps her arms around Elsa's neck in a hug and the dog takes that as a signal to flop, belly up.

Rubs now kthx.

"Well, then I either shrug and let you hate me if you want to. Or I subject you to a long and very boring defence of my choices, which I doubt you actually want to hear." Ravn has two hands and Isi has two hands, surely this means that four hands can rub a belly at the same time. "I don't really have anything to do with the company that happens to rent my name. It's a pretty self-sufficient entity. But I do get consulted on some issues, and that means at least I keep it out of investing in arms trade or other highly profitable but also very questionable venues. I suppose that counts."

Yes. Four hands is best hands!!!

Isi stays up in the chest and head region so that she doesn't set of Ravn's touch-ness and takes a break from the conversation to tell Elsa that she is the cutest most wonderful dog ever..

Eventually she gets back to it, glancing up as ear rubs happen. "It is crazy to even think of having money to invest."

"It is, kind of. I don't know anything about investing. I don't invest. I pay my rent tutoring and teaching online." Ravn nods again. "But yes. You won't get an argument from me. The way our society distributes wealth is fundamentally unsound. No one needs a collection of vintage cars -- or a bloody castle. Hell, I have more space in our house on Oak Avenue than I need."

Well, Isi can she with that. Elsa flips off her belly and sprawls out with her head on Isi's lap. As long as she doesn't stop petting Elsa is a happy puppy.

"... I wouldn't mind a pile of vintage cars."

"And I wouldn't mind you having one if you'd put in the work and earned the money." Ravn hitches a shoulder. "But I haven't put in the work and I haven't earned the money. And so I will never be me to people who know where I come from. I'll always be that rich white asshole who never had to lift a finger."

He shakes his head. "I kept it pretty damn quiet for a long time. Nearly lost my best friend when he did find out. Felt I'd been lying to him, pretended to be something I'm not. Maybe he's right. I've never really managed to put a finger on who I actually am."

"Sounds like a therapist's dream." Isi remarks, flipping Elsa's ear lightly.

"Best friend? " She is held hostage by dog, curiosity is allowed.

"Mm, I've certainly worn out a few of those. Therapists, not best friends." Ravn chuckles and once again tries to remove Elsa's tail from his mouth. "Itzhak Rosencrantz -- when I first came into town, we kind of ran into each other face first in our shared love of violins. He's a Jewish kid from the Lower East Side. Not exactly old money, either. After a while I started feeling like I was lying to him, when in fact he'd never asked."

"Never met him." Isi replies, which honestly isn't too surprising. There are lots of people the auditor has never met. "What lower East side? "

"New York. He's a mechanic -- runs a garage on Spruce Street. I think you might like him -- loud, extrovert, fun. Everything I'm not." Ravn smiles; maybe that's the attraction -- opposites and all.

Isi looks around her and picks up a magazine and chucks it in Ravn's direction though without any particular aim involved while saying, "Don't fucking insult yourself, that's my job dumbass."

Throwing things over a dog's head goes exactly as well as can be expected- Elsa lunges yo her feet and starts barking wildly.

Trust a physicalist -- even one with as little talent as Ravn -- to have excellent spatial awareness. Trust him to just reach up with one hand and catch the magazine in the air, without even looking.

"I have wondered sometimes if you felt some kind of duty or obligation to keep my ego in check," he murmurs with a lopsided grin -- and hands Elsa the magazine. This is subtle vengeance. Hope you didn't plan on reading that. Hope you like picking scraps of paper off your living room floor.

Magazine to chew! BEST DAY EVER.

Elsa takes that magazine and starts ripping it apart, "Don't condition her to ruin my shit!" Isi complains, scrambling out of her blanket to argue with the dog over ownership.

This is a game to Elsa, who dances away, had down, butt up, tail waving.

"I didn't throw anything," Ravn returns with a beatific smile -- and stays right where he is, doing nothing.

Actually, that's not true. He may send Isi a picture of her own arse later, chasing around the living room in pursuit of a very happy dog.

Has Ravn considered what people will think if they find a woman's butt on his phone? 10/10 recommend this happening.

"Asshole." Isi should get more specific with her insults, but that is too hard to do.

Elsa, so far, is winning this game of keep away.

"That's Count Asshole to you, dear." Ravn is entirely unphased, and indeed, entirely unrepentant. And if the thought of someone going through his phone some day even occurs to him, he's probably completely blank on why this might signify anything but, look, Isi had to chase her dog. He's a little slow on the uptake like that. He knows that he is. Everyone keeps telling him, after all.

After a moment or two he takes pity after all. "C'mere, Liebchen. Let your Mutti keep the last few pages of her magazine, eh?"

BEST DAY EVER. Now BOTH humans are playing with her!

Isi gets a handle on the magazine and tries to yank back. Elsa's teeth say NOPE and so when the dog goes to avoid Ravn the magazine tears apart and Elsa bounds into the bedroom with a triumphant tail and Isi left with crumpled papers in her hand and more on the floor.

Give Ravn credit for his ability to keep a straight face if nothing else. He manages to refrain from laughing out loud at this obvious case of teenage rebellion. Isi is just discovering how willful a big dog can be, even when she is not even trying to act out.

This is going to cost a vase or two over time, he's sure of that.

He gets to his feet, laughing (very!) quietly, and offers Isi a gloved hand up. "So, do I wait here, or do I help corner her in there?"

Isi GLARES at Ravn. "This is your fault. I hope you stew on that for a bit." She pushes herself to her feet (yes ignoring his hand,, she is her own damn woman!) and flicks the torn pages in his direction, though they all flutter to the ground before getting anywhere near him.

"Wait here unless you are creepy enough to want to see my underwear."

Ravn heads for the couch and plops himself down on it. "I'm sure that you have very nice underwear but I think I will wait for an invitation to see it while you are wearing it -- even if the thought of Elsa emptying your laundry basket and dragging the loot all over the house with you in hot pursuit does sound hilarious."

He keeps his cell phone ready. Just in case his predictions miraculously come true. It'd be blackmail material for a decade.

Isi is in the bedroom before Ravn's words reach her and her head pops back out with an eyebrow arched in disbelief. "Your last lay was basically a blond white super model on steroids. I doubt even in my underwear I would qualify as your type."

Her head is popped back inside and there are doggy tips, the sound of bed springs and Isi doing much coaxing.

Ravn opens his mouth -- and then Isi is gone, and he cants his head a little and hitches a shoulder. Hard to argue with that, and he was only trying to break the ice a bit anyhow. It's been interesting to see this other Isi -- the one who isn't constantly angry.

And of course it makes him wonder -- does he have a type?

He's not even sure why exactly he gets up and walks to the bedroom door, and leans against the wall next to it so that he pointedly is not looking inside. "Are you talking about my fiancee? Who was white and blond, yes -- in fact, most people in Denmark are. She also chased me across two continents after her death and tried to kill people here in Gray Harbor, so really, I am not remembering her all that fondly. Or about Hyacinth Addington who has black hair, as it happens?"

More creaking of bed springs and a loud thud (with accompanying yelp of human ouch) then a slurping sound.

"Probably mixed the two up - pale ass super model stands."

"So because of two women who happened to be white, I have a type? Once you go white there is no going back?" Ravn can't help laugh at the absurdity of it. "Surely by now even your sour self realises that I'm not attracted to people for their looks."

"You got any - Elsa no! That is my sock!" Isi will just have two conversations at once here, "proof you've dipped into anything else, personality to the side? Ha! GOT YOU!"

Sounds like playtime might be over as Isi drags Elsa from the room and back into the main area. She misses Ravn over there on the floor and squints at where she last saw him. "Are you doing one of those mind fucking things?"

"No, I'm standing here, suspiciously not invisible." Ravn shakes his head and walks back towards the couch as well. "And no -- now that you ask, I have in fact not dipped into anything else. I am really not the dating kind of bloke, in case it'd escaped your attention."

"There is a distinct difference, sit... good girl!" Treat given, "between dating and fucking. But you and your skin touch thing probably don't allow for the distinction." Isi finally has her dog back under control and looks up at Ravn while petting her head. "Could you go grab that rawhide from the counter? Maybe if she has something to chew my shit will be safe."

Ravn goes to do so. He turns back, holding the raw hide in one hand -- because Isi should be the one to feed it to Elsa, to teach the dog that she is the Provider of Food.

"I suppose there is," he agrees. "By which logic I have dated only one woman, and she ended up dead and trying to kill people afterwards. So really, saying I have a type is perhaps reaching a bit?"

"Nah," Isi accepts the bone and then quickly gives it over to Elsa. This is the most successful distraction YET. She steps back and flops on her sofa eyeing the room now covered with papers.

"I will eat my words if you prove me wrong down the road." Isi replies absently.

Ravn folds his arms across his chest. "And how exactly, pray tell, am I supposed to do this? Date and or screw a string of women, get you pictures of their faces to prove that they are not all Scandinavian blondes? Maybe you should not sit up waiting, it may take me a lifetime or three."

"One... maybe two to make sure it isn't a fluke." Isi replies, amusement at the thought of Ravn collecting boots calls bleeding into her words. "You could just text me a snap. I won't object to random women's photos on my phone. Clothing optional, of course."

She isn't serious, right?

The Dane smirks and cants his head, and then pretends to count on his gloved fingers. "Well, let's see, took me twenty some years to get around to the first, going by that rate -- I'll get back to you with the next in seventeen, eighteen years. Add another twenty five and -- well, maybe we'll live long enough to establish whether there's a pattern."

He chuckles. "I don't have a type. Or maybe I do, but it's not looks. A couple of friends do tell me I seem to like women who know what they want. I'm not going to disagree on that account. Why, were you hoping to swoop in and rescue the poor girls once they'd sat through an evening with me?"

Isi raises her shoulders up. "Better get on that then if you are gonna text me in seventeen years. As for the pics - would you object to cute pics in your messages?"

As if to get a jump on said cute she grabs her phone and takes one of Elsa.

(TXT to Ravn) Isi : Just a picture of Elsa and a rawhide bone with a series of hearts.

"There's no such thing as too many cute animal pictures," Ravn agrees and settles in the sofa. He chuckles when his phone pings -- not exactly surprised, all things considered. "Cute pictures of girls -- I have one somewhere that Cassidy Bennet sent, but it's entirely decent. I have no idea why she sent it, but then, that applies to most of what that woman does around me."

Pause. "Well, to most of what most women do around me, to be fair. Are you trying to recruit me to be your wingman?"

"Are you applying to the position?" Isi asks, a small grin that hints she thinks this is an awesome joke playing on her lips. "Was the picture of Cassidy-with-the-nice-rack or someone random?"

"Well, I only know one Cassidy so I'll assume we're talking about the same person." Ravn chuckles and then lets his head fall back to rest on the back of the sofa. He looks amused. Intrigued, a little. More relaxed than usual. "I'm tempted to suggest there's a snag or two in your cunning plan. One, I'm thinking you might want a female wingman. And second, you might one who actually has the first clue about how picking up girls works."

It is Elsa. She wears down barriers and as long as they stay on mostly safe topics.... "Nah. If I want to attract a guy, you will keep the jealous type away, because they will assume I'm already shacked up. If I want a woman I'll know if it is worth the time depending on how they fawn on you. Even with your black absent minded professor look your face isn't too bad."

Isi is full of logic here. Then tosses in, "I'm abruptly starving - how long till they said food would arrive?"

"Any minute now, I figure. Let's hope so, I'm starving." Ravn glances at his phone -- but even he must admit that it's probably reasonable for delivery to need time to prepare the food and someone to drive out here with it; whoever invents the food teleporter will retire wealthier than he's ever been.

"I didn't realise you were into attracting blokes in the first place," he adds. "Had you solidly pegged for, well, girls."

Isi shrugs as she looks longingly at the door. Fooood. "I feel more connected to girls generally, but there have been a few guys in there. I'm not going to object to someone looking to share some time with me based on their sex. Just their personality and how I feel that day. " Which is often akin to a snapping turtle which is dangerous to men with soft bits. "It's easier to proposition a woman though, the rejection tends to be less personal."

Ravn cants his head. "You mean to say, blokes aren't good at taking no for an answer? You're certainly not the first woman to tell me that. Can't say I really have any personal experience unless you count a couple of mumbled attempts to talk to girls when I was a teenager, and honestly, I think I'd rather just forget about those."

The doorbell rings. Finally. Now to see how Elsa feels about doorbells.

"Nah - when a guy rejects you it means something is wrong with you. The worst will list it out, and the rest....? You just get to wonder what thing is fucked up about you." Isi replies, pointing to a self esteem not quite as rigid as she generally prefers to project.

At the doorbell Elsa FREAKS. She barks loudly then JUMPS up, grabs the bone - then runs into Isi's room with her bone. "I... didn't expect her to, I'm going to check on her."

Isi just assumes Ravn will feel comfortable getting the door as she follows her dog into the room and starts saying soothing things.

Ravn doesn't mind. He gets up and goes to meet the delivery guy -- who in turn is kind of relieved that while he just heard a big dog bark, one did in fact not turn up at the door. He's probably had a few less than exciting experiences with people's dogs being less than friendly, or way too friendly, or just way too interested in the bags he hands over.

Ravn tips him a bit extra all the same. Not everybody likes big dogs.

Then he heads back in and puts the paper bags on the sofa table. He supposes they ought to go on a kitchen counter or dining table but there's no real need to be formal, is there? "Might be she's had a bad experience with somebody at the door," he calls towards the bedroom.

From the other room Isi calls back, "She is curled up in her crate, I wonder if she was trained to go to her crate at the sound of the doorbell - they did say she was crate trained."

There is lower words for Elsa, praising her as a GOOD GIRL and so smart and Isi loves her so much. Whatever she says works because when Isi comes back out Elsa does too looking utterly pleased.

It is good he didn't try to set up in the kitchen - there isn't a formal table there. Isi eats on the sofa anyway.

"Fuck that smells good."

"It's greasy and burned, it's meant to smell good." When Ravn does eat at home, it's usually lying on his bed with a book. He's not one to talk about formality.

He begins to unpack the paper bags; burgers, fries, onion rings. Greasy, salty comfort food of the worst kind. "I can't really say I have any experience with getting rejected by a guy. I have a little bit with being rejected as a guy -- but again, as a teenager. I gave up on the whole dating game pretty early on, when I realised that the only reason anyone female actually contemplated spending time with me was that my parents were loaded."

Elsa is such a good dog. She sits at the edge of the table with her tail going CRAZY. ETERNAL HOPE.

Isi bends and kisses her head then his to help lay out the fried food. Since Ravn ordered she gestures for him to separate out his food first. His seat also gets taken, because it is closer to the hopeful dog. One fry is liberated and stuffed in her mouth. Around it she asks, "You have probably rejected plenty of women though. You can't tell me you did it without something being wrong with them."

Ravn secures himself a hamburger and then looks up with a bit of mild surprise. "Not -- really? I've declined an offer a few times but generally, it's not as if hordes of lonely women besiege my front door. I think that to attract that kind of attention you have to give people a reason to think you're interested in receiving it -- at least if you are a bloke. From what I've seen, women pretty much just need to exist to get unwanted attention."

He scoops up a bag of fries as well, and then nudges the bag over. "Your premise is faulty, though. Why do you assume that there would be something wrong with the other person? Maybe I was just not interested, or I felt that the timing was bad."

Isi then takes up her own food - absolutely breaking off some hamburger and feeding it to hopeful puppy. Before she unwraps her own burger she looks at Ravn reproachfully. "Did you just tell me my premise is bad? Tell the professor to go home please. Oh - I do have... no love, let me get up, good girl," and Isi goes to fetch two glasses and opens her small fridge to show a nice box of wine. (Shut up, it is good weekday fare.) "Want some?" She has the glass already.

"Sure thing." Ravn reaches for a glass. "And yes, I did. Because it is. You're assuming that the only reason I might have for declining someone's advances is that there is something wrong with them. But the issue might just as well be on my end, or entirely circumstantial."

"Try to pretend to be normal as we talk about sex and relationships okay?" Isi uses the little squeezer for the wine and brings it over before settling for real now.

"Maybe you have a point but when that same guy ends up with another woman by the end of the night?" She shakes her head.

"Then maybe he just didn't like your face, your attitude or your shirt." Ravn shrugs. "There's no rule for this thing, is there? Maybe he wasn't in the mood early in the evening, but then he had a few drinks and decided he felt like waking up next to somebody after all. Maybe he was hoping for someone else to come in, but she didn't, and he settled for whatever was nearby. Or maybe he was waiting for that particular woman in the first place."

Isi will quite happily pick the part of his words that supports her argument and ignores the rest. "See? You said it. Something wrong with me. Anyway, that's why I tend to avoid openly propositioning guys. It's easier to not deal with the non magical mind fuck after being rejected."

"No, I did not say that." Ravn is quite aware what she's doing, and he finds it quite amusing to boot.

He chews on a fry; this man is nothing if not a slow and picky eater, the kind who reduces everything to atoms and then nibbles on them one by one. "I get you on the not propositioning, absolutely. Rejection bites. Easier to just not, but it does come at the price of, well, not dating." He pauses. "Or, well, in your case, only dating women."

"Meh-" Isi isn't willing to concede the point quite that easily. "I'll encourage a guy who shows interest but if they aren't going to make the first move it won't happen. Usually being labeled a lesbian doesn't keep the most aggressive off - they know what they want."

"Makes sense to me." Ravn sips the wine -- and thankfully he is not the kind of wine snob somebody with his background could have been. "I mean, I do the same. If someone wants a piece of me, I'm sure they'll tell me. And then, in the very most of cases, I will politely decline because it's not worth the bloody headache -- and not worth them changing their mind when they realise how complicated all that stuff is for me. There is something wrong with me, and it is a massive turn-off to many."

"I don't know- the kind of girl you deserve? " Isi says, feeding more burger to a very happy puppy who is making some serious butt wiggling movements as she considers jumping onto the sofa for better scraps. "I doubt they'd tell you. You strike me as someone who needs a strong personality but not necessarily someone in-your-face. More introverted. Bookstores - thats where you should prowl."

"Already have one of those. She's a cat." Ravn chuckles and nibbles on another fry. "How did we get to 'Ravn needs a date' anyhow? I thought we were discussing whether I have a type. Or maybe that's the same thing."

He leans back a bit, perhaps to better admire the speed with which a German Shepherd can inhale a hamburger. "That's the thing people usually don't get -- I'm not unhappy being the way I am. I had some very long conversations about that, with a young lady who did in fact try to convince me that we should be dating. Took me a very long time to make my point, that I am not lonely and longing and miserable. That to me, well, if I meet that special someone, that's good -- but if I don't, then it does not mean that my entire life was a tragedy."

"It is the same thing," Isi affirms with a quick nod. Isi is careful about what she feeds the dog. Meat only and she even makes sure to dab off the ketchup and mustard before letting the dog eat it.

"You don't have to need someone for them to make your life better. And if they DO understand your twitches, doesn't that make it better?" Elsa gives up on being floor bound and leaps onto the sofa between them sitting where she can beg equally from both humans.

"Well, let me tell you the same thing I told her, then." Ravn smiles. "If you happen to bump into My Special Someone, give her my number. I'm not going to torture myself about what I haven't got, when there are so many other things I need to be doing. Those men who sit around bars hoping to get any kind of attention, surely you'll agree with me that that's about as pathetic as it can get."

He looks up again. "All that said -- if being with someone is that much better, why aren't you?"

"Not enough women interested not something men are interested in," Isi replies promptly. "I'm telling you - bookstores. You get to do something you enjoy, and find women with similar interests just by looking at what books they end up looking at long enough."

This seems foolproof to Isi.

Ravn chuckles again, and slips Elsa another bite of hamburger. "I suppose this is where we need to decide whether we're talking about getting laid, or about genuine relationships. Because a rather large number of people, any gender, are perfectly happy to get laid, no questions asked, if that's what you need. Genuine relationships are tricky -- and I think you do somewhat come across as someone who doesn't want any of that. At least you do to me -- you do keep people at a distance. Just like I do."

"Ehh... I don't mind a one night stand, but I don't want to hate myself in the morning for it. As for a genuine relationship?" Isi doesn't answer her question right away. Instead she kisses Elsa's furry head. "People are generally garbage. So it isn't hard to keep them at bay. Even if it fucks with getting laid."

A small, lopsided grin flits across the folklorist's face. "Also, isn't that a bit creepy? Stalking bookstores to see if there's any women lingering around the How to find a date self-help shelf? I've known people who did that -- hung around bookstores and libraries, in the hope of finding some nerdy girl with low self esteem whom they can tell to take off her glasses and let down her hair, and she'll be almost as pretty as a normal girl. They're generally not the kind of blokes you want to get to know better."

His smile widens. "People generally are garbage. It sounds to me like we're pretty much on the same page here. You want to have the occasional one night stand, I can't be bothered to. Apart from that, we're pretty much headed in the same direction -- you'll hoard dogs and I'll hoard cats, and we'll both be quite happy as we are, I figure."

"Ew, no. You hang out in the history section and then ask about some obscure thing most people don't care about. Then if they respond with more than a blank stare, there you go."

Isi is now realizing how seriously clueless Ravn is despite the evidence shown before. She share her head slowly. "I'm not going to be a crazy dog lady - Elsa's papers said she would do better as an only dog so, yes, you, you and me can be just us okay?" That last is to the dog as Isi kisses her head again and Elsa returns the affection by placing her head on Isi's lap and spreading out so her rump is edging onto Ravn's.

Ravn doesn't mind being sat on. Maybe it's because he sees it coming -- and Elsa is warm and soft and seriously not a threat to anyone present who isn't a hamburger. "Well, crazy cat lady is what I'm aiming for, one cat a time. I don't want to go 'meet girls', you realise? If I fall for someone again, I want it to be someone I've known for a long time. Someone I know will not turn into a psychotic, jealous control freak not shying away from physically assaulting anyone she thinks is looking at me twice. And someone who won't turn out to be too busy with her career to pursue a relationship. You don't like getting rejected because it makes you feel like there's something wrong with you. I don't like surprises."

"... you live in the wrong fucking town." Isi, blunt. Gray Harbor is nothing BUT surprises.

Hopefully Ravn is up for being flicked with a tail.

Ravn doesn't mind tail at all, and that's not even an innuendo (much). "Other kind of surprise. I don't like surprises in my relationships. I have had one fiancee turn undead, murderous stalker. That was one too many. I don't want to be someone's saviour, or trophy, or possession. I told Gabriella the same thing: If I end up with a woman again some day, it'll be someone who was my friend first."

He chuckles. "She, of course, took that to mean we're going on a date in May. She'll be disappointed."

"Well enough- I guess." Isi decides not to continue to berate the point. They've gone around in circles. Abrupt topic change time. She is good at that much. "Why history?"

Ravn looks up from dissecting a hamburger to share -- meat patty for Elsa, the rest for him. "For my field of study, you mean? History is interesting, and my parents hated the idea. They wanted me in banking or law. It was a compromise -- I'd go to university but I picked my study. Why accounting?"

"I was good at math and it made good Money." Man, maybe this wasn't such a good topic. "I needed something to get me off the reservation and I never wanted to go back. That means money."

Turn back around- "I know you hated feeling like you got something you didn't earn, but why the feelings towards your parents particularly?"

"Because I was born to fit into a specific slot, and it never mattered to them what I might want." Ravn hitches a shoulder. "They weren't bad parents -- or maybe they were, I'm actually not sure. I never lacked anything except attention. Also never felt any closer to them than I did to the gardener. And as I grew older, I started to resent the way my parents tried to create an image of domestic bliss when in fact they could not stand each other, and my father spent most of his time as far away from my mother as he could get."

And pong. "Why be in a rush to get away from the reservation? If you tell me 'because poverty sucks', I get you. But I often get the feeling that's not all of it, not even close."

"Everyone pretends to be what they aren't." Isi replies. Elsa decides that if more food isn't coming her way then she really does want that rawhide there on the floor. The secondhand sofa creaks ominously as the large dog launches herself off of it to go for the fake-bone.

The fries get dipped liberally in ketchup before Isi continues. "We were homeless as much as we were sheltered - at least by the legal definition. Spent a lot of time crashing at my aunt's place. She usually had a job." There is a glance towards the fridge. "She got hurt about the same time I moved to Gray Harbor though- so that isn't really an option any more." Which would explain why Isi doesn't skip jobs till she has the next one lined up. Chances are she would have fucked out of gray harbor otherwise.

"So you're looking to build healthy finances and then decide what you want from life, and working for city hall is usually a pretty stable position. That makes sense enough." Ravn silently rebels against the conspiracy of Eating Fries Wrong, and dips his in the salad mayonnaise, thank you very much.

He chuckles. "We have a saying back home -- once you work for government or city hall, you don't leave until you're carried out, feet first. Is that the same way here, I wonder? No matter. Your turn to ask me a question -- assuming we're playing awkward inquiries ping pong. Seemed like we are."

Ewwww weirdo European!!!

"No - not as much. I could make more in the private sector in insurance. A lot more. But government jobs tend to be harder to be fired from and unless there is a severe downturn, are generally stable. You don't find the best of the best in government- you find the risk adverse."

Ravn doesn't get a return question- Isi sounds like she is about to launch into a lecture of her own about the structure of work in America.

What is it with Americans and their need to drown everything in murdered, sugared tomato?

Ravn nods at Isi's statement, though. "Yes, exactly. Once you have your desk, you have it until they carry you and it out and burn both together. It takes effort to get booted from city hall -- or being caught red-handed breaking laws or embezzling money. It's not the best and the brightest -- but it's the most secure. And it's the kind of job where you leave your desk at five sharp and don't take all your work home with you, that counts for something too."

It is fucking delicious that is what! Mayonnaise is good for keeping things from being dry, but it lacks ALL FLAVOR.

His insulation has her shaking her head at him. "Nono, most people leave government jobs. Even for the risk adverse - wouldn't you leave if you could make double, if not triple, elsewhere?"

Ravn cants his head. "I think that depends on what exactly I wanted from a job. I've collegues -- other academics -- who'd rather hold a snoozefest of a teaching position in some college somewhere, doing the same lessons and grading the same papers for fifty years, because it's steady work, steady pay, and no excitement. And I know people who'd rather chance everything and switch positions every other year, in order to try all the things and never be bored. There's advantages to the steady -- you work from nine to five, and then you're off the clock and don't worry about work until morning. You can keep it all separate, stay unaffected. And, I suppose, you can get very bored -- you'll notice I'm not sitting at one of those college desks myself, either."

"There is just too much to lose betting on something that might fail." Isi says, stuffing her mouth with tomato paste covered fries. Yum. Suck it European.

"Sometimes, the safe bet is not the worst choice," Ravn agrees and scoops up mayonnaise -- don't drown every flavour in tomato, you overseas heathen. He reaches down to rest a gloved hand on the rump of the rawhide bone muncher; it's hard to not like that dog. He's not a dog person, but some dogs are just -- so universally warm that you can't make yourself dislike them. "Do you plan to stay around, once you've built a bit of a nest egg?"

"Built a nest egg?" Isi asks, blinking about her place. It's like the thought of saving much hasn't even occurred to her. This is one mentality that many who grew up in poverty have- you spend what you earn because what if it gets taken from you?

Ravn notes the expression on her face, and chuckles -- mostly at himself. You try to think outside the box, try to be open minded, but every once in a while, your upbringing and background cannot be denied. "I think I made the mistake of assuming that my values apply to everyone for a moment. It's how it's done where I'm from -- you grow up, you study, you clear your student debt and start a family, you settle. It's obviously not the only way to do things -- I mean, I don't have student debt, and I certainly haven't got a family."

"I guess...?" Isi decides she doesn't want to think about this particularly any more and shakes her head. New topic.

"How do you earn your money? I can't imagine that part time online professor gives you much."

"Tutor," Ravn corrects with a small smile and a fry in one hand. "I'm not a professor. It's -- not a full position with full pay, no. However, I don't spend much -- I don't have children, I don't have an exciting and expensive hobby, and I don't have any debts I'm paying off either."

He hitches a shoulder and looks a little sheepish. "I do cheat a bit. I wanted to live on just my own money. And I did, for three, four years. Then the damn time shift happened, and I found I'd bought a house. And apparently I was all right with doing so with family money. So now I'm even less challenged since I effectively live rent free. I'm still working through how I feel about that, because the whole point was to not spend money that I haven't earned."

A small shrug. "I haven't actually told anyone either. No one else asked."

"... you have a motorcycle that is going to require attention as well as property taxes." Isi points a ketchup-ed fry at him. "Don't think I won't report your ass if I find out you are skipping on your taxes."

Isi chows down on said fry with obvious enjoyment. This is why she has to exercise as much as she does. "You did earn it, in a way. You are just accepting back payments for years of being ignored. Money instead of love. Works for me. If you don't want it, I'll take it."

"I may be a thief but I am not a tax dodger." Ravn can't resist a small smile. He's been threatened with a lot of things over the years but this is his first instance of intimidation by ketchup drenched French fly.

He chuckles. "Would you actually want me to write you a check? A bag of money sounds like a lot of fun at first. It comes with a lot of obligation, a lot of feeling you're indebted or expected to do certain things. It's not worth your soul or your freedom."

"Are you going to expect anything from me because of the money? " Isi asks, still 100% behind Ravn randomly giving away money. This is fine. "Because you don't strike me as a particularly awful loan shark."

"I'm not trying to solicit you, no." Ravn shakes his head. "I'm trying to find out if you genuinely think you'd be happier if you talk me into having my lawyer send you a check. Whether there is some immediate problem you genuinely would appreciate help with -- or you're just a more honest gold digger."

Isi shrugs. "I'd pay off my student loans as much as possible- Maybe move into a nicer place with a fenced back yard if I could find one for rent. Nothing immediate really. The loans will follow me till I die and Elsa'll be happy if we do nice long walks every day."

"Myes. Not going to tell you that the American way of saddling people with student loans for a lifetime is sane." Ravn picks up another fry. He's a very slow eater -- a nibbler, really -- and most of his meal is going to end up in Elsa, whether she manages to beg it or it's left for her as tomorrow's breakfast of leftovers. "We could keep an eye out for a better place, you realise? I'm not the only bloke in Gray Harbor who has more space than he needs, who's better off sharing that space with a room mate. Look at Oak Avenue in general -- it's one group of buddies after another. Next to Aidan and I? Three women. Next to them? Two women and a bloke. Might be worth looking into something along those lines."

That suggestion meets either flat rejection "I thought about a roommate when I moved in, but the ability to do whatever I want without having to fuck with someone else?" Isi shakes her head. "Maybe it would be different if we were fucking regularly but just some rando?"

Nopenopenope. She isn't particularly trying hard to talk him out of his money either.

"So you'd live with a lover, but not simply share a kitchen and bathroom with someone else. Aidan and I aren't sitting on each other around the clock, you realise? We just happen to share the same address and the same fridge." Ravn pauses, and then laughs. "And the same walk-in wardrobe, which sometimes does lead to some interesting little prank wars."

He shakes his head and leans back on the sofa. "I guess you will have to find someone you can stand the idea of fucking regularly, then."

"No thanks on that. I like my privacy." Isi has grown rather protective of it actually.

Elsa is very happy right there, gnawing at that rawhide.

She shrugs, "Or continue to live alone. You forget that option."

"Of course. Living with a room mate is a way to afford something with a picket fence, that was all. There's nothing wrong with living alone." Ravn shakes his head again, and nibbles on his fry -- he really does eat it one little bite at a time. "I have every intention to go back to my boat as soon as the weather allows. Don't get me wrong, I like Aidan, I like my neighbours, but I can't wait to be able to skip the mooring and go out on the middle of the bay, no one there but me and Kitty Pryde and the seagulls."

See, they might not agree about money but they are on the same space about personal time and space.

"I wonder if she likes to swim." Isi watches the dog fondly. Her legs are pulled up under her as the fries slowly (or not so slowly) disappear.

"Once the water temperature is humane, why don't we find out? Just stay clear of fish girls who want to sing." Ravn glances at the dog. "They don't usually bother people like us a lot, though. Denny claims there's some kind of arrangement -- they're supposed to only lure the normal people. But they're devious little things, and they sometimes break the agreement because it's just too tempting."

"He's the crazy guy at thr HOPE center, right?" Isi seems less than inclined to believe the crazy mermaid man. Standing she begins to clean up the debris of lunch. This gets Elsa's attention- for her, right?

"Well, he's as crazy as I am." Ravn actually sounds a little defensive, even as he packs up his pile of papers and paper cartons, most of the fries still inside. "I have more curious diagnoses than he does, as it happens, because I've been seeing more shrinks. He's got a label of paranoid schizophrenic and -- well, his social graces aren't impressive but the mermaids he talks about are real. I have seen them, I've seen them try their singing thing. So if he's crazy -- well, a lot of people around here see things other people don't, have you noticed?"

"Sure." Isi doesn't turn it into an argument but instead tosses the trash away into her plastic trash can. Elsa takes this as an invitation to go trash can hunting. Conversation will have to pause as she dives after her dog.

Give the Dane credit for not laughing out loud. He keeps a perfectly straight face and just muses, "Did you know that among the inuit of Greenland, it is said that anything thrown on the ground belongs to the dogs. I think Elsa may feel that way about your trash can."

He cants his head. "And I have no idea whether the inuit outside of Greenland say the same thing. I've been to Greenland once, and I didn't really get to do much in terms of getting to know the locals. I did get assaulted by seven vicious and terrifying sleigh dogs in Ilulissat. They launched themselves at me at high speed and tried to tear me to shreds, and they were old enough that their little puppy teeth almost stung."

"You shouldn't have been in their area," Isi says wisely, pulling her dog away from the trash can. "Can you please put it up on the counter?"

Ravn picks the can up and does so. "Their area was the street. They chain dogs up there, but not until they're old enough to actually be a threat. Once they are, you're supposed to give them one hell of a wide berth -- those dogs are more than half wolf, and they are not friendly."

"Sounds you should have known better then." Isi, not giving any pity for his plight. With the trash can out of reach she releases Elsa to go and investigate the wrappers on the floor.

"Isi, you need to learn to have fun. Being bowled over by playful puppies is fun." Ravn can't stop himself from laughing now. "What do you do for fun? I know you hike in the woods. What else do you do? I feel like I only know you as someone in trouble, someone fighting back -- but I actually don't know the first thing about you in a normal person context."

Isi steals some wrappings from a licking doggy mouth and tosses them into the now elevated can. Note to self, trashcan with a lid. "How does you being chased by dogs you should have stated away from mean I don't have fun? I like outdoors. Hiking, kayaking, photography, biking- though my camera and bike both got stolen when I lived in Seattle so not so much them any more."

"You like photography? Well, there's one hobby we have in common, then." Ravn leans his hip against the counter and folds his arms across his chest. "I am curious about this other Isi -- the one who isn't neck deep in trouble, or trying to rip me a new one. You have high walls -- so do I. But I wouldn't mind seeing a bit more of what's behind yours."

"I'm not particularly good," Isi is quick to add for her skill with a camera. The last of the trash is swept up and delivered into the trash can before Isi turns to give a long and lingering look in Ravn's direction as if weighing him for hard to quantify quality. "You sound like you mean that."

A copper eyebrow arches. "Should I not mean that? Did you think I was just tossing some kind of pickup line at you?"

Ravn shakes his head. "I'm just an amateur, but I do find it interesting. Some of the good memories I do have from my engagement are about that -- she was an avid photographer, and I picked up a few things from her, including one of her discarded cameras. I don't mean to come across like a stalker. You're allowed to tell me to stay the hell out of your private life."

"It's just not usual. I must have fucked up badly to make you think there was something more there then you see." Maybe it's Isi's way of putting up a little of the wall that Elsa managed to tear down. A lifetime of being wary of others makes it hard to just..... say yes to Ravn's invitation to open up.

"I'm not sure if I want to be compared to your ex - no offense. You haven't done a very good job of making her look like... y'know, a person worth knowing." There's another long look before she shrugs. "No - it's fine. You're good enough people I guess. Not a crazy stalker though, you have to be more suave than that."

"It's not difficult to compare positively to my ex. Don't try to kill any woman for talking to me -- there, you're already coming out in the better light. Not sure why you'd think I am comparing you, either. Last I checked you weren't applying to take over her position." Ravn shrugs a little and shifts his weight from one foot to another as he leans against the counter. "I always feel like I am trying to coerce you into showing me more of yourself than you want me to see. If that is so, I apologise. I have no right to push you, and I don't actually intend to do so. Heaven knows I have enough secrets and walls of my own that I should be better at respecting somebody else's."

Isi chews at her lip slowly, then kneels down and rubs at her dog's ears. Much considering of Ravn happens before she makes a snap decision. "Alright - but I reserve the right to continue to insult you to make sure that you don't get an ego too big for your head."

She's smiling as she says that though.