2022-02-27 - A Slice of Life

When you stray too far from home there are a few places that you really start to miss. Slice of life places that really strike a chord that nobody else can compare to. Slice of life, or, in this case, slice of pizza.

It's only her third day back at home, but Ava couldn't resist the urge to stop at Pizza Kitchen any longer. She bundled up against the biting cold and walked her way over from the apartment. The rest of the unpacking can wait until tomorrow, right? At the moment, the townie doctor/coroner who has been gone for the past year chasing some sort of certification is seated in one of the booths all by herself, sitting in front of a massive pizza that is way too big for her to eat by herself. It doesn't appear that it's keeping her from trying, however. A slice of it is in front of her on a plate, and a look of blissful delight is etched across her features as she takes that first nibble. "That's what I'm talking about. That's pizza," she murmurs to nobody in particular.

There's a handful of files sitting next to her, indicating that she was probably intending on doing some work while she was eating. But the pizza is just too good and too distracting to bother with work right now.

There's a gust of cold air as the door opens, heralding the appearance of a tallish man in a heavy blue-gray bridge coat, white scarf, and a black watch cap. The cap's summarily peeled off, leaving blond curls threaded with silver in utter disarray; his attempt to bring order by running tattooed fingers through them only makes matters worse.

Not that he seems to mind, as he heads up to the counter with a decided limp. Smiling to himself in a way that makes the lines on the long face more obvious. "I'll have a beer, some breadsticks, and a slice of sausage pizza, please." His accent is jarringly out of place - it's one of those lazy drawls that can only come from the deep South. Busying himself with patting down that coat, clearly trying to figure out which pocket he's secreted his wallet in.

It's hard to peel her away from her pizza for a moment, but the shiver of cold is enough to break her out of the reverie once it hits in full force. It was dumb to take a booth so close to the door. Ava will have to remember that for next time. Eyes dart to spy whoever entered, trying to see if she recognizes whoever it is. But alas, it's another face she doesn't know. But this one has a limp, so that catches her attention at the very least.

She continues to nibble the slice, watching his gait as he steps towards the counter. Then she watches the wallet fumble, waiting to see if he actually finds it before she potentially intervenes.

There's another discover from one of the more capacious pockets of his coat: what might be a small tablet or an e-reader in a black case. It gets set aside, before he resumes his search. The girl manning the counter is clearly amused, rather than impatient, and he gives her an apologetic grin. The wallet emerges eventually, one of those minimal little ones. Bill paid, a generous tip in the jar on the counter, and he takes his beer to another booth. "Sorry 'bout bringin' in the draft," Joe offers. Apparently that shiver hadn't gone unnoticed.

Ava begins to smirk behind her pizza bite as she watches the pocket search drag on, things starting to be pulled out and put aside. The wallet finally appears. "Not to worry," she assures. "Bound to happen in the winter. I was the dumb one for choosing the booth near the door. I was just excited for pizza," she offers honestly, laughing at herself. "You should invest in one of those little stick on beep devices for your wallet. You press a little button and you can hear where the wallet is located."

Her head tilts. "But then, you might have trouble finding the button and you'll be back at square one."

"That would be exactly what happens," he agrees. "I've always prided myself on having so little that it was damn near impossible to lose something. Sadly, age and settling down have changed that. My memory's sure not what it used to be, I gotta confess."

From yet another pocket, another gadget - he pulls out a pocket knife, finds the bottle opener, and pops the top off. The top of the bottle is tilted her way in salute. "I'm Joe. Don't think I've seen you here before. New to town?"

"Nothing wrong with minimalism if you can make it work for you. But small things and lots of pockets would drive anyone bonkers after a while. That may be less of a memory issue and more of a pocket issue," Ava counters with a smirk. Her glass of something bubbly is taken in hand to offer a cheers back. "You're welcome to come sit join me, if you'd like," she invites.

"I'm Ava. Pleasure. I was actually born and raised here. One of the local doctors, and coroner. But I've been out of town for about a year working on a special certification. Thus the not seeing much of me," she explains.

There's a moment of vagueness in his gaze. No signs of drunkenness or drugs, but...just an instant's blankness, before he nods and stumps over. "Don't mind if I do," he says, amiably. "Nice to meetcha, Miss Ava. I showed up here couple years ago, decided to settle in. Nice place. So you're used to it bein' just weird, right?" He's utterly matter of fact about it, as he unwinds his scarf, sets it aside, and then sets about unbuttoning his coat.

The instant blackness is noted, but like the limp. That's the doctor in her, making a checklist in her head. Ava beams as he agrees, nudging stuff out of the way to make room for him to be able to get his own food when the time comes without all of her things in the way. "It's a great place. But yes, growing up here, you don't even realize it's weird until people from the outside point it out to you. And then, initially, you think they're the weird ones. Then you leave here to go to college and you realize," she leans in with a whisper, "they were right."

"I got here, and it was a hell of a shock," Joe confesses, with no hesitation at all. "I mean, I'm a scientist by trade, and to have all the insanity with the Veil and abilities and all that dumped in my lap..." He shakes his head. "I mean, it's been amazing and there's so much to learn, but damn. And yet you came back. It seems to pull in and keep so many."

Scientist? Ava's eyes brighten immediately. He can tell that has her attention. She even puts the pizza down. "What kind of science do you work with?" is inquired with brimming curiosity. "It gives you a whole new lens to look through, doesn't it? I've been working on Biological Mapping of those with the gifts, to see what might make us more inclined. If it's just a proximity matter, or if there's also genetics or something else at play."

Another head tilt, puppy like. "Of course I came back. This is my home. I love it here."

"I was an engineer," he admits. "Aero-astro." Her admission that she's been focussing on abilities has him wondering, "You haven't run into the problem that the information fades? Refuses to be recorded? That's apparently something a lot of would-be researchers have had trouble with. But then, if it's just supposed psychic abilities as opposed to the nature of the Veil or its inhabitants, maybe you could get away with it." Joe scratches at his jaw with a thumbnail, sufficiently absorbed in his thoughts that the beer's apparently forgotten. At least until he snags it and takes a long pull.

"Oh, I've hit a lot of snags along the way. Tried lots of ways to get around it. Some coded ways of putting down information have worked for a while, some haven't. A lot of it is all in my head." Ava taps her temple. "It's a pain in the ass, but not entirely impossible. But, I know a little bit about helping make stuff disappear as a part of my work here." She doesn't go too into that. "Oooh Aero-astro. You don't hear that too often. Or I don't, anyway. What brought you here?"

His breadsticks arrive first, complete with a side of marinara sauce. "Welcome to share these with me," Joe's snagging napkins for himself. "That's true. With a good enough memory, you can. How the alchemists used to do it, if I remember right." He tears off a bite, eats it, before answering, "Instinct, mostly. I retired after an injury, set out sailing again. My gut kept pulling me in a specific direction, so I listened to it. It stopped when I crossed the bar here, I figured that was it. Stayed for the sake of someone I used to know who was here."

"Oh, thank you! I'll take a half of one if you really don't mind. I think two slices of pizza is already doing me in, but those sticks really do smell good." Ava can't deny it. The rest of that pizza is going into a box to be her dinner for the next few nights. "You are welcome to a slice of this massive thing while you wait for yours if you'd like, as well. I would have offered earlier, but I figured you were waiting for yours." She reaches over to pull apart one of the breadsticks, taking half of it for herself. "I see. So then, you were meant to be here for some reason. How curious."

Joseph smiles at that. "I'm good, but thanks. Mine should be along in just a minute." He spreads his hands; the ink on his fingers reads HOLD FAST, in shades of ocean blue. Still bright and sharp, either recent or recently touched up. "I guess so. Knowing what I know now, I imagine it's cause I came into my abilities as an adult, after that injury. I originally thought I was losing my mind, but no. Not entirely, anyhow. Just waking up."

She takes a bite of the breadstick and makes another delighted face as she relishes that familiar taste. So good. Ava's eyes dip to the fingers, reading them. "That's a good message. An important one that can help you weather any storm." She leans an arm on the table. "Did the injury triggering it, or was it further along after the injury? If you don't mind my asking, of course. I'm always curious about the triggering events. Having it happen outside of here, or any place where they really know about this sort of thing, I can imagine a lot of people end up feeling crazy. I imagine a lot of them actually end up getting put in asylums." It's a sad truth.

He spreads his fingers, showing off the ink, for all the world like a woman displaying a new engagement ring. "I tend to get ink to commemorate things I've done, points in my life I've reached. These are the newest, and it seemed like something that needed to be a permanent reminder. Not to mention bein' traditional for sailors," The only ink currently visible on him, but then, hands and face are about all the skin on display.

He takes another swig of beer, before answering. "Injury triggered it, and that was almost seven years back. As for being put in asylums, that's true. Happened to me. First a mental ward back home in Georgia, then the Asylum that used to be 'round here, the one that's apparently more on the Other Side than not."

"I collect charms!" It's not the same thing at all. But Ava seems like she's trying to relate here. "To commemorate things. I have a little cabinet. But I can't carry that with me where I go. This seems like a nice way to do things. Though, hopefully you don't do so much that you eventually run out of space." There's a laugh before she finishes the last bite of bread. "How many do you have?"

She scoops up her soda for a sip as she listens, frowning around the straw when her mention of asylums gets acklowedgement in the worst kind of way. "I'm sorry. That must have been terrible. There's no amount of medications that can stop it, only make your mind a little number while you're dealing with it. Which, I suppose, might help some people." Her chin lifts a little regarding the mention of the Asylum here. "Well, you're here now, and you seem much better adjusted I'm glad to say. Cheers to that."

"Well, if they're small enough, you could wear 'em," The idea is clearly pleasing, by the crooked smile that appears. "Uh, well, eight total, if you count the set on my hands as one. Yeah, not for every possible event, or I'd look like the tattooed lady at a carnival."

The grin's wiped away by further discussion of the Asylum. "No, meds did not help. They put me on about every damn thing they could. Sedation helped for the worst of it, but you can't keep someone under that way all the time." There's no bitterness in his voice, though. "Yeah, now that I know I'm not crazy and am in a town full of people who know how to deal with this stuff, I'm a lot better off. Pretty happy, honestly."

"This is true! But they're like, little glass things sometimes. It's an assortment. I'm sure I could probably wear some of them." Ava's eyes drift for a moment as she mentally goes through her display and tries to think of which ones she might actually be able to wear. "Eight?" That snaps her back to the conversation. "That's a lot of big events, huh? But then, working in your field of science, I can imagine they are well deserved.

"Being surrounded by people who have been through something similar is bound to help make that crazy feeling fade. Knowing that you're not alone even more so. Hearing that you're happy now warms my heart." A lot of people who have been through what he has probably haven't been so lucky. It gives her hope, and he can see it shining in her eyes as she offers him a dimpled grin. "So, since you're retired now, what is it you do for work now that you hang your hat in town?"

Poor Ava. Asking about the tattoos was clearly a mistake. For Joe's already shrugging out of his coat. He turns out to have a long-sleeved t-shirt on underneath, in forest green. He pulls up his left sleeve, to reveal a Russian word there, in a stylized block print of red and black. Then the right - there's an old school anchor tattoo in scarlet, black, and blue. "Well, milestones," he says. "The anchor was when I joined the Navy. The other one....I lost a bet and that was what I'd bet."

He draws the sleeves back down, and goes on, "What about you? You like your work? Me? I write, some. But honestly, I mostly live off my pension and investments. Never have been extravagant, so it's more'n enough."

Ava can't help but laugh as Joe starts shrugging out of his coat and pulling up the sleeve of his shirt underneath. She's already leaning forward on her forearms so that she can check out the tattoos though, stretches a bit over the table. "Oh, the Navy. Is that where the love of sailing came from? Or did you love sailing first?" she wonders. The Russian word gets a lifted brow. "A bet?? What does it say? That seems like a horrible thing to bet!"

She falls back into her seat. "I love my work. Both parts of it. Helping the living, and sorting out the dead. One can be sort of hectic, the other is peaceful in it's own way. Ying and Yang, bringing me a certain degree of balance. I don't work in the hospital though. I have my own clinic. The old location is shut down, so I'm working on opening a new location right now. I do off hour work too in case of emergencies that are hard to explain at the hospital. I'll leave you my card before I go in case you ever need that. I'm a doctor and a Healer," she explains.

"No, I grew up in a port city, I was on the water even as a kid. So yeah, loved it even before I joined the Navy," She's profoundly lucky he's had only the one beer; he's got the aura of a man who can't resist the opportunity to tell stories. "That says 'cosmonaut' in Russian, because I lost a bet to a man who had been one. Piece of advice: never get into any kind of drinking contest with a Russian. It's like they wean them straight on to vodka."

There's his pizza, and he starts eating it with a delicacy perhaps surprising. "Dead don't argue as much," he agrees, practically. "Or come in spouting stupid ideas. Good to know, though. Healers are always needed here, it seems. I'd've damn near died a time or two were it not for the ones I know."

"So a love of the water led you to the Navy. I like that. It was meant to be!" Sipping on soda, not even anything alcoholic, Ava chuckles, her head shaking. "I'm a lightweight as it is since my work can be a bit hectic with the hours, so I don't have much opportunity to just let loose and drink. I'd be done for versus a college student, much less a Russian! But at least the tattoo suited you. It could have been so much worse."

At the mention of the dead not arguing, she wobbles a hand. "Weeeeell, that depends on the dead person. The body won't argue with you. You are right, there. But you clearly haven't met Cynthia. She's an argumentative little thing. But she's ten, so what do you expect, really? I think it's just stubbornness. Besides, she's the sweetest. Only ghost I've ever actually met. But they are around." Healers being needed gets a big eyed head bob. "That is an understatement. Around here things can get pretty dangerous."

Joe's face is a study in wry amusement. "You know, I do forget that ghosts are a real thing there. Haven't had much to do with 'em myself, thankfully. Yeah, that's a lot of why I picked the Navy over the other branches of the service." He grins. "I'm not what I used to be on the drinking front. Got too much sense now, or so I like to pretend." Another bite of pizza, and he asks, "D'you have family here, still?"

"You may not be what you used to be, but you can always count on being able to drink me under the table. So if you're ever feeling bad about your drinking prowess, just come challenge me. It'll perk you right up," Ava assures with a chuckle. "But yes, ghosts, for better or for worse, do tend to linger around here. My guess has always been that there's just something about the Veil that makes it a little stickier for souls. It's harder for them to move to where they have to go. Some of them have it easy, others just get -stuck-." Soda polished off, the glass is set to the side. "My mom passed three years ago, but my dad is still in town, yeah. Three of my grandparents as well."

Down to the crust of his own slice, and he's nodding along. "That sounds reasonable to me, that theory." There's the sound of a phone chiming, followed by him pulling one out of a pocket. He glances down at it, and his grin is rueful. "I'm reminded that I need to get home. Promised to be there when the boyfriend gets off shift. But it was good talkin' to you, Ava. I feel like it's good to see when the natives return here."

While Joe is checking the phone, Ava digs through her bag and grabs a card. When he mentions boyfriend, she grabs a second one. "I'm guessing he knows about things, too?" she wonders. Without waiting for verification, she holds the two cards out towards him. "Take one of these for each of you guys to hold onto. It has my number on it just in case of medical or healing emergencies. Hit my up day or night and I'll come help." She grins. "It was great meeting you, Joe. I look forward to talking more sometime."

"He definitely does. He's a hell of a power in his own right. But he's not a healer." The cards are vanished into his wallet, and then he's finding a scrap of paper and scratching down his own number. "I've got a very little healing ability myself, but if I can be of use to you, just lemme know. We gotta stick together here," he says, as he rises and starts thrashing his way into his coat.

Ava takes the card and slips it into her bag. "Yes we do! Together is better. Try to stay warm getting home. Hopefully I'll see you again soon." She waves goodbye before gesturing to the waitress for a box so that she can start packing up herself. Time to get back to work.