2022-03-07 - Sweet Carrot Nose

Ava gave her number to Ravn to give to Kailey so that Kailey could call her for information about powered Mommy and Me groups. Somewhere along the line connections and phone calls were made and a meet up was planned. Sure, it's cold out, and when it's snowing might not be the best time for ice cream. But is there really a bad time for ice cream? Honestly? Besides, this is one of Ava's favorite places in town thanks to the style, from the theme to the way the waitresses dress up.

She's already gotten a booth and is waiting, with menus set up and a soda in front of her. Her treat, she said. She may live to regret that.

Ravn famously is not someone who qualifies for a powered Mommy and Me group. He's not a mommy, he's not a toddler, and as far as he is aware, it's even debatable whether he is powered. He is, however, the bloke more or less in charge of scheduling as far as the HOPE Centre goes, and it's as good an excuse as any for a cup of coffee.

The tall Dane wanders in, all casually, totally by chance, just strolling this way, yessir. He slinks past the counter and orders a black coffee -- and given that this is not the domain of Della the Day Manager at Espresso Yourself, he might even get one. Then he raises a gloved hand in a wave to Ava and any other familiar faces.

This IS the place to get a plain black cup of coffee. And especially in winter it is always going. Sure there are other fancy things, they have espresso machine, but it doesn't get nearly as much use as the diner and ice cream portion. From the kitchen there is the sound of loud talking. Or maybe it is more pleading given how one voice rise and falls in a wheedling way. The talking stops a moment later with no clear winner. And then a few seconds later Kailey emerges with a smile and a tray that has slices carrots, bananas, and strawberries on it in three big bowls, with a stack of small plates for the kids that may or may not come. "Hi!" She says with a cheerful grin at Ava as she slides the fruit and veggies onto the table. "Did you get something to drink yet?" She asks Ava, her eyes spying Ravn. So the Dane gets a distracted wave.

It is not uncommon for people to avoid coming into Sweet Retreat but those that have been in town for a while know that the menu includes more than just soft-serve treats. When the weather turns cold, there's hot and very often greasy finger food. And during special calendar events themed treats, such as being International Woman's Month, and some special collaboration between the art department, Kailey, and the culinary, Lee and Ian means there's something special for people looking to peel themselves from the ocean breeze off the pier where the Sweet Retreat is located being primarily a tourist trap.

It's also not uncommon that the ceiling thuds and plaster powder rains down as a high pitched girlish squeal sounds from above. One could almost follow the footsteps through the ceiling while they race around the floor above, the squeal turning into laughter and then a low thud followed by more footfalls.
No, two.
A second, heavier pair of feet races after, the first sounds different, then the sound fading while a bassy rumble chases the feet.

It isn't long before a little girl bursts from the door that separates the kitchen from the upstairs tight spiral stairway, chasing her laughter, not over two years old. She makes a bead for Kailey and throws herself around Kailey's leg, still laughing, "Mummah!"
Just as Everett burst through the same door. His face contoured with a snarl, his hands curled into claws, hunched over. He snarls without pausing, looking around the kitchen, and then swivels his head towards the dining area, and even with strands of his long hair clutching to his beard and his face, he spies the Sweet Retreat has customers, mid-speech, "Fe. Fi. Fouccc-- um."

Everett suddenly stands erect, his hands snap down to his waist. With clear embarrassment, his eyes glance left, then right for a way out. His large body shifts like it's trying to decide which way to go to leave. "Uhhhhh."

Ava raises a hand to offer a wave to Ravn. "What's the matter? Didn't want to risk getting some sugary concoction at Espresso?" she questions of the Dane. It's about then that Kailey is arriving and her face brightens. "Hey! Yes, I got something. But I was going to wait to order snacks until you and the kiddos got here. If you ended up bringing them. Wasn't sure if you needed a mommy time out or not." Ava grins at the woman and taps the menu. She already knows what she wants. "It looks like you already wrangled some snacks, though!"

Then there is squealing laughter and stomping and running little feet. Ava's attention turns towards the doors that burst open and allow the laughing toddler to sprint out and wrap around Kailey's leg. She props her cheek in her hand and focuses on Everett. "I think the last time you were looking for was Fum," she offers helpfully with a bit of a smile."

"Oh my GOODNESS was the big giant chasing you?" Kailey's eyes turn down towards her daughter and she grins, bending to scoop her up and rub noses. "I think all of us getting together with our kiddos is important too. Not everyone has the ease of a babysitter. Or sister wife or what not," She turns her grin to Everett as he stands there, embarassed. The evil purple haired monster lets him stew in that an extra second, okay two, before introducing him.

"This is my partner, Everett. Ev, this is Ava. That doctor I was telling you about. She's the one that suggested the," Kailey wiggles her fingers at Everett, "Mommies meetup." Turning Morganna towards Ava she looks at her toddler and then back down. "Do you remember, Ava, Morganna? From the library?" The little girl, still smiling, turns to look at Ava.

"HI!" Morganna says and waves a chubby hand wildly.

"Hello, Woods." Ravn's grin widens at the sight. Everett Woods is formidable -- just the height of him, man. Ravn has not forgotten their last chance meeting around here -- it involved plates flying at his head. Payback is sweet -- and more so when all you have to do for it is sit there and smile.

The kid is adorable. All kids are. And sticky, no doubt. All kids are. Ravn is not a natural with kids. Fortunately, kids seem to generally realise. From knee-cap height he's just not very interesting. He still offers Morganna a wave; that one, at least, he recognises.

Bloody kids all look alike.

The Dane settles with his coffee, inviting himself to Ava's table. Maybe he just leaps to conclusions. Maybe he figures it will save time. Maybe he figures Morganna will go for Ava first. Maybe he figures Ava is a suitable shield in case of more flying plates.

The size of the hole that Everett would need to crawl into isn't currently present in either the kitchen or the customer dining room. Still looking uncomfortable and cupping the back of his head with his right hand, he offers Ava a, "Eeehhh. Yeah." Glancing towards Kailey, for just that introduction, his brows rise expectantly. Then his head tilts. And then he lowers his right hand cupping the back of his head, while the tilt gets more inclined. He could go on, making the expectation of the introduction build more and more but finally, Kailey puts him out of his misery. Which is often the case.

"I hate you," Everett mumbles under his breath without any sincerity to Kailey, while giving her a side glance and putting a mitt to the small of her back after closing the distance to her, somehow fighting his natural propensity for snarling or knuckle-dragging.
He glances down at the wiggling of fingers and his brows lower in a muted frown but he nods, bobbing his head twice, "Ah. Right," then to Ava, "Right. I, ah. If I break character and ask for lines, she docks my pay." Indicating the 'she', Everett tilts his head back and gives his head a little shake to free his face of hair some then abruptly buries it in the toddler's neck, "Ah nomnom nom!"
And there's the source of the squeal, and with it, wiggles to be let free to get away. But Daddy's nibbles don't last long. Green eyes glance Ravn's way while he's still feasting on young flesh and pulls his face free only to have Morganna keep her right hand on his left cheek, squishing his lips like fish-lips, in an effort to keep Dad's mouth away.

"Hey Wavn. Howph Hope goin'?"

"I had on a big, white coat the last time we met if that helps," Ava tells Morganna. "I fixed the owie on your dinosaur. It's nice to see you again." Her smile is big and earnest and her tone is as though she were speaking with any other person out there even though she's using words like 'owie'. "I agree," she tells Kailey. "I'm always happy to spend time with the kiddo or kiddos. I don't have any of my own, but I never mind their company."

As Ravn slips in, she scoots over to make room. His leap to conclusions seems accurate enough. He would have eventually received an invitation, so he might as well have joined.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, finally, Everett. I here toddlers can be real sticklers for the rules, so you'd better be very careful. I wouldn't want to piss her off. I've seen what she can do." Ava laughs at that, taking a long sip of her drink. "Speaking of, I did hear back on groups, and it looks like there is one, off the books. It's kind of fallen into disarray. But I'm betting with a little nudge, it could get back into full swing."

"I hate you too, sweety. So much," Kailey replies, leaning in to kiss Everett on the cheek, and looking amused. Picking up a carrot she offers it to Morganna, who coos with joy and takes the snack. Chomping down with her sharp and tiny front teeth. Kailey, meanwhile, reaches out to grip Everett's fuzzy chin and turn it back to her for another kiss. It lasts a few seconds while Morganna watches with her carrot goodness. After about three seconds, though, she attempts to stick the carrot up one of her parents' noses. Causing Kailey to recoil with a laugh. "Mo!"

The toddler turns her attention to Ava, now that her parents aren't being distracted. "Ava?" She gets it right on the first time, which probably is not a surprise. "Wall-E?" And she starts to look around the eatery with eager little eyes.

"Oh...oh yeah. That's her favorite movie right now...heh," Kailey says as she slips the little girl down on the bench so she can go fetch a high chair from the front. "Well those things would fall into disarray. It's just the Veil protecting itself."

The little girl giggles deviously and looks pleased. Before she takes another bite of her carrot.

"Doin' good," Ravn tells the toddler with a small smile. He doesn't hate kids. He's just happier when they focus their attention on someone who actually speaks their language.

Then he latches on to something that Ava said. "A lot of things here seem to fall into disarray like that. Remember how we were talking about the Historical Society? I went back and looked at the names. The society is still on the town budget -- but the only name I recognise is Hyacinth Addington. Granted, that could be why it's still on the budget -- but I can't help wonder if it's another of those cases where somebody stumbled across something, and then reality got edited a little. We know it happens. Subtle changes and for some reason a lot of people seem to just -- space things out. Not actively forget in a way that would cause others to ask questions. Things just stop being important to them, somehow."

Accepting the kiss to his cheek begrudgingly, Everett rolls his eyes upwards while smirking in an overexaggerated manner. Once the public display of affection is over, Everett adds to Kailey his smirk turning into a soft smile, "Yeah you do," his deep voice rumbles, "Hopeless romantic." He's not above name calling.
His attention returns to Ava, and his smile widens some while he nods, "Yeah, the Molerat will take my SAG card away if there's another incident with the key grip. I keep telling them I'm the best boy, but, you know. Unions. I don't have to tell you." He looks like he's going to add something else until something Ana says strikes a cord with Everett and he gives Kailey a seriously miffed side-eye. "Seen what she can do, huh?" he asks through gritted teeth.

It makes his chin all the easier to find, get a ladder and reach for, while he glares at Kailey out of the corner of his eye. He may be a little resistant to given in for a kiss, at first, but he proves a push over. And a throaty sound of interest over the kiss while it starts to linger rather than prove to be a peck makes Everett's head cant so he can lean deeper into it. And right into prime carrot insertion angles. Kid's going to be an engineer. President and engineer.

"Gah," exclaims the thug in surprise as he takes a step away and starts sharply exhaling out of his nose while turning around. Nobody wants to see a grown adult produce produce from his nostrils. "Did she pick my nose?!" And then, "What are you teaching her, you freak," he asks this time with a laugh, turning around again when he's checked to make sure his nose is carrot-free. Just in time to watch his infant take a chomp from it.
Everett stares for a second.
Then takes a long, slow breath. "Yup. She's my kid alright."

"Man. I wish I could get someone to even slightly detest me half as sweetly as you two hate each other," Ava laughs. The laugh turns full belly as a carrot is then pushed into a nose. She has to hide her face behind her hands so that she doesn't feel like she's further encouraging that behavior. But it's tough, because that was funny. Even funnier as Everett is stomping around trying to get it out. "Wall-E," she manages after regaining back some of her self control. "Wall-E is a very good favorite movie." There's a couple more giggles behind her hand, face turned away from the group.

A few more moments of composure before she finally manages to turn back. "It only stays in disarray as long as we allow it to, right? That's why I keep poking into the Historical Society records. Eventually, I will find something. It's only a matter of time. And the Mom's group won't be that hard to put back together, either. It just takes a little effort."

Kailey's laughter joins with Morganna's at her father's reaction. Though the former is softer because she felt her nose almost be probed as well. "So...yeah...Mo summoned a dinosaur at story time. Didn't I tell you?" She asks innocently as she sets the highchair down by the table. There is a briefly worried glance at Everett. Did she tell him? She pauses then and purses her lips. "I miiiiiiiiight have forgotten too..." So she does look sheepish as she hefts the toddler, to slide her into her own seat.

"War Waww-E?" Morganna can't help but ask, looking around the room hopefully for a robot.

"No Wall-E, honey. Maybe later," Mother assures. "I'm gonna go grab my friend cheese, be right back," And she ducks back into the kitchen, child temporarily contained. The sound from the day cook upon her arrival yet again in his space is loud. "I'm just getting my cheese, man! Chill!" There's something said and then the sound of Lee laughing.

Any moment now. Ravn isn't going to be surprised to see a small, bedraggled robot turning up on the door step. Not with Morganna in the house. Besides, bedraggled robots are a lot less bothersome than dinosaurs seeking a doctor. If the bedragged robot needs a doctor, one is present. Maybe the doctor is also a mechanic.

You learn to take it as it comes in this town. From dinosaurs to giants with carrots stuffed up their noses.

Ravn nods his agreement with Ava and curls his long fingers around his coffee, blissful black. "We should go look into things at Addington House sometime," he agrees. "I already need to go there with a couple of other folks -- for not dissimilar reasons. Something about an old haunting and Native artefacts that may or may not have been stolen in the 19th century. Heaven only knows if they're in Gray Harbor at all, but if they are -- that's a place to start looking."

At least he has the man to man kindness of pretending he did not just see a tiny sprog stuff a carrot up Ev's nose.

Pinching his nose, Everett gives his head a little shake, still making sure there isn't carrot or bugs bunny up there. After the most recent check, he adds, "Our kind of hate is pretty special. I'm not sure there's another person out there even in the whole wide world who's even capable of hatred the way Snuggle-bossoms is." At this never before used term of endearment, the giant exaggerates a swivel of his head towards Kailey and flutters his lashes at her.

His affection ends with quizzelment as he shakes his head, "No." Then a little more forcefully, "No, I don't think you did mention that she did stuff like you do stuff." He frowns, this time with worry as the large man puffs out a breath and his shoulders slump with the weight of a new worry manifested then meanders towards the table, but stops shy to the wall. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leans against the wall to support the building. At least for a short moment before Kailey announces her intention to go to the kitchen. Then, pushing from the wall, Everett heads to the high chair and puts his left hand on Morganna's head to give her a silent ruffle, turning his head to watch Kailey retreat to get her cut cheese and not hiding his leering even slightly.
When she returns, he draws a finger across his neck and mouths the words every woman wants to lip-read. Elephant shoes.
Lip reading isn't a speciality.

To make it easier, he points at himself and then upstairs again. "I'll go up there and clean up after our little monster. Nice meeting you, Ava. Ravn, stay loose." enough to dodge plates presumably.

Ava bites her lips as Kailey mentions that she might have forgotten to mention the whole dinosaur summoning at the library thing. Now is the time to look very interested in her own drink and mind her own business. Yup, this is a very nice drink, this drink of hers. Her eyes slip over towards Ravn, offering him a little grin, almost conspiratorial. She glances up when the two start to stand. One for cheese and one for cleaning.

"It was nice to meet you, Everett. Hopefully we'll get a chance to do it again soon. I'll make sure there are no carrots around next time," she promises. "For your safety." A hand is lifted in goodbye before she settles attention back on Ravn, glancing to her side at him. "You know me, I am always down for an adventure. Even if it's not in my best interest."

"Okay, babe," Kailey says as she returns. Going up on tiptoe she presses a kiss to his lips again. "See you in a bit. Going to socialized and eat my cheese. Hopefully no robots will appear." And she turns to head to the table, holding a platter of mozzarella sticks and a small dipping bowl of ranch dressing. This too goes onto the table as she slides into a chair. "Feel free to have some," She says of the cheese and breaded goodness. "So what are you looking into?"

Ravn leans back -- and steals a single bit of cheese to nibble on in his usual way, where it's more a matter of keeping his fingers busy than actually eating anything (Vyv Vydal will some day cut those fingers off with a blunt wire cutter and force feed him an entire coffee cake, it is written). "Well, for me personally, I'm mostly just curious about how the Other Side seems to be so great at obfuscating things. Instead of editing memories it just makes things -- not matter very much. So people go do things that do matter. I'm willing to bet that if you were to look for the people running the Historical Society, you'll find none of them died gruesomely or disappeared in mysterious ways. And yet I at least don't recognise any names but Hyacinth's."

He takes out his phone in its pink casing and looks at a note on it. "Clarissa Robins ring any bells? No, not with me, either. But I'm sure that whoever she is, she's still here, somewhere, or she moved away for entirely legit reasons."

The Dane hitches a shoulder. "Anyhow, I have a couple of reasons to maybe go sniff Addington House out again sometime. I went there on a guided tour last year but things got a little weird."

"Looking into all things Veil. Why it works the way it does, how it alters things. I personally have an interested in the genetics behind things, along with the biological aspects. It's something I've been working on for quite a few years. Trying to find any information on The Veil is difficult for the obvious reason that it deletes it and protects itself constantly. The Historical Society was supposed to have some group that was poking into it, but it just sort of..." Ava makes a poofing gesture with her hands. "So I'm trying to dig back into it and unpoof things. But it's understandably difficult."

"Define weird, Ravn?"

Morganna is delivered a plate with strawberries, bananas, and another carrot stick. Which she digs into with all the messy glee of a toddler her age. And yet she keeps glancing at the grown ups talking and then around at Sweet Retreat. There is the crunch crunch of the last of her carrot disappearing as she stares out the front door. That stare has purpose to it that does nothing.

Mommy is meanwhile blissfully unaware of her daughter's boredom. She plucks a stick and dips it into the ranch. "Oh. Well I suppose that is a good idea. I am not the best at research though. But honestly? I kind of think of the Veil as having all the abilities, and more, than we can have. And if I can make someone bored out of their skull or suddenly feeling chipper and wearing polos from drab, then they no doubt can," Kailey says before biting into her stick. And drawing out a long line of hot cheese. "Hoooot!"

"The tour guide was a ghost, and most of the tour ended up with me and Alexander Clayton just kind of watching a dead Addington ghost screaming at a resident millionaire and his girlfriend about a stolen wedding dress while the Exorcist chain smoked and looked like she thought we were all idiots."

Weird for a value of weird. Maybe not so weird by Gray Harbor standards. Ravn hitches a shoulder and sips his coffee. "I have no idea whether whatever that was ever got sorted out. That's one thing I learned pretty quick here -- a lot of the time, there is no answer, or if there is one, no one remembers to tell you what it was, later on. But I haven't seen either of them -- Thorne or his fiancee -- for a long time, so I am guessing it got resolved in some fashion. Hopefully they picked up and left town to have a good, normal life somewhere else."

He nods at Kailey. "I mean, there's no arguing that. Looking at what some people can do -- the Veil can obviously do a lot more. And like us, it does. But I still feel like we shouldn't just roll over and accept every road block. I don't know if there's any particular reason the Historical Society went quiet -- for all we know, they argued and decided to go for tennis lessons instead. But I do think it is suspicious a bit that not a single registered member is still in town."

"That is weird. Well, weird for a tour, I suppose. Not necessarily weird for Gray Harbor." Ava picks up some of the cheese for herself, making sure to be careful of the heat. "Kind of sounds like exactly the place I want to check out. Now that I've punched my ghost card, I'd like to keep going. Seems like as good a place as any. Maybe I'll stop up there later today and poke around."

She glances to Kailey and inclines her head. "Oh, there's no doubt that the Veil is more powerful than we are. But I want to know why. What makes it up. What makes us up. What, if any, genetic predispositions do we have. What makes some of us," she gestures to Kailey herself, "so much more powerful than others. Our bodies aren't meant for these powers. It's obvious when we use them too much. But is there a cure for that? Is there a way to make us better suited? Can generations down the line be better suited and more powerful than us?" She gestures to Morganna.

"There's so many questions that don't have any sort of answers. I'm the kind of person who likes finding answers. If answers are possible."

"That is...odd...," Kailey agrees while chewing on hot, molten cheese. The stick is set down on her appetizer plate and she gets back up. "Grabbing a drink. Forgot. You want some apple juice, Mo?" And she signs, 'apple juice' as she asks.

The little girl, mouth filled with a slice of strawberry, cries out happily, "Appew!" And some of her strawberry makes a run for it onto her plate. It is then picked up and put right back in her mouth. Hungry toddler doesn't care! So Kailey sneaks behind the counter and begins to grab things. Including more coffee for Ravn's cup. And instead of returning the carafe to the coffee maker, she slots a clean one in to be filled. This one is staying at the table. So she returns with a juice box, a carage of coffee, and a glass of doctor pepper.

"I...remember an experience. It was like a memory of the past of this place, down here on the boardwalk," Kailey has a distant look in her eyes as she settles back to sit. Taking the straw out of the juice box in an autopilot manner. "There was an orphanage visiting. And they all went on the ferris wheel. We did too. Or...we were already on it. I can't recall rightly. But the ferris wheel broke off and fell into the ocean. We tried to save the kids, but something horrific happened every time we did. It...was one of the few things that has truly scared me. I was trapped in a metal cage under water...I haven't been on a ferris wheel since."

"I heard about that," Ravn agrees with a wince. "Not in great detail -- probably because it was so bloody traumatic for everyone who was involved. Aidan was in hospital for a long time, and he does not talk about it. Hyacinth mentioned it too -- and she did not want to talk about it, either. I'm a historian and a folklorist, granted, but even I will stop asking questions when I can tell that the person I'm talking to really does not want to talk about this."

He shoots Kailey a grateful look at the refill. "I think -- it's a theory, nothing more -- that there are several entities involved. The ones we call Dark Men or dolorphages -- they are the ones who create that sort of suffering. They want to break us, and the only way to avoid them is to be depressed and miserable so they don't need to make an effort on your behalf. The others, however -- not all of them are hostile or evil. A lot of the crazy around here is more alien or weird than actually soul crushing."

Ava looks both horrified and sympathetic as she listens to that tale. "I'm so sorry. That sounds like an absolutely terrifying experience, especially since children were involved." Ava leans back against the seat with drawn brows. "That's where the Historical Society would help. It makes me wonder if that's something that happened, and you were brought back to suffer that same fate, or if it was just something thought up to try to break your spirit, like Ravn says. Using the past might have a purpose. The other one is just a dick move."

Una's got a big fat new library book tucked under her arm and more or less protected from the rain, and apparently can't think of a better way to spend a Sunday than to dive straight into it with a plate of ice cream; truly, life is good. The door jingles as she steps inside, casting around for an empty booth to slot herself into-- that's genuine surprise in her expression when those dark eyes catch sight of people she knows. (After three months in this town, it's still bizarre that you can barely go anywhere without running in to people you know.)

The long scarf around her neck is unwound slowly as she weaves her way towards the group, though her likely intended destination is still a booth further back into a corner. The cheerful greeting on her lips dies before it escapes, however, because she wanders over just in time to hear the last of what Ava's just said, and 'dick move' somewhat supersedes 'cheerful greeting'. "What's a dick move, and can we punish whoever did it?" Beat. "Sorry. Hi."

Kailey's face darkens some when Ravn mentions the Dark Men. Her head bobbing before the smile returns. "Yeah...them...thankfully there are not a lot of them," She says before sipping her drink. The cheese stick on her plate then get devoured with all the car hot cheese should be given. And a lot of breathing through teeth to help cool it down on her tongue. "So...mmm...it was traumatic. But I got off light compared to Aidan and some of the others...Aidan kept trying to save everyone else. He really is a hero."

Sitting at a table are Ravn, Ava and Kailey with Morganna in a high chair. The later is eating fruit and sipping her apple juice. Eager eyes turn to the door as it jingles, but alas there are no robots trundling in. Just Una who is unfamiliar still to the toddler. So back to her food she goes, dancing in her chair, and making the food into little beings that talk to each other before screaming and being put into her mouth. It's a bit grim. But also a bit funny. "Hey...Una right?" Kailey says with a wave. "We're talking about the Veil and how it edits reality. Please, join us, have some fried cheese. Can I get you something to drink or eat?" Kailey begins to rise from her seat.

"The thing about 'did something really happen' in Gray Harbor is that yes, it probably did. Or it could have. Or maybe it did, but then it didn't, and then it did after all. We have entities who literally rewrite reality when they want to. What's recorded past today may be news tomorrow. A Ferris wheel collapsed in 1932, or maybe it didn't, or maybe it was 1987. All three can be true or not true, at once." Ravn frowns. Metaphysics, always a headache.

He glances up and smiles as Una approaches. "What Kailey said. Getting a lot of kids killed when the Ferris wheel fell down last year was a dick move. We were talking about the weird here -- and how a lot of the times, we end up with more questions than answers. Mostly in conjuncture with Addington House and the Historical Society, insofar that one can be said to exist given that no one who's a member is actually around."

"Poor Aidan. As strong as he is in the healing magic, I can't imagine how much of a toll that took on him. It probably would have ripped my entire heart out," Ava guesses. "I think I'm glad that I wasn't here for that one." She hisses through her teeth and finishes off the rest of her drink before curling her fingers around Ravn's coffee pot and not so stealthily sliding it in her own direction, trying to steal it for herself so that she can pour herself a cup.

"Hey there, Una!" Her face brightens. "You know us, just talking shop about horrible entities and how we probably can't stop them, but are looking into this anyway because that's who we are as people. How's it going?"

It's true: Una is not a robot. Sad day for toddlers indeed.

"Una, yeah," she agrees, awarding a quick smile for Kailey, though the meat of the conversation rather seems to forestall proper cheerfulness, because, "That sounds like more than just a dick move: that's horrific." There's a little pause, as if she's torn between interest in this conversation (and in her friends, sure; them too) and that big, new exciting novel tucked under her arm. The introvert's dilemma!

Evidently conversation-and-friend wins out, because she waves Kailey back into her seat with a reassuring, "I can wait for someone to come 'round, you don't need to get up for me!" and then slides into a seat, book tucked into her lap and hands pressed flat onto the table. "Are you casting everyone as superheroes, Ava? Fighting the good fight against impossible odds? I'm good, I'm good. I wonder if we can just, I don't know, hostile takeover the historical society."

Kailey sits back down with a bob of her head. Selecting another cheese stick she dips it in halfway on the ranch before taking a bite. She is polite enough to chew and swallow before talking, or else put her hand in front of her mouth. "So...yeah. There are so real asshole entities out there. But there are, as Ravn said, a lot of just....weird and alien ones. Like the toy place and Eye."

"Can't say I was sorry to miss out on that whole Ferris wheel affair, either." Ravn pretends to not notice the coffee theft; after all, usually he's the one stealing coffee so a little grace is warranted. "I get the impression that the dolorphages did gather up a group of people with a lot of power for that one. When they go big, that's often the case. Maybe it does take effort for them to do so, so it has to be worthwhile."

The folklorist pauses and then says, "Which brings me to another theory of mine: It's easier for them when we don't fight back too hard -- which is why at least some of the entities have kind of informally agreed to do weird rather than soul crushing. The ones who can feed on us using power -- well, they might as well toss us into some kind of weird charade like a Zorro or Robin Hood re-enactment than outright torture us. They still get what they want but with less effort. And there are entities like Petra and his faerie ring in our yard, entities who don't appear hostile at all -- just alien, like they're just peeking in from the next reality over, trying to be good neighbours."

Una's comment warrants a side glance and a speculative look. "The Historical Society is on the town budget and no one else seems to be attending its meetings. I suppose that technically we could turn up and vote somebody in as the new chairperson. I mean, who's going to protest if no one else is there?"

Ava fingerguns towards Una. "Technically that's kind of what I'm trying to do at the moment. But less hostile. I'm kind of trying to dig up what I can from the records, see what I see, then piece it together and then non-hostile takeover. I could certainly use another partner in crime, however. We do seem to be rather Three Musketeerish, if you ask me," she points out." Since Ravn does nothing to stop her, Ava takes the coffee pot and does, indeed, pour herself a cup.

"I'd like to try to establish a better bridge. Communication? You know, with the good neighbors. Perhaps they like the bad neighbors just as much as we do. Perhaps they are better equipped to deal with them than we are. Or can give us pointers. You never know. Like I said, there are a lot of unanswered questions. And I am a fan of answers."

"I'm personally much, much happier with them throwing us into weird charades than being absolute assholes to the point where that's not even remotely strong enough language to describe it," Una agrees, with a shudder that is not especially theatrical. "And the alien ones, they're mostly just kind of interesting, as long as they stay that way and don't try anything too unpleasant."

She's pleased by Ava's explanation of her efforts, and bobs her head several times quickly. "I'm in for that. I need-- I'm hoping the historical society has records on my asshole ancestor. Something that might give us a clue as to where he stashed... well, stuff. So I'm definitely willing to step in and support this glorious revolution, sans hostilities because from the sounds of it there's no one to be hostile with, which is great. Presumably there are, I don't know, records of incorporation or something? So we can fit in with the existing bylaws and just--" An idle wave of her hand. Do whatever it is they need to do.

"No probbings please! At least not without lube," Is Kailey's response to Una's comments of Unpleasant Things. "I am shit for researching stuff, my friends, but I can help with writing down my experiences. So at least there is something. Well...I HAVE written down my experiences. I keep a Dream diary," And she giggles at her own little joke. Then eats the rest of her mozzy stick. "Though I probably should learn more about my family history. Since I'm apparently related to the Baxters," She adds before reaching to catch a strawberry from falling to the floor. Returning it to Mo with an odd look in her eye. "Don't even think about it. Here," And she reaches into her purse and pulls out two chunky toys. Old McDonald's toys from the Wall-E times it appears. Which causes the small child no little amount of glee. "WAWW-E!" And she hugs the tiny toy. Picking up the other one, white and sleek, she shows it to Ava. "AVA!"

The toddler's enthusiasm is catching; Ravn can't help a smile at that. Such unadulterated joye de vivre is what it's all for, when you think about it -- trying to turn this strange town into a place where a child can laugh like that.

He nods at Kailey. "You're tied in with it all, of course. And being a Baxter does explain how power comes so easily to you compared to some -- the Baxters have steeped in this stuff for two hundred years. If there is a genetic disposition -- then you and Ava should definitely talk. And so should a few others, but not everyone wants it said aloud that they have Baxter blood, so they'll have to kind of volunteer that information themselves."

He taps his lip with a gloved finger, and then reaches for a refill of his own coffee. "But before we get too enthusiastic -- I think we should do this, I really think we do. But let's not forget that there are entities out there on the Other Side that will throw roadblocks in our way. And some of those roadblocks are very much alive and present in town, too. We have to show a little finesse -- particularly for the Historical Society since it's housed in Addington House. Old Margaret can shut us down just like that. And so can the Mayor -- who is also an Addington."

"Lack of hostility is ideal," Ava agrees. "It's my go to move. I am a healer, not a fighter. I only throw down if I must. Or something important is on the line. For this? I'm hoping it will be a peaceful thing and it was just a matter of people sort of walked away. Now we can just kind of-- walk in." Ava spreads her hands before wrapping them back around her cup. "I guess time will tell."

Her face brightens as she glances down towards Morganna, leaning down to put her face near the white toy. "I see. Yes. The resemblance is striking darling. Don't you think? I am also quite sleek and stylish. And I look great in white," she winks, reaching out to push some hair out of the toddler's face. "Is she your favorite or is Wall-E?" she wonders, before glancing back towards Ravn with a nod. "Oh yes. I have no don't that there's something in the genetics of those that have stayed for so long in this town. Those that have been exposed for so many generations. "My family isn't some big name, but we've been here a long long long time. Which I think is why I am as power as I am, and have been since I was a child. I'm guessing the same can be aid for a lot of Addingtons and Baxters, and non-big names that have been here for generations.

A couple of things happen, as the others talk. For starters, Una flushes, just faintly, when Kailey mentions probings, but there's a glimmer of interest for that mention of a Dream journal (who wants to bet Una, too, will have one of these before the day is out?). And then there's the amused smile for Morganna, and the reluctant resignation for Ravn's sensible caution over their not-so-hostile takeover plan.

"You're right, I suppose. So: Ava should lead it," she says. "As the one who was born and raised here, and as a doctor and coroner and general upstanding citizen. And," she gives Ava a sidelong grin, "As generally someone who comes across as professional and sensible, and unlikely to rock the boat too much. I'm definitely too much of an unknown, despite my family connections."

Kailey watches the byplay between toddler and Doctor. Most of the food has vanished into the tiny human at this point and so she says, without a mouthful. "Ava Wall-E mine!" And she hugs them again. That is until there is a sound that comes from the child. A wet and rippling sound that is foreboding in and of itself. The smell that follows it a few seconds later has Kailey going wide-eyed at her daughter. "Pooop!" She cries happily, both hands going up in the air like someone cheering for a touchdown.

"Oh...Oh gods. I am sorry folks. I am going to have to take this one upstairs and clean her up. I'll be a little bit. But yes, you're right Ravn. I don't mention it to just anybody. I'm a Holt on paper, after all," She says as she moves to check the back of Morganna's shirt. There is a face made and she gingerly picks the child up. "Back...in a bit. Oh...oh girl...what did daddy feed you? It's leaking through your pants. AUGH!" And she is rushing back to the stairs that lead upstairs.

Ravn nods his agreement with Una. "I'm a nobody drifter who isn't even a US citizen. My opinion doesn't carry a lot of weight in those circles; no matter what other 'upstanding citizens' points I might be able to scrape together, I can't convince anyone my family has been here for generations."

He might have wanted to say more. He probably intended to. But then that happened and --

-- well, let's just say that Ravn's slightly greenish expression hints that he may not be ready for fatherhood anytime soon. "Good luck. Better you than me? Good grief."

"They are yours! So I am guessing they are both your favorite," states Ava with a smile. The noise and the smell have her leaning back a moment later, though her expression barely changes beyond the smirk of amusement that touches the edges of her lips. "Nothing to worry about Kailey. We'll talk more later." Her hand rests very delicately on Ravn's shoulder so as not to hurt him in any way. "You should see the color of your face right now, it's hysterical."

She pulls her hand back so that she can take a long sip from her stolen coffee. "Believe me, that smell does not compare to some of the things you'll get from a dead body. A dissected bowel is so much worse." Not the best kind of reassurances one could offer.

"Hey, I don't mind offering my good name, face, and reputation up for the cause." Back to the topic at hand.

Does Una wrinkle her nose at the distinct odour emanating from young Morganna's diaper? Sure she does. Poop is pool. Does that stop her from bursting into giggles when a glance back has her catching sight of Ravn's expression. Not a chance in hell.

(It's probably not even just Ravn. Poop is funny.)

"I think I'll take a pass on the dead bodies," the redhead says, with a grin. "Because that does not sound at all pleasant. Just... gross. Anyway. Okay, good. Ava's the front man. Woman. And I think I have a pretty valid reason for taking an interest, as someone who is trying to find out more about her family history."

Ravn winces -- no, he grimaces. At least he sees Ava's hand coming and doesn't shy away. The colour on his face, though, yes. Not cut out for fatherhood, this one, at least not that part of it.

He shudders one last time and makes a conscious effort to collect his thoughts. "Yes. Yes, I think that works. I did get invited to a private tour of Addington House that one time like I said, but I still don't know why. It seemed to be an exclusive affair, to solicit donations maybe -- you can probably imagine how out of place Clayton and I both looked, just off the street. I do have some credit as somebody with an actual degree in history, but Ava's going to do a better job of it, to be honest. Doesn't mean I'm not on board for the take-over, though -- just not as the front figure."

"Not gentle enough?" Ava wonders softly after the hand has been pulled away. She'd been hoping it wouldn't hurt, it's obvious in her tone. "Sorry." It's hard to suppress the urge to hug someone who has to flinch away from basic touch, because they look like they need a real hug. It's written all over her face. But Ava focuses on her coffee instead.

"Dead bodies are more fascinating than people give them credit for, thank you!" Una gets a faint smirk from the doctor. "But that's fair. Most people don't really like looking at them and being reminded of the whole mortality thing. I get it. As for soliciting donations, that's the perfect cover for a visit. You can bring me as a plus one, and as the pocketbook. You have the history degree, I have the money. Una has the curiosity! It's perfect."

"I think you've lost me on the fascinating bit. I guess that's why you're the coroner and I'm definitely not. I don't think I mind that they're dead people, as such, though of course I don't like knowing that people have died, but there's something about the... squishy tissue-ness, if that makes sense. Decomposition is gross." Una punctuates that final statement with an exaggerated wrinkle of her nose, and then blithely reaches out to pick up one of the deep fried cheese sticks still remaining.

Sadly, the cheese is steadily congealing, and after a bite, Una sets it back down again. Ugh, cold congealed cheese.

"That sounds ideal, anyway," she agrees. "I'm getting super tired of my asshole ancestor throwing things around and making the clock spin. I get it; he's impatient. It's not like he's given us a huge amount to go on, though."

"Oh, no, I'm sorry. " Ravn looks sheepish as he sips his coffee. "It's more -- it takes me a little time to convince myself deep down that somebody understands about the neuropathy. To stop expecting them to forget because it's such a natural thing to most people, just slapping each other's back or bumping fists. It didn't hurt."

He glances over at Una (and momentarily at the cheese stick he is still holding and which he has indeed yet to actually take a bite of, because this is Ravn with food, he's ridiculously slow about actually ingesting it). "They never do, do they? It's never a detailed set of instructions in writing. Go here, see those people, get the suitcase from that locker at the bus station, and see someone about this bank account. It's always guess and run, hope you get it right, try over when you don't."

"Like I said, I like answers. Dead bodies are filled with them. They also tell a story. A person's story. In weird, fascinating ways that most people never really get to know. There's a beauty in death, I think. Just as there is beauty in life. I guess that's why I've always found Persephone to be so fascinating and relatable." Ava can only smile a little at the thought. "Decomp can be gross, though, yes." There's a soft laugh there. "I promise you'll just have to handle clinic work. You don't have to handle any dead body stuff, Una. My morgue work and clinic work are two separate jobs."

When Ravn assures her that it didn't hurt, Ava's shoulders relax a little bit. "I'm glad. Also, that sounds terrible. I'm kind of glad I don't have any ancestors being a dick to me like that. Have you tried scolding him? Or... teaching him to write? If he can throw things surely he can move fridge magnets!"

The twitch of Una's mouth, and the more sustained upturn of its corners that follows acknowledges Ava's explanation. "I think I both get it, and really don't. And what's important, I guess, is that you find it interesting, because it's work someone needs to do, and I'd always prefer people enjoy it. But," and there's no question of the redhead's smile, now, "I'm still glad that the clinic and the morgue are completely separate. Is it weird that I'm not fazed by injury, but dead bodies are a different thing altogether?"

She carefully wipes her fingers on a napkin, leaving little grease marks in their wake. "Instructions would be great, exactly. But nooooo, he's got to be all incommunicative. I mean, we're still assuming who he even is, just for extra funsies. I hadn't," she adds, glancing back at Ava, "considered that, though. I'm surprised he's not already leaving messages on the fridge, but maybe if we encourage it..."

Poor Della-the-roommate, who may get to wake up to cryptic fridge messages, to give with the unseasonable garden, and the rest of the Oak Street weirdness.

"That's how ouija boards work, supposedly." Ravn steeples his fingers (and returns the cheese stick to the tray, look, he's not going to eat it). "Of course they come with the downside that it is almost impossible to not cheat at it -- you will pull towards whatever answer pattern recognition suggests to your subconcious mind. There aren't a lot of records of ghosts communicating without a human link -- it's borrowing our hands to write, communicating through sounds and noises, or otherwise borrowing our bodies or at least our senses. Which is really very strange if you work from the assumption that ghosts are in fact real -- as I do. Because yes -- if they can throw an empty Pepsi can at someone's head, they can bloody well move a fridge magnet, you'd think."

The folklorist shakes his head. "Funny thing is -- there are ghost stories aplenty where the ghost can communicate just fine. I grew up surrounded by ghosts who could talk if they wanted to -- they just usually didn't have much they needed to say besides 'good morning' in passing. And even if we look away from thin spots like Gray Harbor and to some extent, my home -- you have beings like the Greek vrykolakas, vampires and ghosts who often walk invisible, and who very much can talk. If they want to."

He shakes his head. "It's almost as if the more a revenant or ghost needs to communicate, the less ability it has."

"Cynthia has no problem talking." Ava points that out with a little shrug. "There may be levels of ghost power, just as we have levels. Some of them are just more connected than the others and have an easier time reaching through to this side of things, like Cynthia." She toys with her coffee cup, bottom lip nibbled in thought. "I have heard that ouija boards are just inviting trouble, and do we really want to invite more trouble here than we already have to?"

Una gets a head bob. "You can get a magnet wall, too. They have paint for that now. I have one in my office. That way I can just take a magnet and pop stuff right up on the wall. No board needed. Easy peasy. Might be better than the fridge. Not so small, fight off the frustration."

"Cynthia also manifests as a person, unlike my ghost who doesn't seem to have any physical manifestation at all?" Una shakes her head, gaze sliding from Ravn to Ava and back again. "I'd never really given too much thought to the differences in how ghosts manifest before, but you're right. There's definitely differing kinds. The whole human link thing... that makes sense. They need us to connect to the world, in a way?"

Una tucks her hands back under the table, quite possibly so that she can make sure she doesn't attempt another cheese stick without thinking about it, because gross.

"I'll have to give it a go. Not the ouija board, because that just reminds me of being thirteen and scaring myself silly with other thirteen year olds, but magnets or something. I'm not convinced it will help, because I suspect clear communication is not his (or her?) thing, but... it's worth trying."

"Ouija boards were invented for seances to communicate with the dead. They got a lot of bad press during the 1970s and 80s where anything occult or Satanic-looking sold like hot pancakes and so did the moral panic -- people thought Dungeons & Dragons was devil worship, for fuck's sake. So yeah, there is a lot of baggage now that we don't want to invoke, considering we live in a place that tends to be very willing to lend substance to myths." Ravn nods. He's not really that eager to have a lunch date with the Devil, either. In part because odds are, the Devil isn't actually Tom Ellis. He remembers coming face to face with Quetzalcoatl and Xochiquetzal.

"Fridge magnets. You know the kind -- big, colourful plastic things, made for children who need to practise their basic spelling. I think that's a good choice. There is no cultural baggage to pop up. At worst you get a bored ghost toddler writing POO."

"Clear communication troubles just means you may have to try a few things before you find something that really works for you. We'll just have to keep troubleshooting ideas until we find something that sticks, yeah? Assuming you want help, of course. I'm not trying to but in to your business." Ava grins.

If Tom Ellis were the devil, he might get an invite, as far as Ava is concerned. But for right now, she's laughing at the thought of large magnets just spelling out the word POO over and over again on poor Una's walls. "Let's hope that the ghost is a slightly better communicator than that. I'll even cross my fingers for it. Toes as well." She glances down to her heels. "Well, maybe not in these shoes. But when I get home, I promise that I will."

"I hadn't taken it quite that far, in my head," admits Una, but she seems in completely agreement. "I don't particularly want to invite anything that might be properly Satanic into my living room, or any other part of my house. Faeries in the garden, sure. Devils in the dining room, not so much. Ghosts possibly spelling out 'poo' in the kitchen... I'll take that, sure." At least her seriousness eventually ends up being replaced by a grin for that last.

"Oh-- no, you're more than welcome, Ava, genuinely. And your fingers and toes are too. My business, everyone's business. Frankly, it would make life with Jules a lot easier, if we could get this sorted. With Della, too, for that matter, since it's kind of uncomfortable having something going on that she is blissfully ignorant about."

Ravn winces slightly. He too has had an angry Jules to the face. "It's probably going to take more than getting rid of your ancestral ghost to make Jules stop resenting the treatment that the First Nations people have been subjected to. But ghost appeasement is within our reach, maybe -- unlike rewriting history. You know I'll help all I can. And pray that I don't someday end up with a ghost from the West Indies or the Baltic nations, pissed for the same reasons."

"I don't think there's much that we can do to assuage a lot of that resentment. It's well deserved, after all. Ghost appeasement for them should be so that they are rest above all else in those cases." Ava offers a sympathetic look before her brows pinch. "Is Della not sensitive to the things that happen around town?" she wonders. "I can't imagine how someone can stay blissfully ignorant with a ghost living in the same room as them. Even with the Veil stepping in."

Una's nod is short and shallow. "I mean, she's completely justified in the resentment. And most of the time it's fine? She's a good person, and a good roommate. I like her." And it probably doesn't hurt that now that she's working and studying, she's around less often, and it's easier to avoid the difficult conversations. "But sometimes it's just... hard, and it feels like making up for what my ancestor did would at least be a gesture of good will. An attempt to make some kind of amends. So - yeah. Ghost appeasement."

Her smile is more crooked as she adds, "Della-- the Della who lives with me, not the one who denies Ravn coffee-- is somewhere in between? She's been in a Dream, so she's probably not wholly insensitive to it, but she's also not manifesting anything shiny. She's still explaining away things she sees that don't fit within a more normal worldview. I'm hoping that'll change, because it's-- definitely hard."

"Della -- Oak Avenue Della -- is probably going to wake up to our reality eventually. She has some kind of power but she doesn't realise yet. I figure that eventually, too many strange coincidences will add up in spite of the Veil's attempts to keep the lid on, or some dream experience will be traumatic enough to push through." Ravn nods his agreement. "It will probably be easier when it does. It's not difficult to see that most of us stick to others of our kind for our social needs. It's easier because we don't have to work around the truth, and the odds of some innocent and clueless bystander being dragged in are lower."

Then he steeples those long fingers and looks at Una with a small frown. "Jules isn't justified, though. She's got plenty reason to hate systemic racism and oppression, not arguing that. But there is no justification to taking it out on you. You didn't steal her people's artefacts. You are trying to help her find them. Everything in its place -- guilt too. I can relate somewhat because my own family has a long history of being involved with some pretty godawful stuff -- but that was also not me. I wasn't born yet, and neither were you."

Ava blinks. "Oh! There's two Della's. Sorry, I had not made that connection at all. That helps a little bit. Okay. If she has some kind of power, and she's already been in one Dream? It's only a matter of time before she ends up Waking up. Ravn's right, it'll end up making things way easier when that happens. Maybe not on her mindset. But in the house, at least." She toys with the coffee cup. "Honestly, I can't imagine dealing with mental gymnastics is that easy in the first place. It has be be exhausting after a while even if you aren't aware of it happening."

There's a downward twitch of her lips. "Whoa, wait. I wasn't aware that her frustration was being taken out on you. That's not okay. It's not like you had anything to do with it." Ava doesn't look pleased. "Being angry at the system and the fact that things haven't changed as much as they should have? Absolutely. But getting angry at innocent people? Absolutely not."

Una's smile is a crooked one. "Yeah, it's a bit confusing. Espresso Yourself Della is, as far as I know, completely normal. Oak Avenue Della--" She abruptly grins. "I wonder what it will be like for her, really, when everything suddenly makes sense and she realises there was this whole other life going on around her that she knew nothing about. That's got to be weird, as an adult. We'll have to look out for her, I guess. When it happens." When.

She glances away, apparently having postponed picking back up the topic of Jules. "She's not-- most of the time. I mean, there's definitely a sense of something. There are topics we avoid. But it's not like she goes through life thinking of me as at fault, or an oppressor or anything. I do end up being careful with what I say, though, because I don't want to accidentally say the wrong thing, and that's hard. That's all. Half the problem is me, really, and I know we've talked about that before, Ravn: I have to stop feeling guilty."

One day. Probably not today. (Definitely not today.)

"Yeah, I get it." Ravn nods his agreement with them both. "I don't get it from quite that angle -- mostly because the people who could throw it at me today aren't really around. I suppose Rosencrantz could -- he's Jewish, and there's a bit of Nazi collaboration in the baggage. It's not quite the same thing, though, given that the Occupation ended in 1945 and we're in 2022. I have white privilege and male privilege, obviously -- and thin privilege too, I suppose."

He hitches a shoulder. "I've had to deal sometimes with people who had issues with my background, in somewhat the same fashion. I've chosen to be pretty adamant about that: I will be held responsible for anything I do, anything I have earned myself, and any privilege that I benefit from. And not for anything that I had no influence over or say about."

"We'll look out for her either way," Ava assure Una with a firm nod. "Until she's awakened to this world, and then after. That's what good roomies, and the roomie's friends are for, right?" Her coffee gets a little swirl before she takes a sip, clearly not happy about the topic of Jules, but drinking back some of the things she'd like to say. "I'm not sure what there is, exactly, for you to have to feel guilty about. Nothing that's happened to her people has anything to do with you directly. From what Ravn says, you're doing what you can to help fix things, in fact."

"I can't help but agree with Ravn. There's nothing we can do about what's happened in the past. But there's everything we can do about now, and the future. That is what we are responsible for. That is what I will take responsibility for. And I do, every day. I work hard every day to try to make the world better."

Poor Jules. Una looks ever so faintly wary, because yes, she's seen that clear unhappiness from Ava, and is probably now worrying that she's set Jules up as a bad guy in front of someone who's not even met her yet.

Rather than end up defending her roommate, or herself, the redhead instead gives another of those short little nods and agrees. "That is certainly true: trying to make the world a better place, however we can, even in the most minute of ways. And whether that's a cookie to brighten someone's day, or healing a wound, or helping someone to understand something, or..." She gestures, expansively. Clearly there are a lot of ways to make this work.

"Thing is, everyone has something about them that will bother you, if you look hard enough." Ravn sneaks a refill of his coffee -- this here having a whole carafé of it? It's glorious. "We can't please everyone, all the way. It's just not humanly possible. And I say, as someone who suffers from pretty severe social anxieties in some regards, and who absolutely hates public attention: A lot of people who seem born to the spotlight wishes they could be anywhere else."

He chuckles. "Hell, I gave up teaching because I can't stand having thirty students looking at me. You get the point. Never judge another man too harshly until you've walked in his shoes."

"Oh, I know there's plenty about me that's bothersome." Ava doesn't seem to doubt that at all. In fact, she grins a little as she says it. "I guess that's the nature of people. But, that doesn't mean I want to see the people that I care about shouldering a burden that isn't there's because they feel responsible for something they aren't the cause of." Her expression softens as she gazes at Una. Obviously she means her."

"You still teach. You just do it from a computer screen now. They're still looking, it's just in a different way. Does it help having them as little frames on the screen?" she wonders of Ravn.

Una may not want to particularly look at her companions right now, and may indeed have a faint pink glow about her cheeks, but she acknowledges both of them with a nod. "Right," she agrees, which is vague enough that it could relate to any one thing that has been said-- come to your own conclusion, because she's not going to further elucidate.

"I completely understand the whole spotlight thing; I can't think of anything worse. Except, of course, that I was in theatre club in high school and I loved it, but that was always different: I wasn't having to be me. Give me a role to play, and I can do that. That's probably why I manage mostly ok in Dreams, too. I'm glad you've found a way that works for you, Ravn, because it feels like you'd be a natural teacher."

"Yes," Ravn says earnestly. "And I am usually only dealing with one at a time. I tutor people with PTSD -- mostly veterans. My job is not teaching them their field -- it's to help them study at all. I help them find the resources they need, get the help they need, and, well, hold them accountable to themselves. It's very emotional sometimes, but it's not face to face, and it's not thirty at a time. It's not me giving a performance the way you have to in a lecture theatre."

Something in Una's little confession there prompts a lopsided smile. "And I get that. I can play a part -- when it's not me. I can pull a grift on strangers in the street, no problem. Because they don't know me and I don't know them, and all they will ever know is that false persona. But where I have to talk to people again the day after? No."

"Ahh, I see. That's a little different than the kind of teaching I was picturing. I can imagine that's incredible emotional," Ava agrees with a faint nod. She's already finished off most of her coffee, so there she goes stealing a little more from poor Ravn's carafe.

"Spotlights aren't really my thing, either. I've always sort of been a background player. I stand in the back and I help. I'm here if you need me to patch people up. That's who I've always been. And performing? Just no. I'm too blunt. I'm not terribly good at hiding facial expressions unless I'm at work to be honest. I try. But a lot of times they bleed through."

"And I can see exactly why you'd be good at that," Una puts in, echoing Ava. "But it sounds like it would be incredibly hard work. When I think about it... no wonder you weren't willing to get too drunk with us, if you had to work. I imagine you need your wits about you."

Her hands slide back to the tabletop, but mostly so that they can hang at the edge, palms curving over it. "It's interesting, isn't it? The difference between doing things as yourself, and having the safe distance of being someone else. How it works for us-- but then we have Ava, for whom it doesn't." She grins at the other woman. "Which just comes back to that old thing about how we all have our different talents, etc etc."

"It is interesting." Ravn nods his agreement; people are fascinating, in all their curious little manifestations of do and do not. "The true reason I tend to try to not get too drunk, though? When I actually do get drunk, I'm one of those blokes who just wants to cry about how hard his life has been and how no one really understands him. I can only imagine what it's like, having to sit next to me, so I try not to. It's embarrassing. And more so when you consider the fact that my life hasn't actually been all that awful."

Pause. "And of course, everyone breaks out the horrible relationship stories and think they're much more clever than they really are when they're drunk, and that's honestly just embarrassing too. If we ever do this? I insist that nothing goes on record, and actually, the guy who spent all night telling somebody's cat about his horrible childhood wasn't me at all, but my long-lost twin."

That seems to break up some of the tension that Ava was still carrying in her shoulders. She relaxes a little bit, laughing into her coffee and putting her head into her hand. "I don't know why, but that actually sounds like it could be kind of therapeutic. Is that terrible of me? I have so many things to whine about that are so small and simple and not worth actually whining about that I feel like I would be pathetic talking about them. But getting drunk and just letting them bleeeh out of me? I dunno. That might help."

She glances between the two with a sheepish grin. "I might be down for that some time. "Whine and beer."

That makes Una laugh, too: a merry release that ultimately ends, though her eyes remain bright with mirth, with one hand covering her mouth. "I faithfully promise that whatever happens in-- yes! exactly-- 'whine and beer' stays in 'whine and beer'. It's okay to have the release from time to time; frankly, most of us are ridiculous when drunk, in my experience."

A pause, just for a moment, and then: "Though mostly I just end up being at that point where I fall asleep, which means there could be entire conversations going on around me and I'll never know. Before that, though, all bets are off. Drunk is drunk, and as long as you're not driving, which conveniently can work since we all live in stumbling distance of each other, reasonably safe."

"I want to say that what happens on the boat stays on the boat, but sailing drunk is not much smarter than driving drunk. So unless we want to sit on the deck but stay in the marina, that's not the solution." Ravn chuckles. He likes the sound of whine and beer. He likes the pun too, it's bad enough to be admirable.

"I'm not really much of a parties kind of bloke," he admits. "But something informal -- jeans, t-shirt, bring your own beer and casserole, I could probably talk myself into. More formal things freak me out -- I always end up standing in a corner somewhere trying to magic myself invisible. I can bend spoons with my thoughts, but I can unfortunately not turn myself invisible. Believe me, I've tried."

"I don't know, Una. Your house is pretty far from mine, being a whole two doors down. I don't know if I can keep out of my car for that sort of trek." Ava is still laughing. "Don't worry Ravn, I don't think any of us are talking about a rager sort of party. I think we're talking about something like the three of us, or a handful of us laying around watching old movies, drinking, talking, and then all eventually passing out in various areas of whoever's house we end up doing this at. So I'm guessing your jeans and t-shirt will be just fine. If not pajamas, just to cut out the middle man. Make it an old people drunken sleep over."

"You're right, Ava. Maybe you'd better call an Uber? I'd hate for there to be an issue with parking." Una's quick retort is not the most clever, but it makes her grin anyway.

"Right-- no fancy clothes required. Pajamas welcome. I'm not opposed to the occasional dressing up, but that's a completely different kind of night to what I'd imagine this to be. Getting super drunk in high heels is definitely not on my agenda, ever."

Now, she leans back, resting her shoulders against the back of the bench seat. "And I'm definitely not interested in making Ravn want to be invisible."

"I'd have to buy a pajamas," Ravn protests, laughing softly over the edge of his coffee cup. "I usually sleep in shorts and a shirt. I suppose I could pull on a pair of sweat pants for decency's sake. Do I at least get to write my aunt back home that I attended a pyjamas party with a couple of American redheads? It should give her enough to gossip about for the next decade."

He pauses and cants his head. "And probably a flurry of e-mails admonishing me to choose carefully, and really, it's better to find a wife among one's own kind. Maybe not."

"I think an Uber might be the right choice," Ava offers with a very serious nod. "Just so we're sure I'm safe." There's a giggle, however, unable to be kept hidden for too long. "So a pajama party, but no fancy clothes. So I would also have to buy pajamas. Because most of my pajamas are fairly fancy, I'm not going to lie." She glances sidelong towards Ravn, smile cheeky. "PJ shopping?" she offers.

Then she's scoffing. "Among your own kind? Danish? Or?"

"I hope you've told her you're sharing a house with Aidan, with a photo of him in his tiara and one of those coats," Una suggests, with a wicked grin. "In fact, we can definitely take a photo of the two of you, just to screw with her if you like." No?

"Go thrift shopping for pajamas and make a game of it: the person who finds the absolute ugliest thing to wear wins. I promise you, there'd be stiff competition. The things I've seen."

"European, at least. From north of the Alps, of course -- those weird Mediterraneans don't count." Ravn offers a lopsided smile, the kind that is a little tired. He's heard this a lot, and he's heard all the justifications too. "You can't trust Americans. Everything has to be so big in the States, and so void of history or culture. Europeans are capable of being every bit as snobbish towards Americans as we are towards anyone else -- even South Europeans."

He cants his head and finishes the coffee that is rapidly cooling anyhow; better to not leave it to suffer. Then he grins slightly at Una. "I am so very tempted, believe me. But if I did, half my family would die from embarrassment on the spot, and the other half would try to score social justice points by announcing themselves allies -- and that would actually be terribly embarrassing because they are not. I like Aidan, I wouldn't want to subject him to that kind of scrutiny."

"Wow! Well, we do have a bad rep, so I can't say that I am too terribly surprised. But it's still a little hurtful," Ava admits. "You and Aidan would make a cute couple if you both swung that way, though. I know you don't. But, it's true. It'd be adorable."

Una's idea has her waggling a finger in the woman's direction. "Oh, I like that. Or, even better. We pick the outfits out for each other! Still, has to be the ugliest, though. You have to judge, since it was your idea." Bright eyes turn towards Ravn. "Are you in? You and me, Goodwill shopping for horrible pajamas for each other? We can always do the shelter thing right after and take care of two birds with one stone."

Una makes a face, acknowledging Ravn's tired smile with a rueful grimace of her own. "And then you have the Americans who are so US-centric they barely know where Denmark is, or that you speak a different language, or that... I don't know, you don't all idolise us in everything we do. It's such a ridiculously human thing to do, isn't it? Judge people based on where they're from, based on arbitrary things. But it's complete bullshit. We're all just people."

"Yeah-- not fair to put Aidan through that, definitely. He might mug for the camera, but--" Still not fair.

"I'll take my role as judge very seriously, I promise," is added as an after-thought, mostly teasing. "Shelter thing?"

"Why not? There'll probably be others who want in too. We're a social bunch and it does sound fun." Then Ravn chuckles and shakes his head. "Aidan has a girlfriend -- she lives in England, though, so you're probably not going to see a lot of her around. Can't say I'm jealous of that, long distance relationships suck from what I've seen. They make it work, somehow. Or they did -- I can't say I've asked him lately how it's going. But then, I also haven't seen him hanging around heartbroken."

He chuckles. "If all else fails I'll steal Aidan's kimono." Does he need to say more? It's Aidan Kinney. You've seen his coats. Now picture his kimonos.

"I don't know that Americans are really that bad," the Dane adds as an aside. "I mean, yes, I probably do look funny when someone asks me if Denmark is the capital of Oslo. But ask me about African or South American geography and I'm almost as bad. Once we're outside the Danish or English speaking sphere, we barely get news unless something very dramatic happens. Can any of you name the capital of Paraguay without googling? I know I can't."

"No thank you on the long distance thing. If I'm with someone I want them to be right here with me where I can look at them in the eyes. Or be cuddles after a hard day. Share laughs with over drinks, and relax on the couch with and just do nothing in the same space, you know? It takes a lot to make that work and I just don't think I have it in me. Good for him if he can. That takes something."

Ava tilts her head a little bit at something Ravn says and offers a faint smile that doesn't quite tug the edges of her lips. Whatever it is she doesn't verbalize it, moving right on to Una's question. "Ravn's coming with me to the shelter in the next couple days to look at animals. Trying to make my new place feel a little less lonely and give a home to an animal or two that needs it.

"I think I'm with both of you. I'm no expert on relationships, but-- half the point is to have them there. And the timezone has got to be a bitch. Still, if it works for them, who am I to judge? Like I said, really not an expert."

Una seems genuinely pleased by the reaction to her suggestion, and by the possibility that they might get others involved as well. And; "Aidan's kimono is probably something to see. Fabulous."

She doesn't have anything to add to Ravn's refutation of her comment on Americans, though she allows a non-verbal reaction: an easy shrug of her shoulders and a nod that confirms she very likely couldn't name the capital of Paraguay either. Nor would it ring any bells were she to google it, let's be honest.

"Ooh-- good for you. Dog? Cat? Ferret? Other?"

"Not an expert in the field either, but yeah -- same." Ravn nods his agreement with both women. "If I do end up in one again some day -- it needs to be with someone who's there with me. Not the fantasy of someone who might be, if only circumstance permitted. But don't tell Aidan I said that -- she lived with him here and had to go to back to England. I'm sure it sucked all around, and letting go of someone you care about is hard."

He shakes his head and glances at his cup as if he'd hoped more coffee would somehow manifest from the empty carafé. He could just order another -- but maybe even Danish guys have a limit to how much caffeine they can take in one sitting.

"Of course you can still do all that with friends -- lounging about, share drinks, watch a movie, talk about your day. Only thing that's missing is sleeping with them -- and I suppose that in some friendships, that's an option too. Whatever works for people, I figure."

"I'm not sure yet what I'm going to end up with. I was thinking cat originally. But I'm worried about it pissing off Kitty Pryde and there being some sort of turf war of some sorts. I thought about a dog too, that way I'd have a running buddy. Like I said to Ravn, I figure when I get there I'll see the one that's right for me and I'll just know. It'll be love at first sight. Of course, that could also be how I come home with the whole shelter. Which is why Ravn is coming to help run interference. For sanity's sake." Ava gives him a grin before turning it on Una.

"I think there's a difference between doing that sort of thing with friends and doing that sort of thing with someone you're in a relationship with. There's a different bond and a different level of intimacy. For me it comes down to something a lot deeper than sleeping with someone. It's something stronger than that. I mean, that's a really nice benefit, don't get me wrong here, but it's a benefit. It's not the main reason for being. You know?"

"Awesome," says Una. "I can't wait to see what you come home with."

It's the other half of the conversation that has her pausing and mulling over her response. "Intimacy," she finally supposes, "is a lot more than just sex, I think. Though I do agree that you can have that level of intimacy with someone without sex, and you can obviously have sex without the intimacy. There's definitely something about the idea of there being that one person who always has your back, and who..." The words fail to come out; she frowns. "But I think it's possible to get that kind of connection from non-sexual relationships."

"I'm not much of a romantic," Ravn admits, still toying with his empty coffee cup; those hands of his don't like being quiet for long. "I hear what you're saying and I don't disagree. A relationship like that should be special, something more than a deep friendship and getting laid on the side. I've never felt that way in a relationship, though -- and I have felt that way for friends."

He chuckles and then raises a hand as if to ward off the inevitable. "I know, I know. Probably just haven't met the right girl yet and all that."

Ava nods her head in agreement with Una. "You can absolutely have that kind of connection with someone in a non-sexual relationship. It's just as magical. If I could fill my life with a bunch of friendships like that and then a romance like that as well? When I died, I could say I was fulfilled. That's goals right there."

"We all need some Ride or Dies in our life." Ava smirks. She leans her head back a moment. "All I'm hearing from the three of us is that none of us have ever felt romantic love -love-. I don't know if I should be sad for us, or hopeful that it means there's still hope out there. Either way, I should probably get my butt moving home and start getting ready for the evening shift tonight."

"In a way, it makes more sense to separate it from a relationship. You're less likely to end up breaking your heart over a deep friendship." Una pauses; frowns. "Most of the time, anyway. I guess it's possible to have friend-breakups, too."

She'll allow Ava's conclusion, and acknowledge it with a bob of her chin: no romantic love here, though she does not look especially broken up about the lack. Still, "I think there's always hope to find things. Just as long as we don't get so focused on one thing we miss the others. Either way-- have a good shift, Ava."

"Or maybe it just means we're too slow on the uptake to notice it when the chance is there." Ravn hitches a shoulder. "I can't say I lie awake at night worrying about it. I think my aunts do, though."

He nods at Ava and raises the empty cup in a lazy salute. "I'm sure we'll see each other around. Let's be honest here -- I won't escape pajamas thrift shopping unless I secretly book a ticket for Paraguay tonight, will I? And then I'll still only be safe until either of you google it. I'd say enjoy your shift but -- well, enjoy the bits of it that doesn't involve tragedy."

"I'll have as good a shift as possible," Ava promises as she slides out. Ravn's comment about being slow on the uptake gets a tongue click and a finger gun. "That seems right on the money. I've been called oblivious before, so there's a solid chance I have missed cues from people in my past and had no idea. And will never have an idea." She grabs her purse. "You guys enjoy the rest of your day. Una, we can go magnet shopping soon if you'd like? Ravn, pajama shopping." She flicks a wave to the pair before departing.