2022-03-28 - Who Doesn't Love Brunch

Calls went out inviting people for breakfast. Not a big fancy breakfast or anything, just a small getting to know you kind of thing with the new friend from yesterday and helping her to catch up. Una has been roped in because she's one of the friendliest faces that Ava knows. Expensive coffee has been brewed, and pastries from Vyv's bakery have been kept warm in the oven. Ava doesn't cook. This is known. But she can buy the hell out of a croissant.

The first thing that Leila would notice when she arrives on Oak Avenue is that the first three houses on one side stand out amongst the rest of the street. For all of the town it is still early Spring, and dare say kind of late Winter. However, for these three houses, for 1, 3, and 5 Oak, it's Summer. And it's beautiful. Their gardens are like something out of a fairy tale, or a Disney movie. Flowers, picket fences, perfect hedges. Is that a deer back there? Are those bunnies?? Even stepping into Ava's front yard to approach the door, the weather changes, from the brisk chill, to the warm sun of Summer. A bird flutters past Leila with a happy song before landing on the branch of a beautiful blooming tree. It is odd to say the absolutely least.

Una doesn't even bother with a jacket for the short walk between numbers five and one, though at least she's sensible enough to wear closed-in flats rather than the sandals that might seem more appropriate to the weather on this side of the street. Breakfast may be being provided, but the redhead has a covered plate with her anyway, and as she knocks on Ava's door, she casts a hesitant glance down at it. Is it rude, to bring food to someone else's breakfast do, particularly when you know they don't cook?

Or is it just the nice, polite thing?

Oh well: too late to change her mind.

She doesn't so much as second glance the summery weather, of course, or the birds, bees, and other wildlife. This is Oak. It's normal.

Whatever 'normal' is.

Ava pulls the door open to greet Una, offering a big grin. "Hey! Come on in. Looks like it's actually just going to be you and me. Leila just texted to cancel. Hope that's not terribly disappointing." She ushers the redhead in and closes the door behind her. Spotting the plate, Ava laughs. "You came prepared, I see. Very smart! I bought stuff, though. I even made the house smell like I made it." It does smell nice in here, at least, thanks to the food being warmed in the oven.

She makes her way over towards the dining room to gestures for Una to sit before she moves to grab the trap from the oven. "Give me a few to get stuff ready. The coffee is on the table though!

"Oh-- that's a shame! Leila seemed nice. Hopefully we'll get a chance to get to know her better soon," says Una, grinning back at Ava, though she's already cast another, awkward glance at her own plate. Hastily: "Jules decided I needed to make cinnamon rolls to take with us to see her grandparents, and... well, these were leftovers. I'll very happily eat what you've bought, though; it really does smell great in here!"

The cinnamon rolls get set down on the dining room table and abandoned there: Una's in search of the coffee, first and foremost, and helps herself. "Can I help at all?" she wonders, lifting her voice to call after Ava.

Also, "How'd the clinic inspection go?"

"She does seem nice. I'm sure we'll get a chance. We'll make a chance, no doubt. That or we'll all get sucked into some kind of situation where it's forced to happen. The good ole Gray Harbor bonding method," Ava laughs. There's a clatter as she pulls out the variety of pastries and sets them onto a platter. "No, I'm okay, it's really just pick them up and put them down. Do the rolls need to go in the oven at all, or are they already set to go? Because, if you made them, I'm going to need to eat at least one of them, and steal two of them. One for Deacon, one for my new house guest, Mikaere." She appears with the tray, settling it in the middle of the table. "Tada, some of Vyv's finest. Because I can't cook and I felt guilty asking you to do it."

Una's laugh is a low one. "Once you've Dreamed together, it's hard to be strangers," she agrees, setting the coffee pot down and taking her cup to claim a seat.

Mention of Deacon's name has the redhead pausing, though there's no immediate comment, and perhaps that means it will go unnoticed. Instead, "They're still warm-ish, I think. They can go back in the oven later, though, if you want to heat them up to serve to other people. Oooh-- from Pâtisserie Vydal? Their stuff is great. I never make this kind of thing, because it's so much work, not to mention expensive when you're not buying wholesale ingredients. Thanks, Ava."

A pastry goes onto her plate, and then Una looks up to give Ava a thoughtful glance. "I met your friend Deacon the other day."

"Once you've Dreamed together, it kind of changed your whole relationship, doesn't it? It's strange, because you end up with a bond that's deeper than friendship, even if you haven't fully taken the steps that really make you, like friend-friends. Does that make sense?" Ava tilts her head, trying to think of a better way to put it. Nope, that's all she's got.

"Oh yeah, I love his shop. His stuff is great. I love that between the two of you, I can get all the different kind of sweets any girl could dream of. Comfort, heartfelt kind of sweets, to stuck up, gotta impress the investors kind of sweets." She pauses. "Oh! You asked me about the inspection before. It went great. We'll be up and running Monday, thankfully." She sits and grab a pastry from Vyv's and one of Una's.

A brow lifts as Una mentions running into Deacon. "Oh yeah? How did that go? You have a curious look on your face, so I'm a little worried."

Una's, "Mmm," is thoughtful. "That's it, yeah. You may not know each other, but you're also kind of bound to each other. There's trust there, at least on a certain level. Shared experience."

A pleased smile acknowledges the other woman's comments on baked goods, though she doesn't otherwise reply. Instead, she breaks apart her croissant, but seems intent on eating it rather than playing with it: after taking a bite, chewing, and swallowing, she continues. "That's good news! Only a temporary setback, then. Deacon-- oh, no, he seems nice. He clearly cares about you an awful lot."

Maybe that's a side-long glance at the other woman, but not especially a probing one, particularly when she adds, "Which is good. We all need people who care about us, and protect us from ourselves when we need it."

"I imagine it's like being in the military together. Being in the same squad. You're a team. You have to trust each other with your lives. Because when it comes down to, a lot of the time, that's exactly what we're doing in there, isn't it?"

Una's smile brings a matching one to Ava's face. "I know it drives you crazy that Ravn only picks at your food," she mentions. "I can see it on your face whenever he does it." She takes a bite out of the roll that Una made. "But I want you to know you're stuff is amazing. I know he thinks so too. The little bird man," she chuckles with affection referring to his eating style.

That side-long glance and Una's words has Ava just looking at her with a quirked up brow and a curious expression. "Woman. Out with it! What are all these faces and tones?"

"That's a good way to put it," Una confirms. "And so even when people maybe aren't people you'd normally become friends with, there's still a bond. Shared trauma, sometimes, or just... well, whatever it is. Because yeah, we have to trust each other with our lives, and I like to think we all value them."

A wry little snort of laughter acknowledges how she feels about Ravn, and his consumption (or sometimes, lack thereof) of her food. "He actually ate most of a cinnamon roll the other day - I just about died seeing it. I know it's just what he does, and I know it's not lack of enjoyment, it's just..." She waves one hand, ruefully: a gesture of frustration. "No cook wants to see people do anything but enthusiastically eat, I suppose is the point." Particularly when, like Una, one is attempting to bake their way into people's hearts-- though that would be more difficult for her to acknowledge.

Abashed, she drops her gaze. "I'm sorry. It's absolutely one hundred per cent not my business. I just found it notable, the way he talked about you. Sort of... proprietary? Which I'm sure comes from a place of care..."

"I try to be friends with everyone, to be honest. I just feel like I'm not everyone's flavor. Which is fair. Not everyone is. But yes, even then, there's something about dealing with the Veil, and the Dreams that will connect you even still."

Ava takes another bite and holds up Una's roll. "For what it's worth," she offers after that bites has been finished. "Unless I am completely stuffed, I will always enthusiastically devour your food. Even if it means I have to add an extra run in for the day. Which I have had to do a time or two because of you. No regrets." There's a laugh at that.

"Hey hey. Don't be sorry. I honestly want to hear what you have to say. You look like you have thoughts. I hope we're close enough that you'd want to share them." Proprietary. Now that's a hell of a word. "Well, he did kiss me the other day, so his feelings are pretty clear. But you used proprietary. That has a pretty heavy connotation. Why that?"

Una would like to be everyone's flavour. Una would probably bend over backwards to be, let's be honest. She nods: quickly and firmly. Connection is important.

Her smile-- ever so pleased-- is brighter and warmer for Ava's compliment; the laugh that follows is equally cheerful. "As long as there are no regrets. I like feeding people. It makes me feel... helpful. Besides, the more I feed other people, the less I focus on feeding myself. Someone else can take the extra run for me."

That pleasure hasn't entirely hidden the more awkward moue that answers Ava's last, and so it's with some level of reluctance that she says, finally, "Maybe that's the wrong word. I don't mean anything terrible by it. Like I said: he seems nice. He obviously really cares about you. And you know how he feels, so that's good too." Una, making a mountain over a molehill, sounds terribly awkward. "Perhaps I'm just not used to... men like Deacon. He's a bit more macho than most men I know."

"What? You don't like eating your own stuff? Everyone should also focus on feeding themselves. It's kind of an important and necessary part of daily survival. Plus your food is too food for you to be denying yourself." Ava winks at that. "But, I'll be sure to take your extra runs. "I enjoy an extra run, on occasion. Not all the time."

"You are being very delicate and very sweet. But you also seem like you're concerned about something. I just want to make sure that's not the case. Or if it is, that you're comfortable enough to feel like you can tell me about it. You can be blunt if there's something you want to say. I won't kick you out or anything. I promise."

Una laughs. "No, that's the problem: I love eating my own stuff. But I hate jogging-- tried it, didn't work-- so the only exercise I really get is cycling around town when I need to, and..." She gestures towards herself. "I don't need more padding."

She hesitates, and then shakes her head. "I'm being ridiculous. Please-- just forget it. He's your friend, and he cares about you, and it probably came across as officious to me because I'm not used to it... and it's extra ridiculous because the whole reason we met was because I thought he deserved cookies for making sure you slept, which makes me kind of officious too, if I think about it."

She's very pink in the cheeks now. "I suck at relationships. So here I am, making a mess of-- you're perfectly capable of knowing what you want, and making other people know it. I'm sorry."

"Running and jogging isn't for everyone. It's a lot. Plus many people find it boring, and strenuous." Ava lifts a brow at the mention of padding, giving Una a once over. "I think you're gorgeous. I've scanned you before, looking for injuries. Your health is great. As long as you're healthy, that's what's important. You have to enjoy life."

Then Una is going on about Deacon and she's flushing. Ava reaches out to try to take one of the other woman's hands, giving it a little squeeze. "Hey. Look at me. Stop saying sorry. You are trying to look out for me, I appreciate it. All I was asking is why you thought there was something to look out for. I'm always going to want to hear you out, okay?" She smiles before moving the hand back to her plate to grab the second pastry. "I've known Deacon most of my life. You're right that he can come on a little strong. I actually kind of like that because I'm not a big fan of ambiguity. I don't like what ifs. If someone likes me, I want to know it, not have to wonder, you know?

She picks at the pastry for a second. "But I also want to know if you're genuinely worried about something. Because I value your opinion."

Una looks, for a moment, as if she'd like to sink straight through the floor, and maybe turn into goo that lacks the ability to engage in higher level thought processes. Both threads of the conversation are utterly humiliating (at least in her rabbit-in-the-headlights brain). She doesn't move her hand away, and so lets it be taken, though it's stiff, and awkward.

But-- no. No. She pauses, she takes a deep breath, and then she laughs, a little wryly; a little self-effacing.

"That makes sense. It's better to have things out in the open, and not-- he did come on a little strong. Perfectly nice, but... you have to remember that I was raised by a single mom. I'm not used to men like that, and I think it made me feel... I mean, there's a balance there, isn't there? Between letting people take care of you when you need it, but also not losing your independence. But I think I'm too quick to rush to one extreme."

So she shakes her head. "No, I don't think there's anything to worry about. You know Deacon. You care about him. I'm an over-thinker."

Poor Una, being put in such an awkward position. There's a touch of pride in Ava's eyes as Una takes that deep breath and pushes forward, however. Because she knows how hard that is for her.

"I understand. He does tend to do that. He has a strong personality, that one. He also has a thing for sassy woman, so sometimes he says things just to get a rise so that you'll put him in his place. Or, that's what he does with me, anyway." Her eyes roll a little, thought there's a sparkle of amusement there. "Don't ever stop being an over-thinker, Una. It's a great quality. I like knowing I have a friend worried about me. Plus, I'm going to have a little talk with him to see how he's talking about me with others. See if he's being all weird and tell him to knock it off."

"Oh-- no, don't do that." Una looks aghast. "I wouldn't want him to think I was... I don't know, telling tales or anything? I'm sure he was fine, and I was just..."

Una the awkward turtle.

She breaks off, and uses the time to pick up another piece of her pastry. "I always worry about my friends," she says. "But I'm also aware that it's none of my business who you date, or if you date, and I don't ever want you or anyone else to think I'm prying into your business. So you can absolutely tell me to buzz off, too."

Ava laughs and shakes her head, offering Una an adoring smile. "You are so worried and it is very sweet. It's part of why I enjoy having you as my friend. It's your business as my friend if you're worried about something. I know I'd be poking my nose into your business if I thought something was up with a guy or girl who was sniffing around you, okay? So you can always feel free to do the same with me. This is a free invitation. I'm not going to tell you to buzz off."

Una manages a laugh, not quite her usual open, full laugh, but a laugh nonetheless: rueful but real. Her, "Well, that's not especially likely-- I mean, that's not me being self-effacing or anything. But I don't do romantic relationships, so anyone sniffing around me is in for disappointment. But: thank you, Ava. It is because I care, and not because I'm trying to meddle. So."

A bigger smile, now. "We're all good."

"I see! Are you Aromantic, then? It's not your thing? It's a good thing for me to know so I don't try setting you up with anyone for double dates or anything. That'd be terrible." Ava's coffee having had time to cool off, she finally reaches for it to take a long sip.

"Here I thought I'd eventually see you and Ravn together. I always kind of hoped I would, rather. You seem good for each other. But hey, people can be just as good for each other as friends as they can anything else!" She lifts her mug in a cheers gesture at that. "I respect all sexualities and all walks of life. Especially so when they belong to my friends."

There's a (new) pink flush to Una's cheeks as, laughing, she half shakes her head. It doesn't stop her from lifting her own coffee in toast, but she does say, then, still laughing, "Ravn. Really? I can't imagine that at all. No-- no, he and I are definitely just friends. It's-- less aromantic, for me, and more just plain asexual. I probably wouldn't mind the relationship bit so much, except that most people really do want the sex to go with it, and that's not my thing, and the last thing I would ever want would be for someone I cared about to have to choose to go without, or have to deal with the guilt of not wanting to pressure me, and..."

Her little shrug is game enough. She's blushing, but she's also matter-of-fact about it. "So mostly it's just easier to not get involved at all, and that's fine. I mean, having friends? That's one hundred per cent my jam. Just as long as you all don't go off pairing yourselves off and forgetting about me, because I will chase you down." Though she half looks as though she expects it to happen anyway.

"I understand. A lot of people think 'what's the big deal, I can handle the no sex thing'. Until they aren't having sex, and then they're like Oh." Ava sighs. "I had a friend in college who went through that with a partner. It was really hard for him at the time to deal with. The girl would pressure him, thinking he'd change his mind if she just pushed hard enough. She didn't really understand what it meant. It had to be thoroughly explained to her. By me and a couple other friends. I wouldn't use the word mod of girls. More like posse."

Ava looks not-so-innocently down to her cup. "Either way, paired off or not, I'm not abandoning my friend. Period. No having to chase me down, either. We live one house apart, after all. We share a Disney Garden!"

"We have shared custody of Ravn!"

The corners of Una's mouth twitch upwards. Not, at first, with amusement, because this is serious business, but becoming more so, with 'posse'-- and then there's an outright grin, followed, finally, by laughter. "Poor Ravn," she says. "He doesn't know what's hit him."

The mirth doesn't disappear, but her next words are mostly serious. "But: thanks, Ava. Sometimes a posse of girls is exactly what it takes. Sometimes a mixed posse. Sometimes even a posse of men, though to be fair, I don't think I know enough men to have experienced a productive posse of them. Either way... it's good to know I have friends."

"I think he has a vague idea. That's why he hides," Ava laughs into her coffee cup before she takes another long sip of her drink. "Atleast we don't have to change him, I can imagine he'd be terribly fussy." There's a wink to accompany that before she reaches for another of Una's buns. "Forgive me if I only eat half of this one, but I'm already getting stuffed. But I promise I'll eat the other half for dessert tonight. It's too good not to."

Her smile turns earnest, head dipping. "Even if I'm just a posse of one, I'm your posse. I'll always have your back. You can count on that."

Oblivious is Ravn's middle name (besides Christian) because if it wasn't, he'd never knock on the door right now and walk into this conversation. Somewhere, the Fates are laughing.

He does, though. And he's managed to clean off most of the paint, though there is a certain blueish shine to his copper hair, and a bit of sparkle here and there. It's the blazer today; the wind breaker is probably done for. "I think I heard someone talking about brunch? And I decided I was done sulking and scrubbing the porch."

Somewhere... make that right here, in fact, Una is laughing, too.

All it takes is one glance up at the arriving Dane, and she's off in a peal of laughter. Maybe it's the remnants of paint and sparkle. Maybe it's the timing of his arrival. Maybe it's just everything.

"Come and have a cinnamon roll, or a pastry from the patisserie," she invites, as if this were her home (sorry Ava). "And then you can tell us what you did to start this piece of ridiculousness. Hi, Ravn. You're officially inducted into the posse too."

Make that two peals of laughter. That can't be a good sign, can it? You arrive and two women just suddenly break out into bursts of laughter? Don't think about it too much, Ravn. Ava takes a moment to contain herself, giggling and gesturing with her non-pastry hand for him to join them. "Leila wasn't able to make it, so it's just us, I'm afraid."

She puts the pastry down, getting up to go to the kitchen in order to pour a third cup of coffee. It's still nice and hot on the burner. Unlike at his house, her set is matching, the mugs oversized. The size of them is probably not that much of a surprise. "Scrubbing the porch, huh? Do I need to spray you down with a hose before you come in?"

"I figure I look kind of silly," the Dane murmurs, and by Jove, he does -- glitter and sparkle, and traces of paint. "And no -- I'm doing it the hard way with a rag and hot water. The paint is water soluble -- Monaghan doesn't hate me all the way it seems."

He plonks down on a chair. "Coffee. My saviour. So, what are we laughing about?"

"Not as silly as you did look," Una admits, half apologetic and half vastly, vastly amused. "And I have the photographic evidence to prove it, thank you Della."

She's got half a pastry on her plate, and picks it up again now, taking a bite to forestall the need for immediate further explanation. How does one explain exactly why one was laughing so hard?

"Friendship, mostly?" That's a little tentative. "Kind of."

Ava can be heard giggling at the coffee pot. But her expression is just a normal smile as the coffee is set down in front of Ravn. "Yes! Friendship. Kind of. Mostly. Some relationshipy stuff, but then it moved on to friendship stuff. Then we talked about you. We were just about to figure out which one of us had to pay child support."

Somehow she manages that with a straight face, taking another sip from her cup as her watches him over the rim of her mug. Her eyes flutter to Una so that she can see that little sparkle of amusement.

"I mean, I'm not the medical person here, but I think the normal idea is that the person with the bait and tackle pays child support to the person with the ovaries." Ravn blinks a few times; this is one of those obviously there's a subtext conversations where you had to be there to have a chance at guessing it. He scratches his neck. "I'm fairly certain I don't owe child support anywhere, though. There are certain procedures that are usually a pre-requisite, though I suppose there is such a thing as cloning these days. I defer to the medical person but I demand a paternity test."

"Oh no," Una says, with a giggle; she can't help herself. "You're definitely not the father, Ravn. I'm not sure who is, but..."

A flash of amusement is directed towards Ava, and... no, apparently trying to explain this is not going to happen, at least not _yet.

Itzhak calls, "Which neighbor is this?"

He just comes on in, following Ravn by a little ways. "Oh, you're both here, how am I supposed to figure this out?" No more trim suit for him, he's wearing a snug white tank top in honor of the weird summer just outside and jeans beaten to the texture of suede and washed nearly white. He upnods at the girls as if he didn't literally just follow Ravn in or know whose house it is.

"I'd say that you have the much sweeter disposition my darling Una, so you're probably the mother. Which, I suppose, mean I'd be paying you. Alas." Another sip of coffee. Oh, Itz. She hadn't spotted him. Her eyes light up a little. "Did you want some coffee too? Regular or Irish is available. Also, it's mine," Ava offers, gesturing towards a seat for him to settle into.

"Hmm, cloning. Now there's something I could get into with these fruits I got from August. Seed cloning."

"If August gave you seeds and they're the kind of seeds I think you mean to say they are, I recommend having a bucket of pesticide on the ready. Somebody spawned some kind of giant angry wolf from one of those, I think." Ravn shrugs. He's no expert on Veil botany. Not even an amateur on Veil botany.

The smirk he sends Itzhak's way offers no explanation at all; there is some kind of private joke there, that much is obvious. And with an air of absolutely innocence he adds, "But let me be the first to congratulate you two on getting together then, and on the upcoming -- already happened -- already adopted, off spring? You'll make an adorable couple, I insist we have a baby shower."

Ava and Una, parents. It's his headcanon now, accept it.

"Parenthood, hurray!" says Una, far too amused over something that goes unexplained. "It's a good thing we're all in a nice little row, then. All the better for night feeds. Hello, Rosencrantz."

Maybe more important, certainly more serious: "Seeds? What are we growing now?"

Una picks up another piece of her pastry and pops it into her mouth.

"Hell yeah, are we having a baby shower, baby showers are boss." Itzhak pulls off mirrored aviator shades, clipping them into the neck of the tank top. It must be said he's one decorated dude, with a full sleeve of fruit, flowers and leaves on the left arm and bizarre, thin white scars up and down his right.

"I would love some coffee. I'm serious, is this your house Ava? Or yours, Una? Ooh man your names are so cute together, Ava and Una!" He slings himself into a chair because he lives here now apparently.

"I'm not showering you, Ravn. I don't care how much of a baby you are." Ava states with a wry expression. "But the offer still stands to spray you down with the garden hose." That twinkle still hasn't left her eyes. "You're our friendship baby. Not a relationship baby. But if we were a couple, we'd be the hottest one in town, it's true. Una and I together, whew!" Ava fans herself.

"Well, before I can grow anything, I need to get a greenhouse built in the back. I put out an ad in the paper, we'll see if anyone bites." Her eyes pop for a moment as she considers Ravn's words. "Giant Veil wolf? Or giant this world wolf?" The distinction matters, apparently. "Either way, that's not going to stop me. That just means I need a reinforced greenhouse. Which is good to know before it's built!" She's hopping up again and moving towards the kitchen to grab another cup of coffee. "I'm serious, too," she laughs, glancing towards Itz. "It's mine. Una's is the opposite side. I'll give you a tour some time if you'd like." She brings the coffee out and sets it in front of him before finding her way back to her seat.

"I have figs. That's the plant he gave me. He said I need a fire extinguisher on hand, and a flame thrower. I said... I am a flame thrower. So, that takes care of one of the needs."

"Giant Veil wolf. I don't know what the story is with those seeds, but I distinctly remember somebody saying something about giant Veil wolves. Probably Røn himself." Ravn shakes his head.

Then that bit about babies catches up with him -- and he laughs. Softly, into his coffee, shaking his head, before looking at Itzhak. "Haven't we had this discussion a few times, usually over beers? I'm the embodiment of the 'safe bloke'. Well, good to know I have parents now -- I'm sure you two will be less demanding than my biologicals."

"Does anything ever stop you?" Una wants to know, aiming the question at Ava with a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. "We have a hose. But probably an actual fire extinguisher is better? Please don't burn the street down, I'm quite fond of it now."

It's likely very deliberate, the way she bypasses that other topic: no Ava/Una coupling, no Ravn-the-safe-bloke (though to be fair, he wasn't designated as such earlier in the conversation). Her coffee is, abruptly, much more interesting.

"Right! I'm never going to remember that, sorry in advance." Itzhak accepts the coffee, flashing a smile so brilliant at Ava it's suddenly highly questionable if he's sober. Maybe that's why he missed her saying it the first time. Is the guy ever sober?

He bestows a quirk of the eyebrows at Ravn, also belatedly catching up with the look he gave him a minute ago, a silent whaaaaat? So he's still looking at him when Ravn glances at him, about having been declared not just safe but a baby. Itzhak pulls a horrified yet sympathetic face. "Wait, you're the baby? Oh, dude. Bru-tal."

Then Una is hiding in her coffee and Itzhak grins sidelong at her.

Giant Veil Wolf. Those three words make Ava's eyes light up with delight. That can't possibly be good. You can't say that to a would-be druid and expect them not to want to plant the fruit. "Excellent," she offers with a breathy air to the words. "I wonder what else might come out as well. I can make my own bestiary just from the fruits alone. August gave me some prime locations to plant in the forest as well." Ava is almost giddy about.

"I am curious to see how Veil Fruits grow in a Faerie Garden, though. Surely that alone will alter things in a way August doesn't even know. Which I'm very excited to document." Una's question gets a blink and an almost innocent tilt of the head. "Well, yeah, of course. Sometimes. A few things. Most they just distract me for a while." She laughs.

Itzhak's brilliant smile has a brow lifting faintly as she leans in to stage whisper. "Don't worry, the only part you really have to remember is that I offered you a tour," she winks.

Ravn shakes his head quietly to himself and sips his coffee. "Well, here's to hoping the faerie don't declare war on your Veil menagerie and Oak Avenue ends up a war zone. Did I mention I'm moving back on my boat in a week or two? Good. I'm moving back on my boat in a week or two. At least I'll be outside the blast range. Una, allow me to recommend carrying a rolled-up newspaper and a cold iron horseshoe at any given time."

"I refuse to accept you moving back onto that boat, Ravn," grouses Una, albeit not especially seriously. "None of my other neighbours get mail bombs of paint and glitter and gummy dicks. And if Ava's going to-- well, I'll do my best to make sure you still have a house to move into, afterwards, but no promises."

See? Affectionate looks can be aimed at all the above. Yes, even Itzhak, because why not. "Our next brunch will have to be on aforementioned boat-- I've decided that now."

Both Itzhak's eyebrows attempt to leap into orbit. He tries to sneaky side eye Ravn to check that he heard it too, but Ravn, he of the famous obliviousness, totally didn't hear that. Itzhak checks Una. Did she? She's giving him a fond look and that's good enough, probably! Two out of three ain't bad. "Maybe I will and maybe I won't," he tosses back at Ava. "Oh yeah Abildgaard and me boat brunch all the time," he adds to Una, chipper. "Brunch and folk music, fuckin A. Gummy dicks? Abildgaard you been holding out on me, where's the gummy dicks at?"

"You're move back to the boat has been vetoed . Both parents have disallowed it. Sorry dear." Ravn gets an amused glances from Ava. "Besides, maybe the faeries will love it! Maybe they'll help cultivate the fruits and we luck into creatures that coexist nicely with them. You never know." Still so hopeful after all her years in this town. There's a little choking on coffee as Ava glances between Una and Ravn. "A mail bomb of -what-? Who did you piss off?"

"Boat brunch. I like the sound of that. We should make it happen." Itzhak's response to her just gets him a smirk before she's glancing back towards Ravn herself. "Yeah, Ravn. Show us your dicks."

"Mm-hmm." Ravn does not quite answer, but one could get the impression that in another week or two he'll be living on the marina, regardless. Yachters are a stubborn breed. That said, unless his is a yacht large enough to have proper facilities, he'll need to come home for laundry and showers ever so often, at least.

He toys with his coffee cup a moment, before answering those other questions though. "Paint, glitter, and gummy dicks. I'm still scraping all three off the porch, and out of my hair. Seth Monaghan sent me a message."

Kids! They never do what they're told. Even/especially when they're thirty-one-year-old adults.

Una's not helping the paint bomb situation, though, by reaching into her pocket to pull out her phone and bring up the photo Della so-helpfully shared with her. It was taken from an upstairs window, so the angle's not perfect, but there it is anyway: Ravn, covered in paint and glitter, standing on a porch covered in the same. Plus gummy dicks. She shows it around, ever so helpful.

"Boat brunch is decided, then," she says, blithely. "Also, I want to know what you did that he needed to send that kind of message."

When Ava says sorry dear, Itzhak wheezes into the coffee, sets it aside with exaggerated care, then slumps face-down on the table absolutely cracking up. "Nobody can tell this guy what to do," he mumbles. "Are you joking me?"

He really is drunk, or high, or something. But he rolls his head to one side enough to see the picture of Ravn covered in a fuck-you package and promptly starts wheezing again. "That's so fucking wholesome, he really likes you, buddy."

The look on Ravn's face is kind of telling for a moment, though what it is telling about is up in the air. He nods slightly at Itzhak. "I know. I like him too. Which is why I am not going to give him hell about it, because I did fuck up. And of course that picture is all over Friendzone now. If Della hadn't put it there, Seth himself would have. Why is it that every woman I meet named Della turns out to be my personal nemesis?"

He shakes his head and then chuckles. "And yeah, we can do brunch on the Vagabond sometime. She can seat six -- though they better be damned good friends. All I got to say right now is, every damn time one woman has stepped on to that boat with me, either she or her friends or nosy neighbours have got the wrong idea, so maybe don't turn up alone. I nearly ended up arrested for sexual assault after the yachters on the next boat over reported me for roofie-ing someone. Of course they couldn't see the gremlins."

Itzhak's reaction makes sharing the photo delightfully worthwhile: Una's pleased.

"If I knew more about names, and actually believed there was something in name meanings, I'd probably draw some arcane conclusion that your names just don't work together," she says, with a low chuckle. Clearly, she'd love to know more about what happened that resulted in this particular piece of revenge, but no further questions are asked. Instead, she reaches for another pastry. "It was pretty funny, but I had the joy of being outside the paint radius, so..."

"Brunch it is. We'll arrive en masse, and no one will get the wrong impression. You can be neither 'safe bloke' nor 'man ready to roofie unsuspecting single women', but... you know, just Ravn. Who is neither."

"Who said anything about single? Maggi Gyre's married. And fortunately for me and Maggi Gyre, Leon Gyre also has the shine so he believed the story of how the boat was nearly sunk by gremlins which is why Maggi was hanging over the edge, screaming madly at the water until my cat ate a gremlin and the rest fled in terror." Ravn shakes his head at the memory; it really was a ridiculous day. "The next boat over did sink, mind. And the old couple on the one next to that -- well, they were certain it was all my fault. It got messy."

"I have found that just the right amount of ear tugging can get anyone to do anything! Thank you, sir," Ava says with a nudge to Itz's side as he cackles into her table. "I could wrangle a Ravn if I needed to. I'm almost sure of it. 95%. 95.5%." Ava looks at Ravn for a moment, then at the picture that Una displays, giggling. "Okay, 93% sure." Looks like she'll settle on that.

"Gremlins? You really do have terrible luck. If you try to live on your boat instead of in your perfectly nice house, maybe we'll just sic the faeries on you. With the gremlins."

Itzhak peels his face off the table. "Listen, you don't have to take that," he gravely informs Ravn. "That bodderin' ya? Come back to my place, we'll play Legos and watch The Expanse. You better behave yaself," he then informs Ava, "that's my best broseph." Is he serious?

.... probably. Maybe. But he's serious about shoving himself in front of Ravn, verbally, performing some kind of protective instinct. That much he's serious about.

It's Una's turn to burst out laughing.

"You, sir, lead a ridiculous life," is what she says, a few moments later, once she's recovered her equilibrium. "Though the old couple-- that must have sucked. The brain only explains away so much, I guess. Are they going to be there this summer, because you might be in for more trouble..."

There's a twitch of her mouth, too, for Itzhak's protectiveness of Ravn, but on this, too, she offers no comment.

"If they are, I'll either sink their boat myself or invite them over along with Perdita, Itzhak, and anyone else I can find who will turn up if the dress code is 'my kinkiest fantasy'. Might as well make something of it," Ravn grouses. Then he regrets saying it because coming to think of it, he's pretty certain that Perdita and Itzhak both are capable of entertaining some quite educational fantasies.

Ravn sips his coffee. Let's not go down this road mentally. We might learn something we were not ready to learn. "Can't say I find the idea of ear tugging appealing, though. Nor the idea of arguing with the true mistress of Five, Oak -- and Kitty Pryde thinks we need to be on that boat last week. Some day I'm going to figure out why time lost me thought buying a house sounded like a great plan, but some day hasn't happened yet. I like our house, but, it's really a hell of a lot more space and, well, a hell of a lot more stuck in one place than I really prefer."

"I vote for the kinkiest fantasy party, just because I want to see the kind of shindig that Perdita would throw. Because I know it would be good. Also, I can only imagine all the shades of red your poor face would turn." Ava chuckles.

"Una, aren't all of our lives a little ridiculous. Though, I have to agree, Ravn does seem to get himself into more trouble than the rest of us. It's like he has a little target on his back that says 'kick me'. Maybe it's a curse!" It would explain a few things.

But Itzhak is getting all cute and defensive, so Ava shift a little in her chair, half facing him. "I better behave? Or what?" Oh, that's a challenge! The sparkle in her eyes is playful, whether or not he's too drunk to notice, however--

"Noooo you don't wanna see my kinkiest fantasy, you really really don't!" Itzhak protests in an aggrieved moan like Ravn was demanding he do it. "I'm taking it with me to my grave. You'll have to ask God what it is after I'm dead."

He grins at Una, crinkling the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes. How old he is can be difficult to tell, definitely over thirty but how much over is up for debate. He's got a well-used face. "Don't he? I love that about him."

Ava turns to face him, all twinkling with mischief, and Itzhak looks at her for a moment like he's forgotten what the hell is going on. He blinks at her. "Or," he says slowly, figuring it out as he goes, "or I'mma stand up for him."

One of Una's hands raises, a little tentatively. "I definitely don't want to to see anyone's kinkiest fantasies, so keep that theme night to a date I'm... I don't know, busy washing my hair."

"He certainly makes life interesting. Oak may return to being a quiet, suburban street, in his absence. I bet it means we're in for a summer of mermaid attacks and storms-- sorry, touch wood." Which she does, mouth curved up at one end in a way that suggests she's not actually superstitious, but perhaps doesn't trust the Veil anyway. "Except, of course, for Ava's little experiments, and...no, I take it back. Oak will never again be a quiet suburban street, if it ever was."

Ravn can't help a chuckle at the exchange between Ava and Itzhak. Then he nods at Una. "Let's just face it -- Oak Avenue wasn't even quiet when I moved here. It's got a number of poly families for one -- enough to keep most of the regular town busy gossiping. And as for me? Well, the Vagabond doesn't have a shower nor a laundry machine so it's not like I'll never be here. I just like living on my boat. There's nothing like sitting in the aft on a pleasant summer's night, just me, a cold beer, and the stars above."

He looks a little wistful. "I'm looking forward to that, not going to lie. I get so much work done too, when there's just me and the sea and Kitty Pryde. And even if I know that I live in this pitcher plant of a town and I'm never going anywhere, I still feel like if I wanted to, I could just pull up the anchor and go, and no one would notice until marina management wondered why I wasn't renewing my berth lease."

Ava raises her non-coffee hand for a moment as Itz protests that Ravn doesn't want to see his kinkiest fantasy. She glances towards towards Una and mouths I do before grinning and sliding the hand back down. Seeing Una's hand up for the opposite reason gets a sharp laugh out of the doctor. She is very clearly not surprised.

Of course the attention is still on her, and Itzhak is trying to come up with something very threatening. "Oh, are you now?" Her chin is propped in her hand, coffee cup lifted to her lips. "I almost want to see that. But, do you think you could even stand up right now?" Another challenge.

Those oddly colored eyes stay on Itzhak in challenge, but her coffee holding hand slips away from the mug to hold up three fingers. "You should sleep here three nights a week, then. Four there, three here. That way you still get your fill, and we don't miss you too much. Plus, the faeries don't get mad.

"Yes," Itzhak says, pointing at Una. "Theme night 'washing our hair'. I mean, some guys are into that though."

He continues to regard Ava with benign but puzzled eyebrows. Eyebrows which have lost the plot somewhere. "I mean, I thought we were having brunch." Then he mutters under his breath, "certified freak, eight days a week,* in rhythm with all those weeknights, before glaring at Ravn in a way that suggests another private thing between them. "You can't, who am I gonna practice with?"

"Oh, fuck," says Una, instantly, in reply to Itzhak. Look, he's almost certainly not wrong.

Not that it stops her from just-barely not laughing in reply to Ava. There's a grin, at least.

"I respect your desire to live on your boat," the redhead declares with a sigh. "If it weren't for the fact that I'd miss my kitchen, and probably the garden, too, I'd say it sounds like an ideal way to spend the summer. But-- no, the boat life would definitely not be for me, even if I had access to one. We'll just have to come and bug you, often, but not so often that you decide not to come back at the end of the season."

"I'm not leaving town," Ravn says, a little puzzled, and curls long fingers around his coffee cup. "I'm just moving down to stay on my boat for the summer. Which is in the marina. Right down at the marina, literally five minutes' walk from the boardwalk. It's not as if I took off for the Caymans or the Bermudas."

Then he reaches up with a finger to flick at a sparkle in that lock of his hair that always falls down into his face. "But theme night: wash hair a lot does sound like something I could get into. In fact, might say it's definitely my theme this week. Tell you what, that party ever gets thrown, Una, you and I turn up in sweat pants, frayed old bathrobes, and curlers. Both of us."

Una's grin has Ava beaming, which is a nice pick me up as her attempts with Itz fall a little flat. "You need more coffee," she chuckles. "Hell, I need more coffee." Always. "Coffee for everyone. Unless there's anyone who doesn't want a refill?" Ava shuffles to the kitchen to grab the pot. It's easier just to bring it in here this time around.

"The Marina isn't right next door, though. It's different. Also, don't you get glitter all over my house. That's the herpes of craft supplies. Everyone knows it! Once it's in a place, you can't get rid of it!"

"I mean I didn't know anybody was gonna want to be spanked," Itzhak says, vaguely cognizant he didn't do something right.

His phone buzzes, and he gets it out, dropping it with a clatter on the table. Cursing, he grabs it back up. "... okay, Cavanaugh wants to go see the Interstellar rerelease, he's seen it how many times, it's ridiculous. Thanks for the coffee," and he demonstrates he can in fact stand up by doing so and wheeling around dramatically for the door.

"Curlers, too? You're on. Sounds like my kind of party. Yes, thanks Ava-- more coffee would be great."

Una's evidently happy enough to let Ava's explanation go for the both of them, for the most part-- though after waving one idle hand after the departing Itzhak, adds, "We're just teasing you, don't worry Ravn. We're not going to creep down to the marina of an evening in order to kidnap you back to where you belong. I have no doubt we'll continue to see plenty of you. It's a reminder, too, that summer is coming. This place is going to feel a bit different, overrun with tourists."

"Yo, Rosencrantz, don't burn me on our next play date, right? I bought a bottle of Chivas with your name on." Ravn waves to the departing New Yorker -- apparently, him getting up and going fast is not something unusual as far as the Dane is concerned.

Then he chuckles at Una's observations. "Curlers, all the way. A packet each. And if I can't fit enough into my hair, I'll bloody well put them on my chest too. Anyhow, no, I know, don't worry. For what it's worth? Yeah. Gray Harbor is different during the season. We need to take more care to not freak out the normals -- because normal people who live here still tend to have clocked that there's often a lot of weird going on, whether they think it's conspiracy or government experiment or whatever other tinfoil hat story they invent. The outsiders don't have the first clue, and they haven't got 'duck and ignore' bred into them the way local families have."

Ava opens her mouth at the spanking comment, then closes it. Too easy. "Take care," she offers with a laugh, refilling cups. Her eyes linger on his back for a moment before she sinks into her chair with a sigh. "Is he just as clueless as you, or am I really just that bad of a flirt?" she wonders of Ravn once Itz is fully gone. "Deacon can tell when I'm flirting with him, usually. But he's looking for it, so maybe that's different."

"Don't worry, Una. You'll get used to the tourists soon enough. After the first Summer here, you'll become an old hat at it. Promise."

"Now I might need to host that party," murmurs Una, with a glimmer of real amusement in her expression as she studies Ravn: all the better to imagine the curlers in situ.

Both hands wrap around her mug, after she acknowledges the refill with a quick smile and a bob of her head. "I'm not worried per se, just...it'll be different. Four months, less than four months really, isn't long enough to feel like you really know a place, but it's still strange knowing that it's going to change, but not really knowing how that will feel. Not quite rug being swept out from beneath my feet, but not that far off, maybe. I'll remember that, though, Ravn: taking more care. Fewer open conversations in Espresso Yourself, more keeping an eye out for potential weirdnesses and trying to smooth them over."

"The Veil still does its revision thing. It's not like they won't rationalise. But it's easier to help it along a bit sometimes, yeah. Saves you from someone calling the Gazette claiming you lure young women onto your boat in order to drug and molest them." Ravn makes a face. He's not over that. He'll never be over that.

Then he glances at Ava and laughs softly. "It's complicated, with Rosencrantz. He's kind of still trying to patch up things with his ex-boyfriend. Not sure he knows where he stands, so to speak -- bit of available, bit of wishes he wasn't. Who's Deacon?"

"It gets easier as time goes on, to figure out who the tourists are, and when it's safe to speak more openly. Sensing when their might be a problem, that sort of thing. You're already pretty good at coming up with stuff on the spot, so I'm betting you'll be ace at smoothing things over," Ava assures Una with a reassuring smile. "But Ravn is right, you'll have the Veil to help you along."

Ravn gets a glance as he explains where Itz stands, an understanding look sweeping over her features. "Got it. I'll be more delicate, then. That's a crappy place to be stuck, where he is." She grins. "Deacon's one of the local cops. He and I go waaaaay way back."

Una's nod is a quick one, her expression more thoughtful than concerned, though perhaps there's a hint in there of being protective. Of this town, that she's so quickly adopted as her own? Of more than that? Difficult to tell. "Nosy people who misread situations, even situations they can't possibly understand, suck," she says.

The frown that follows is likely for Rosencrantz and his situation, sympathy writ large, there. It only deepens for further reference to Deacon, although this time she evidently chooses not to engage with the topic. "He prefers chocolate chip cookies to snickerdoodles," is all she offers.

"Ah." For a hint of a breath's time something flickers across Ravn's face; a wariness that probably has nothing at all to do with a Deacon he's never met, and everything to do with being a former criminal and grifter and knowing very first hand how fun police can be when you're a down on your luck hitch-hiker trying to sleep in a bus station's waiting room. "I'm sure he's very nice," he adds, diplomatically, because who wants to suggest that someone's possibly-boyfriend isn't, when they haven't even met them.

Yes. That cinnamon roll there, that looks very nice. He's going to appropriate that now, and pick it apart. "I can't say I'm envious of Rosencrantz' position, either. Getting dumped sucks."

Ava just laughs at the look on Ravn's face. "Don't worry. He's bright and shiny like the rest of us. He isn't about to toss you in jail for misunderstandings thankfully. Plus, he's a good guy. Though, Una isn't a fan of his, uh, manly nature." It's teasing, eyes warm and smile affectionate as she glances at the red head. "But that's just because she's protective of my virtue. Of which I wasn't aware any still existed," she chuckles.

"Hey now," says Una, quickly. "It's not your virtue I was worried about. You can do with that whatever you please, I swear."

The specifics of what she was worried about go unspecified, and instead: "Getting dumped definitely sucks. There's so many layers of suck in there." Relationships may not be Una's strong point, but empathy is: she frowns, then makes a face. "Good luck to him."

"Manly nature, huh. You make it sound like he's a chest thumping gorilla. Which admittedly goes pretty well with my overall impression of most police officers, not counting a few in this town who are actually sane and reasonable." Ravn can't help a small laugh. "I'm taking it he's one of those alpha male, beef eater, rather die than be seen having an emotion types? I tend to not get along very well with those -- mostly because I seem to trigger their more or less latent homophobia a lot."

"Less the alpha male, no emotion type. More the, I want that girl, she's very much mine, type. Apparently. Which is kinda hot. And like I told Una, explains the kiss from the other day." Ava smirks into her coffee. "But he and I haven't discussed anything about it since then. So. Who know? Besides." There's a little sigh, her eyes drifting towards the door for a second, then back to her coffee.

Oof. Two crushes? Yikes.

Una does not seem to find this hot. Una does not seem to find this hot at all. And despite the earlier conversation, she look she gives Ava is dubious. Nor does it become less dubious when her gaze drifts off towards the door.

"Admittedly," she says, "I don't know a lot of police officers. But by reputation, they tend to be a bit... macho. I don't know. Like I said, Ava: as long as he-- or anyone-- makes you happy, and isn't hurting you. That's all I can ask for, since other people's love lives aren't really my business."

"Well, if the girl wants to be got, that attitude isn't a problem." Ravn picks at the frosting on his cinnamon roll; yes, he's going to murder this one too. "Either way, sounds like someone I'd try to signal 'not the competition' to, pretty loud and clear. Jealous boyfriends are an arsepain."

He shoots Una a glance that does seem to carry some tone of agreement. "My fiancée was -- well, a bit like that. She let me know in no uncertain terms that she and I were going to be a couple. And given that I was younger, largely inexperienced, and largely convinced that women didn't even see me, I fell pretty hard for it. Just, make sure that once you are in a relationship, you are actually equal partners. It's all very much fun and games at first, but if they end up thinking they own you -- the fun wears off."

"Oh, don't worry. He's not like that, I assure you. He would never ever hurt me. Or anyone innocent. He's a very good man." Ava glances between them and sighs a little. "You guys just have to get to know him a little. I promise you'll like him."

A hand waves. "In regards to my being in a relationship. Believe me when I say that nobody owns me. You guys have met me, right? You think my stubborn ass would put up with that sort of thing? Please." Ava scoffs, laughing. "Man, if someone tried something on me, I would roast them. You guys have nothing to worry about, but I love you both for being worried." She side glances towards Ravn. "You've gotten over that whole 'largely convinced women don't see you' thing by now right?"

Poor Ava. Una's got the grace to flush, just slightly, tipping her head forwards in a nod of acknowledgement. "I accept, I've only met him briefly. I'm sure he's fine. It's definitely not as though I don't think you can hold your own."

A side-long glance considers Ravn, and she makes a face. "The more I hear about other people's experiences with regards to relationships, the more glad I am that I'm not dying to be in one -- jeez."

"Well, I'll need to meet the bloke before I can get to know him," Ravn replies with a chuckle. "I work at a community centre. We get a lot of girls and women in who need a place to stay 'because he loves me but he hits me when he's drunk'. It's probably made me a bit wary, along with my own past in an abusive relationship. That said? Macho men tend to not like me, like I said. If they've got latent homophobia, I seem to trigger it. Which I personally find hilarious, given I'm not gay."

He hitches a shoulder, perhaps a bit in response to Una's comment. "Not going to argue. Some people are -- just not made for it, I guess. I wouldn't mind being close to someone, but finding a woman who's both going to put in the effort to make me realise she's actually interested, stay around long enough for me to decide whether I am, and then deal with all my baggage? That's not a girlfriend I need -- that's a saint."

"Honestly, if someone has latent homophobia, I'd rather it be drawn out in the beginning because my bisexual self would like to know that before getting into a relationship with them. That seems like an important thing to know, after all." Ava offers. "But that's not Deacon. I think everyone has the wrong idea of the kind of macho that I meant. Now I'm afraid people are going to be all bias." She frowns slightly.

"Thanks Una," she offers to the hold her own comment.

"Ravn, it doesn't take a saint to be with you. Stop that."

"Sorry, Ava," says Una, genuinely, but not without a smile. "You're just going to have to give us an opportunity to really get to know the guy-- if you decide you're going to have a relationship with him. We'll be good. It won't be the Spanish Inquisition."

Ravn's remark draws a distinctly understanding nod from Una: yes, she gets this. Different baggage, same baggage train. "It's just more complicated," she agrees. "Which doesn't mean impossible, but there's things that get in the way. "

Beat. "We're all catches. We're just catches for very specific people, probably."

"Of course it doesn't take a saint to be with me." Ravn laughs softly. "I'm a pretty laid back, quiet bloke with mostly not too horrible habits. What takes a saint's patience is getting to the point where I'd notice someone's interested, and then wait for me to sort my shit out and decide whether I want to do something about it. I took so long getting my arse in gear last time something like this happened that in the end, the girl lost patience, and, well, that was the end of that. I'm not trying to do a pity angle here. I'm just plain oblivious -- coupled with a firm policy that I don't compete."

He grins slightly and nods at Una. "Yeah, I guess. And -- that's all right? Sometimes I get the impression people think being single is a disaster. It's not? I'm free to come and go as I please, I don't have to explain myself to anyone, I got no one depending on me. There's a certain freedom to that."

"Well, I hope that now that he's in our general orbit, you'll get to know him even if the relationship aspect doesn't happen. Because he's absolutely worth getting to know." Ava bobs her head in agreement to Una. "Damn right we're all catches. Fine catches at that."

"It's not that it's a disaster being single. I just really like to cuddle. Or have someone to talk to at the end of a really bad day who will just sort of lay there with me and fall asleep while we talk it out. I don't know if that makes sense. I mean, I like sex, too, don't get me wrong. But, I don't necessarily have to be in a relationship for that, either. I'm looking for the deeper parts of it.

"I love freedom. But I hate feeling lonely."

"You can't be lonely: you've got us!"

By Una's expression, she knows full well that this is a different thing altogether, but the words pop out anyway. She reaches for her mug, sipping at it thoughtfully before she adds, "I like the freedom too. But-- yeah, the cuddly bits, those aren't so bad. There's something about knowing that there's someone else in your corner. And that someone specifically wants you in their life, more than just casually."

But the redhead picks up another piece of her pastry, and laughs. "Maybe I'll just get a cat. Someone depending on me for food is like a relationship, right?"

"I guess I can't really offer an opinion on the cuddling and talking it out aspect," Ravn murmurs and focuses on his cinnamon roll. "The one relationship I was in did not work like that. But to be fair, I'm from a background that's still subscribing to the idea that male and female worlds don't really coincide a lot."

He cants his head and studies his coffee for a few. "I mean, Kitty Pryde certainly gets in my bed for a dinner. And she doesn't complain if I'm out all night or talked to another cat. So, win?"

"Well I'm not friends lonely!" Ava protests, laughing softly. "But you should totally get a cat. A big ole love bug of a cat. I'd say that's a type of a relationship for sure. And a healthy one, at that."

A finger points in Ravn's direction before it wiggles around a little bit. Una and I should platonically cuddle you at some point, and we should all have a gab fest, so that you can learn the joy of the cuddles. I imagine there's a lot of sweet, little things you've missed out on. It makes me sad. But yes, Kitty Pryde is a definite plus one in the win column. For sure."

Una laughs, abruptly. "Now I'm imagining a slumber party between us, and that's just.." Just what? Just something.

"Anyway, the more you talk about Kitty Pryde, the more convinced I am that this is definitely something I should do. Feeding people is my love language, so that's easy, and as long as I get a cuddly one-- everyone wins. Cuddles for me, and no one expecting more than I'm comfortable giving. Leila said she was a vet, didn't she? Give me her number, Ava, and maybe she can help find me a pet."

"Slumber party, maybe. Cuddle pile? I think that's a few miles across my social boundaries." Is Ravn actually turning kind of pink? Yes, he is. And that cinnamon roll is going to be shredded. "Not to mention the whole neuropathy thing. It's been pointed out to me before that curling up in a ball on the floor screaming is in fact not very sexy."

He nods at Una, though. "Pretty sure she said that. And there's a shelter in town, I went there with Isi Cameron to pick out a dog for her. Well, to watch her pick out a dog. To watch her get Kitty Pryde's approval of a dog."

"I know the neuropathy thing. We'd work around it and make sure it wasn't hurting you when it happened. Also work -up- to the cuddle pile through various, lesser cuddles along the way, to ease you in. Within the boundaries of your social willingness and comfort zones. Because those are very important and deserve to be respected. Even while we encourage you to open up and try new things." Ava grins a little bit.

"Yeah, Ravn was supposed to go with me to the shelter. But he keeps not being available. I think he's scared of the dogs." She glances to Una. "How about I give her your number and tell her to call you? I don't want to give her number out without her permission. I trust you, obviously. But she might be mad if I did that."

Ava's description of this working-up-to-a-cuddle-pile thing draws a pause Una-- and then she bursts out laughing. "I'm sorry," she says. "But--" But Ravn's flush, and his cruel deconstruction of the cinnamon roll, and... and it's just all too funny.

Thus, it takes her a few moments to recover her composure enough to confirm: "Sure, give her my number. Or, yeah, there's definitely the shelter. I'll go with you, if Ravn doesn't, though I own I know absolutely nothing about dogs." Beat. "I mean, if you want company." Her company, specifically.

"I am -- not a dog person per se. I don't hate them, but we tend to not really have much to talk about," Ravn admits, grateful to discuss something else. "If you're both going to go look for a pet, going together makes sense? I went with Cameron because she was in an absolutely horrible place emotionally, and needed somebody to drag her there. And given she pretty much got that dog and then left town, maybe it did in fact work."

Ava giggles along with Una's laughter. "Don't laugh! It's a perfectly valid technique!" Ava assumes. It makes sense in her head, at least. She wants to help her friend, and clearly thinks that this is a way to do it. "I saw how you hid behind Itz when Leila showed up with Flower. Not a dog person doesn't really cover it, does it?"

"I hope she is," says Una, presumably of Isi Cameron, though it's true she met the other woman no more than once or twice. "I think Ava and I are big girls and can probably manage. Ava..."

Maybe she means to say more. Maybe it's just supposed to be a verbal nudge. A 'let's not make Ravn too uncomfortable' kind of nudge. Hard to tell.

"Well. How to put it -- I don't hold my concerns against dogs. Any individual Doberman I meet, such as Leila's, is not to blame for the couple of times I've had to run for my life from Dobermans. They're the preferred breed for guarding sites and locations in Europe, and they are not trained to be friendly. Same for German Shepherds, though at least I'm familiar with those from my father's kennels as well. It's a me problem, not the dog's fault, so I try to be polite about it." Ravn looks a little sheepish. "But largely I just don't -- speak the same language."

Ava glances to Una and blinks. It takes her a moment to pick up the vibe before she ohs and seems to get it, nodding her head in agreement. But Ravn is continuing anyway. "Well, a bunch of unfriendly run ins is kind of bound to make it a little harder for anyone to enjoy being in their presence. I can understand that."

What they need is a distraction! "Hey, do you know anyone who is good at building stuff? Like greenhouses at the like?"

Una sets the topic of dogs aside to give Ava a careful, cautious glance. "For your... new pet project? Not off the top of my head. Not something your friend Jimmy can help with? I guess that's more... fixing than building, though."

"Definitely not me." Ravn gains another degree of sheepish. "I have ten thumbs. Well. I can do maintenance but building a greenhouse? I wouldn't know where to start. But this town is full of blokes who pride themselves in their aptitude with a power tool. Never get in the way of a man with a power tool and a wish to make a good impression."

"Haha, pet project. I see what you did there! Clever. Because the animals come out of the flowers." Ava laughs. "Jimmy's great at fixing stuff, but I've never seen him put together a building before. I need someone with carpenter experience. And greenhouse knowledge. Also, someone who knows how to reinforce it from the inside so that animals can't get out and cause havoc in the neighborhood."

A smirk for Ravn. "Well, no, I didn't mean you. But you are the man who knows people. I figured that you might happen to know someone."

Was that intentional? Una's smile is inscrutable. "Well, I'm sure we can ask around. There's bound to be someone. And if not, there's always that manly man who wants in your bed, and that house guest you mentioned earlier? And..."

This is Gray Harbor. Inevitably, someone will be able to help, even if it's just the fae. 'Just'.