2022-04-26 - Dinner Among The Stars

(TXT to Ravn Una) Perdita : Care to dine among the stars with me? [Photo of the river view side of the roof decked out with an outdoor table, chairs, the fire pit... and the all important hot tub.] I'm thinking take out.

(TXT to Perdita Una) Ravn : ... We have carrots?

(TXT to Perdita Una) Ravn : (Yes, yes, that sounds awesome).

(TXT to Perdita Ravn) Una : Carrots, so we can see in the dark in the-- yeah, no, that sounds amazing. Can I bring anything?

(TXT to Ravn Una) Perdita : I will accept fresh carrots as payment for take out. What are we feeling, Chinese? Americana? Bring swim things if you want in the hot tub (or don't, skinny dipping is fine with me) any snacks you'd like to share, and your wonderful company. I have a fully stocked minibar, alcoholic icecream, some cheese... and... these weird kale chip things I got at Safeway?

(TXT to Perdita Una) Ravn : I'm omnivorous. Or maybe I should say, I can stare at anything without eating much. You two get to make that call. 😃

(TXT to Perdita Ravn) Una : Chinese, then. I'll bring cookies, and we can do alcoholic ice cream sandwiches.

(TXT to Ravn Una) Perdita : Yes, I love this idea. Chinese it is. I'll order a spread. See you soon!

It's not a far walk -- and at least Ravn walks it because if he's going to leave later, having ingested alcoholic ice cream and probably some drinks, he's not going to do it on a motorcycle. He likes being alive. Hands in the pockets of his torn-sleeve leather jacket, he walks downtown -- it's not like anything is far in this town after all. But first, he confers with Una -- about transportation, walk with me? and about that hot tub. Are we doing this? Because he is anything but convinced he's up for doing this. Hot tub nice. Skinny dipping, not happening.

Skinny dipping is absolutely not happening for Una, either, so that's an easy conclusion-- so, too, is the walking: for her, it's walk or take her (push) bike, and the one is more social (and safer for getting home) than the other. Easy. She's got a big tupperware container of cookies (chocolate chip, freshly stress-baked this morning), and there are, of course, the carrots too. It's not far, and it's spring, and she's only ever so faintly pink-nosed after an afternoon in the sunshine (even with a hat).

The rooftop of the Bauer Building is awash in the soft glow of outdoor fairy lights on the rooftop... and look. Some of the offices even have lights on in them as people are realizing that the place is no longer abandoned and the current owner is actually making an effort to do things like 'remove asbestos ceiling tiles safely'. The building is starting to take on the glow of a place that is clearly loved, even if Perdita is still confused as to how she ended up with the property.

She's waiting on the ground floor by the time the pair arrive, wearing an oversized yet still cropped t-shirt that reads 'COLLEGE AMERICAN FOOTBALL' with a picture of, yep, a football, a bra that is designed to be seen, and a pair of denim shorts that have seen better days. Annnd ballerina flats. Look, she can walk with her feet flat on the ground!

She steps out to meet the pair, grinning... and is just in time to greet the delivery driver for the Chinese food, too, thanking the young man and paying him for the food, as well as a nice tip, even though the place isn't even that far.

"Hello, hello. How are we feeling tonight?"

Ravn is going for the easy look. There are grass stains on his black jeans if one looks very carefully -- but this is the beauty of black, it conceals anything. His face is a little sun-nipped too; one could get the impression he's spent most of it outdoors.

"Kind of -- like wanting to spend time with friends? Yeah." He nods. "And maybe whip up a couple of decent drinks. Maybe even sticking my toes in that hot tub of yours. How's life here?"

"Ravn helped me in the garden; it was very domestic, if not positively bucolic," reports Una, who has at least removed her gardening hat, though the rest of her attire is clearly more suited to the garden than anywhere fancy: a light sundress, over which she's thrown a cardigan for warmth against the spring air. "I could absolutely use a drink, though, and definitely some of this tasty Chinese food. Hi Perdita. How are you?"

"Life here is good, surprisingly enough." Perdita has noticed that her companions are both less-pale than usual, smiling as she hefts the order of Chinese food. "Got a bit of everything that lacks shellfish." she pushes the door open with one foot, holding it open for Una and Ravn, grinning. "I'm good. Looking forward to this bounty! Love the sundress."

She leads the way to the elevator and up the trio head. "That sounds like a lovely way to spend time, in the garden!"

Ravn offers a wry smile. "I spend the first half of it in Seattle, dropping off papers at my lawyer's office, and picking up bourbon for Brennon and wine for myself. If there is a good wine shop in Gray Harbor I have yet to find it. Gave me an excuse to get on the road and feel the wind on my face, too. Good way to think things over, it's oddly meditative -- just me, Lola Bianca, and the open road."

He glances over at Perdita. "Everything been cool as a cucumber here? Brennon had a very weird dream experience this morning, starring Irving and myself as the bad guys."

The compliment pleases Una, who beams, carefully carrying her gifts inside, and towards the elevator.

"I fed her gross food, allegedly," she puts in, making a face that manages to be both disgusted and horrified: this is not a thing she is remotely comfortable with, even as Dream experiences go. "It sounded really unpleasant."

"There is no good wine shop in Gray Harbor, to my knowledge. It'd be kind of like wearing a ballgown to work a shift at McDonalds. Impractical, out of place, and mostly just in the way. If I want good wine, Olympia's not too terribly far. Luckily, I'm just as happy with a bottle of Barefoot Bubbly." Perdita smirks, leading the way into the penthouse, then out onto the rooftop, where unlit candles sit on the table, which has been adorned with a simple white linen cloth. The chairs, heavy metal ones, have thick cushions tied to them, to make them comfortable while also ensuring they don't go flying in a storm. God help the person who gets hit by one in a storm heavy enough to lift them.

"But yes, things... have been normal here, compared to that dream, especially." Perdita shudders, "That sounds horrifying."

"I know a good wine shop in Seattle and it's an excuse to get out on Lola Bianca." Ravn hitches a shoulder, smiling. "I've got an evening planned and while it's nothing big and dramatic, a decent bottle of Chilean wine is the least I can do."

He trails after, and looks around. "You've done quite a thing with this place. I remember what it used to look like when you just took over. Heh. Remember how we got drunk here on New Years' Eve?"

Una aims a look in Ravn's direction, two plus two evidently adding up to something in her head, a something that requires the lift of a brow, and the twitch of her mouth-- approving, though, and (relatively) discreet.

What she says, instead, is, "This place is gorgeous, Dita." Her cookies (and the somewhat incongruous carrots: look, they were promised, and here they are) are set down, mostly so that the redhead can wander off towards the edge to get a better look out over town, her fingertips digging for pockets in the jeans she's not wearing, and ultimately falling flat again. Stupid dresses with their lack of pockets.

"I'm glad it's been normal for you. No bad Dreams, please and thank you, universe."

"'An evening planned'." Dita quotes, her voice dropping to an almost seductive tone as she begins setting things up on the table. Paper containers are set out, along with chopsticks, though there's also utensils already on the table. In the window overlooking the rooftop, Tsinyorri looms, all six and a half pounds of mighty feline terror, her tail slowly lashing back and forth. She should be eating the food, not them. (Not that she actually would eat most of it.)

"Thank you. And... of course I remember. I sang showtunes." she smirks.

The view from the edge is beautiful, but slightly dizzying, even though it's not all that high up. Graffiti on some of the buildings' rooftops, streetlights blinking, a boat slowly drifting down the river... and, of course, just across the bridge and the waters, the rising hills and the trees.

"Hopefully no bad Dreams for any of us, at least for a while."

Ravn glances at the cat. "I'm sure you'll get your share. Don't tell me your human forgets to order something for the household deity."

Kitty Pryde would probably pee in his shoe if he forgot. Repeatedly.

"No bad Dreams sounds like a plan." Ravn nods and plonks himself down. Then he leans over to mock-whisper to Una, "She sang showtunes and we agreed that everything sucks, and then we passed out drunk. Perfect New Year's Eve if you ask me." Apparently, he has no intention of going into further details re: bottles of Chilean wine.

Una's snort of laughter is a merry one, and though she's still facing the view, she does glance back over her shoulder now to say, "That sounds ideal, truly. Mine was quiet-- so if the whole thing is start how you mean to continue, well. That hasn't lived up to its promise, has it?" She turns back, now, to pad over to a chair and sit.

"The real question is: which showtunes? Inquiring minds do need to know."

"She's not getting any of this. It's full of garlic and onions and I don't want her liver to shut down. She did have a lovely can of wet catfood before I came down to get you. I think it smelled disgusting, but she wolfed it all down." Perdita tells her friends. She doesn't push on the Chilean wine, either.

"There are vague memories of 'Defying Gravity' from Wicked, complete with my own drunken flight effect. Turns out I can fly, so long as I have something to hold on tight to. Expect me and Tsinyorri to recreate the scene from ET someday." she smirks, setting the cookies in place on the table.

"So. Icecream sandwiches before the food, with it, or after?"

"After. I don't think I can eat ice cream before I eat something spicy." Ravn laughs softly. His stomach can only take so much punishment.

He stretches, luxuriously. "But I love the idea that we can. And that we can sing all night if we want to. Or get wasted on mojitos and end up telling horror stories from our childhoods. Anything we like. That's what's like, having friends. Una and I talked a fair bit about that this afternoon, while pulling up carrots. The carrots didn't mind a lot. At least none of them filed complaints."

Una leans forward, noting, determinedly, "I'd like to see this. You'd also make an exceptional Elphaba, Dita, so I'm sorry I missed this. That was the day I met you, wasn't it? We came and asked for your hair," in a roundabout way, "and the later Ravn came back, I assume. Four months ago."

Was it only four months? Time flies.

Ice cream after seems sensible enough, and Una's nod confirms it. "The carrots didn't curl up and die, so I'm calling it a win. But-- yes. Having friends. People who care... enough to put up with our foibles, horror stories, and mess. Here's to that."

"We absolutely can sing all night if we want to. We're high enough up that anyone who hears us is going to assume we're night banshees or something. As opposed to, you know, the famed Day Banshees of Gray Harbor." she pauses as she finishes setting places. "There. Who wants drinks?"

"I do have a lovely mezzo-soprano." Dita confirms, smiling, "I think so? Yeah, that was December 31st. Get me in a good enough mood and I'll belt out a showtune, promise." she winks at Una.

"How many carrots did you grow?"

Ravn laughs. "Enough to feed an army, I think. I'll have something -- what do you have in mind, and do I play bartender this time or is it your turn? I'd rather mix drinks than try to sing, but you knew that."

He holds a hand out for Tsinyorri to sniff if she is thus inclined. Let it not be said of him that he's half cat (technically, two cats) himself, and he speaks the language. "Your big aunt says hi. Actually, she doesn't because she doesn't know you exist. But if she did know she'd say hi, milk these stupid humans for everything, and then run off into the Veil to eat pixies."

"All the carrots," agrees Una, placidly, though there's a hint of satisfaction about her smile too. "I'm going to donate them to HOPE, on the whole. There's plenty of families that could use some fresh vegetables, and since I have both time and space... I'll have a drink, and I promise not to sing if I get it. You really don't want to hear that, I promise."

She considers Tsinyorri with a smile, and wonders, "Is she actually related to Kitty Pryde? Or is that metaphorical aunt? We've been talking about getting a cat, at 5 Oak. For a while, now. Maybe when Jules is back."

"I will let you mix the drinks. My drink mixing abilities extend to 'Get Sugar Daddy drunk enough that he can't perform.'" Perdita smirks.

Tsinyorri sniffs Ravn's fingers through the window screen, curiously, then bumps her head against his hand... and then she's wandering off to find something to do inside since Deya won't let her fling herself off the building's edge again.

"I thought about doing that with roof space, but... I'll be honest, I don't think I could keep a garden alive." At the question to Tsinyorri's heritage, Dita shrugs, "She came with the apartment. I've always liked cats, but I don't know where she comes from, except that she was a few months old kitten when we time jumped. There's pictures of her as an even tinier kitten on my phone, but..."

"Definitely get a cat. They're worth the 4am hairballs."

"Kitty's not her mum, that much I know. Her litter were all mackerel tabbies and by God, are they ever mackerel tabbies, I mean, you've met one from what you described at the murder motel." Ravn glances after the kitten. "There's similarities enough in appearance though -- could be an aunt, could be just genetics running strong in Gray Harbor, could just be that all black cats kind of resemble each other."

He nods his agreement though. "They really are worth the hairballs. And at least in case of mine, I'm not joking about eating pixies. I have a feeling she eats at least some Veil monsters too. It's a cat thing -- cats just don't care how big and scary you're supposed to be. If you look like a small edible thing, you're a small edible thing and fuck your psychic powers."

"The one with all the teeth," remembers Una, with a laugh. "The day I met Ariadne. Yes, of course. It must be so strange," and this comment is aimed towards both of them. "To have lost all that time, and to end up... with things different like that. But more to the point, I guess, since that's now ancient history: I quite like the idea of a cat eating Veil creatures, too. Possibly not the pixies, if it's going to end the eternal summer at some point, but we'll see. Cats are great."

There's more to it than that, and she owns as much, a moment later: "I've never had a pet. It'd be a nice symbol, I think, of being safe and settled enough. What are we drinking, Ravn?"

"All black cats are related, I'm sure. Because they're all panthers." Perdita drapes herself in a seat at the table, knees together, smiling. "I don't know if Tsinyorri will eat anything like that, but I do know she's good company and she likes to cuddle with me at night, now that it's just me in bed. She never bothered when it was me and Garrett, which... honestly was probably a good thing." Dita snorts a laugh.

"I definitely didn't appreciate the time jump. I like some of the things it brought, like this building and the cat, but..." she shrugs, "I kind of feel like someone was puppeting me for three months, and I'm not a fan of that."

Ravn gets up and heads towards the bar. He knows his way around well enough -- and no surprise given it's not the first time he gets appointed designated bartender in capacity of his short bartending stint at the Two If By Sea. "Mint juleps. Not too sweet or syrupy. The fruity things that warrant ridiculous paper umbrellas come after food. With those ice cream sandwiches, maybe."

He looks up. "The day you met Ariadne. Must have been one or two days after I tried to wow her into slipping me black coffee by making a lighter fly. She sent me off to make pigs fly, too. So I did. Pink plushie Peppa Pig. It flew quite nicely."

And then a small wince Perdita's way. "The time skip was a pain in the ass. And I'm still sorry things didn't work out for you and Garrett. The time skip was -- it almost made things work for Hyacinth and me. She came back and -- we got together, and then that was it, I have pretty much not heard from her since. I still don't know if those missing twelve weeks are the reason she ended up maybe giving up on everything here, or I fucked up, or I fucked up by not doing something that I don't know what is. All I know is, I didn't do a whole lot because I wasn't sure what to do, and I'm not making that mistake a second time."

Una's smile is for Tsinyorri, and perhaps all black cats; its slow fade is for the implications of the time jump, and perhaps, too, for the acknowledgement that it wasn't that long ago, and its ramifications do still matter to those who were here.

"Mint juleps sound perfect," she murmurs, though her expression remains more thoughtful than easy. "I'm sorry too. For things that ended, and for things that never entirely were. I think it's a good lesson to learn: sitting back and waiting is a sure way for things not to work."

She has a wry chuckle, too. "And now Ariadne's making things fly on her own, from the looks of it. How things change in... two months? Three?"

"Well Ah do declayuh." When Ravn offers mint juleps, smiling. Somehow, this accent is different than the one Shanamarie uses. "That sounds heavenly."

"How long have you been trying to wow Ariadne for that coffee?" Dita asks, back in her normal voice, now, "The only way to know is by talking to her, but good luck accomplishing that, from what I understand. It's not worth the effort just to get an answer, especially if things are moving on."

"And thanks... It's better this way, though. I'm not... entirely sure I'm ready to be in a stable relationship. I need to be a little more sure of who I am before I get in a relationship, so I can make sure I'm not grifting my way through it and just being who I think they want instead of who I am." Dita starts scooping out what looks to be pepper steak, then a healthy serving of fried rice to go with it, because the girl wants spicy food tonight.

"Things definitely can change quickly. For worse, and for the better."

Ravn cants his head even as he reaches for glasses. "Let's see, I got a coffee for the lighter trick, and I got one for the Peppa the Pig trick. I think I got a couple on basis of making myself useful. I'm just going to have to go on impressing her, if I want to secure my caffeine flow. I'm simply being practical here. Want good coffee? Acquire a barista."

His voice loses the note of humour as he nods at Perdita. "I think that's it, actually. I did that, with my fiancee. I figured that if I tried to be the man she thought I was or wanted me to be, I'd fit in better. I'd -- I don't know, grow up, finally get serious about things, act my age. It took me a good while longer to realise what I was doing than it did for you, and the break-up did not end with us parting as friends. I think we're all better off knowing who we are before we try to let somebody else tell us who we are. But it's a hard pill to swallow, hard lesson to learn."

"A personal barista? Now there's an idea," murmurs Una, musing and amused all at once. Perdita's move to serve herself seems to be the cue Una was waiting for, or perhaps it just triggers a reminder in her head, for she, too, reaches out to start serving herself: a little bit of this, a little bit of that, yes, some of that other thing as well.

"Or, of course," she adds, "you have to be with someone who wants for you both to learn who you are together-- because people do change over time, I think. So I'm told, anyway. But I imagine that sometimes leads to people working out that they're not right for each other after all. The biggest thing is that if you're losing your sense of self in the process, it's probably not right. Buuut I am the last person to have useful relationship advice, so."

"I found that acquiring an expensive coffee machine and quality ingredients helps, too." Perdita smiles, though. She's trying not to tease him. She really is. Because she's a good friend, dammit.

"It doesn't help that he's literally just a room away, either. This is his home, too, as far as I'm concerned. But damn, it's awkward sometimes, because I am still very much attracted to him. But sex would just complicate things even further." Dita lifts a bite of pepper to her mouth, making a little noise of appreciation as she chews.

"It's less losing my sense of self and more... I haven't had a solid sense of self for a long time. I've been grifting, one way or another, for the better part of a decade. It's hard to figure out who Perdita Leontes is, when she didn't exist until last year." a slight shrug, "You're actually a great person to have useful relationship advice, Una. You offer a different perspective. You're thoughtful, you're kind, and you have emotional intelligence. Those are important things to bring into any sort of relationship, platonic or otherwise."

Ravn nods his agreement with Perdita. "Your advice is as good as anyone's because what we're talking about isn't sex. Sex is part of a relationship sometimes, sure. But it's not the whole relationship, and if it is -- well, then it's not a good or healthy one. I mean, I might as well just blurt it out and say of course I hope things will work out the way I want with me and my favourite barista, but the point isn't that. I'd like that, sure, but -- yes. I also have to find out who I am, in such a situation. I'm very used to thinking in terms of being single and having no ties. In a way, it's been just as difficult to make friends and realise I have obligations now. Not just to the girl I'm crushing on harder than a very hard thing, but to all of you."

He dusts a little pink. It's getting a little emotional in here. Time to pour sweet bourbon into glasses and look for the mint leaves.

Una hesitates, her expression tightening a little in sympathy and acknowledge of Perdita's situation, though it's not something she has a lot to say about; it's enough, maybe, that she can understand how that would be difficult.

The rest, though? There's the faintest hint of a flush, pleased, for the confirmation of the utility of her input, though she still has a hint of dubiousness in there, too: relationships, even setting aside the sex, still not her strong point.

But it's what Ravn says that actually makes her laugh out loud. "Like a very hard thing, huh?" she says, apparently not immune to the occasional sex-related joke. "But-- yes. I do take the point. Working out how we relate to others, as ourselves, is a lot more than just romantic relationships."

"Della-The-Day-Manager is going to be so jealous, you realize. I'm certain this has been a long term plan to annoy her way into your heart." Dita's lightly teasing, now. Ever so lightly. There's a look to Una at that blush like 'omg he's so adorable' but she doesn't say anything about it. The mint leaves are in a sensible location, at least.

"Well, as the great Mae West once said, a very hard thing is good to find." Yes, Dita knows that's not quite the quote. She's sticking with it.

"And that relation is something everyone struggles with. Not just lonely grifters who've spent far too long living in the heads of others."

"Christ, you two." Ravn can't help laugh as he distributes mint leaves and ice cubes. "I was trying to not make some example that could be misread into something dirty, and where do you both go?"

He shakes his head, still laughing. "I'm still not used to the whole having relationships idea. I still wake up sometimes and ask myself where I am, why I am there, what happened -- because I thought I'd be on the road for years, and I'm not. And I like it. And I agree with you, Dita -- finding out who we are, and what we want, is a very big deal. And what others want, for that matter -- because sometimes, what we want is not at all unreasonable, it's just not what the other person wants. Romance or friendship, applies on both accounts. Besides, I've tried romance without friendship, and I don't think I want to try that one again, either."

Una, too, seems to find Ravn adorable, and meets Perdita's look with one of her own: amused, but clearly inclined towards the affectionate, too.

"Sorry," she tells the Dane, though she's clearly not. "It just... lent itself to it. You're going to have to try harder."

She still hasn't eaten anything, perhaps because Ravn is still making drinks and that would be rude. What she does now, instead, is add: "I don't think I can imagine romance without friendship, not at all. Friendship alone can be hard enough; we all put up barriers, wear masks. Even those of us who aren't grifters. And taking them off, once you feel safe enough to do so... that's hard too."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Ravn, Mae West clearly meant diamonds. Which as Marilyn once opined, are a girl's best friend." Yeah, no. The innocent expression might be flawless, but no.

"I don't know, if he tries much harder he might burst a blood vessel." Dita says, very quietly, opting for yet another horrible joke.

"I might have a nose bleed all over your drinks. So you better take them." Ravn hands out mint juleps. "And with all due respect to Marilyn and the era in which she lived, a girl's best friend is having her own income and no need to depend on some bloke to support her."

Way to spoil a joke.

He nods at Una, though, and then sips his own drink. "It's not as easy as it sounds, letting down our guards. In some respects, I probably never will. But then, there's also such a thing as over-sharing. Lay yourself too open, and you're telling others to mould you to their wishes, too."

Una? Una begins to giggle, and once she starts?

(Wait for it. Eventually she'll stop. She will! Really!)

Okay. Deep breath. She still needs to lower her smile into her julep, and take several more deep breaths before she's composed enough to take a sip.

And after she's swallowed? See. Perfectly composed. Positively serious! "I don't imagine any of us really enjoy being vulnerable, even when we... need to be. It's hard. But done in moderation, healthy enough, I think."

Perdita accepts the mint julep with a smile, "Don't go getting the vapors, now. And while I absolutely agree... diamonds are still my best friend, because they're small, easy to transport and if you don't mind losing a bit on the value, a great source of emergency cash." Dita is rarely seen without some sort of jewelry on, after all. Carry a small fortune with you if you need to run.

"Being vulnerable is dumb and I refuse." Dita offers, but she's smiling, just a touch. She probably doesn't mean that.

Ravn settles with his mint julep and his plate. Did somebody say pepper steak? Excellent.

"I have a Swiss bank account," he murmurs, with a smile. "I don't keep a fortune on it. Just enough that anywhere I might end up, I'd be able to bail myself out and book a hotel for the night, and a plane ticket home, no questions asked. Complete bank confidentiality does have some perks. My great-grandfather opened it and I think at least some of us have seen what kind of friends he kept, but I assure you that there is no Nazi gold stashed away in Zürich in my name, at least."

He hitches a shoulder and helps himself to assorted green things. "Being vulnerable is hard. It's a lot easier to go it alone, needing no one, opening up to no one. It's also bloody lonely."

"Diamonds, Swiss bank accounts... I am reminded, once again, how different my life has been to both of yours. I have... a bank account, and frankly, six months ago it was basically empty. Always. But-- I'm also not a runner. I'm the one who stays."

Una finally reaches for her chopsticks, inexpertly using them to transport some of her food towards her mouth. Chewing takes her attention for a moment or two. Then; "It is lonely. I can't do it. I'd rather... accept that people need to see my fragile underbelly, and just move from there, because at least it means people care, and I'm not alone. I'm not saying you're both stuck, now, but... I'm not against tracking people down and hauling them back, so. Please don't leave me."

"Your great grandfather had a lot to answer for, but that's not on you." Dita shrugs slightly, "Most of my easily accessible funds seem to be tied up in this building, and ear marked for repairs and the like. If all the tenants moved out, I'd still be able to repair things, but it'd... be slower going."

Looking to Una, Dita flashes a smile, "My life has more in common with yours than it does with his, up until I was 16. I was the youngest of four living in a three bedroom house with two grandparents in a sleepy little town in upstate New York. I didn't start living the 'good life' until I got sick of my ex's bullshit, stole his Bugatti and the contents of his safe and left Miami for Texas... but I'm not going anywhere, at least for now. And if I ever do go, I'll make sure you have breadcrumbs to follow." She winks at Una, then takes a sip of her mint julep, appreciatively.

Ravn offers a half-amused, half-sheepish look. "I grew up pretty pampered, yes. Though compared to some of these American and Middle Eastern people -- I mean, the adage about new money isn't just snobbery. This urge to prove their wealth and outdo each other is positive toxic. No one needs to have solid gold faucets or own a private jet plane. I'm not going to say that money can't buy you happiness because it sure as hell can buy off a lot of issues that would make you unhappy otherwise. But I will say that at least for me, it has very little appeal compared to living here, with friends who like me for who I am."

He shakes his head and half-chuckles at himself. "It's one of my recurring fears. That people here will hold my past against me -- that they'll think I consider myself too good for them, or that I'm trying to buy them. I kept my mouth very closed for a very long time because I really am just the bloke who lives on his boat."

That waggle of Una's finger in Dita's direction? It's accompanied by a smile, at least, and her words are warm. Still: "You'd better. I will hunt you down, and I will haul you back, or at least demand an explanation. Don't think I won't." She may not be especially threatening, but there's a hint of something in her expression even so: don't think for a moment that Una cannot be tenacious when she so chooses.

She picks at her food again, attempting (with minimal success) to hoist another mouthful towards her mouth without dropping it. Sure, she could give in and use a fork, but... chopsticks are the appropriate tool for this meal, and that's what she's going to use. "I can't imagine people here holding your background against you," she adds, still working at the food, though those brown eyes shift their focus towards Ravn. "If you splashed it around, sure. But you don't. You didn't choose what you were born with, and I think the fact that you walked away from it says a lot, too. Even if you hadn't; I don't know. It's just money. It's not, as you say, solid gold faucets."

"Solid gold faucets are highly impractical. It's too soft." Dita mutters to herself. "Money can't buy happiness... but it sure as hell can shield you from the most common causes of unhappiness. I'm a lot happier knowing I have a warm place to sleep for the night that isn't dependent on some guy giving me a room in exchange for an unsatisfying roll in the sheets."

While Una's having trouble with her chopsticks, Dita's having no issues with hers, of course. Manual dexterity is sort of her thing. After Una's warning, Dita glances over at Ravn with a grin, "I've spent half a decade being chased by a very wealthy, very powerful, very dirty, very well connected man... somehow, she's more intimidating."

"Your past is your past. Who you are now is what matters."

Ravn grins and shoots Una a wink. "She's right. You are. We'll be good, please don't hurt us."

And that from the man who claims his dead fiancee stalked him halfway around the planet. On foot. Because dead girls who can't buy plane tickets have to walk (but they don't have to breathe).

He does not think twice about using the chopsticks. Manual dexterity, enough time spent travelling, and enough years spent eating Chinese take-out at university because he can't cook and has little interest in learning. "I am pretty certain I don't qualify as very powerful, very dirty, or for that matter, all that well connected, at least. But it's part of Gray Harbor's charm -- whoever you were out there doesn't matter a whole lot here. People forget. Not like you never existed -- more like, you're just not important to people out there anymore."

Una's own grin answers both of them. "As long as I'm understood," she mock-threats.

This time, she manages to get a mouthful to her mouth; all is not lost, hurray. She pauses after, though, chopsticks hovering between her fingers (not actually hovering, though that might be more efficient than this actual using fingers business), considering. "People forget," she murmurs. It's not new information, not as such, but maybe it's taken this for her to really consider it. "It's a strange thought, isn't it? And it really ought to bother me-- me and my whole 'people don't get to leave' thing. But I think I agree with it being part of the charm. It makes those of us here so much more important, by comparison, doesn't it?"

"Oh, I don't know... I think you could probably manage to be very dirty, given the right circumstances." Dita's smile is positively dangerous, now, slightly-too-full lips teasing the man. Of course, he's immune to (most) of her charms, and that's half of why she likes him. "It's comforting to know Eddie probably isn't looking for me very hard, now. Means my hacker friend can relax a little, keeping me out of things."

"It does. It's not that the people who've forgotten us don't care, or that we've put to the wayside don't matter... it's just... like they forget they haven't talked to us in a while, I suppose?" Dita shrugs. "My family definitely hasn't forgotten me, at least. They're... wanting to visit. Or for me to come visit them."

Ravn nods his agreement with both -- and sticks his tongue out at Perdita because fuck you, Perdita, you don't get to make him blush, fine, he's blushing, whatever, okay, yes, just don't tell Ariadne, please, hand him that spoon, he's going to go bury himself in a dark corner now.

He ignores the fact that his ears are burning. "It's more like we just slip their minds yet. I get care packages from my aunts. They talk about things like I was around a month or two ago -- when in fact, it's been almost a year and a half since I went home for a brief visit. It's not that I'm gone or considered dead or missing -- it's just a lack of presence at the front of their minds, I guess. This Eddie bloke probably remembers that he's very angry with you, Dita, and he'll do something about it sometime, just, wait, what were we talking about again. I like it. I like that here, we can breathe out. And be who we really want to be."

"My mom hadn't forgotten me or anything either, right," agrees Una. "But she was a little vague on the details of this place, even though she grew up here. I'm half convinced she no longer remembers, except that-- well, I think it was bad for her."

Her chopsticks dive back in, and this time it only takes two tries before she manages to get the food up to her mouth. No dilly-dallying, one it's there: eat, lest it run away again. "I like that, too. I like that this place lets people feel safe, even if... I mean, in theory, it should be anything but. But I think it works, anyway."

Perdita can now die happily, she's made Ravn blush. "I'd be happier if he just forgot I existed, or at least was a little less murderous. What's a Bugatti between friends?" Dita tilts her head slightly, a bite of pepper poised by her lips.

"Safe from the mundane. Am I terrified that zombies will someday overtake the city or come up from the basement? Yes." Dita shudders slightly. "It's probably good your mom doesn't remember much from her time here. I can't imagine she'd feel okay with you being here if she remembered details."

"I ask myself sometimes what the hell we're doing here, but honestly? I also feel like the dangers here are just more in our face. There are so many damned things that may kill us -- what's a few supernaturals on top? Maybe it's just that I like that here, at least we have a say in the fight. What can we do about world hunger or racism or late stage capitalism? Not a whole lot, and what we can do feels like pissing in the ocean to raise the water levels. But here? We can punch dragons."

Ravn hitches a shoulder and picks up vegetables with his chopsticks. He has yet to eat much -- but then, when does he ever? "At least that's my take on it. Here, at least what we do matters."

"She remembers just enough to know that she hates me being here and wants me to leave," admits Una, whose expression suggests she holds this particular piece of information more deeply, and more closely, than her tone might otherwise suggest.

It leaves her to dig into her food for a few moments, focusing on it, gaze lowered, rather than on the other two. Except-- except. She's apparently incapable of being silent for too long, shyness notwithstanding, and ultimately has to add, "I like the idea of punching dragons. I like feeling like I have a say in fighting back against something. And I like knowing that, whatever happens, people have my back. That's not something you can say just anywhere. So-- here we are. Doing things that matter. Even if, yes, zombies. Killer pine trees. Faerie rabbits that, so far, haven't eaten more than my carrots."

"I honestly didn't think I was going to make it to twenty. So if something from the Other Side thinks it can take me down, I hope it knows I'll make it choke on every single bite it takes out of me." And then, to emphasize her point, Dita takes that bite of pepper.

"She's probably right that you should be running for the hills. But while you're here, you've got us. You need a place, I've got plenty. You need food? I will cook you a meal... or at least buy you take out."

At the mention of killer pine trees and faerie rabbits, Dita pipes up, "Don't forget the mermaids. They leave us alone, for now, but some day, they'll flop their way onto land and rise to power." Dita apparently has seen Denny's latest brochure.

Ravn can't help a smile at that last quip. "It's true, though. I have wondered sometimes -- my family is eight hundred and fifty years of strong men in positions of power. Always fighting in some capacity. And then there's my father, climbing every mountain and fording every river because he had to find a way to prove himself as much of a man. And me -- I sometimes wonder if I ended up here because I am looking for a cause to fight for, too."

He shrugs. "If I am, well, I could have picked worse. Standing up for Team Humanity, it's not the worst. Though I suppose we could at least get team t-shirts."

"And I've got cookies, and a kitchen, and a listening ear to share; if I can offer that much..." Una's nod is firm. That, in and of itself, might not be enough, but it's what she's got to offer right now, and all contributions are worthwhile.

She sets down her chopsticks, reaching again for her glass, brown eyes considering both Ravn and Perdita over its rim before she continues. "Aren't we all, though? Looking for a cause. I mean-- no, not everyone. But in a sense, most people go through life looking for something to believe in, or cling to. If Team Humanity is it-- no, definitely not the worst. I'll add that t-shirt to my collection; it needs to happen."

Beat. "Let's hope the mermaids don't. Though perhaps there are worse siren songs out there."

"Honestly, give me someone willing to go toe to toe with a dragon, who also looks surprisingly good in a Kelly green gown over some dude who needs to climb a mountain to prove his penis still functions."

At the comment about t-shirts, Dita's lips quirk. Oh, no. "I have my faith to cling to, but I also know that if there is anything divine, it helps those who help themselves, not those who sit back and wait for divinity to save them."

"If the mermaids come, I will save you from their siren song with my own."

Ravn is glad he did not manage to put that bit of cabbage in his mouth. He coughs and hurries to sip his mint julep. "I'll refrain from proving anything of that kind, yes. I am fairly certain everything is functioning at intended capacity -- though admittedly, my lungs could use a bit of an upgrade, asthma and all."

Probably not going to climb mountains for other reasons either, with that asthma.

He's still laughing when he does put that cabbage in and chews before adding, "Denny swears to me the mermaids aren't allowed to take us. But he also says to not trust them so -- I'm not going to consider myself entirely safe. I'm also not going to stop sailing -- but I am going to not sail into a flock of seals. Whether there is a God and if so, whether He cares about the Veil and us -- I think that's up to all of us to decide on our own. I mean, you could probably see the Holy Trinity in a Dream here but would you know whether it was real? Reality's very fluid here."

Una manages to scoop herself up a reasonable mouthful, this time, managing not to lose any of it in the process: winning! Chewing takes most of her attention, then, though there's a gleam of mirth in her expression, most particularly about the eyes; Ravn's answer to Perdita's remark is hard not to react to, however quietly.

It's after she's finished her mouthful that she adds, "Reality's fluid, but Dita's definitely right on one thing: helping ourselves. I mean, helping each other, too, but the point being that you don't just sit back and wait for someone else to save you. Being smart. Like-- yes, not sailing into a harem of seals. And not isolating ourselves, until there's no one to have our back."

Her mouth curves, though: an unmistakable grin. "I'd bet on you over the sirens, Dita, any day."

"Well. I'm very glad to know everything's apparently still functioning. Do you need someone to take a look under the hood, just to make sure?" The lashes flutter, the wicked smile, the over the top exaggerated mannerisms. She's definitely Just Playing. "I don't trust anything I see in Dreams."

"... wait, do seals have harems? I've never really thought about it, do seals mate for life or are there like... seal sex workers?" Perdita seems genuinely curious, now. There will be a weird Google search, later. "Probably a good choice. I'm a maneater in name only."

Ravn manages to not laugh into his drink. "No, thank you, Doctor. I am pretty certain all engines are operational. I'll call you back if I find complications." The relationship of Dita and Ravn is a weird one, but he is finding he enjoys it all the more, maybe because it is weird the way it is.

Then he cants his head. "I actually have no idea. I think most of the large marine mammals only get together to mate, so if you see a pod it'll be a mother with cubs, maybe older sisters, I'm not sure."

Una can make jokes, but the Dita/Ravn relationship is a step further, and results in a faint flush on her cheeks: not awkward, but present nonetheless, along with a twitching smile.

"I don't know either," she owns. "But I'm sure I've read it as one of the collective nouns you use for seals, so... maybe? I don't know about sirens. You only ever hear about the females."

"I'll be waiting by the phone." Dita was born a generation too late. She'd have been an excellent phone sex operator. "I like the idea of seal sex workers. If you want a quickie in the cove, bring me a delicious fish. Three fish if it takes more than fifteen minutes."

"I don't feel like a harem of sirens is quite the right grouping. Maybe more like... a shipwreck of sirens."

"I like that one. A business of ferrets, a murder of crows, a shipwreck of sirens." Ravn nods his agreement and grins around a bit of pepper steak. He'll leave most of his food on his plate -- but for him, 'most' is a step up from 'all', and it's a fate he has long since resigned himself to. "But we need to work on the price list. What do I get for a pack of frozen fish fingers, for example, compared to dropping off a fresh caught cod off the Bay?"

Because price lists for sexual services, as paid for in fish meat, absolutely needs to be a thing. And maybe a thing that will require a couple of mint juleps more. Asking for a friend. And half the marina.

"Bonus points for alliteration, too," says Una, approvingly: she always has been fond of that particular conceit of language.

"I'm sure the sirens will be happy enough to share their prices, won't they? Personally, I wouldn't get anywhere near a bed for a pack of frozen fish fingers, but-- I'm expensive. Clearly." And not a seal, or a siren, or a sex worker of any kind.

"... I wonder if I could convince the sirens to teach me their ways... or at least convince them to start looking like hot girls. Introduce them to Instagram, get them careers as models. Spread the horror out, lessen the impact in Gray Harbor." please be joking.

"I assume fresh fish is preferable, unless the seals like breading. And hopefully, only other seals are hiring out their services. I know sailors get lonely but damn." Dita takes a long drink of her mint julep, smiling.

"Una, don't get near anyone else's bed for anything less than a gorgeous three tier cake with home made butter cream and hand piped rosettes... or at least a lovely steak dinner and a couple good, expensive drinks. You deserve more than frozen fish sticks."

"I'm fairly sure I wouldn't get near anyone's bed for a pack of frozen fish sticks. And that if a seal ever tries to throw fish at me with that certain gleam in its eyes, I'm pulling up the anchor and hauling arse out of there." Ravn smirks. "Same applies to any human sailors turning up with a side of smoked halibut and a wicked grin."

He maneuvers a tiny bit of meat to his mouth and chews thoughtfully. "I mean, there's lonely, and there's so lonely you start to fantasise that the shapes out there are naked girls. I was almost relieved to find out sirens are real, when it comes to that. On behalf of my gender, I mean. You have to be pretty damned hard up if you're on a ship for six months and so desperate you're fantasising about harbour seals. I'd rather snuggle a sack of flour if I was that hard up."

Joke or not, it makes Una's mouth twitch about the corners, the kind of not-quite-smile that she's prone to. "I wonder if their seductive, seductive song would work through video," she muses. "Or if it has to be heard in the flesh, as it were. Though. Do these sirens sing? I actually don't know that I know either way."

She's blushing, even so, when she adds, "I'll take that under consideration, yes. I'm expensive, and my standards are high. It-- mm. It does help explain things, doesn't it? Lonely men, surrounded by other men for so long. Poor, straight men. Does a seal flank look like the curve of a female body from a distance? I mean. Even if it does, it just--"

It just. Hastily, she takes another sip from her drink again, all the better to cover whatever destination her thoughts are realising. Except; "It's humbling, though, to realise that we can roll our eyes at the foibles of lonely men, in this instance, or whatever other example we have-- but it's probably based on something."

"I've gotten in bed for a bad pick up line and great abs, so... at least get something from this horrifying fish-based economy, I suppose." Dita's lips quirk, and she begins eating once more, clearly enjoying the pepper beef and rice. "Depends on how bad your vision is, too, I suppose."

"I mean, at some point you realize your choices for a date are Billy One Tooth, Bobby No Tooth, Barnacle Butt Bill or that weird harbor seal, right? I would rather be celibate but..."

"It is humbling, but I still fully intend to revel in the generalization of men."

Ravn can't help laugh softly into his mint julep. "I mean, I've had dry spells but I have honest to God never felt attracted to marine mammals. I'll agree that harbour seals have beautiful eyes but the magic just isn't there."

Poor, straight men indeed. He can't help laugh, again, at Perdita's date options. "If it's all the same -- out of those options I think I'll settle for a date with Mrs Rosy Palm."

Poor Una. Later in the week, she will show herself to be quite adept with the dick innuendos, but tonight? She's blushing furiously as she laughs (though at least she does laugh), lowering her gaze towards her plate, her drink, anything but the company.

Though, having said that: "No doubt that's why the sirens aren't interested in us anyway. Our standards are too high. Legs, for one thing."

"Sorry, in this scenario you're a pirate, Rosy has been replaced with hooks for hands, also you might have a peg leg... and scurvy." she tilts her head slightly, smiling at Ravn.

"Legs aren't a deal breaker... though my apartment isn't exactly wheelchair ready... but a lack of being human... that's the deal breaker. Unless he's like... a sexy werewolf or something."

"So... speaking of the birds and the... birds... You and Ariadne. Do I need to give you The Talk?" she doesn't even give Ravn the chance to object before she continues, "When a man and a woman love each other very much... or the man is horny and the woman wants something he has... Or if the woman is also horny, I suppose, anyway..."

"I am adamant on this. I insist on legs. I will accept the idea of someone who has lost them -- it's not that someone's in a wheelchair that's the issue here." Ravn toys with his chopsticks. "And while we're at it? I also insist on the right number of legs, just in case any giant arachnids are listening and getting ideas."

He smirks a little. "And being a historian, I feel like I should mention that pirate ships not only tended to have some quite liberal attitudes towards homosexuality -- to the point of instituting homosexual marriage a couple of centuries before the rest of the civilised world."

Pause. Blink.

Cough. Blush.

"I, er, I am familiar with how the biology works, yes." Ravn sips his drink and tries to ignore the fact that he's turning crimson. "Also, that might be a little, ah, premature."

"Or someone who ought to have had them, but for a quirk of biology," puts in Una, because birth defects are certainly a thing. "I always knew I approved of pirates."

There might be more to say on the topic of pirates, but: but. Ravn's blushing, and it means she's also blushing in blood-rushing-to-the-face sympathy, though she's also giggling behind her glass again. Her mouth opens as if she's about to blurt something (and look, it's probably something ridiculous, perhaps harping on the word 'premature') but thankfully (seriously, so much thankfulness) she changes her mind, and just sits there giggling, instead.

Damn, who knew how easy it was to make Ravn blush? She's managed a few times in the past, but... this is a lovely new shade. Still, she got the reaction she wanted. She looks like she's about to make another horrible joke, then, merely, murmurs... "Phrasing." and takes a sip of her drink.

"So. The Jolly Roger was really Jolly, I take it." Perdita raises both eyebrows briefly, smiling. "Good for them. Be the flamboyantly gay pirate queen you want to see in the world."

"There were a couple of those as well, though obviously, most pirates were men." Ravn tries helplessly to ignore -- aw hell, whatever. "And that's not what I meant by premature, no. I meant, we might still be more at the hold hands phase than the shag like bunnies phase. Everything in its time."

"I'd like to be a pirate queen," muses Una, latching on to this topic of conversation like a lifebelt, not that it stops that smile any; so broad, so bright. "Actually, I probably wouldn't, let's be honest. I'd be shit at it, because I'm not sure I can lead anyone to anything, except possibly cake, and I'm not exactly fearsome, but-- anyway, being a woman isn't necessary for being a pirate queen, I'm quite sure."

This diversion is not, however, quite enough to keep her away from the other. "That's super adorable, though. The two of you. I hadn't really thought about it, and now that I have... yes. Super adorable."

"Hey. Nothing wrong with being at the holding hands stage... or never getting beyond that. It's about what works for those in the relationship, not what the rest of the world thinks. You don't owe anyone else a damn thing." she gestures with her chopsticks, elegantly, making her point.

"I'm sure Black Beard would have been Glitter Beard, had he but had the chance for glitter. Being a woman definitely isn't a requirement for being a queen." Perdita smiles, fondly, thinking back on some she knows.

"I got one word for you: Rosencrantz. If he'd been born three hundred years ago he'd have made one hell of a pirate queen." Ravn grins slightly. "I can think of a whole lot of reasons I wouldn't want to go live on a pirate ship in the 18th or 19th century, including the part where you kill people and take their stuff. But in terms of sexual liberation? They were free in many ways that the rest of society took centuries to catch up with. Male marriages were a thing -- although they were not called marriages, of course. It was a union, a contract to share booty and payment, and in case of death, look after each other's obligations. So, basically, a marriage."

He smiles a little. So much easier to talk pirates than personal issues, isn't it? "Anyway, yeah. We'll see where it goes. I don't want to rush into things, but I also don't want to come across like it's no big deal. It's a bit of a tightrope walk. One of the first things she told me when she came into town? Not looking to meet somebody. I've been kind of -- not pushing things, for that reason."

Una's eyes positively light. "He really would make a hell of a pirate queen," she agrees. "Next Halloween costume, sorted? I'm less sure about 'Glitter Beard', though. I've seen what glitter does-- you'd never get rid of it, and it'd end up in a lot of places you really don't want it, I'm fairly convinced."

Expert on relationships she is not, as already established, but Una does have one piece of advice (admittedly, one she would never quite manage to take herself-- as is so often the way): "Communication, then. Keep talking, lay your cards on the table, and then you can both move at a pace that works. I'm not convinced that most people don't meet people when they don't expect to; that's been my experience of watching other people, anyway."

"Are we sure he isn't a pirate queen now?" Dita asks with a smirk, tilting her head. "He's covered in tattoos, he's been known to enjoy good booty..."

But, then things are turning a bit more serious once more. "So tell her that you're letting her set the pace, that you value your friendship more than whatever else might develop, at this point, and that if it doesn't develop beyond 'gosh you're pretty', you're fine with that." there's a little tilt of her head, "Not that I need to tell you this. You're an adult, you're intelligent, and you actually use your brain to think, which is rare."

"In my experience... love has a way of literally falling into your lap."

Ravn keeps toying with his chopsticks. Think he's a slow eater with a knife and fork? Think about how much he can fiddle with these. "I don't think I could develop an interest in someone who doesn't communicate. I did, once, and it was not a success. I'm not good at guessing, and I'm not good at picking up subtle hints. I worry about boring her to sleep talking about myself but at least she knows she's holding hands with a man who talks a lot. Right?"

The little blush lingers. "Honestly? I don't want to make plans. Life -- in this town but anywhere, really -- does what it wants. I want to just take things as they come. See what they become. She told me she is open to the idea that things could grow between us. What more do I need? Things will grow. Or they won't, and then you make sure that they don't in a way that doesn't compromise your friendship."

"If she hasn't picked up on that by now," says Una, genuinely but not without the hint of a fond smile, "there's something wrong there. I think you're safe on that count."

And then, as she pincers another piece of beef from her plate: "That's a good attitude to take. Especially the friendship bit. I've seen that happen too often too. Honestly, though, I hope it works out, you both end up stupendously happy, amidst all the usual ups and downs. Or if it doesn't, well, that you both end up happy with whatever else happens. Happiness for everyone! And when that fails, try cookies."

"Ravn, I adore you, but you're not good at picking up neon flashing signs." Another bite of beef, another happy little sigh. "I'm just going to marry the delivery man." Dita murmurs. He was adorable... but he was also at least 70.

"Plans rarely go the way they're supposed to, even out there. Just enjoy the ride." and for a change, Dita's not meaning that in an innuendo filled manner. "Friendship and cookies, the perfect pairing."

"How about aiming for happiness and cookies?" Ravn nods his agreement with Perdita. (He will soon learn about geoduck shaped cookies and re-evaluate this opinion).

He shrugs. "I know. And that's part of the package. I'm shit at subtle. I'm prone to wandering off with a good book and forget everything for three days. I talk a lot about subjects I care about, and I'm a bore at parties. In the plus column, I don't cheat, I don't expect somebody else to clean up after me, and I am very happy to be told exactly what somebody wants -- then I can decide yes and no, instead of trying to guess. Also, I think your delivery man is already married. I saw him with this adorable little old lady with purple hair the other day."

"Happiness and cookies," agrees Una. "And friendship, too." She'll lift her drink in acknowledgement of it, and take another quick, contented sip.

"Well, if I picked up on how this went down correctly-- and I think I did?--" Una pauses, faintly pink, but only very faintly, "I think the other side did you a favour this time, as unpleasant as it clearly was at the time. So there's one neon flashing sign that helped you on your way. The rest... you'll be fine. Ariadne's direct enough when she wants to be."

Beat. "Pity about the delivery driver, though."

"Happiness and cookies sounds like a good plan. Soooon." Perdita reaches over and touches the container of cookies with a wicked smile.

"Ah, shit. Oh well, he was too good for me, anyway." Perdita places one hand over her heart, clearly heart broken, though she's still smiling. "Good on him for finding a hot rebel babe with purple hair." Hey, it still counts as rebel babe if she's like 80, right?

"I'll find someone else, I'm sure. UberEats or DoorDash, maybe."

"Look, I'm going to say the least romantic thing ever." Ravn reaches for his glass and upends it. "You can kill me after, or something. Basically? It's important to find people you trust. Your friends. Getting laid? It's a bonus but if it comes to choosing between a bad relationship with good sex or the other way around, always choose the good relationship. It's not a disaster to be single, and this is a hill I will die on."

Una laughs. "I can't argue with that," she says, draining the last of her drink. "It may not be romantic, but it makes every sense to me. And friendships count. Differently, but they still count. And you absolutely will, Dita; I'm convinced of it. One of these delivery drivers will absolutely be for you. Happiness for everyone!"

And with all of her friends happy, Una will be happy too.