\ Haven:Mist and Shadow Logs/FISH Crew First Public Gathering

FISH Crew First Public Gathering

F.I.S.H. Crew: First Public Gathering

Time & Date: 21:00 5th of January, 2021
Storyrunner: SRScytharax
Type: Event
Genre: Comedy/Drama
Player Cast: Abel Zap Price, Cameron Daily, Carlos Phillips, Case Arkwright, Daciana Nierling, Donatello Segreti, Ennea Callicutt, Genevieve Phillips, Jericho Xenakis, Katsuro Kobayashi, Levi Laine, Naur of Navvere, Sua Swann
Content Rating: PG-13 (Language)

In the HomeTown Diner's Stage and Dining Room [Crowded]
This area seems well populated.
The lights are on.
It has expensive decor.

This room is both cozy and fairly modern in style, with oak panelling along the bottom half of the walls, while the top has been painted a rich, bright shade of white. A set of glazed french doors open out into the patio area to the south east, and offer views of the beach beyond. The tables are spread out around the room so that the waitstaff can easily make their way to all diners, and the smell of home cooking fills the air at all hours of the day. A small stage occupies the northwest corner, for a little kitsch mood it can be lit by colored party lighting when a musician is at work.

A large blue banner has been strewn over the back wall of the stage, screaming: F.I.S.H.!!!

The place is bedecked with
undersea cardboard and plastic baubles, everything straight out of a gradeschooler's diorama homework. Yes, there are helium-filled squid balloons.

snack table on the west side of the room is burdened by a coffee maker and its army of cups, plus a pile of actual snacks.

It is
night, about 12F(-11C) degrees, and the sky is covered by dark grey stormclouds. Waist high mist flows through the area. There is a last quarter moon.

a slightly elevated stage in the northwest corner, a few tables in the center of the room, a row of booths along the southern wall
Dynamic Places: the snack table, by the balloons, the edge of the room, near the entrance

 [                                                        ]
 [  (west) [southwest]  south  (southeast) [east]         ]

(10) (D) a flavorful tuna cheddar melt with heaping side of fries
(10) (
D) a mug of rich, black coffee
(20) (
D) a purple squid balloon on a string

7 people are at
a row of booths along the southern wall.
2 people are at by the balloons.
1 person is at
a slightly elevated stage in the northwest corner.

It's an unusually late hour for such a festive event, more so this deep in the winter season, but just like ice fishing is a thing, no nippy weather stops this odd assemblage of aunties and helpers from coming together to make a change.

The Hometown Diner is a warm haven, filled with the scent of waffles, freshly brewed coffee, and french fries. A sign-up table is being assembled by the doors and the insomniac waiters give empty smiles to the guests that they'll have to serve here, on overtime. Squid balloons float tied to chairs everywhere, their paper tentacles slithering beneath. There's enough for everyone to grab and take home, should they want a souvenir.

"Oh, shit, really?" A gangly, fair skinned fellow with bright eyes frowns a little over at A disheveled and scruffy young fellow, sparing another glance around the room, scratching at the side of his head idly. "Huh. Then whe-" He pauses a little bit as someone confirms the piscine nature of the thing, gives a thumbs up to Daciana and Abel, and turns his attention to the couple of folks calling out to him in greeting. "Hey!" He flashes a smile, in turn, at A raven-haired woman with sculpted korean features and A honey-eyed blonde with an hourglass shape. "I'm gonna go check out that snack table," and with that, he's wandering towards the edge of the room to linger.

"bAbe, can we take home a balloon or two?" Daciana wonders to Abel, looking hopeful.

"Sure!" Abel happily provides to Daciana not seeming concerned about who might stop him from his theft of donated goods. Thankfully, his voice has lowered from its squeaky chipmunk tone after a brief engagement with the helium inside a deflated balloon nearby.

A petite, curly haired redhead with deep blue eyes steps into the room on A stout dadbod with salt and pepper hair's arm and makes her way directly to a booth. She offers smiles and polite acknowledgements to familiar faces, but otherwise seems content to just settle in on a seat.

At some point, A raven-haired woman with sculpted korean features lets out a sound of complaint as the booths become filled to capacity, leaving her squished against the wall. Eventually she's clambering out of her spot, shuffling past A gangly, fair skinned fellow with bright eyes's lap. Probably elbowing someone in the face on the way past. But eventually she's out the other side, and straightening her tie. That done, she exhales slowly and steps over towards the less crowded tables. Still, every now and then, eyeing up A disheveled and scruffy young fellow.

A chonky auntie with fake red curls ascends the stage and taps on her microphone. With a smackable open-mouthed smile, well-caffeinated eyes scan the tables filled. Unknowingly smearing her lipstick all over the mic, she greets in a jolly titter, "Well, hello hello! So many new faces today. I'm Anabelle Lautner and welcome to our Fishy fellowship, where we are all-- All what?" She cups her ear and beams a smile, tilting her mic toward the audience.

There are a lot of crickets but a couple of auntie's sunburnt volleyball pals hoot, "Friends Intent on Saving Haven! Woo!" They clap while those around them fidget awkwardly.

"That's right! We aren't officially deputies, although some of us are married to a few," the auntie giggles behind her stubby sausage fingers. "We're just a group of strong-minded individuals who care about our husbands'- er, I mean about our town's main source of profit!" Brown brows lofting, she bats mascara-thick lashes in dramatized concern. "I'm sure you all know what happened during the storm."

A collective "yes" comes out of the crowd in sad murmurs.

"Woo!" Daciana joins in to be peppy with the aunties, albeit belatedly, before squinting aside at the stage.

"Yay profit!" A raven-haired woman with sculpted korean features cheers from her spot at the less crowded tables, which she shares with A gangly, fair skinned fellow with bright eyes.

"Woo," An auburn-haired, green-eyed asian male cheers a little bit.

When all the volleyball aunties start cheering for that stubby fingered wench at the front Abel shrinks, perhaps a bit embarassed for any association or even a proximity for the Auntie-Squad Vibe going on in here.

"My heart goes out to all those who have lost loved ones, be it from the capsized ships or other unfortunate accidents around town that day," Anabelle, the chonky auntie pouts at the gathering with a hand on her bosom. "Apart from that, the aftermath has been /staggering/, fishies and fishettes." She pauses for emphasis. "No. Fish." And shrugs. "No fish! Nowhere, nothing left. I'm sure you can imagine how this might impact all the local marine trade livelihoods -- from our canned tuna factories to our seafood restaurants."

Clutching a plate and a mug collected from the snacks, A gangly, fair skinned fellow with bright eyes lets out some kind of wordless cheer, getting caught up in everything on his way to settle down at A raven-haired woman with sculpted korean features's table, though he doesn't look terribly certain what he's getting excited about.

"I'd like to invite to the floor a representative from the shipping yard itself, Mister Ferdie Garcia. Please give him a round of applause," Anabelle beckons one of the men from the booths. As those gathered give a scattered clap, a crinkly-eyed dockhand with a lobster red face grins and bobs his head while waving a coy hello at those present. He struts for the stage with tense shoulders.

A lithe, stone-faced ecclesiastic shifts in his booth as to be less noticeable only to become even /moreso/ in the process. There's a bit of anxious tenseness in his features and frame as he scoots about the booth for the perfect view of the strange crowd and the odd auntie on the stage. "Hooray, FISH." he says in an unenthusiastic yell.

A honey-eyed blonde with an hourglass shape puts her hands together in a light clap.

"Uhhh, hello," the forty-something man begins, his tenor voice definitely roughened by a smoking habit. "I'm Ferdie. Like Missus, uh, Anabelle said." He nervously plucks at his too-tight sweater, the broadness of his build and a pair of stiff man-nipples obvious through it. Must have been cold outside. "I work at the shipping yard over by Devilwood for another company."

After quietly murmuring something to Daciana, Abel perks back up and brings his clappers together for a quick round of applause for the next representative.

A flummoxed A sloe-eyed slouch with tousled earthen hair joins in the clapping like a good little follower, though she's rather delayed in doing so. "Woo," she hoots under her breath.

"I was supposed to set sail with my buddies that day because I had a shift, but I had a family emergency. Had to go. So I got a friend to cover for me. He, uh.." Ferdie wets his lips and guiltily lowers his face. "He ended up going down with the ship instead. It was a really, really tough time. Until now, I still feel.. you know, you end up living with it and it's..." He breathes out a deep regret, idly rubbing a corner of his chin with a finger. "It's really heavy, folks."

The tech guy who is really just a waiter here turns up some sad string music.

An auburn-haired, green-eyed asian male slowly nods pitifully at the speaker.

It's not funny, but Abel can't help but smile when the guy who accidentally murdered his buddy and left him to sink at the bottom of the sea expresses his guilt. Other than his expression he is mindful to go through the gestures of sympathy, nodding his head in a sad little wobble like he might care. When the waiter turns up the music though that smile turns into a crooked grin. (crowd code re)

"So when I heard that Clarence -- you guys heard about Clarence? Clarence Jefferson, one of my good pals from when I first started working there," Ferdie lights up a little, holding the mic a good distance from his face. "Oh man, I was just so happy. If he survived, maybe the others did too, right? Maybe they'll all wash up on Willow Cove," he sweeps a hand southward, chuckling wanly until it's more painful than light-hearted. "Aaany day now." He bites his lip as his brows furrow. "Any day now," he whispers into the mic.

"Gotta stay positive!" Daciana hollers from where she's just elbowed the smiling Abel.

A sloe-eyed slouch with tousled earthen hair is completely taken in by this story, her eyes watery and face guileless. She's clutching A rugged, red-maned woman tightly, her teeth grit with suppressed emotion.

After some due justice from Daciana's elbow, Abel seems to be not so subtly wiping at his mouth and then scratching at his beard afterwards.

Ferdie paces around the stage, rubbing his buzzcut scalp. "Poor Clarence," he sighs, shaking his head. "Must've been so traumatizing. He couldn't work anymore after that. I've visited his home a few times but.. you know, he just needs a lot of emotional support now--" He stares at the audience, to where Daciana has hollered from. "Oh yeah. Gotta stick it through or else you're gone with the waves. Maybe y'all can sponsor a bucket of booze, eh?"

A few conservative chuckles come from the crowd.

A raven-haired woman with sculpted korean features watches with the rest of the crowd, caught up in the story, fingers clutching a pencil, and seeming to have forgotten to take notes. Even the small gaggle of fan-girls that were eyeing up A gangly, fair skinned fellow with bright eyes and whispering behind their hands as they struggle to get up the courage to go speak to him, have ... for the moment, lost interest, as they listen to Ferdie's tale.

"Missus Lautner has a copy of the list of all the missing persons from that day. If you happen to come across anyone, /please/ phone in," Ferdie requests, both hands on his mic in a pleading motion. "Can we-- can we flash that number on the screen real quick?"

"Poor Clarence," An auburn-haired, green-eyed asian male echoes the words, even though he doesn't even know the guy.

The LCD projector flickers to life and flashes a single image on the wall behind Ferdie. The fish-shaped F.I.S.H. logo displays, over a couple of phone numbers, an official email address, and some extra contact details of HSD personnel.

"Yeaaah.. pooor Clarence," Abel coos out the words but fails to muster up the appropriate gravity. He seems to notice the failing and crinkles his own nose at how pleased he sounded over the unfortunate events. He looks over to Daciana perhaps putting blame on her for his own failings to bullshit feeling bad for Ferdie.

"We're all running extra shifts now trying to make up for the vacancies, so we could really use your help. Even just to figure this out," Ferdie admits. "So uh... thank you for having me and I hope we get to the bottom of this very damn soon," the lobster-red man hopes with a parting smile for those here. He extends the mic back to Anabelle on his way back to his booth.

"May they rest with God," A lithe, stone-faced ecclesiastic prays solemnly, nodding along to his own internal monologue.

"Once again, that was Mister Ferdie Garica, our representative from the shipping yards. Thank you, Ferdieee," Anabelle claps her wrist while wielding the mic. "Now I'm sure you've begun to think up guesses as to why it's been how long and the fish still haven't come back!" She pokes her cheek cutely, like a corpulent gerbil. "But I'm not about to toss baseless conspiracy theories at you. Please welcome, fishies and fishettes, our lovely professional biologist -- Miss Sally Sutherland!"

A sloe-eyed slouch with tousled earthen hair cranes her head to stare over the crowd at Abel, the man's schadenfreude evidently not going unnoticed. Her fingers dig harshly into the well-loved leather of A rugged, red-maned woman's jacket, making it squeeze the woman's upper arm in the process.

If he notices the gaggle of folks eyeing him, it doesn't show on A gangly, fair skinned fellow with bright eyes's face. He's paying more mind to the half of a sandwich he's tucked into and the picked through pile of fries on his plate. His eyes do drift and wander their way to check in on the presentation, though he doesn't react much to the news as its being presented except for a furrowed up brow of consternation, glancing over to A raven-haired woman with sculpted korean features.

An Apple laptop under her wing, a tall, buck-toothed blonde with big cheeks stands up from a table at the front. She hitches her shoulders and grins bashfully at those here. Smoothing out her cardigan, she accepts the mic on her way up. While she's setting up her laptop on the podium, the chonky auntie makes a quick joke measuring the stark difference in their heights before surrendering the stage to the skinnier gal.

When A sloe-eyed slouch with tousled earthen hair draws attention to him, A rugged, red-maned woman's dark eyes drift over towards Abel as well. She raises her hands to clap for the buck-toothed biologist, along with everyone else, but her attention lingers on the Boy. She flashes him a brief, tight smile.

"Sooo, um hi," Sally waves with a grin that shows literally /all/ her teeth. "I'm Sally Sutherland but you can call me 'yours'." Her face wrinkles with utter mirth as she tucks a strand loose from her bun back behind her ear. "Oh, I wish. Just, um, call me Sally. I'm one of the fishery biologists at the Segreti Fisheries."

"Woo, Segreti!" Daciana calls out, applauding. She takes another wistful look at Donatello.

Shortly after, A rugged, red-maned woman leans in to gently whisper something into A sloe-eyed slouch with tousled earthen hair's tousled earthen hair, barely even looking at her when she does so.

A sloe-eyed slouch with tousled earthen hair darts her eyes immediately away from Abel after she's addressed lowly by A rugged, red-maned woman, hands coming together in a startlingly loud round of applause for the new speaker. She blends in with the crowd fairly well this way, melding back into the obscurity wrought by her and A rugged, red-maned woman's placement by the southern wall.

A raven-haired woman with sculpted korean features is just as vocal and approving as Daciana, quickly clapping and letting out a bit of a wolf whistle. "Gotta love the ...." She pauses as she tries to come up with something suitably fishy. "..... prawns!"

Donatello spares a glance for the stage and the buck-toothed scientist there but his attention is fleeting. Daciana's whooping earns a disinterested look. He turns away with an arm folded, his whole head in his phone.

Abel seems to be talking quietly between a few of the spare squid balloons with Daciana. Even as he speaks with the tall junky looking woman he is glancing now and again to the front, calculating something behind grey eyes. He may not notice A sloe-eyed slouch with tousled earthen hair looking at him until after her eyes dart away but he does catch that tight smile from A rugged, red-maned woman and flashes her a toothy one in return. Yet, it lacks any sort of friendliness in it. When the name 'Segreti' is brought up his attention shifts back to the front and then when Daciana calls out he shrinks with minor embarassment.

"Um, originally the company itself wasn't part of this movement but, um, our wonderful President so generously decided to help sponsor us. So, thank you, Don Segreti," Sally cheers with a stiff giddiness. "Uhm, is he here? Where'd he-- oh, he's in the middle of a call. Okay. Anyway, he's the one with the amazing beard! Now..." She holds up a mini-remote and aims it at her laptop. "I've prepared a Powerpoint so if you could just direct your eyes here..."

Sneaking a bite on one of the tuna sandwiches, An auburn-haired, green-eyed asian male just listens to what the speakers have to say.

The wall behind her illuminates a soft blue theme as the Powerpoint is projected, easy on the eyes. "This information, you'll um easily find in any research archive about Haven, but for the sake of convenience, I'll touch on it a bit," Sally says as a graph animates, showing the years 1774 to 2020 in relation to net income of Haven's marine industries.

"You can see how our domestic economy has, um, grown over the decades," Sally observes while gesturing circles over the graph. "Our waters are a /prime/ spot along the Atlantic coast and we've been managing our resources well enough that overfishing has never been a problem for us here."

"So if not overfishing, is the giant that is climate change to blame?" A click of her remote changes the slide to a polar bear mother and cub on a melting ice float. The title overhead reads: Climate Change.

"Possibly. The tiniest shift in temperature beneath optimal range could kill a whole reef of corals. Over time, we fear that climate change will eventually take its toll on our waters, but definitely not over the course of a single stormy day," Sally opines confidently.

Daciana argues with Abel quietly for a bit before sulking wildly, staring at the powerpoint slides and crossing her arms as if they did something personally offensive to her.

"Furthermore, we have begun to invest in more technology for controlled environments for our fisheries. Mr. Agosti, our senior biologist, has been overseeing them -- to success, as far as I know." The blonde biologist aims her remote at the laptop again, smiling idly at the crowd. "So what then, if not climate change or overfishing?"

Abel is clearly defending himself and he tries to hook an arm around Daciana comfortingly, probably trying to save his own ass from whatever idiotic thing he most recently did.

And finally, A raven-haired woman with sculpted korean features is starting to take notes, jotting bits down in her notepad, and clearly in reporter mode now. She grabs snacks from A gangly, fair skinned fellow with bright eyes's plate every now and then, but for the most part, hangs off every word of the speaker. "Could it be plastics?" She questions, putting up her hand like it's question time.

Unlike the rest of the patrons, A lithe, stone-faced ecclesiastic's attention is wholly on the graphs and bountiful information on the horrors of Climate Change. There's an empathetic change from his usual stone-faced look to something more softened - especially when he sees the cub and mother.

An auburn-haired, green-eyed asian male just 'hmm's as he looks at the Powerpoint.

Sally pauses with her thumb on her laptop remote, raising her brows at A raven-haired woman with sculpted korean features who throws out a guess. "That is also a plausible reason, though the speed is really the big puzzle. We would've noticed um the dwindling of numbers across months as garbage accumulated. But this was a sudden shock of nothing! Still, that is a valid guess and we'll look into it, for sure." She turns back to the presentation, rubbing her nape.

Numbers flashing on the screen has A gangly, fair skinned fellow with bright eyes huffing out a little, scratching at the side of his head with his free hand. And talk about science and climate has him slumping down a little further onto his chair, eyes starting to roam around the room, occasionally taking a bite of sandwich, or a not-very-quiet slurp of coffee.

"Anyway..." The screen ripples like a bad 70's romance film, transitioning into photos of broken corals, shattered reefs, and dark clouds over an enormous waterspout stirring the water uncomfortably close to seaside buildings. "Like a giant jackhammer shoving its business where it shouldn't," Sally emphasizes, as if the pictures alone could explain everything else. "With nowhere to live, breed, and feed, our marine population could have been entirely relocated together with what currents the storm brought with it."

"Could be pollution, doesn't the sewage here feed directly into the ocean?" A raven-haired woman with sculpted korean features isn't done with asking questions for the speaker as she goes into full on reporter mode, pencil tapping against the paper in front of her. "Do you know yet what it is? Will you be telling us today, or is it a secret? Is it a government cover up?"

"We're um here today to pool together volunteers for an effort to investigate into the matter, ma'am," Sally distractedly smiles at A raven-haired woman with sculpted korean features, fiddling with her laptop remote. "I'm sure the Fish crew could use someone with your inquisitiveness because we really don't know anything yet."

"Why isn't the Mayor here to address the concerns of the citizens?" A stout dadbod with salt and pepper hair definitely throws his voice in the crowd, and tacks that little quip onto the arse-end of A raven-haired woman with sculpted korean features's line of questioning before leaning back in his seat once again.

With his arm looped around Daciana, Abel seems satisfied that the beast has been placated with the warmth of his wing. He takes his time now to look over each member that has spoken for F.I.S.H, clearly taking note of their movements and interactions with one another let alone the crowd at large. He leaves the interrogation work to A raven-haired woman with sculpted korean features as a pleasant distraction from himself whil he sizes up a few new targets. Once he seems satisfied with his eye-stalking of the Fishy people he pulls out his phone and taps against the screen with his thumb, handling business.

However, the rippling screen drags A gangly, fair skinned fellow with bright eyes's attention back to the stage again, looking between the speaker and A raven-haired woman with sculpted korean features and A stout dadbod with salt and pepper hair with widening eyes as the latter two rapid-fire questions to the first, particularly on the matter of coverups and the government and the mayor.

It's immensely hard for A sloe-eyed slouch with tousled earthen hair to tear away A rugged, red-maned woman's attention from the screen. When it starts to ripple with stock transitions to reveal all those whizzing pictures, her dark eyes follow with rapt attention. She looks a little annoyed by her friend's insistence on disrupting the show with conversation, but eventually does frown down at her with a silent look of, 'What?' Only a brief glance before refocusing on the presentation.

"Government coverup." A raven-haired woman with sculpted korean features whisper says, but none too loudly. She's intending to be heard as she glances over towards A stout dadbod with salt and pepper hair, giving him the barest dip of her head. Shortly after, she returns her focus back to the stage and the speaker there. "What ever it is, we can't stand for it. People in this town rely on the ocean. I think we should hold a protest."

"Um, I don't know, sir! I'm just a guest speaker," Sally helplessly shrugs at A stout dadbod with salt and pepper hair, pulling back an awkward grin. "Um, just to conclude my presentation, hopefully, whichever of these theories proves true, the garbage disposal one included, it is a problem that we actually /can/ do something about!"

"So as I mentioned earlier, we're hoping that the F.I.S.H. Crew can catch enough volunteers to head out and help us investigate. You will be compensated for your efforts. The sign-up sheet is with Miss Anabelle."

A sloe-eyed slouch with tousled earthen hair gives her head a small shake at A rugged, red-maned woman's fascination, her lips taken into her mouth as that amusement grows into something beyond her ability to suppress. "Sorry, my bad," she manages to say somewhat levelly, sniffing hard and giving a long blink as she puts forth a facade of attention on what's keeping the other woman so riveted.

"While we need people to assist in the survey over the bay and coast -- the boat excursion, if you will -- preliminary data gathering will help tremendously. For that, you may contact the HSD or hit your local libraries--" Sally explains further, but gets interrupted by a wild Anabelle who steals the mic away from her.

"Or donate to the affected, less well-off families such as that of Clarence, Mr. Clarence Jefferson," Anabelle frowns her theatric concern in nods over the stolen mic while gesturing to the crinkly-eyed dockhand with a lobster red face. The blonde quietly packs up her laptop. "Maybe Ferdie can assist there. Anyway! Time is runnning short and if you have any questions, feel free to, hehe, mingle around," she titters mischievously.

Eventually, when A rugged, red-maned woman does hear what Ennea has to say, her lips slowly move to repeat one of those words to herself: "Powerpoint." She slowly nods her head, eyes wide, until the buck-toothed biologist mentions something about a sign-up sheet.

A rugged, red-maned woman's hand goes shooting upwards. "I help!" she volunteers as tribute.

"It starts with our ocean, and our well-fare as a town, but where do the cover-ups end?" A stout dadbod with salt and pepper hair raises his voice a little as he catches onto A raven-haired woman with sculpted korean features's earlier point, and shakes his head. "It is astounding the lengths that Mayor Inigo will go to." After tossing these words into the crowd A stout dadbod with salt and pepper hair falls silent once again, settling back to listen to the ongoing presentation.

"I'll be there. Not sure if I can offer much help but I'll be there." A raven-haired woman with sculpted korean features's hand rises up shortly after A rugged, red-maned woman's.

"...yeah, I guess I'll help," Daciana comments, raising her hand also, "Where do I sign up?"

"Well, I suppose if you want something done right you do it yourself," Abel speaks openly to the group of individuals who have shown up for the free food and drinks most likely. When A rugged, red-maned woman proposes that she will help so too does Abel when he calls out, "I'll sign up too."

"Oh! Thank you, honey muffin! Sign-up sheet is over there," the chonky auntie claps for A rugged, red-maned woman and the rest of those who pipe up, directing attention to the table near the southern doors. "We'd like to thank the Hometown Diner for having us and providing us with scrumptious food and all the coffee we want! Also, special thanks to the Segreti Fisheries for sponsoring our gathering. Thank you, Don Segreti!" Anabelle coos, batting lashes and searching for a familiar figure in the venue. "Thank you, sir!" she wiggles her fat fingers at someone. "Ooh, feel free to bring home a balloon!" she gestures to the floating squids. "To conclude our program, let me call on the dashing, daring, doldrum of a musician, Bo Bardeau to serenade us while we eat."

"Guess it's my duty to help," A lithe, stone-faced ecclesiastic considers, pulling out a notepad from his jacket breast pocket to jot some information down. "Count me in," the pastor calls out towards the speaker.

"Oh! Thank you, honey muffin! Sign-up sheet is over there," the chonky auntie claps for A rugged, red-maned woman and the rest of those who pipe up, directing attention to the table near the southern doors. "We'd like to thank the Hometown Diner for having us and providing us with scrumptious food and all the coffee we want! Also, special thanks to the Segreti Fisheries for sponsoring our gathering. Thank you, Don Segreti!" Anabelle coos, batting lashes and searching for a familiar figure in the venue. "Thank you, sir!" she wiggles her fat fingers at Donatello. "Ooh, feel free to bring home a balloon!" she gestures to the floating squids. "To conclude our program, let me call on the dashing, daring, doldrum of a musician, Bo Bardeau to serenade us while we eat."

"Me, too," A sloe-eyed slouch with tousled earthen hair chimes in with the crowd of people, her spirits visibly lifted as she spots the outpouring of support for this most worthy of causes. Her faith in humanity? Restored.

Donatello continues to ignore the proceedings, looking still busy in a heated discussion on his phone.

"As always the Phillips family will be here for the families of Haven when others fail." A stout dadbod with salt and pepper hair drawls out, reaching a hand over to squeeze A petite, curly haired redhead with deep blue eyes's hand, "we'll donate a portion of our hardware profits to the families of those affected by the storm, and we'll assist in these efforts as well." The man notes in his practiced wanna-be politician way.

"Hmm... I'll help, I guess," An auburn-haired, green-eyed asian male says with a shrug, "I'll do the best I can with the state I'm in right now..."

Abel suddenly and abruptly rips one of the balloons towards himself and to his mouth, unknotting the tail and sucking in a lungful of helium. With a squeaky voice he declares, "For FISH!"

"Balloon," Daciana coos merrily, reaching out to untie one of the balloons herself. She, unlike Abel, does not partake in the helium.

As per the sign-up sheet:

OOC: Those who wish to get involved with the plot, not necessarily with intent to become a follower of the involved HP, please send a note to Scytharax.

Anabelle calls on one of the tech boys, who is really just a waiter at the diner, to adjust the microphones for the last guest. A suntanned surfer dude with gnarly locs politely excuses himself from a booth infested with beach-blonde bohemes and ditzies. Armed with nothing but a ukulele, he lazily saunters for the stage and gives Anabelle a sleepy smile. He takes a moment to adjust the mic stand some more.

Bo slowly leans close to the mic as his eyes flit about. "... 'Allo," he greets the gathered, his inflection very French. "This is not the first time I've performed in Haven but every time always feels like the first time," he chuckles, drowsily blinking reddish eyes. "I'd give you my whole spiel about me giving surfing lessons down Sidney Beach but I think it is very off-season." He chuckles again.

At A stout dadbod with salt and pepper hair's declaration, A petite, curly haired redhead with deep blue eyes looks aside at the man first and then out at those he's spoken to, a warm enough smile softening her features. She doesn't add anything to the man's promise, but there's at least the acknowledgment there.

Interested parties have bustled over to the sign-up table near the southern doors, where a registration FISH auntie with a foam crab hat greets all the people and has them writing down contact details on paper.

"So now, I focus on wildlife conservation," Bo says, and for a moment it sounds like he might explain further. But. No. He doesn't. As if he only /just/ remembered he had a ukulele with him, he gives it a casual strum and stares at it a long while.

Hitching her shoulders, A rugged, red-maned woman shrugs at something A sloe-eyed slouch with tousled earthen hair's just said, and then turns to peer over at Abel when he abruptly ingests a lungful of vandalised balloon. With a look of perplexity, she looks over towards A sloe-eyed slouch with tousled earthen hair and asks, "What that?"

A raven-haired woman with sculpted korean features pushes up from the table she shares with A gangly, fair skinned fellow with bright eyes, and makes her way around to the signup sheet. She has her notebook held against her chest, and her pencil is retrieved from behind her ear to add her name to the list.

A subdued stripling with icy eyes- having been *barely* invested in the proceedings thus far - finally steps farther into the room now after stuffing his phone into his pocket while Bo wraps the meeting up in charming French style. Spectator becomes participant as the teen approaches the table to request access to the sign-up sheet in a mumble. Maybe beneath that visible disinterest, he was actually hella moved by the meeting?

At the mention of food and drink, and the conclusion of the night's events, A disheveled and scruffy young fellow puts his phone to sleep, drops it into a pocket, and slinks off towards the door. He's probably gone before Bo's finished strumming the first chord.

"That's a man," A sloe-eyed slouch with tousled earthen hair tells A rugged, red-maned woman very seriously when the other woman asks about Abel's exploits, her mouth twitching into a smile despite the effort put in to keep her face placid and unaffected.

".... Okay, this song is the song I will sing," Bo realizes, dreadlocks swaying as he bobs his head dreamily. He knocks on the ukulele to count himself in and a happy chord starts. He doesn't look too discouraged by those who walk out on his face.

Out along the harbour reach Boats stand dried up on the beach Ghost-like in the early dawn Empty, now the fish are gone.

Abel pulls his arm from around Daciana as the chipmunk-voiced man walks over with the others who may to sign up. He's a good samaritan like that. Then again, a couple of rowdy looking individuals saunter in from the main dining area and he quietly discusses something with them and nods them back out the door. They each nod to him and depart, their exit music played to the sound of a ukelele.

"bAbe, sign me up too," Daciana calls towards Abel as he heads for the sign-up, she herself slinking closer to where Donatello is on his phonecall to loiter near him and not be creepy. Probably.

As promised, the pastor slides his way out of the booth to make way towards the sign-up sheets. There, he just offers his card in place of writing any sort of contact information down and slides it along towards the chonky gal. "Hope to be of service soon," A lithe, stone-faced ecclesiastic says softly to the woman.

Bo doesn't have a very special singing voice but he makes up for it with that dancy sway of surf-bulked shoulders every time his nail scrapes the nylon strings.

What will become of people now? Try to build a life somehow Hard, hard times are back again No more fish, no fishermen.

"M'kaaaay," Abel calls back over the music as he signs his name and then Daciana's right beneath it, handing off the pen to whoever may be next and then loitering a little longer to listen to the song.

"No," A rugged, red-maned woman says to A sloe-eyed slouch with tousled earthen hair with a little shake of her head, after being informed that Abel is, apparently, a man. She clarifies her meaning by stepping away towards one of those purple squid balloons, tugging curiously at the string. She brings it over back towards the booths near which she and the earthen-haired slouch loiter, and then pauses to inspect the bottom with a frown.

The more that Bo sings with his eyes closed, the less he's a prominent figure on the stage. Soon, he dissolves into background music while the crowd chats and chitters to each other, friends shaking hands saying, "How do ya do?" Others offer business cards to parties gingerly coming up. The musician is basically the credits roll.

No more shoppers in the stores Since the fish plant closed its doors Men who walked a trawler's decks Now line up for welfare cheques.

After signup, A raven-haired woman with sculpted korean features plucks up one of the balloons and winds the string around her hand. That done, she gives A gangly, fair skinned fellow with bright eyes a wave, and another to a few other familiar faces and starts to head out.

"It's helium," A sloe-eyed slouch with tousled earthen hair informs A rugged, red-maned woman then, distracted from their conversation by the general hubbub. "You breathe it in and you sound ten years younger."

There's big For Sale signs everywhere Pockets empty, cupboards bare See it on the news at ten No more fish, no fishermen.

In an afterthought, setting down his mostly finished half-a-sandwich, A gangly, fair skinned fellow with bright eyes twists on his chair to look over to the sign up table, tongue pressed against his cheek. He takes another sip of his coffee before pushing to his feet, slowly moving along to file after folks so that he can scribble a name down on the sheet in a mostly legible scrawl. He offers a wave to A raven-haired woman with sculpted korean features, and a smile, meandering back to where his sandwich and coffee are.

Well, you only live once. A rugged, red-maned woman hears what A sloe-eyed slouch with tousled earthen hair has to say about the balloon, and then she too decides to try her luck, unravelling the knot to swallow a lungful of squid gas exactly the same way she just saw Abel do.

The event has technically concluded and Bo on-stage is there to clean up the crumbs. Around the venue, the event organizers including Anabelle give their personal thanks to those who bothered to come, even if they stayed just for the free food.

Once from Ship Cove to Cape Race Port aux Basques to Harbour Grace Newfoundlanders fished for cod Owing merchants, trusting God.

"I don't mind if anyone puts my name down or something..." An auburn-haired, green-eyed asian male murmurs as he steals another tuna sandwich.

Daciana loiters near Donatello to try and eavesdrop some now, sometimes glancing at the rest of the room.

They filled their dories twice a day They fished their poor sweet lives away They could not imagine then No more fish, no fishermen.

A young, solidly-built swain with asian features definitely showed up at the last possible minute for free food, wandering past balloons, booths, and sign up sheets to the tables laden with free sandwiches and coffee.

Once his name has been thrown down onto the sheet in the world's most attrocious handwriting - |_e\/I |_Ai|\|E - A subdued stripling with icy eyes passes the pen to the next in line and slopes on outta here, frowning to himself the whole way. Maybe he's not a fan of the song.

Back before the Second War We could catch our fish inshore Boats were small and gear was rough We caught fish, but left enough.

Daciana drawing closer would be able to gather an earful of things about stocks, investments, and constructions. Something about 'clawing to find some alternative in case the fishing problem /doesn't/ manage to get solved'. Donatello is not pleased.

"Human sacrifice," Daciana suggests to Donatello. She might be joking. She does look like the type to joke about that sort of thing.

And now there's no more fish because The trawler fleets took all there was We could see it coming then No more fish, no fishermen.

There's some that say things aren't so black They say the fish will all come back Who'll be here to catch them then? No more fish, no fishermen.

Sally begins to make her way out of the venue, followed by Ferdie and his shabbier friends.

OOC: The balloons are drug items so feel free to take some. Thanks for coming, everyone!