grayson-hall

[grayson-hall]

"For someone who just moved here, you sound like you have a personal history with the place," Gray said. He didn't usually point these things out to people, but she was abrasive by her own description and actions, so why was he trying to be a civil? A few people looked over as a cloud of blue raspberry vapor wavered in the air. When she called herself a 'bitch,' his eyebrows arched.

His own stubborn anger began to well up as he started to connect the dots. It was particularly interesting for someone from Obsidian Holdings, which she likely was, to act like they knew anything about the small town they were trying to remodel or the desert. Gray remembered from conversations with Raina years ago that Obsidian Holdings was centered in Washington state and New York -- they were considering moving at one point if Castle Rock expanded to other states -- neither of which were particularly arid.

"Desert hasn't torn me apart, yet," Gray said. He grabbed the rest of his tools and put them into the rolling tool box, letting the clasps snap back into place. "Obsidian Holdings tried more than once, though."

"Keep it. Trust me. I'll say something mean and you'll wish you hadn't." She had already barely stopped herself from asking his if his mama also taught him that life was like a box of chocolates. She was out of practice in being ... well not polite, she was polite for work. Nice, maybe. But she'd never actually been nice. Sociable. That was it. She was allergic to small talk and neighbourly friendliness.

He had callused hands and had the arm muscles of someone's hot dad at the gym. Such a fucking crime that he was stuck in Paxton. Simone wondered if he did TikTok thirst traps. He should, he'd make bank. "I don't have spirit, holiday or otherwise. I'm ... here for work." It was the first time she'd ever been hesitant to admit she worked for Obsidian. It wasn't as if Grayson Hall's good opinion should matter. But it almost seemed to. "You're wasted in this town. They just tear everything down and let the desert take it. No one fixes anything anymore." Once more, failing at being sociable. Simone made a face and dug her vape out of her pocket. "Quitting smoking. I'm a bitch anyway, but it makes it worse." Dragging on it, she blew a cloud of blue raspberry away from Zaddy Hall.

[grayson-hall]

"Those people probably know how to cook -- and, well, I don't," Gray quipped as he took a seat at the bar. Technically, he also didn't have anyone he was really spending the holidays with. The kids were going to a family reunion of sorts with the Dawsons; usually, Gray would have went, but this year felt different. He couldn't bring himself to face his in-laws knowing that there was one person at the reunion that deserved to be there more than him. So, he drove the kids to Phoenix with promises of coming to get them on January 1st -- they deserved to spend time with their family free of his rain clouds.

He also felt like he deserved a drink. He usually tried to avoid drinking when his mood was low, but with the kids gone their weren't faces that needed his own to be brave. Bracing his hands on the countertop, Gray offered a smile. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but I know why I'm spending the holiday alone. Why are you?"

Who: open

Where: Lost Horse Saloon

"Here I was thinking no one was going to take advantage of our Christmas hours." Jay Jay said, moving out from behind the bar to greet the person coming in, "People keep telling me this isn't a popular time for breakfasts out, but I know I'm not the only one spending at least part of the holiday period alone."

The Lost Horse Saloon was already open all hours for members of the Cowboy Mafia - if someone needed to stumble in at 2am after a particularly hard job, or get an early morning feed, all they had to do was call Jay Jay and she'd be there to let them in. It had only seemed right to offer something equivalent for the whole town this time of year.

[grayson-hall]

Gray heaved a sigh as the nurse glanced up from his notes with a smile. He stared through the young man, mostly tuning him out, and let his mind turn. How the Hell was he going to swing the next couple of weeks with a sprain, a strain, or whatever the fuck? After a moment, his attention flicked back to the nurse and he bit his tongue. He was definitely going on roofs regardless of whatever orders they made; the doctor's orders didn't pay his bills or keep food on the table for his kids.

If Gray had been younger, he'd have ranted and raved. He was too tired for all of that, though, so he blew air out of his nose and leaned back on the crinkling paper. "Fine. I help you, and you help me get out of here as soon as humanly possible?" Gray echoed. He straightened his shoulders a little, smiling as his muscles stretched and some joints cracked. "So, what exactly do you need me to do, other than not stand up?"

˙ ˖ ✶ Gray

"Noted," Rory nodded as soon as he entered the room and received the report on the injury, writing it down swiftly. "Sadly no can do, we have to make sure it's only a sprain as you say it is and hopefully it is just that." He smiled fully knowing the tactics of impatient patients and how'd they try to swindle their way out of care for whatever reasons they had.

"We have boots that should be able to accommodate you if it is a sprain, and sprain or not you're still not going on top of any roofs anytime soon." He mused. "Here's the deal if I'll let you go pretty swiftly and we can run through this smoothly if you agree to help me help you."

[grayson-hall]

"Did he? What'd he get up to?" Gray asked as he handed over Grandpa. Grandpa's limbs splayed out stiffly as he waited to be deposited in Shawn's arms. As for Gray, he was aware that this was a little strange. Most people didn't just walk up and down his street, but he wasn't getting the sense that there was a catch to this conversation.

He took two porch steps at a time, grunting as one of his knees cracked. Shawn's question made him pause at the front door. "No. My wife actually found him in some box left by the road. Got him fixed quick," Gray explained. He still remembered that day Raina came home with the skinny, scraggly puppy with the massive underbite. Even as a puppy he looked a bit like an old man. "His first two years were a little rough -- he ate my trim in the kitchen one time -- but he's been a decent dog since. You got any pets yourself?"

~~*~~

"No, we...we don't have land. But Dad used to do work for a lot of the ranches. I kind of remember that story-" She stopped short of apologizing for his circumstances. The way he said it sounded a bit like it wasn't something he considered an issue. Or maybe he had just become jaded about it over the years. She didn't really know. It didn't help that she had just showed up out of the blue. The fact of the matter was that she was sorry though. She never had a mom and she felt like she hadn't really been lacking for it. But if she lost her dad? She shuddered at the idea. "Been a few years though. Dad's been out of the game for a bit now."

Animals were easier. Shawn had always felt that way. Horses could be skittish and definitely had their own unique personalities. But it was usually very easy to learn those things and deal with them accordingly. Humans were different. Humans could have shitty intentions while being sweet to your face. She scratched under his chin as instructed and then reached to hold him. "He's so sweet. Is he actually a grandpa though?"

[grayson-hall]

"Probably, I don't like leaving a roof open overnight," Gray said. While Arizona rarely had rain, there were other reasons to not want a roof open for days -- most of them animal and insulation related. He also found that most homeowners were pissy about a re-roof not being done within a day and it didn't matter if the home was 2,000 or 8,000sq feet either these days. Gerardo and Gray blamed it on the fact that more and more people from the city were moving into Paxton and completely gutting the homes they purchased or building McMansions; there was no in-between it seemed.

"You sure? I can always call him back and send one of the others instead," Gray asked. He truthfully sent Gerardo to get him out of the sun. Gerardo would work until he gave himself a heat stroke, so the only way Gray could ever prevent that was to send him off on supply runs and other errands. As if Mila read his mind, she asked about the project. He tilted his head either way. "It's going. The homeowners aren't breathing down our necks, so that's good. We need more plywood for the underlayment, though, so I'm suspecting they'll be pissed about the wood bill," He shrugged. Wood bills were the bane of existence with supply costs going up lately. He cast Mila a look. He knew her like he knew his own niece and nephew. "Everything alright? You look like your wheels are turning."

Mila was here to see if her assumptions were right. It's petty, of course, but it didn't change the fact that she was curious if her brothers claims has any weight. ‘ family first ’, ‘ we step up for each other ’ - it's what's been told to her over and over again. Drilled into her being, the bigger reason for the brand on her chest. But she wasn't sure the ones that share this sentiment are willing to step up in the way they expected her to. Mila isn't sure what indulging in this curiosity would do ( considering they could be working at a different cite ) other than feed that anger buried in her chest. Looking for a reason to start a fight.

The vibration of the engine cutting out, and a deep breath following, allowed the muscles in her body relax; her shoulders to drop. Maybe she was being dramatic, maybe she should just go to the gym and let anger out that way. Mila was already here, might as well talk to her uncle or Grayson; they'll keep her level headed.

❝ oh, ❞ she glanced around before making her way over to the cooler. ❝ Gonna be a long day? ❞ Mila made her way over to Grayson. It looked like she came at a good time, when they were taking a break. She twist the cap of the bottle open, taking a drink. A breeze would be amazing now.

❝ I'll call him later, ❞ she waves her hand, he's a busy man. He's always been more understand and a man of his words than his older brother. He can answer her question later, maybe even do a favor. She knows her parents would love to see him.

❝ how's this project going? ❞

[grayson-hall]

"I was always told it wasn't polite to stare, so you have my apology, nonetheless," Gray said. Simone had a point -- she did stand out. It wasn't just the white hair either. There was something about her general expression that didn't quite blend in with everyone else. Something about her gaze held a sort of harsh edge like the cut of a diamond.

He shook the hand Simone held out. Luckily, his hands were clean and not covered in tar or mud -- the perks of working on lights and not a roof for once. He smiled at the series of questions, shaking his head. He stopped feeling festive at a young age when the only thing his sister ever wrote on top of her letters to Santa was for their father's health to return. Then, when Raina disappeared, the holidays became an obligation again -- the kids needed the normalcy. "Neither. I'm a roofer by trade and a handyman by financial need most times. What about you? Are you here for the holiday spirit?"

Simone was mid-run when she stopped to watch Grayson Hall fix twinkly lights like the world’s least likely fairy godmother. It was NOT her fault: he was the last man to see her cry and the only one she hadn’t screamed at for doing so. He owned a truck and had big, capable shoulders that seemed to promise that you would be alright if you asked him for help. He had, in fact, wrapped a fucking fire blanket around her 17-year old shoulders and promised her she was gonna be okay, that the terrible night of the Incident would soon end and she would still be herself. Or something to that effect, she’d been forcibly dosed, angry and terrified, and trying to keep her other half alive and hadn’t necessarily absorbed everything.

For a moment, she almost told him he did, in fact, recognize her. That was the kind of dangerous thought that usually required alcohol or violence to drive away. Instead, she stretched her calf in the bow pose and pretended to be normal. “I stand out. People should stare.” Pushing away all stupid urges, she put a hand out. “Simone.” Why did he still have to look kind? That was entirely unfair. “You a professional light-hanger? Or just in a festive mood?”

[grayson-hall]

"Walking," Gray echoed. Not completely sold. Then, she mentioned her parents and her name. Gray paused, giving her a brief once over. Underneath the scrapes and bruises, he did recognize something in her face.

"If he has land, he probably knew my mother. My father was vegetative, so she tended to have a few ranchers in the area help us out when we needed it," Gray said mater-of-factly. Some people balked at the bluntness, but Gray didn't mince words when it came to his father and his injuries. It wasn't a happy thing, the accident, but it was what it was. Trying to tiptoe around it or act all holier than thou about it just made it worse.

Grandpa at least provided an opportunity to either change the subject or lessen the discomfort. The little black dog sniffed at her hand before tilting his head. "It's the underbite -- feels a lot like an old man sitting outside the Beer Barn with some dip trapped in the body of a terrier mix," Gray smiled. Grandpa snorted in agreement. "If you scratch under his chin he'll let you hold him."

~~*~~

"No, no, I'm good...I'm fine, just...walking," she shrugged and her hands flopped lamely at her sides. To explain, even if she had a coherent explanation, would make her sound absolutely crazy. How do you tell someone that you wanted to meet them because you think the same people that tried to kill you had done something similar to their wife? It sounded like a giant conspiracy theory, it was a giant conspiracy theory. It just also happened to be true. "I just recognized you. I think my dad probably knew you or your mom. I'm Shawn."

She held her hand out to the dog for him to sniff. Animals usually trusted you more once they knew your scent, at least in her experience. "Nice to meet you Grandpa. Fun name for a dog. You certainly look like a grandpa."

[grayson-hall]

Starter for @milcgros

When: Present

Where: Jobsite

Some days for Gray were more supervisory than physical. Today was the latter. When it came to tear-offs, Gray preferred to keep a few guys on the ground to take care of the trash. Today, the crew was small. Crews tended to move where the money went and the brutal summer had meant it wasn’t safe to be on roofs. Heat rose — it was clear science. So, when Gray sent Gerardo to pick up more plywood, it allowed the rest of the crew an excuse to pause. Gray rubbed at the back of his neck as the sun beat down on him. He’d feel the bulk of the tear off in the morning. For now, the ache welled up slowly under the afternoon sun. As the heat swelled, Gray noticed the dust cloud on the horizon. He squinted at the sight and shielded his eyes from the sun as a different vehicle came into view. It was only when the dust settled that Gray broke into a smile. A real one at that. He waved at the sight of Gerardo’s niece, Mila. “I just sent your uncle off on an errand,” he said. Then, pointed towards a cooler. “We have some water and Gatorade in there if you want some.”

[grayson-hall]

Starter for @simone-st-clair

When: Present

Where: The Postcard - Crafts With Grandma

Gray wasn’t one for arts and crafts, but the old ladies at the Postcard said they needed some of their lights fixed. Who was Grayson Hall to deny the old ladies the help? He just loaded his ladder back into the truck bed now that the string of fairy lights were twinkling as expected when he made eye contact with someone. Gray paused for a moment. Years ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated but time made him change into someone different. Yet, something about this face didn’t fill him with the same sense of dread that usually came with a face seeming familiar but not quite remembering a name — that usually meant he recognized a reporter. With her white hair, he had a feeling she wasn’t on air reporting live from his front-yard. “Hi,” Gray greeted, finally. “Sorry for staring, you reminded me of someone for a minute. I’m Gray, sorry for staring again.”

[grayson-hall]

Grandpa's barking quieted to rumbles in his wiry chest. For a moment, Gray wondered if she got in an accident and wandered away from the scene. Then, he noticed that her bruises were yellow and not fresh. Either way, he undid the clip on their gate. Perhaps it was the parent in him that immediately went into action. Something just seemed off, but not in a way that made him feel like he needed to turn her away from the property.

"Yes, I am. Do you -- are you alright? Here. I can get you some water, or my phone to call somebody," He said before stepping over so she could step away from the road and whatever dust clouds any other cars or trucks might kick up. "What's your name? The dog's Grandpa, he's actually friendly. Bark's worse than his underbite."

~~*~~

She truly wasn't sure what had lead her to walk all the way out here. Curiosity maybe? Or the fact that she was almost killed and disposed of and now she knew for a fact that Obsidian was behind those. She had no details, of course. But if they were capable of torturing some poor man just to acquire a building and then try to kill her when she found out about it, they were more than capable of killing a hand and making some of their own employees disappear.

Mostly, it was that she wanted to see what the face of the other side of it looked like. What her father would have looked like if Obsidian had succeeded with her. The dog barking barely registered and she watched him speak. Brow furrowed and bruises on her face starting to yellow with healing. Other scratches scabbed over. "No," she finally answered with a glance down the road and then crossed her arms, "No I just...You're Grayson, right?"

[grayson-hall]

Starter for @shawnbetancourt

When: Present

Where: Outside Gray's home

The thing about Grandpa was that the old, scruffy, black dog was a bit of a Tasmanian devil when it came to the property. He stood right at the gate barking raspily at the woman standing on the other side. Gray strode towards Grandpa and their "visitor" half expecting to see a phone or a camera pointed at him -- it was around that time of year when the podcasters came by. He was immediately relieved there were no devices in sight. "Can I help you?" Gray asked, picking Grandpa up in an easy scoop, tucking the dog against his hip. "You lost or something?" Noticing the lack of dust in the air and tire marks on the ground, he felt wary again, "Where'd you come from?"

[grayson-hall]

The one thing that Grayson clung to during the worst year of his life was the fact that Raina's family believed he was innocent. Even when people argued online and made random Facebook pages speculating on his involvement, they all still welcomed him with open arms. It was a kindness and a sort of love that could still bring Grayson to his knees if he thought too deeply about it. He tended to call Waylon once a week, catching his brother-in-law on and off the road. Today, judging by the fact that his niece wasn't inhabiting the kitchen with his daughter, it seemed like Waylon was in town.

"Wondering where the hell my niece and nephew are since my pantry's still full," Grayson joked drily. He covered a yawn with his sleeve. Grandpa rested under his porch's rocking chair. Grayson looked at the stretch of land, chasing away thoughts of the wife who loved the view while talking to her brother on the phone. "I'm really just calling to gather intel. Jaime and Jesse have been especially sneaky. You have any idea what they're getting up to? Have the kids let anything slip around you?"

starter for @grayson-hall —

Waylon was home from a long run. His nights were often the same when he was home, he'd rummage around after cooking and then figure out something to watch for a few hours before he inevitably fell asleep on the couch. Tonight was no different. Luckily, Arizona didn't abide by the time change, but still, the earlier darkness made it feel like it was 10pm before it was even 7:45pm. It created this feeling that Waylon was caught in perpetual darkness.

He was zoned out when the phone rang. His brother in law, Grayson, and Waylon always picked up. Regardless of the fact that he was only a brother by marriage, they banded together in the mystery. "Hey man, what're you doing?"

[grayson-hall]

Starter for @roryhastingss

When: Present

Where: Local Medical Practice

'It's the most wonderful time of the year,' Gray's inner monologue sung sarcastically as he walked into Paxton's only emergency care unit. The cherry on top would be if they sent him out of town, Gray thought, as he was finally herded into a treatment room. The paper crinkled underneath him, as he fought to keep his leg elevated. It was the light knock on the door that made Gray turn. At the sight of the young nurse, Gray offered a brief nod. "Roof broke underneath my foot," he said, with a nod to the clipboard.

"Pretty sure it's sprained. Can I just get one of those hard boots and call it a day? I really can't afford to drive over to the next town for actual plaster and all that." He also didn't have the time, but he hoped mentioning finances would help convince the nurse to let him go sooner rather than later. If it was one of his kids, Gray would have told them to be patient, but Gray was their parent and he was nothing if not slightly hypocritical.

[grayson-hall]

[[TIME SKIP: a month later; post-winter carnival]]

Ijemma's home was coming along nicely. The kitchen just needed the caulk to dry around the faucets and a custom pantry door. Gray carefully swept up the sawdust; the guys finally installed the countertops and the kitchen looked brand new. He could hear some of them outside, loading up their trucks. It was the sound of shoes clicking across tile that made Gray look over with a slight wave. "In about 48 hours, you'll be able to start cooking in here with the caulk dried," he smiled; proud of his handiwork. "As of now, you have nice countertops to put takeout containers on."

Gray grunted and picked up his dustpan. He found Ijemma to be more of a friend lately, but there was something on his mind. Realizing, he was lingering, Gray pressed his lips together, then cleared his throat. "Do you know Castle Rock's new event manager -- well, not really new, but the one that got hired after Rain?"

"Oh gosh, growing up, my mom was a stickler about family dinners around the table. It was good, probably! I think there was a whole ad campaign when I was younger about...the family that eats together stays together or something?" It was a quaint idea for people who lived in a family. On her own, she was prone to eating in front of her laptop while she worked.

"Anyway, a quote sounds great! And I have no particular schedule preference. I try to make myself sleep in on Saturdays, but even then, it's only until 8 or 9. So any time other than that is fine." The nosy part of her wanted very much to be around for every moment of construction action, but that was neither necessary nor realistic. "Whatever works best for your team is good by me."

[grayson-hall]

"That's the perk of being young -- their brains are like sponges. I try to learn something new now, probably'll take me twice as long," Gray said. He technically was lying about the latter. He still learned quick -- he had to in order to keep working in the industry. Techniques and tools were always evolving. He lied because it was kind and he didn't completely look down on every young blood if they wanted to learn.

He smiled lightly as Abe talked about his son. They were only a year apart, but Abe's son was an adult. Gray's oldest was on the verge of turning eighteen, but still very much a teenager to argue with, he was hoping his Jesse would come back home for the winter one day after living his own life somewhere far away. Abe seemed to sense that thought as he returned the question. Gray tilted his head this way and that way.

"School kind of yo-yo's for them," Gray rubbed the back of his neck and pressed his lips together. "My kids are tougher than they should be, especially with Raina gone, and all of the gossip. Jaime got in a fight with a kid a month back. Jesse's gone off social media for now. They're standing, though, and I've gotten less out-of-school suspension notices, so," Gray shrugged, "That's better than last year and good for going into the holidays."

Abe set his cases of water next to the fridge, then opened it up for Gray. "People like to bitch and moan about kids these days not wanting to work or being too wrapped up on their phones and I mean hey, I get it, being young today is a lot different from when we were young. But the kids that work here, at least, they're just fine. Gotta teach 'em a little more upfront, most of 'em aren't raised in it like we were. But they get the hang of it." Complaining about the youths was a grumpy old man rite of passage that Abe had never cared much for.

"Jasper? Yeah, he was in Oregon but he's back now, home for the winter at least. He's good, I think. Good by my estimation. It's always, nice having him around." His boy was into music and art--a sensitive kinda guy. Having never been much good at the feelings thing himself, Abe rarely knew if something was eating at Jasper until some kinda blow-out happened. But for the moment, at any rate, his boy was alright.

"Your kids doing alright? School treating 'em okay?"

[grayson-hall]

Starter for @lolamendoza

When: Present

Where: Outside Necktie Meat Market

Most guys like Gray had a work truck and a personal truck. Gray sold his personal truck years ago -- as a result, all he had was the work truck with his work phone number and logo on the side. He technically hated it since the truck always felt like one big target. He also had an influx of hate calls recently; he always did around the anniversary of Raina's disappearance. So, as he walked through the parking lot of Necktie, groceries held like a football, he wasn't surprised to see someone crouching to get a look at the business name, logo, and phone number. If anything, he was exhausted.

Clearing his throat, and glancing over his shoulder to make sure there were other eyewitnesses around, he approached the young woman. He kept a few feet of distance between them, still wary of being accused of intimidating a stranger. "Can I help you?" Gray asked, hitching his grocery bag over his shoulder, he nodded towards the truck's driver door. "If you're looking for a contractor, I can give you a business card."

[grayson-hall]

Gray tilted his head at the image she painted. It was a bit dark, but funny to imagine -- sort of like an old school cartoon. Before Gray a chance to say so, she answered his question about the old wives' tale. At the word 'acupuncture,' he winced. He hated needles ever since he watched Jesse get his shots. "I used to know someone that swore by that and hot stone massages," Gray said with a little shake of his head. "I have to agree, though. Never quite managed to rely on faith alone."

Technically, he never really had faith. At least not in the sense of a higher power. He had faith in his loved ones in that they were strong and loyal and kind. Outside of that, though? Not an ounce. He caught a glance of another booth a few tents down. "Do you have a dog?" He asked, nodding towards the holistic pet medicine tent. "I got an old wiry lil guy and I'm not sure about those pet chews for their joints. Do you think they're just another health gimmick thing?"

"Not if they get out and cause a stampede of panic," Reagan remarked with dark realism, "because that'll become everyone's problem. We'd be trampled in the chaos." Her lips pursed at the corners, to staunch the sudden urge to smile at this rather dire -- and highly unlikely -- picture she painted. It was a bit funny, she had to admit to herself. "Mm," the woman acknowledged the wives' tale, "though I imagine it has as much legitimacy as acupuncture." Neither trick seemed to be backed by any real science behind it, right? "I'll stick to the medicine bottles that list their ingredients and explain what to expect," she went on, checking inside her purse for her wallet, "which seems more practical than relying on sheer faith."