Sunrise Deli Flashback Episode

3:34PM, Slightly Windy, the clouds threaten rain, but the threats seem empty.

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He'd done this before. He stood outside the deli with his overpriced coffee in hand. It wasn't unlike Henry to buy a coffee before he went out, but this felt eerily familiar. What had the differences been? What was altered from the deja vu that sat upon the throne of his mind?

Rain. There was no rain today. He'd met a college student that day, too. But why did it feel so familiar if so much wasn't occurring the same way? Why did the purchase of a beverage trigger such a response?

He couldn't put his finger on it. But Henry was great at shrugging off the strangeness and moving forward. Which he did! And immediately dropped his coffee and watched it splatter across the ground.

Oh, that was where the deja vu came from. Weren't those sorts of things supposed to be about previous lives?

Wes had heard good things about the deli from his co-workers so he'd decided to take a trip there for his lunch break. It was a bit far away from the Ridgefield police department where he worked, but the roads were fairly fast-moving at the moment so he expected he'd get back there on time. If the weather remained dry enough, at least. Rain always seemed to bring out the worst sort of traffic jams.

He checked his watch after getting out of his car and then headed in the direction of the Sunrise Deli building, thinking about what he might order. A club sandwich sounded particularly tasty, and of course a coffee to go with.

The redhead got to the door, or at least as far as he could without actually being able to reach it. Some other guy was standing in front of it, looking a bit lost in thought. Wes noticed that there was a coffee in his hand, but that didn't last long. The cup soon fell to the ground, spilling the contents all over the pavement.

There could have been a number of reasons the stranger had let that coffee go, but Wes went with the first option that came to mind and asked about it. "Is it really not that good?"

This wouldn't be this first time a co-worker had let him down if it wasn't.

Henry sighed in a fashion that one might consider to be an embellishment. It was, to be fair, but he was really looking forward to that coffee. So much so in fact that when the words came at him from the stranger, he didn't really register them correctly at first.

"What? No!" He said in a manner that he instantly regretted. Too rigid and sharp. His irritation dominating the concept of deja vu altogether and exploding from his mouth towards the stranger as a bark.

"Ah, sorry. Didn't mean to be so crass. The coffee is splendid, I'm just an idiot turns out."

The outburst from the stranger wasn't expected and it had Wes's heart jump just a bit. Brows shot up, too, in confusion. Had he offended this guy? Oh no! Maybe he worked here!

Those worries were thankfully put to rest as the stranger quickly corrected himself. Wes let out a breath of relief. "Well, that's fortunate. I was going to go buy one myself."

He was planning on entering the building, but it was impossible not to notice that the other man seemed a little down. Wes frowned as he referred to himself as an idiot. "How come?"

Why exactly was he an idiot? He hadn't expected the question at all. It had just been an accident, after all. Maybe it felt as if he hadn't learned anything from his previous experience having done so. It was more a feeling of recognizing that deja vu and being able to prevent nothing. It didn't really matter as a whole, but it was burning in his mind for some reason.

"I supposed that's a bit of a harsh judgement on myself. And I do recommend that you try it! Sunrise is a favorite of mine.

His question sort of went unanswered and that did make Wes wonder, but all the same he didn't want to pry to the point of being irritating. For that reason, he would let it go for now. It didn't sound as if the stranger had any real reason to be hard on himself anyway, aside from perhaps carelessly spilling his coffee on the ground.

Wes would allow himself to be inquisitive about one thing though, and that was the way fellow spoke of the beverages sold inside. It was almost as if he was advertising them. If that was the case, he'd done a good job of it. "I think that I will!" Wes chimed at the suggestion before letting his curiosity take the reins. "Do you work here, then?"

He stepped a bit closer to the building's entrance as a sort of hint that he wanted him to move aside, or follow him in to get another drink if that was what he wanted to do.

Henry found it amusing how often he'd been asked that exact question in his lifetime. Three times at a Subway, and the last was at a Best Buy. He also decided that day that he would never return to Best Buy. This information, and thusly the entire thought process, was completely pointless.

"Oh no, I'm a detective!"

For a moment, Henry's world just froze in time after he said that. Why he had zero impulse control over telling random strangers that he was a cop was something he really needed to figure out. Most people hated cops. Perhaps there was a subconscious desire to be transparent about him. It did make friendship difficult, however.

That answer stopped Wes in his tracks. This guy, a detective? He didn't seem like the most perceptive guy in the world, but he supposed looks and initial impressions could be deceiving. He, of all people, would know that. But there was another part of the puzzle he hadn't quite yet put together regarding this man's job.

"Well, that's interesting. I don't think I've ever seen you at the police department." Wes claimed, brows quirking a bit. He highly doubted the other was lying to him, so there must have been a reason their paths hadn't crossed. Perhaps he worked in a different district?

Oh, was this guy also a cop? That was surprising. Little did he know that the man was going through the same emotions as he was. He hadn't seen this guy when he was working at the RPD, so he wondered if he came on after he transferred.

"I actually left the RPD last year and was brough on to the CSI division for the STF. You must have come on after I left?"

So, he was CSI. Again, Wes was surprised because this guy struck him as somebody who'd faint at the sight of a little blood. He'd try not to show it on his face, though.

What was more intriguing was that he'd been transferred to another department. It definitely had to have happened before he'd moved to Ridgefield too, because he was absolutely certain he'd never seen the other man's face before.

"That sounds very plausible," Wes responded, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "I'm on the forensics team at the RPD, myself. Though more than half of the time I'm cooped up in the lab."

Wes had a feeling that the hints he'd dropped of wanting to go inside hadn't been obvious enough, so he went ahead and told his acquaintance what they both ought to do. "Now why don't you tell me about this STF over a new cup of coffee? I'm Wes by the way."

It deepened the confusion on how they never crossed paths for a moment. He'd been in the lab when relaying evidence many times at the RPD. In that vein though, maybe they had actually met before. When one was on the job, at least for Henry, he rarely tried to further any form of relationship. They could have talked and just never registered each other. It really, really didn't matter. He just couldn't help but try to answer it for himself.

"I'd love another cup of coffee. And I can talk to some extent about my job over at the Supernatural Task Force, but you and I both know I can't say too much." He walked up to the side of the man. Figured this would be a better way to spend his day than aimless wandering.

"Henry, by the way."

So his name was Henry. It fit him well, just as it sparked a vague memory. Wes could have sworn he'd heard that name mentioned once or twice at the RPD. Maybe they actually had crossed paths, just indirectly. Wes did go home early feeling sick with migraines from time to time so it was very possible that his friend here had ended up speaking to somebody else on the forensics team when he needed to relay evidence.

It was a wonder, but one that would be put to rest for now. Right now, it was time for coffee and chatting.

"Of course. You know, I never did take this vampire and werewolf business very seriously until about a month ago," Wes told Henry as they entered the deli. "Now I feel awfully surprised it took me that long to directly encounter one. And awfully lucky." He gulped, recalling the meeting with that vampire woman. Ever since then, his days of finding alternate explanations for giant claw marks among other supernatural-caused pieces of evidence were past him.

No surprise there. There'd been a surprising amount of denial in the RPD when he was there. Nowadays he'd imagine it could only be better, but across the globe there were still people who refused to believe it.

"Hard to ignore nowadays. The presence of them is ever increasing. It's still weird working in that world, but I'm happy to do it."

He let Wesley step in line before him. Half because it was polite and half because it was awkward to be buying another coffee.

"Yes, although it was a great deal easier when we lived in ignorance," was Wes's somewhat pointed response as he entered the fortunately short line. He glanced up at the menu momentarily before ultimately deciding on something that wasn't too sweet but all the same not entirely without sugar.

With the beverage paid for, he stepped out of the way so Henry could order. While waiting, he scanned his surroundings for a decent spot to sit.

The difference being that Henry never had the chance to live in that ignorance. Tanya'd proven to be a vampire, and she had been his whole world at the time. So sure, he had it before she left, but it was short lived. He'd known since college that there were those with elevated existences.

Henry paid for the same exact thing. You'd expect the cashier to have made a weird face, but she remembered better than Henry how often he did this. So much so that she didn't even charge him this time. He thanked her and stepped aside.

"Easier, sure. But not better. Community only works when people are willing to be open with themselves, and thus in return people give them tolerance."

To be fair, Henry did have a valid point in regards to how community worked. It was just unfortunate that his own first experience with the supernatural had been unpleasant. So terribly unpleasant, in fact, that it had at least temporarily tainted his view of them. The fang-bearers, in particular.

"You'd think if they wanted tolerance, they wouldn't come up to you, deceive you with their hypnosis powers and then drink you dry." Wes pointed out, frowning.

He moved over to the table adjacent to the cashier's station and took a seat, then took a sip of his coffee. Henry was right to recommend Sunrise. Their coffee really was fantastic.

This was typical. What he'd expected from a fellow officer, truly. It was harsh on his heart to hear, but it was something he'd dealt with before. It would be an easy matter to just let it pass by, and yet Henry found what the man had said a bit irksome. Sitting down, he held a bit of a dour look on his face.

"You know, it's thinking like that that makes supernatural people not trust the force out here. Not only that, but that doesn't cover psychics or shifters, either."

Wes had half-expected to be asked just why he felt that way, perhaps even in a sympathetic tone, but instead the other man sort of went on the defensive side. It was a tad irritating, but that wasn't the main point he'd gotten out of Henry's statement. He knew about shifters but apparently, psychics existed too. And, from the sound of it, they were no run-of-the-mill palm reading fortune tellers.

Before moving forward to that topic though, the ginger chose to defend his previous comment. "You do understand I'm speaking from a first-hand experience? One involving a deranged vampire woman who manipulated me to stay in my car until I allowed her to suck on my arm." A sigh. "I don't know if she's just a bad egg from the bunch but that doesn't change the fact that my first experience with a vampire was one I'd rather not repeat."

He paused shortly to take a small sip of coffee. "Now you mentioned shifters and psychics. I'm aware of the existence of were-creatures but not once until now has anyone mentioned a psychic to me in that context. Are you suggesting that psychic powers actually do manifest in ordinary human beings?" It was less of a shock than vampires and werewolves being real, if they did.

Wes wasn't wrong. His feelings weren't invalidated by Henry's beliefs. It was a travesty that so often this was the story. The consistency was a rampant problem, and if Henry were less apologetic, perhaps he would see vampires the same way. He just couldn't. He found them to be tragic creatures. Ones under the spell of their hunger and incapable of escaping its grasp. He hated that he couldn't share that feeling without pushback.

"Yes, and a woman tried to cut my throat in the Golden Dragon parking lot. I am not saying your experience is disallowed from deciding your feelings. I am just saying that there is good and bad in all people, and spreading rhetoric of hatred makes it that much harder for us, the STF, to do our jobs peacefully, and it pushes us into a xenophobic way of thinking. I don't see either of those things as good."

A bit more than he needed to say, but he was frustrated.

"Humans are turned from themselves into all three of these based on variety of methods. If you're asking if psychics are real, then yes, they've been around just as long as far as we know."

This guy really had an assertive manner of speaking, didn't he? It was surprising, coming from somebody who looked the part of a wallflower. Wes wanted to ask him if he ever considered the work of a preacher or perhaps even a politician but he knew full well that would open a whole different can of worms. So instead of taking that risk, he gave a much simpler response.

"Well, I guess I'll try and keep my rhetoric to myself then." A somewhat defeated sigh, and then another gulp of coffee. It wasn't as if Henry was wrong in the slightest. In fact, he was absolutely right. Hatred solved nothing. But all the same, a little wariness towards folks who raised red flags never did hurt. At least, that's what Wes thought.

Now, onwards to a very much welcomed subject change!

"And what are these methods? I've come to believe a bite on the wrist is ineffective enough."

It grew immediately apparent that this gentleman didn't want to speak on it anymore. That was the burden of free speech, was it not? He was allowed to express himself however he chose, but those around him were allowed to do the same. As long as the two remained in the realm of civility it would be no issue. It was when anger flared from having a particular lean towards belief that you were allowed to speak without retaliation that led to problems. It was a world in which people forgot that; often.

Henry was agreeable to the change of subject himself. He did not like the feeling of a racing heart nor did he enjoy barking at people. A person's patience can only wane so far before it finally snaps.

He still didn't think that it had.

"No, that wouldn't do it. If you think about it biologically, it makes sense that an infection of vampirism could be spread this way. But they carry the affliction in their blood. It is their blood entering you that you have to worry about. And even then, you might not have to worry about consequences for a while."

The change of subject was in his own best interest, as it probably was for Henry as well. Arguing over something that couldn't be agreed upon would not ever lead to a desirable conclusion. Wes knew that in his case he'd just end up sick with a bad headache and he did not want to have to drive home feeling like that, though he had done it many times before in the past.

So now it was the time to discuss exactly how human beings could be turned from their mortal state. Still a slightly uncomfortable topic, but a huge improvement from the former.

"So saliva plays no role in the transformation process," Wes thought out loud as he took another sip of coffee. He hid a slight grimace behind the cup. Considering just how a vampire's blood could possibly end up in a human's system did turn his stomach a little. He had his doubts that it was usually done in the manner of a medical procedure, like a blood transfusion or something of the like. "And what about the werebeasts? And the psychics? Am I supposed to assume the same about them?"

Henry shook his head.

”Certainly not. If you’re scratched or bitten by a werecreature, you need to find assistance immediately. You could be turned from the smallest contact. Any wild animal nowadays should be even less approachable with this in mind. Leave the scene to those who can help professionally.” He knew it was a callous thing to say. The truth was, shifters scared Henry the most. They lived in his head and the most unexplainable thing. There were so many kinds, and the infection made little sense to him.

”As far as we know, there’s no determinate for how psychic abilities occur. You could go your whole life never experiencing one. Or you will have one appear while you’re eating breakfast. It’s hard to say.”

It made perfect sense, and yet Wes couldn't help but be alarmed. He pictured being scratched by what seemed like an ordinary cat and then waking up the next day sprouting fur all over. While he'd never had the real desire to own a pet, doing so seemed even less reasonable now. Even Henry, who had acted defensive on behalf of vampires, did come off as a bit wary.

"If you're asking me not to wrangle a coyote in the streets, I wouldn't have it in me normally." Wes remarked as he sipped down more coffee. While werecreatures sounded formidable, the psychic phenomenon intrigued him. It also made him wonder about his own self. "Do these psychic abilities manifest without warning, you think? Or are there signs or symptoms that precede them? Migraines, for example...?"

He almost wanted to ask Henry if he had firsthand experience but he figured that would be too prying. There was that, and the fact that he didn't seem very psychic.

Henry was more knowledgeable than the general public (he assumed) but the truth was he didn't have all the answers. Some things were just above his pay grade, even being within the STF. When it came to the nitty gritty of how psychic abilities really worked, he simply didn't know.

"It's a solid assumption that there'd be precursors, but nothing says that there is definitively. From what I've personally seen; there is no catalyst. My honest guess is that there are tons more psychics than are aware of it, and just haven't seen or been able to harness their powers yet. I'd even bet there are psychics who will go their whole lives without ever knowing they have an ability like that."

Wes drank deeply from his cup of coffee, draining it almost entirely. It sounded to him that psychics were the biggest mystery of them all. Even more so than vampires and werebeasts, which came off as a bit surprising. What Henry had to say definitely had him dwelling over himself and others. It was a bit frightening, thinking that one day he might just start levitating an object just because he thought of it, or that he might suddenly read somebody's mind on accident.

That was how psychic powers worked, wasn't it?

It was probably best not to overthink it, but now he'd been set down a path of intrigue. Wes began to eye Henry in a funny sort of way. He'd mentioned that psychics could live out their entire life without unlocking their powers, and had put out another few keywords that had roused his suspicions. "You seem to have an awful lot of intuition about this. It really makes me wonder if your experience at the STF is deserving of all the credit."

It was almost scary. The question was truly an insight into the life that Henry led. Prior to his time as a cop whatsoever, he had been someone who was obsessed with learning about the supernatural. Starting at the level of fiction until it breached into his reality. Until Tanya.

He shifted in his seat rather uncomfortably.

"I would say that being in the STF has helped a lot. But I've had my curiosities for a long time."

It didn't seem as if he'd quite gotten his point across. The other man took what he had said literally, but no more than that. Wes set his coffee cup down on the table's surface and looked right at him, brows raising slightly.

"You're telling me all this and yet you haven't considered that you might have a sixth sense?"

Wes was already wondering about himself, and he was less surrounded by the supernatural than anyone at the STF. Was Henry perhaps choosing to block out all thoughts that had anything to do with himself potentially being psychic?

He went to sip his coffee but the conjecture stumped him completely. He had indeed never once considered that he may have a supernatural understanding. How often would he really notice his eye color changing? Or the side effects if they were mute enough? It swirled in his mind as a screeching banshee might.

"I, uh." Henry said with great pause. "I actually have no idea."

Wes could see the other man's confidence fading fast. It would had made him feel a little remorseful for asking such a question if not for it being something that might eventually have to be considered. And from the looks of it, he hadn't done so at all until this very moment.

Now was probably a good time to leave Henry to himself now, but not without a few parting words.

"Hm. Well, it's something to think about," Wes said as he got up from his seat, empty coffee cup in hand. A low, loud rumble erupted from outside, bringing his attention to the window. More clouds were gathering in the sky. A storm was likely brewing. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say it's going to rain." Eyes fell on Henry again. "It isn't your doing, is it?" A tight lipped smile and a chuckle followed his words. "I'm joking. Now, I had better get going so I can beat the traffic. It was nice meeting you, Henry."

It was a shame he'd forgotten to order a club sandwich. He supposed he'd have to get one now and eat on the road.

"It was nice to meet you as well." He said, but a bit dejected.

It was true. He'd never considered before the reality behind him possibly being someone who had been afflicted by an unknown power. He hadn't seen any changes in his eye color, or the sense that anything around him had been manipulated in a tangible way. Still, there were powers that would be much harder to understand without a visual assistant. He couldn't push away the possibility that he was just as susceptible to these ethereal mysteries.

"Huh." Henry muttered to himself, staring longingly at a long-embedded coffee stain atop the table he sat at.