Scene #9118:

Owner	Pose
Calvin Nash	Ossabaw Island is likely familiar territory for Futaba at this point. Calvin comes by the gatehouse to pick her up in his truck, although today is an off day for him--no uniform. Instead, it's faded blue jeans, a salmon-and-grey flannel, a beige barn jacket and his matching cowboy boots, plus the black cowboy hat he's fond of. A ride of a few minutes down the islands crushed oystershell roads beneath moss-draped canopy takes them to his house, a bunk house atop a grassy manmade hill, much like many of its fellows on the island. the incline is transparently even, the top flat enough to sustain the wattle-and-daub timber-framed cabin which rests atop it. Handmade shingles much like those of the other houses here protect against the rain, with a rammed earth chimney rising slightly above it. "C'mon in," Calvin offers invitingly, punctuating the sentence with the 'whump' of closing the driver-side door. "Make yourself comfortable. I'm 'on get us a fire started." Much like the chimney, the floor of Calvin's cabin is smoothed-down, rammed earth bricks, a kind of cement with a color like a darker shade of the silty shores a short drive away. A handwoven rug in muted blue and beige stretches out to greet visitors; a rocking chair is set up near the fireplace, while a sturdy, simple dining table and chairs wait not far away from that, no doubt made from the same tree, or at least the same type--oak, earthen grey-brown with homemade cushions affixed. An old tape deck radio Frankensteined into working condition through several mismatched jobs waits attentively with its spindly antennae standing vigil. Calvin flips a crude but safe-looking light switch to illuminate those areas the afternoon sun doesn't quite reach from the windows; simple incandescent lightbulbs in hammered metal shades flicker to life. Up against the east wall, a comfortable looking blue sofa basks in sunlight filtering in from one of those windows, its upholstery marred with noble battle scars tended to by dutiful furniture medics, adorned with a white doily across the back like a medal of honor. Calvin takes off his boots at the door, hangs his hat up on a rugged but serviceable coat rack, on the rung above the one he hangs his jacket on. Rolling up the sleeves of his flannel, he takes a knee by the fireplace, conjures a little flame at the end of his index and sets a prearranged little stack of logs to crackling before waving the flame at his index away. Calvin then falls into the old blue sofa, rubbing his palms together and scooting forward to get at the drawer of a coffee table. "Wanted to talk to you 'bout the other day," he says, rifling through the drawer. "'Bout what your brother said." Pulling out a glass pipe and a palm-sized woven pouch, "What can we do so he don't never have cause to run his mouth like that again?" he asks flatly. "And before you ask, I ain't talkin' 'bout bowin' up and whuppin' on 'im. I'm talkin' 'bout how we can help you clean your plate and keep it clean, far as responsibilities go."
Futaba Nuki	When Futaba shows up at Ossabaw Island, it's for a different kind of work than the usual. Instead of coming to help recover things for Calvin and the Demon Marshals, she's actually here for her own work! Or at least help getting it done better, even if the clothes she shows up wouldn't really suggest that. Rather than her usual sporty jacket and shorts getup or her ninja outfits, she's wearing a poofy white sweater/hoodie combo with floppy white 'ears' on the hood. The ears are tied around her neck like a makeshift scarf, of course, and she's still wearing her usual shorts and high stockings combo that are usually overshadowed by the presence of that big fat tail of hers. Somehow, that tail never gets in the way of actually sitting in his car or seeing the sdie mirrors. She's probably shrinking it or something each time. "Nice place you got out here... This an outpost for the Marshals, or a place you got yourself?" Whistling lightly as she heads towards the cabin, Futaba peers up at the outer facade first all the way up, then again once she's inside to follow that rising chimney. "Nice and cozy in here... This definitely feels like a you place than a safehouse, for sure." Casually stretching one hand down to pry off her boots and leave them aside, Futaba undoes the hoodie-ear-scarf to let herself braethe a little easier now that she's inside, but keeps the poofy thing on. It's comfortable, anyway, and she can always toss it off later. "The other...? Oh, yeah. About Takeshi and..." She closes her eyes, furrowing her brow a bit before grunting once. "Home stuff, yeah. Homework.. Home work stuff. Figured that was the case... Aah. Well." Pulling up to the couch, the tanuki stretches out (figuratively) over the back of it before rolling herself over the top to flop onto the seat, slouching about halfway down for a few seconds before scooching back up. "Well... There's a lot we can do, I guess. The usual work's mostly doing stuff like making appearance during the daily rituals and talkin' to folks to find out what's botherin' them and taking care of that, but..." She sniffs once and wrinkles her nose a bit. "We usually get angry ghosts from time to time, but that's usually somethin' that handles itself, between me and the rest of the local town heroes. Just hasn't been workin' out great lately, since they've been gettin' more agitated and all. And then we got those shitstirrin' Metal Priest roaming around harder now..." Futaba groans and throws her head back against the back of the couch, then looks over at Calvin. "What about just whuppin' them?"
Calvin Nash	What about just whuppin' them? "If you could beat stupid outta somebody, don't you figure a lotta the people we deal with'd be smarter'n they are?" Calvin reaches further into the drawer and shakes his head, procuring a little mortar and pestle. "Uh-uh. Can't do it. Best you can do is say 'piss me off and this is what you gonna get,' and your brother ain't gonna respect that." "You smoke?" he asks as an aside, before continuing. The smell from the little pouch isn't the smell of tobacco. If the answer is 'no,' the next question is whether she minds if he does. Either way, it's not the main conversational path. "Your brother, he's the type that draws that kinda line in the sand, ain't he? If he is, you ain't never gonna draw one that won't piss him off more." He lifts a hand from his work grinding green herb in the bowl to tap a blonde temple. "'Cause up here, he thinks he's better'n you." "That there's what we gotta fix. We can get to the Metal Priests and the ghosts in a minute. First, we gotta figure how you can make time for them rituals and doin' the rounds. I saw that face you made when you said it," he says, pausing in his work to make eye contact with her. "What's the problem?"
Futaba Nuki	"If you could beat stupid outta somebody, don't you figure a lotta the people we deal with'd be smarter'n they are?" "Yeeeeeah... Bet plenty of Elites would be outta the job, too." Futaba snickers lightly and sgihs a moment later, still somewhat disappointed that the easiest answer coming to mind isn't the one that'll actually change anything. She probably knew that already before asking, too. "Heck, beating him and his goons up only worked that one time, anyway. " She shakes her head at the question of smoking, pauses, then holds up a finger and thins it out into the shape of an incense stick. "Does it smell any better than these things?" She asks, eyeing the pouch curiously and waiting for Calvin to get started on that so she can smell it. If she really turns out not to like the smell, she can always put her nose away for a while. "Me and Takeshi...Heh. Yeah, we've thrown hands a couple times before, and even sicced a bunch of his goons on me to try and kill me, but that's all in the past. He's cool now! Even got me a makin' up present out of all that trouble." She explains while leaving even more questions unanswered, although she does answer at least one more by raising her hand and showing off the gold bracer on her right arm. "... Indirectly." She adds, adding yet more questions. "'Cause up here, he thinks he's better'n you." "I mean, he kinda is. He always was the smart one in the family, even when he was a kid." That gets a chuckle out of Futaba as she starts to reminisce about something. "Never was as good at transformin' as me or as strong and cool as sis, so-" A beat, then "-Natsuki-" and then "-he made up for it by being clever about everything. Not anyone can just MAKE a buttload of money and have hired goons, y'know? I mean, unless it's just dropped into your lap like..." She trails off, her previous upbeatness at talking up her siblings giving way to the same moderately disgruntled look she had when bringing up her daily rituals and routines. "What's the problem?" "The rituals and all that crap. It's... I've heard other temples make 'em about the folks that're dead. The ones that're pissed off about how they died, or worried about leavin' their homes behind, or whatever unfinished business they got going on." Futaba starts getting off the couch to pace around a little. "And when it's the kind for celebrating, it's for whatever and whoever took care of all that after they actually... Did anything to take care of all that stuff, you know? It's not about just..." Another irritated grunt, and she fiddles with her leaf to keep her hands busy. "... Looking at me and talking about how blessed they are for me to be there. It'd be one thing if it was about the stuff I'm doin' around town, but it's not. It's all-" She holds her arm to the side, transforming it into a head-to-neck facsimile of her her own head, but with a regal-looking hairpiece and straight brown hair rather than her usual vibrant orange ponytail. "-just gushing about this instead." "So... 's why I skip a lot of that."
Calvin Nash	Does it smell any better than these things? Calvin shrugs. Incense sticks must not be a common thing. "Can't say." The plant in its unburnt state has a faintly skunky aroma, and it's probably easy to imagine smoking it will make it more prominent. Calvin doesn't seem to mind it. But he doesn't take to smoking it yet, even once he's transfered a few pinches of ground herb to the bowl of his glass pipe. Rather, he sets the pipe aside for the moment. He's cool now! "If you say so." His tone illustrates the doubt he feels over things being settled between people where death was once on the line. It isn't full disagreement solely because Futaba still has some measure of credibility in his eyes. Not anyone can just MAKE a buttload of money and have hired goons, y'know? "'He kinda is.' See, that right there's gotta go," says Calvin with blunt disapproval. "If you don't respect yourself, won't nobody else. 'Not everybody' can tuck their ankles past their head and walk down the street on their asscheeks, neither. Don't mean doin' it helps nobody. Least he could do is not shit on people who try to." -It's all- Calvin blanches at the sight of Futaba's arm changing. The incense stick was one thing, but that appears to have crossed some kind of mental rubicon of his. He doesn't say anything about it, at least. So... 's why I skip a lot of that. Calvin sighs, and with it goes the awkwardness from his earlier gawping. "Yeap. I get it," he says, and it sounds like he really does, rather than just giving a platitude. "Not 'cause I lived it, but 'cause I can see you from my house, I figure." "I didn't have to be a Marshal like my momma was. I'm proud of her, and what she done for this place," he punctuates with a downwards tap of his index on the coffee table. "And I wanted to carry the torch, I guess. But there's people that still call me 'Gina's boy' even though I'm grown, and I figure if I was tryin' to be a painter or a glassblower or a lineman, that'd piss me off a little." "The difference is," he says, resting one hand on the armrest and gesticulating with the other, "Nobody's gonna come and fill in for you if you skip it for good. Right? 'Cause it ain't the kind of thing you sign up for or put in your two weeks notice."
Futaba Nuki	The skunky smell, weirdly enough, doesn't bother Futaba all thatmuch. She might be used to it, or she's being polite. Either way, her nose stays right where it is! "'Not everybody' can tuck their ankles past their head and walk down the street on their asscheeks, neither." That gets an outburst of laughter from Futaba, and she glances at her ankles briefly before looking back at Calvin. "Fair 'nough! No, I getcha. He gets his attitude form all those gangster movies he got into, I bet. Real shame, too." She explains, tut-tutting dramatically like the disappointed older sibling she is (pretending to be). "I really did try to keep him on the straight and narrow with the ninja shows and hero movies, but they just never stuck for him. Really lets it get to his head, and not even in a way that'll get him any fans." Settling back down on the couch, she pulls her arm back into its normal shape as easily as she changed it earlier. "I get what you're sayin', though. That's why I'm busting my ass doing hero stuff around town instead of staying at home and lettin' people look at me all day. I..." She pauses, picking at her cheek briefly and letting out another quiet noise. "I want to earn that respect, not just have people throw it at me 'cause of how I was born." "And I wanted to carry the torch, I guess." Futaba's expression softens a bit, and she breaks into another light chuckle before long. "Yeah... I figured you'd get it, too. It's not like I don't wanna carry the torch, either. Heck, I'd put money down on all three of us wantin' to do it, if things lined up different. It's just..." Her expression takes a downturn again, and she slouches further on the couch until she's practically horizontal on the seat. "Natsuki was supposed to, 'til I was born. And Takeshi can't, 'cause he wasn't born the right... Time? Way? I don't know. So it's on me now, and..." Futaba groans lightly and rubs her neck, sliding a little further down until her head is on the seat. "Makin' appearances that don't mean anything or fix any problems we've got going on at home or help anybody just doesn't sit right for me. It feels like a bigger waste of time than doing nothing at all, you know?"
Calvin Nash	"Futaba..." Calvin shifts in his seat, leaning forward and steepling his fingers as he searches for words. They don't come immediately--a story serves his purpose in their stead. "While before we Unified, me and J.M. and this fella from Arizona had to go toe to toe with the Trumpeter. He blacked out the sky, got Canaan all excited for the end-times and Libertalia ready to fight a fight they been itchin' for since them two camps first met." "We found 'im and knocked the hell out of 'im and prolly prevented a war that woulda kilt a lot of people, between the fightin' and what all else woulda happened durin' and after." "But," he says, pausing, leaning back and holding up an index, "You go out there and you ask anybody how come they respect me, and sure, they might mention my momma. Maybe they'll even mention that shit with Trumpeter, or us goin' out and gettin' to the bottom of the Choke some years back. Most of 'em are gonna talk about little stuff I did, here or there. You know why?" "'Cause as much as people like havin' heroes, the shit that heroes deal with is just too big for most people to reckon. People care more 'bout what's close to 'em. So," he says, turning to make eye contact again, "If you want respect--and you oughta--you gotta be somebody who'll make time for that stuff. 'Cause it ain't a waste of time to those people. 'Cause it means somethin' to them. Maybe it don't fix none of their problems, maybe it does, but it helps them to feel like somebody gives a shit anyway. I ain't sayin' it's fair you got this end of the stick, but it's what you got, and nobody else is gonna take it from you."
Futaba Nuki	Hearing something that sounds like a story starting, Futaba scooches right back upon the couch to listen intently. It's shorter than expected, but it's still interesting enough to hold her attention the whole time. She imitates his finger steepling as he speaks, too,, and the reason why he tells her that story starts to make sense the more he speaks. "Soudns like you went through hell and back for that, yeah... Hn. But nah, that makes sense. Regular folks'll see us doing stuff around town, fightin' the local threats big and small. The real big stuff that's outside of their... City, block, whatever though? Nah, I guess they wouldn't really catch any of that. Even those big shot heroes only really get known if-yeah, it's gotta be local. We might care about what's going on all over the place, but the old ladies down the block ain't gonna care about even a quarter of the stuff that goes down in Ginza or... Like. Anywhere in any of the Americas." She moves a hand to her chin, stroking it lightly while hrrming softly. "And one of these days, I'll... Nn. Yeah, I'll have way more than enough on my plate at home to worry about what folks out in Europe think about me. Don't got any camera crews on me like the Powerpuffs or the Justice League or the Fantfourstics, either, so that ain't changing anytime soon, either..." Both hands go up to her forehead, and she lets out a longer groan before slumping back in her seat again. "... Alright. Fine. How do we balance this out, then? Doin' stuff around town is.. I mean, I'm already doing that, you know? It's fun, seeing everyone around town, helpin' 'em out with stuff and taking care of whatever rowdy idiots or criminals come around causing trouble. But the rituals IN the temples, the palace..." She steeples her hands over her chin, but she's laying flat on the couch, so her elbows are just kind of pointed up at the wall. "How do we make that less... Boring as heck?"
Calvin Nash	How do we make that less... Boring as heck? "You don't," Calvin says. "You think all the pull ups and push ups and curls and situps I do for this here," he says, patting a thick bicep, "Is half as fun as muddin' or gettin' drunk and bullshittin'? It ain't." "In fact, it's boring as shit. But it's good for me, so I do it, even when I could be doin' all that other shit, and you know what? I have more fun when I do, 'cause I know I ain't leavin' nothin' undone soon as when I get to doin' it." "You gotta get comfortable with doin' unfun shit whether you're workin' a shrine or bein' a Paladin, and you especially gotta get comfortable with it if you're gonna be both. So you want my advice? Two things," he says, listing with his index and middle. "One," he says, "Get you a structure that works for you. On this day, it's temple shit, on this day, it's Paladins shit. Take your days where you're doin' shit that's unfun, and break those up by what all you gotta do--important stuff, stuff with a time limit. You do the shit that's both first, then get the rest done by whatever's on the shortest time, accordin' to how long it'll take you to do 'em." "Two," he says, "Find yourself some kinda way to treat yourself once you get done with all that shit. Little sunshine to break through the clouds. For me, that's reefer or a stop by the Place--" The restaurant a little ways down the road from Calvin's cabin. The smell of fried food carries faintly, when the wind blows just right. "Or just shootin' the shit with some friends. Don't matter what it is, long as you got it waitin' for you at the end. Makes it easier to get through."
Futaba Nuki	Futaba mouths a silent "dang it" when Calvin reveals there is, in fact, no way to make the boring less boring. Rewarding, perhaps, and structured with something to look forward to, but no less boring. Looking over at the presented bicep, she strokes her chin lightly as she stretches her neck to lean in and stare like she's scientist looking at a particularly interesting specimen. "Well, it sure is working out for ya. If I couldn't transform the way I did or have this here-" She taps on the bracer while reverting her neck, "-then I'd probably be... Hmm. Nah, I'd probably still just be scamperin' around like I always do. Still just as agile without it, but... Yeah, I get you." Her head goes back on the couch with another groan. "I know what I have to do, but... Uuuugh, fine. Maybe it'll be easier if I do the.. Alternatin' thing, yeah. See if I can't get one of those flexible schedules going and... Hmmn. I mean, I'm already workin' weekends with the Paladins, but the palace stuff's got weekend work, too. if I take one day for Paladins stuff and one day for palace... Ugh, but all the cool stuff happens on the..." She's seriously thinking about it, at least, even though she's still feeling bratty about it. "How'd you even make yourself do it to start with? Like... Is it really just knowing that it's gotta be done, and you've got stuff to do afterwards?" As she looks over at Calvin, she furrows her brow again, then looks over at the pipe. "That the reefer stuff you talkin' about?" She pauses for a while, then slides back up for the fourth or fifth time and gestures at it. "Mind if I...?"
Calvin Nash	How'd you even make yourself do it to start with? Like... Is it really just knowing that it's gotta be done, and you've got stuff to do afterwards? "Yep," says Calvin. "But I guess I also had a damn good reason to. When I was your brother's age, I was just startin' out. Was kind of a beanpole." His eyes are momentarily somewhere else; the kind of look you get when recounting something unpleasant but which is ultimately behind you. "Some oni came into town and were causin' trouble. Pickin' fights, breakin' shit. Told 'em to quit it and act right, they said 'or what,' I said 'or I'll knock them horns offa your head one at a time.'" He chuckles ruefully. "They beat the bejeezus outta me," Calvin recounts with a slow nod. "I might notta made it, if it wasn't for White comin' in. I hated that he had to. Hated feelin' that helpless, too. And I felt like I let 'im down. Him, my momma, everybody that was countin' on me." "In the end, they got handled. But I still felt like more work got done 'cause of me. So that there was my reason to start. Did I have a... stronger reason to keep at it than somebody else mighta?" He frowns thoughtfully and nods. "Yeap. Prolly. But the real thing that kept me goin' was seein' the results. And that goes for workin' out, and for practicin' magic." Mind if I...? "Go for it," says Calvin, offering her the pipe. "Here." He holds a dancing flame above his index, like with the fireplace. "Put your thumb over that little hole on the side right there. Yep, just like that. Now draw, just a little, and take your thumb off it." The warmth of the cabin seems fuzzy for a moment as skunky smoke fills the lungs. "Don't hold it in, just breathe out," Calvin advises. "Give it a minute or two." The stresses of the day, maybe even the week, aren't gone, per se, but after a minute or two they seem less insurmountable and take up less space in the mind. Muscles relax, and so does the mind, a little--what's funny seems funnier, what's interesting seems more so. "Like to do it on my off days or at the end of a long day," he says. "Good to unwind. Especially if I gotta work the next day. Don't give you no hangover, but it damn sure lets you get a little stupid. Good for sleepin', too, if you get the right kind." He grins. "Pass it here, partner." After his own puff, "It's just a willpower thing," he continues on his previous topic. "You'll get it figured out. You just gotta fight that urge to skip it. Especially if you wanna earn your own respect. People respect effort, and they respect stickin' with shit. You know?"
Futaba Nuki	"You? Scrawny?" Futaba stares at Calvin in disbelief at first, pauses, then shrugs vaguely affirmatively. "Ah, I can believe it. Er. Sorry, go on." She (figuratively) zips her mouth shut as she listens to another story from Calvin's past, bracing a little as she hears about his run in with the oni and especially when she hears about his threat. "Can't imagine thatgoin' all that great, if you're really trying to go at 'em head on. I mean, I could've probably pulled it off back before I got this, but..." Another mouth zip motion, so she can actually hear whatCalvin wants her to draw out of this conversation. "I'm following... My home might not be in the same kinda danger yours is now, but..." She takes a deep breath, then claps her hands on her midsection. "But there's still stuff that'll just keep getting worse if I keep puttin' it off, I guess. Can't keep doing that forever, even if I really... REALLY want to. Not with things already gettin' worse as they are..." Futaba sighs softly, then takes the pipe from Calvin and peers at it closely. "I've only seen other folks back home using it, but... I always figured it was one of those things they did to look fancy. Now let's..." She's really good at following instructions, too, following his instructions to the letter and just soaking in the atmosphere, the flavor, the feeling of the pipe. She also has to resist the urge to set her own thumb on fire just to show off. The urge to show off fades after a bit, too, as the tanuki really lets the stuff sink in, closing her eyes and just vibing with the cabin and the couch while. "... Yeah, I can do this. Just a couple o' hours, give or take. Heck, I bet I could even just... Use that as a break, long as I write my lines in advance." Sighing lightly, Futaba sniffs lightly while holding the pipe out to Calvin, holding it delicately between two fingers like she's seen so many others do before. "Heck, maybe getting on that'll keep anyone from bugging me about it. That'll give me more time to mess around with my own stuff, too..." Finally, she laughs again. "They do respect that, don't they? That's why all the shows have the one cool guy that's always... Big effort, big results. Can't even imagine those guys losin', by the time you finish their focus episode..." Another snort, and then she raises a fist towards Calvin. "Thanks for the talk, Calvin. Think I... Yeah, I definitely needed this. Uhh... Do I have to get up right away, or...?" She looks really comfortable right as she asks that, like the stuff's really kicking in.
Calvin Nash	"Good," says Calvin, on Futaba's newfound resolve. "I'm glad to hear it." He bumps fists with her. "You need any help, you know how to reach me." Do I have to get up right away, or...? "No, ma'am, you stay as long as you like. I got tomorrow off, too, so don't worry none 'bout me." 'In the couch' applies here--whatever 'kind' Calvin has is apparently great for getting comfortable on an off day or after a long day at work. "You eaten?" A deliberately chosen word recommended by experience. "I got some kinda crazy offworld fruit Ms. Echo brought by on ice, if you want somethin' to snack on." It's pineapple! Chewy and tangy and chopped into little bite-sized cubes, procured from an ice box--that is to say, a sealed box in the kitchen with ice in it to facilitate refrigeration for lack of freon or the electricity the appliance would take up. Calvin serves it in a bowl placed on the coffee table if she's interested. A few moments of quiet snacking on his part pass, then, out of nowhere: "Your sister's real friendly, ain't she?"
Futaba Nuki	"Good, because... Man, this stuff really is good for takin' a load off. Just like a..." Futaba snaps her fingers a few times as she tries to come up with something this experience is reminding her of. She draws several blanks, sets her hand back, and compeltely forgets to try searching for any other possibilities. "Last thing was... Breakfast? Breakfast. I could go for a bite or five, though... Offworld fruit, huh? Yeah, let's see how that all is." Rolling over to try some of the offered pineapple cubes, the tanuki plays with her food a bit in the form of nibbling on some cubes, bite others in half, and even squeezing some really hard to suck out all the juice first before chewing. Before long, she's favoring the juice-suck-then-chew method. Something about the texture change, maybe. "What'd Ms. Echo call this stuff? Feels like I've had somethin' like it once on a... With cheese." On the topic of Natsuki, Futaba visibly relaxes a little more despite sounding eager. "Hehe. Yeah, she is. Real good with people, fashion, kids, all sorts. You met her before, right? Wonder if..." She pauses, then lays on her side and chews on another cube. "Why you ask? Want me to set you two up?"
Calvin Nash	"Pineapple." He doesn't know it's an Earth fruit. Why you ask? Want me to set you two up? His 'genius' plan to prove Pastor Fred wrong and that he is, in fact, not an oblivious oaf is dashed on the rocks. Futaba has, with her simple answer, single-handedly taken him solidly in the direction he was hoping to avoid--not even because he doesn't find her attractive, but because he simply doesn't want Fred to be right, nor for there to be ammunition for the various people who obsserve the flirtatious manner of a certain two demons towards his person. Well, honesty is the best policy, isn't it? "No, uh-uh," he says. "Not that she ain't pretty, or nothin'." Well, wait, what if Futaba feels left out? Better cover her, too. "You are, too. It's just I wanted to put a rumor to bed is all. People talk in small towns." By that he means that Futaba's warm praise of her sister will be used as a warding incantation along the lines of It's Not Like That, thus dragging her into his buffoonery. It's probably fine. As he'd said, Futaba is welcome to stay as long as she'd like, and Calvin is as generous with his herb as he is with his food and his home. He's also a good host, even inebriated, proposing ways to pass the time (checkers, cards, walking through town, grabbing a bite at the Place) and prompting her for conversation throughout the little visit. There's even an invitation to go muddin' sometime, once his truck is fully fixed from the Mothman business (though he asks her to keep that invitation on the downlow).