With so much idle time as of late, James is now doing all the things he used to think about when he was an overworked, well, workaholic cop at the precinct. He actually goes to the grocery store on a regular basis to buy groceries instead of buying take-out all the time. He reads all the books that were piling up on his coffee table and catching up on TV shows he never used to watch. Normally he would view his new routine as laziness, much more ready to wear himself out trying to take care of everything, but now he has nothing stopping him from spending time doing absolutely nothing.

His unemployment has given him plenty of time to spend with Davin. That's the best part. Ever since they reunited he's been seeing his boyfriend much more than he ever did before. These days he isn't always running off to work or worried about getting behind on his cases the way he used to be. It's only now he realizes how much he let his job keep him from doing things with Davin. Though now he worries about smothering him, but he doesn't have much else to do besides fill his days with books and errands and TV while waiting for Davin to get off work.

Sometimes he wonders when he'll get the urge to go back to work. If he's just taking a break or if he's avoiding a decision on what he wants to do with his life after deciding to no longer be a cop. The good thing is he has a boyfriend to keep him busy from worrying too much about it.

Tonight in fact he's been able to cook an entire meal, ready for when Davin leaves the shop. He isn't much of a cook. Before he was too busy and before that his family employed chefs. He tries though and ends up with a pasta alfredo that's mostly edible. They usually take turns hosting at their respective homes, and there are times he wonders if it would be easier if they were just in one place. He doesn't know how to bring up that conversation, and the idea of it frightens him a bit. It's not something he has to worry about this very second though, he thinks, as he flicks off all the burners on the stove.

Then he rushes upstairs to shower and change into more comfortable clothes for when Davin arrives.

If there's one thing James doesn't do much, it's drink. He good at cocktail hour, sipping through a couple of bourbons or whiskey to carry him through the mindless chatter, or he'll have a glass of wine with dinner. He isn't someone that ever got wasted in college or snuck out with a pack of beer when he was a teenager. When he was still on the police force, he would join Grant and Alex and the other guys at the bars to wash away the harsh days work, but even then he was usually a couple drinks then calling it a night. 

He can't even remember the last time he was what someone would call drunk. Maybe years, maybe some thoughtless time he was angry with William or stuck in a cabin with Demetri or Daniel on a camping trip, which was always just an excuse to defy their father in every way possible. 

Tonight, though, he is camped out in a booth at Coombs Tavern, a place he hardly ever goes, but tonight it seems like the right place to be. It's the last place he's expected, and the last place most people he'd know that would care, would be to find him. He has a lot on his mind. Too much. Bad relationships. Bad business deals. Bad people trying to attack him in his own house. He orders a beer and something to eat, and he doesn't plan to leave here until his mind stops focusing on everything falling apart. 

James hasn't had a night out with his baby brother in a long time between work and giving the majority of his extra time to Davin. All of his siblings and him are a rather close knit group so when they lose touch, James always feels a little out of sorts. Plus he's always tried to offer Daniel support and guidance. God knows the kid could use it. So on his free night at the station he gives Daniel a call and tells him they should go out for burgers and beer---a usual Thornton feast. 

He heads across town to where Daniel's condo is and honks his horn a couple times and waits for his brother to come out. 

As soon as James opens his eyes, he knows something is wrong. It's too dark for one thing. When he rolls out of bed, he stumbles into something hard and he's cursing the pain in his foot. He needs his gun, but there's nothing there when he reaches his hand out. All he finds is a cool draft in the room instead of his nightstand...and a smell. Something stale and musty. He's able to quickly deduce that he is not in his bedroom by the time he gets to his feet. That was not his bed. This is not his house.

He looks down at himself. These aren't even his clothes. Though he remains calm on the outside, his pulse is elevated, racing with panic and adrenaline, but he remains calm. Whoever has taken him, he doesn't want to alert them that he's awake. Though if he's been taken there are no guards in the room, no one here to watch him. It's just an empty stone room. He actually isn't sure...what the hell he's wearing either. He looks around further once his eyes adjust, and he finds a small circle window covered by wood shudders. With a grunt and his shoulder, he manages to push the window open. Once he does, and he gets a look at the world below him, that's when James really panics.

Not again, he thinks. Not again. The last time this happened to him....it was Violet Coombs. Where she trapped him in that labyrinth deep beneath the town, where he almost died. He hasn't seen Moira in months, and Violet too. How can this be happening again. This...building...room...wherever is a tower of some sort, suspended high in the air. All he knows is this is not Siren Cove. This is not a world he's ever seen.

He stumbles back from the window, overwhelmed for a moment with confusion, and he falls stunned into a wood chair. He tries to recall the last thing he did last night, and all he remembers is going to bed like any other night. He read a few chapters of a book. Checked his messages. That was it. He sits for a long time trying to think...

After several seconds of that, he jumps up from the chair and heads for the heavy iron door in the corner and decides to leave. Except he can't because it's locked. He's trapped in a room....in this tower...in this strange place with no way out.

Valentine's Day is a holiday that James hasn't needed to worry about for a long time, and he wishes now that the night is here that he'd been given more time to come up with something better than just dinner. However, he hasn't been seeing Davin long and by the time he needed to make arrangements almost every good restaurant in town is booked. He could've thrown his family's name around to secure a table, but he decided after that pretentious dinner party at Thornton Estate that what they needed is a casual dinner, just the two of them, where they can just talk.

That's why on a whim a couple days ago he'd called up the woman---Lilly---he'd hired to cater his father's party and asked if she'd be interested in cooking a private dinner and offered to pay her double her rate to make it worth her time. The good thing is since Davin helped him pick the food for his father, she already knows his tastes and James is hoping the food will be perfect. The other good thing is since he has to work a long shift down at the station, Lilly is in charge of making all the arrangements unlike all the running around he'd needed to do for that dreadful party. He leaves work, makes it home to change into a nice shirt and jeans, and at precisely eight o'clock on the dot, he pulls up to Davin's block.

Lilly is waiting with an armful of grocery bags, and she smiles when she sees James step out of his car. With a waggle of eyebrows and a wolf whistle, she calls him over. "Did you just step out of a magazine?" she asks him, grinning. She tugs him by the sleeve. "Come on lets go sweep that hot Irishman of his feet.

"This is okay?" James asks gesturing at his plaid shirt. He wasn't sure what to wear because he didn't tell Davin they were having dinner, and he didn't want to be over-dressed. She just gives him a look. "Fine, okay. Fine. Let's go." He directs her towards the staircase that leads from Sweet Maddy's up to Davin's balcony.

With a brief pause and a big breath, he knocks on the door and waits for Davin to answer.

When his father said he wanted to throw a formal dinner party for Daniel and his new girlfriend Amelie Coombs, what he really meant was --- James needs to throw a dinner party for Daniel and his new girlfriend Amelie Coombs. Because his father's dealings in the affair was simply calling James and yelling about caterers and invitations and place settings. While ordinarily his father is quick to hire event planners to handle this type of thing, this is one event where secrecy is key. No one wants this mingling of sides to become public knowledge until it's absolutely necessary. His father is attempting to make nice for Daniel, but who knows if that's actually going to happen. Plus, some of his father's reputation and business dealings hinge on the fact that he's not exactly pro-witches or pro-magic, and to be seen with any of the Coombs family would be scandalous to say the least.

James understands all that, but still, the absolute last thing he cares about is a dinner party for Daniel and his girlfriend. Coombs or not. But, he does it, not for his father, but for his brother. Who knows how serious Daniel even is about this woman, but James cares about his brother too much to not help out.

That's the only reason he spends his day off running errands all over town trying to get all the last minute arrangements made. His last stop is his normal suit shop out on the northside of town. Everything's being done too late, but the family tailor always manages to squeeze them in. The one thing James does care about is the fact that Davin agreed to accompany him for the night, and so he hopes to look his best.

It's been too long since he's had any semblance of a date, but he likes Davin and he's anxious to see how the evening goes. His tailor assures him that his suit will be delivered in time for the dinner, and after paying his bill, he steps out onto the busy sidewalk. Heading in the direction of Seaside Bakery so he can grab a quick coffee, he pulls out his phone and checks through the list of errands he was supposed to finish.

OOC: Find James grumpily running all over town preparing for the Thornton / Coombs dinner party that is coming up. His father is attempting to make nice with Daniel's new girlfriend, but it's probably going to be a disaster.

Rest assured James is probably super grumpy.

Trigger Warnings: discussion of violence, injuries, homophobia, and slurs 

James hears about the attack like everyone else at the station. He comes in that morning, steaming cup of coffee in one hand, and it's the first thing someone says to him. A young male was attacked and bad enough to need to go to the hospital, and there are rumors swirling that it was more than just an attack. At first James misunderstands. He thinks it's a something, not a someone. Because this is Siren Cove. Witches and sirens live in this town, and people get hurt. 

But this isn't what that is, James realizes as the conversation swirls through the station that morning. It isn't until around nine-thirty when one of the officers on duty last night comes in and says, "Well, I think I woulda rather had some of our regular hocus pocus. You know? Hate crime." The officer shakes his head. "Kid was gay, and they beat him up. Cracked ribs, bruises, bad sight." James is at his desk inputing ticket violations from last week, and he immediately freezes in the middle of typing. He looks up and calls over to him, "You said it was a kid?" The officer shrugs. "White male, early twenties. Kid didn't even want to press charged. Can you believe it?" 

He sighs because he hadn't needed to ask to know the guy was talking about Davin, and there is a heavy pit in his stomach. That day he had taken his car to be fixed, he had noticed those two guys working with him weren't very...happy to have him for a boss. Before James gives it a second thought, he gathers his coat and drives straight across town. He remembers Davin mentioning he lived about a bakery. The station picked up donuts there sometimes, so he knows the one. 

After he parks along the curb, he heads into the bakery and is directed to Davin's door upstairs by the elderly lady running the register. He isn't sure what he is about to find, but he prepares for the worst. James knocks three times on the door hard. "Hello? Davin, it is James," he announces. 

Halloween. 

SCPD's worst night of the year. It's busy. It's exhausting, and it makes James want to quit being a cop. It isn't just the people that wander out into the woods every single freaking year, looking for God only knows what out there near Old Attwater Chapel, getting lost, and needing rescue. It isn't the pranks and the tricks and the toilet paper. Or the stupid tricks by the witches. Or even the costumes. 

It's the Grimhildes. 

Sometimes they don't do anything, but you never know that. You have to plan for the worst, and this year comes in over-the-top, face-palming fashion. At 7pm sharp, the entire town loses power, electricity, the whole shebang. The sky goes black, and a few minutes later once it's certain that yes it is the entire town, the chief comes out of his office and tells everyone they aren't going anywhere until this shit is over. 

James is sitting at his desk. With all the power out, work is pointless now. He sighs, pinching his nose. It's going to be a long night. 

Today had left him exhausted, both mentally and physically. He had attempted to do without his crutches every so often, hoping to help along the tendons in his foot get used to the weight and the pressure, but now his goddamn legs hurt. He was now resigned to the fact that he still needed assistance to get around for at least another week. He hated being stuck behind his desk since he was slowly being buried beneath a mountain of paperwork, his cases reassigned to people who were actually able to walk. He also hated that he couldn't even get the paperwork done right. He was distracted. That's what the Chief had said. His work sloppy. His attention elsewhere. James had apologized profusely. He was one of the captains. He was in charge of people. He needed to be on his A-game. He needed to get his shit together.

Too bad for him his mind wasn't ready to let go of that night with Moira. Of how stupid he'd been to sleep with her. Of how awesome it'd been too. Worst part of it all, he thinks. Hating what he did, but knowing they'd been amazing together. That's why the thoughts continued swirling 'round in his head. He didn't know how to make sense of it. Or the fact that he's been spending all these days thinking about her.

When he can't get anything else done, brain fried to oblivion, he shuts off his computer. He gathers a few files for some bedtime reading, stuffing them inside his bag, and he heads out. Once outside, he is glad to see the streets were mostly empty and quiet. A good night as far as he was concerned. He makes his way through downtown, slow but quicker than last week, as he's gotten better and more balanced with his crutches and walking boot. He heads into Quill where it too is mostly abandoned, He orders a chili cheeseburger, onion rings, and a drink to go. His food finally arrives ten minutes later, and he starts walking back near the station, calling a cab on his way.

Heading home from the art festival, James instructs the cab driver to swing by the market near the boardwalk. When he does remember to shop, he prefers to shop here because they had good produce and they sold seafood fresh from the coastal waters surrounding town. There was no better place to find seafood. He quickly finds everything he needs and goes home.

Soon after leaving moira earlier, he had realized that the only thing he truly knew how to cook, that was reasonably appropriate, was lobster. His mother taught him once, when she was throwing some beach shindig for a few family friends, and she had insisted on preparing the food herself. Something nearly unheard of considering their kitchen staff. But, his mother had said her mother and grandmother had passed the recipe onto her. James remembers being fascinated by the tradition, and he makes the dish more than once a year when he found a reason. Sometimes just to remember....

As he looks around, he once again thinks maybe it's too much food. His kitchen is full of pots and pans, his stove clarifying butter, the oven heating a crusty loaf of bread. He places the salad he finishes into the fridge, knowing there's nothing he can do now. He just kicks himself, not knowing what the fuck he's doing lately. Cooking dinner for Moira, excited by the idea of her company for the evening. How was he going to explain this if anyone found out?

He can't do anything about it now. Might as well accept that he's put himself in this position. He manages to make it up the stairs reasonably easy. He showers quickly, needing the hot summer day and the cab ride rinsed away from him. He changes into a pair of jeans and a navy henley. He puts on his walking boot again but just sticks a sock on his other foot. It is seven o'clock when he gets back downstairs. He finishes the last of the food until his guest arrives.