Vikram Has Never Been Good At Delivering Jokes. There Was Always Something For Him To Fall Flat In. His

Anyways🤔

body or not, it had been vikram's plan to finish the night at redstone all along. it suited him better, always preferred the grittiness of a live band over polished beats blaring through speakers. the place was crowded though, much more than usual. how annoying. vikram is ready to call it a night... but then the offer of free liquor is made, which naturally brings his plan to a halt. he turns to quinn, gaze alternating between the glass and the woman presenting it. "what is it?" he finally asks.

˚｡⋆୨୧ starter : open ! ˚｡⋆୨୧  where : inside redstone bar ˚｡⋆୨୧  time : 12am

the  hospital  had  been  draining  all  of  quinn's  energy  .  between  stomach  flus  ,  anxiety  over  the  murders  ,  &  car  crashes  -  it  had  been  a  whirlwind  of  patients  coming  and  going  .  for  the  first  time  in  weeks  ,  quinn  got  a  night  off  and  figured  now  was  her  chance  to  let  loose  .  her  eyes  widened  once  she  realized  the  bar  tender  had  given  her  an  extra  shot  of  tequila  .  there  was  no  way  the  dirty  blonde  was  gonna  take  two  ,  so  she  took  the  friendly  avenue  and  turned  to  the  person  beside  her  .  “  hi  ,  wanna  take  this  shot  with  me  ?  it's  free  .  ”  she  smiled  ,  hoping  the  tequila  would  find  a  rightful  owner  .

"UH,  HARD  DISARGEE."  kennedy  is  quick  to  refute.  they  always  found  smoking  to  be  a  nasty  habit,  convinced  it was something  only  a  masochist  would  enjoy.  they  tried  once  in  college,  shortly  after  starting  their  internship because they figured  it  would  make  them  look  and  feel   more  grown  up  in  the  room  full  of  journalistic  big-shots.  men  who  took  their  jobs  and  themselves  WAY  too  seriously.  smoking  might  not  have  stuck  with  kennedy  but  the  underlying  pretentiousness  that  came  from  it?  that  was  still  up  for  debate.   "chicken  and  waffles  with  a  side  of  lung  infection  does  not  sound  like  an  appetizing  combo  to  me."  now settled in the stool, they  turn  their  head  to  witness  the  full  display  of  soren's  theatrics,  elbows  propped  on  the  bar  in  front  of  them.  they  observe  him  carefully,  making  no  move  to  interrupt  his  performance.  a  respectful  audience,  one  that  makes  sure  to  wait  the customary  extra  beat  to  ensure  the  show  is  over  before  offering  their  reaction.  “wow."  there's  a  hint  of  a  smile  there,  perhaps  the  closest  they  have  come  since  the  news  of  the  recently  departed  –  or  rather  – recently  SNATCHED.  they  lean  ever  so  slightly  in  his  direction,  nose  scrunching  up  as if they are about to deliver some harsh news. "sounds  to  me  like  you  might just have a  little bit of an addiction there.”

location: dolly's diner time: late afternoon status: open!

something about diners. greasy leather seats. overheard secrets tangled up with the clatter of forks. bitter, often stale coffee -- unless you got lucky enough to walk in when the place was mostly empty. unlikely. the kind of place where time hangs heavy, like it got tired and sat down to rest in the corner booth. red creek felt the same, like it had long surrendered to time’s weight instead of running alongside it. no reinvention, no salvation -- just a stubborn place clinging to people like mud after rain, or maybe quicksand, tugging until they sank without a fight. soren didn't have to imagine dark things haunting its bones when its effect where already laying there, sprawled out for anyone willing to see. maybe ancient spirits seeking revenge after having their forever homes suffocated with asphalt and cement. maybe nothing at all, just the weight of a town folding in on itself, vanishing into a fog you didn’t know you’d entered until it was too late. soren wouldn't flinch if someone shattered the silence with a lynchian scream -- sinister close-ups, faces trembling under the pressure of things better left unsaid -- right there in the diner, right as he staed at his gone stale coffee. and perhaps it was his obsession with intricate stories that blurred the line with reality, but twin peaks really didn't feel like fiction anymore; it was a blueprint, a warning for places like this, where the mundane teetered on the edge of surreal, where time sagged, like peeling wallpaper in a room sealed off for too long, and good people stumbled into band endings. even diners -- those greasy churches of familiarity -- could warp into confessional booths. soren let his face fall into his hands, elbows propped at the sides of the cup of coffee. if it had been steaming, it would've made a perfect shot. “ you know what's bullshit, ” he spoke as soon as he felt a presence next to him finally glad to push his inner monologue onto someone else, anyone unlucky enough to hear. he continued as his hands dropped to his lap, revealing a face worn thin by restless nights. “ the fact that they made it illegal to smoke in public places. especially diners. ” though it wasn't just diners. it was also cinemas, trains, pubs.... a beat. then two fingers lifted to his lips, mimicking the pitch of a cigarette between index and thumb. soren inhaled theatrically, face tilting upward as though savoring the hit. then, just as theatrically, he ground the phantom amber into an imaginary glass ashtray, the kind with ornate edges. clock. sound design coming from his tongue against his palate and he swat the phantom ashtray away, still dipped in his interactive daydream.

kennedy trains their gaze on the slit of the dress, as effie speaks. "that's a shame. i could stitch it up for you, if you'd like. do you work tomorrow?" it's only a halloween dress, so kennedy wouldn't blame effie if she just wanted to throw it away. a soft chuckle escapes them when their words are served right back at them. the two really did seem to share a knack for catching things, a vigilance that was no doubt cultivated by their profession. sometimes, it felt like effie shared every aspect that made kennedy a good writer and then some. the grace in which the blonde carries herself is something kennedy is not used to seeing from her fellow reporters. it's borderline infuriating really. journalists are like vultures after all and what business does a vulture have to pretend like they aren't starving for their next meal? it makes them equal parts intrigue and wary, because they are not fully convinced there isn't something of a darker side wrapped in the picture-perfect image that is effie floyd. even her description of her usual night is so... her.

"well, for a fish out of water, you can move." kennedy says with a smile, allowing themselves to follow effies lead in swaying to the rythm. "okay love. whiskey sours are definitely classy." way more than their preference for tequila sodas. a laugh escapes them at effi's words about her city girl antics. "it isn't my scene. not really. i only indulge in this kind of stuff once in a blue moon. figured my first halloween back in town counted as a special enough occasion" simply put, kennedy just wanted to show off tonight. 'sup, losers i'm back in town and not only am i successful but i also look hot covered in blood haha i win you lose.' "so i take it you weren't much of a party girl back home?"

" did something happen ... " she remembers the split of her dress in an instant. thin, sutured with a quick pin stolen from the bar. " oh, that. ugh, got it caught on someone's spikey belt. i think. " an exasperated sigh. " and you say you can't get anything past me ... look at you. " on the contrary, effie hasn't drank yet. she tries to stray away from the habit. finds being the role of the sober friend at the party to be more fulfilling. though, really, who is she to pass up the offer? the atmosphere here is different than the office, kennedy seems to feel lighter. she'll take it. another show of her good intent in picking at her pieces ; the small criticism. if effie thinks differently of kennedy she'd never voice it unless it becomes a necessity. it hasn't yet.

" my poison is usually a warm blanket and wine at home. i'm kind of a fish out of water here. " she grasps kennedy's hands in a steadying gesture, coaxes her to sway with the beat just a bit. " think ... i'll go with the classic whiskey sour though. classy. " she grasps kennedy's hands in a steadying gesture, coaxes her to sway with the beat just a bit. " but i think ... i'll go with the simple whiskey sour though. real classy. " and that's her personal cue to pull their sway towards the bar. " gotta say, didn't think this was your scene. though i guess i sold you too short as a new york girl, huh ? "

FROM  YOUTH  VIKRAM  HAS  always  had  a  knack  for  sneaking.  a  light  step  paired  with  a  preference  for  skulking  in  the  background  made  it  easy  to  go  unnoticed.  still,  it  was  rarely  his  intention  to  scare  anyone  so  as  he  approaches  mina  he  makes  the  attempt  to  announce  his  arrival  with  a  cordial  “good  evening”  .  .  .  only  to  startle  her  regardless.  of  course  she  would  be.  there's  a  goddamn  murderer  on  the  loose.  “oh!  no,  i  wouldn't  dream  of  bugging  you  about  my  computer  problems  outside  of  business  hours  ──  sorry."  he  offers  a  faint,  awkward  smile.  “i  didn't  mean  to  spook you.  i  just  came  to  uh,  look  at  the  scenery.  it's  nice,  isn't  it?”  when  there  isn't  body  being  fished  out  of  the  lake,  that  is.

♡ 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 ─── starter for anyone / open. ♡ 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ─── near deer lake clubhouse. ♡ 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 ─── around sunset time.

a deep inhale and smoke fills her lungs, nothing in particular on her mind; exactly the way she likes it. she does realize it's maybe not the best idea to stand all alone, with the light of the sun going away, when there's a killer on the loose but... what else is there for her to do? stay cooped up at home while her parents attempt to poke at her psyche? oh no, she's choosing the faster way out instead.

at least that's what she thought until a sound suddenly startled her and made her look back. a hand coming to rest on her chest ─── willing her heart to calm down ─── as she zeroes in on the approaching figure. " can i help you? "

soon as she unblocks me the wedding is back on

location : the dance floor @ the warehouse

time : approximately 10:30pm.

open : to anyone!

“are you thirsty? wanna grab a drink?” kennedy half yells into the other’s ear, yet her voice is barely audible over the music pumping around them. fingers flutter down the other's arm, ready to grab hold of their wrist to lead them out of the dance floor or loosely interlace her digits with theirs to twirl them around. depends on their answer!

which hot priest are you today 

"what if i said that i thought it was you?" he asks, nonchalantly folding freshly dried clothes into his basket. after a pause, he breathes out a chuckle. "i feel like you and the rest of your family would be the type to pay for some poor soul to kill in exchange for money. like those rich people in the purge." do the talbot's even have that type of money? salvador assumes they do and if he sees any of alaina's relatives running around town with a new set of wheels, he'll know exactly who to blame. "who do you think?" he asks, finally looking over her way.

open to : any where : silver coin laundry mat when : after the questionings

avery is sprawled out on a bench inside the laundry mat, newspaper covering her face. she's been quiet for a good five minutes when she finally rips the newspaper away from her face and turns to the innocent person doing their laundry. " who do you think did it? " her own clothes long forgotten, probably hogging a machine.

"it means you didn't break your nose." he tries, speaking carefully as to not feed into her panic. "we're gonna get you home. i just gonna clean you up first." he's almost done. the rambling tells vik that she’s definitely in shock, and honestly, he can’t blame her. she's handling it a lot better than he expected. "what? is that what you're worried about, right now?" he asks, the corner of his lips tugging into a small smile. it was endearing, actually. "don't be, avery. you still look very pretty." he reassures, finally moving his handkerchief away from every now that the wound is not bleeding as much anymore. "hold tight for a second, okay? i'm going to get you some ice."

“ what does ‘ not bad ‘ mean? " she appears doe - eyed for a moment the situation striking fear into her. " i should really get home -- well not to my apartment -- i should go to my actual home. my dad's probably worried. i don't live at home anymore but -- " she's rambling and feels the onset of a migraine. " head hurts, face hurts. am i still pretty at least? "