" I'm Pretty Sure A Fight Makes The Punching Part Pretty Equal. Otherwise It's Just Getting Jumped. "

FOR : open ! LOCATION : bench, not far from red creek hospital.

the emergency room was always something of a toss-up. either there's whining children or elders, or a catastrophic case. one or the other, never the middle. most ruckus of the day has been a check - in for a broken leg potential ; skin angry with the pressure of a bruise. nothing out of the ordinary. though, if mak can remember, they'd had a few intakes surrounding the ... anxiety surrounding red creek. red creek. dead creek. whining elders like they'd thought — distraught and heart racing high enough to turn over a horse. well, maybe not a horse, but close enough. they've mostly detached themselves from the news, the rambling of the town, but of course its brought to their fucking doorstep. like everything in their life. tossed in, locked and keyed. learn to live with it, maksym! grin and bear it! they want out of this fucking graveyard. it's moments like this in their lonesome it weighs on their chest ; anvil, stack of bricks. a concrete object instead of a desire. the same sort of weight is what keeps them here, too.

they aren't necessarily aware when someone sits next to them. in fact, at first they don't acknowledge them at all. when they do, it's out of their peripherals and then entirely all at once. " what, looking for company or just couldn't walk ten steps down? " a grating tone to their voice ; unnecessary, but if they'd wanted a little party they'd have trekked it down to redstone. the cafe. a heavy sigh escapes. " couldn't even offer a hello either, huh? "

" you know what ... after the evening i've had ? why not. " she matches the volume over the music, smoothing down the front of her daphne dress. a small tear, poorly put together with a safety-pin at her side, proving to be the source of her frustration. the spin takes her off guard, makes her sputter off something close to a laugh. a squeeze is given to the fingers interlacing hers, but a brow promptly arches upward. " have you already started drinking, kennedy? "

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!

" well, it was a fight that's what ... " damon shouldn't be a smartass right now, but they'll blame the adrenaline crash. hands, clammy and head rightfully throbbing from a bottle crack. yeah, they're not exactly their best self. a thumb lifts to swipe at their nose ring. at least it wasn't ripped out, that would be a real pain. " well. guy shoved me. had some real force into it— mix in some good ol' jack daniels ... and bada bing you got yourself a fight. "

there's a pause with their eyes glancing down at the med kit. " look, vanessa, already put another on shitshow on halloween ... really don't think i need that. " gestures to the first aide. " probably should just suck it up and go home. " they feel a slight drip of blood down their forehead. pauses. " on second thought ... yeah. yeah, maybe. " they move from the doorframe to leave against a wall, hunching down to make it a bit easier. " i'm sorry, really. swear i ain't ... you know, like that. haven't caused shit on your shift in a minute. we cool? "

❝ ⸻ WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT ? ❞ vanessa's day off and out of all nights and situation , a fight breaks out . Everyone knew she had a no fighting policy in the bad .... AT LEAST WHEN SHE WAS WORKING . not only did a fight breaking out looked bad for business , killed the vibes of the bar , and such , but she simply wanted everyone to leave the bar on a feel good note . with the first aid kit in her hand , vanessa motioned for him to follow and sit , away from everyone .

❝ how did the fight even started ? ❞ one minute she heard chatter about the body found and small laughs here and there , and the next thing she heard was a glass breaking before she broke up the fight and threatened to kick both asses . Something everyone knows she could do . ❝ Let me help you ❞

" that right? how many times i gotta tell you redstone ain't the type of place to make requests? " hard-edged, but not exactly mean in spirit. even peppers in a low, deep in the chest laugh as he says it. regardless, yes, there's a chilled red wine labelled with renee kelly. a man gets asked enough times he just might bend. repeating himself got a bit old anyway. fingers snag one of the crystal wine glasses and its poured without a word, slid over in the same way. " come on, renee. you really think i should be drinking on the clock? " his own timeclock at that. he's paused his habit, ironically enough. had to keep a clear fucking head as of late, apparently. still, abel can bend a little. pours himself two fingers of whiskey, glances around the bar and then leans against the deep cherry wood. " you never change. tellin' me all the shit going around hasn't effect you yet? "

○    NOW DELIVERING TO . . .    ⏤ @c0nnectdots !

" abel , how many times do i have to tell you that we need to massively improve redstone's wine listing ? " she closes the drink menu with a beleaguered sigh but offers him a bright , renee kelly - esque smile . " tell me you have a nice chilled red hiding away back there for me . " renee will have her one sensible glass , then go home at a sensible hour , because that's what she does : renee kelly is a sensible woman . her eyes glint though , when she looks at abel . " you're not going to make me drink alone , are you ? "

restless energy exists under his skin. constant need to get his hands on something— it's kept him out of most trouble last few years. quelled the electricity making his hair stand on edges ; the pins and needles at bay. couldn't stumble into bad habits, lose the plot if they had something to do. ironically, had considered looking into mechanics before the tattooing gig. only problem with cars were the lifeless shells. couldn't tell what the hell was wrong with an expressionless husk. it lacked a form of art ; detailing couldn't even compete. if damon's fixed his absolute joke of a ninety's era honda, surely he could do something. " well, if you don't know and i don't know what the hell is wrong with it ... who's to say it isn't an easy fix? " its genuine in the way it's stressed, fingers fiddling with an edge silver ring circling his finger. palms itch at the thought. " least i could do, yeah? gives me shit to do, you somethin' less to worry about. hopefully. i ain't a mechanic, but ... i like to keep my knowledge expanding. " snorts at that. " you know me. can't stop keeping myself busy. just keep it in mind, yeah? " a clap of their hands. " now, with the damon business spiel out the way ... what you want? i'll cover it. no, nope nothin' about handouts or any of that shit. i asked you if you were free to chill. "

the    air    in    places    like    redcreek    carried    a    sweetness    that    clung    to    her    skin    like    sap,    tacky    with    memories    she'd    rather    forget    —-   memories    of    a    town    smaller    than    this    one,    trapped    between    cornfields    and    steeples,    drenched    in    kindness    so    artificial    you    felt    like    you    were    suffocating. it’s    why    she    tries    to    stay    in    the    margins,    on    the    side ;    here,    but    not    really,    easily    forgettable.    a    person    you    jot    down    in    the    crevices    of    your    memory    and    then    discard.    but    now    she needs    help.    fucking    can’t    stand    that    she    does,    but    requires    it    nonetheless.    without    a    means    of     transportation    she’s     truly stuck,    one    purgatory    traded for    another. it's that fact that forces her to act    like    words    have    threaded    through    her    suspicion,    like    saccharinity    in    eyes    and    a charm she almost wants to fall for    doesn’t    remind    her how    she's learned generosity doesn't always mean goodness    —-    instead how one usually meant the absence of the other.    " wish    i    knew.    every    time    i    try    to    gain    any    type    of    speed    the    check    engine    light    comes    on    and    he    quits. " fingers drum over the rusted metal, gaze catching theirs. " you sure you want another project? "

" bourbon. " and with her outburst, effie tries her damndest to reign it in. end of the day : the register wasn't under her thumb and name. frankly, she wasn't sure if was something she'd ever thought of. sure, it would run better that way. thinks a paper boy off the street might have more tact than ricardo, but at the end of the day ... she'd probably reject it. pass it off to kennedy who, frankly, could benefit more than it. maybe they'd be able to communicate better together, too.

she does almost stomp to the kitchen, anger simmering from her voice and presenting only in her body. " look. your register, your choice. however ... " hands raise to run down her cheeks and rest against her own chin. " playing games doesn't get you anything but tangled into a nasty little web, ricardo. so, you don't even know who sent those to you? somebody and you. those are great fucking sources. forget about wikipedia. " and maybe that's what is bringing in the sting of betrayal. trusting an anonymous source with a pretty little photo than his own employees. she waits until she has her drink to continue and damn near downs it in one go.

" you couldn't even tell me? kennedy? dammit, think a little! it's nice to see you running your mouth on paper instead of just air, but ... the hell am i suppose to do with this? " vaguely gestures out into the air, leaning her elbows against the counter. maybe she's ... worried, in her own way. if ricardo believes this, real or not, what else is going to believe? will he go down a wild goosechase and not come back? trip over his own feet, post the wrong sort of hot gossip? " look. i'm just asking for a bit of trust, ricardo. i know damn well i won't get any more of your respect, but at least your trust. games aren't meant to be played alone. "

" oh for fucks sake - " he cuts himself off because this is really getting ridiculous now . is there anywhere he won't be accosted ? silently , he reminds himself to get himself a maid or something , so they can get yelled at in his place perhaps . as soon as ricardo sees effie , he knows its game over . kennedy and effie were two of the main people he was vaguely concerned about . he almost cares . he almost wishes he was better . ricardo is a puzzle filled with almosts .

EFFIE MOVES WITH MORE ANIMATION THAN HE'S SEEN BEFORE . she's usually calm and collected . the ice to kennedy's fire . it's a testament to how clearly she thinks he's fucked up . " the photo isn't fake . " he says . " as for sources . well . they're mainly me at the moment , and i trust me . " he shrugs , a purposeful picture of BLASÉ . " everyone's so fucking interested in the story . nobody seems to give a shit about the more important thing : somebody gave this to me . right on my desk . they WANTED it on the register , effie . you of all people should be seeing the bigger picture here . this is a game , and i'm playing the part handed to me . someone knows something and wants to let everyone else know it, too . ABOUT DANIELA . ABOUT BRONTE . " he folds his arms over his chest , eyeing her . he can't lie : she looks really hot . " do you want a wine or bourbon while you yell at me ? you can continue in the kitchen . "

" see, was that so hard to ask for an opinion? trust me? it didn't kill you after all. " this, spoken like a knife aimed towards ricardo's side. cool, level, exact. effie wouldn't admit it surprised her, however. there was a certain understanding that ricardo had to respect her ( and kennedy ) otherwise he'd carelessly toss them to the side and hire whoever the hell could entertain him and lick his boots. both kennedy and herself are irreplaceable, this she knows. fingers clasp over her now emptied glass, sigh escaping into the tension filled air. " alright. sure, what would i do? " what would effie do? make it into a fucking acronym. she takes in the entirety of his statement like this was an interview, elbows to the counter and eyes towards the ceiling. the more he explained the more ... idiotic it seemed. anonymous letter, unknown person in his office, a lack of honesty. constant red flags and reminders ricardo will do anything for attention. money. attention. ways to a man's heart ricardo's she's certain at least, aside from a bright red lip and tight black dress.

" for one i'd be trying to figure out who the hell was in my desert of an office. cameras, i know we have them. disturbances on my desk. missing papers, records. computer security. i know we aren't the goddamn pentagon, but we have some private information that shouldn't freely be given. " two fingers push the glass towards ricardo and that ridiculously expensive bottle. a silent request for another pour, eyes finally leveling on him. and when it comes down to it she doesn't like the rumors stirring. effie and what she knew of bronte ... doesn't seem to have the heart of a killer. a mastermind. she thinks bronte would sooner run than kill someone.

the bruises. she notices them. of course she does and her brows furrow. a fight? well, well, well. effie isn't going to ask, but like a postcard it gets filed away. " and then i'd hold off posting the photo. play their game. are they going to badger me? offer me money? threaten me? sure, we get anonymous tips at the register, but not on our fucking desks, ricardo. and if my gut said to post it i'd talk to bronte, get a proper interview on hand. tease for another tidbit that's even juicier to try the anon's hand. prove i'm not a walking fucking mouthpiece. " god this is so ... ridiculous. maybe if effie was a different person, she'd have put the bruises to ricardo's jaw. " give an inch, people take a fucking mile. you of all people should know that. with how far you take things. " she sighs. " with the way things are going right now ... a missing person, a murder. it's best to play chess and not checkers. i'm not saying we tuck our tails and hide, but we should be thinking: will they send more? preservation, ricardo. " a twinge of concern. maybe effie is concerned, just maybe, but she doesn't expand.

" so if you trust me and kennedy treat us like we're your damn team and not some pretty little assets. like expensive decorations. " this, with a twinge of anger. it isn't a maybe.

ricardo deflates slightly . he hates when people make sense - especially when it's effie , who famously ALWAYS makes sense and has the best way of delivering it to him . he leads the way to his larger-than-necessary kitchen , all marble and white tops , unused pans , plates . he looks like he lives in a model house from architectural digest , and that's because he does . he bought it as is , then hired the first person he could find with a good resume and the ability to work well with an EMPTY CHEQUE BOOK . he reaches for the bourbon in a tall diamond glass bottle . the liquid sloshes softly into a short glass , which he slides to effie . he pauses . " on the rocks or neat ? " there is something within him that will always try to impress effie . he can't quite define it . can't even explain it to himself . kennedy is fire : smart and vicious . but effie is smooth marble : cool , level , EXACT .

" okay . okay . " he relents , with another sigh . he pours himself two fingers of the bourbon then leans against his kitchen island , half turned to her . " maybe . . MAYBE . . posting it without consulting you was a mistake . " ricardo allows . he sweeps a look at her from the corner of his eye . then , he takes a large gulp of his expensive bourbon . it burns in a way that only money allows . " fine . what would you have done ? if you were in my position ? and i'm not saying it to be an asshole , i really mean it effie . you get an anonymous letter on your desk , signed to you and only you . nobody should know how to get into the register , let alone into my office . nobody even knows i'm IN my office half the time . not even me . so they leave it there , with the photos . yeah . fine . maybe they played me . maybe i fell right into their hands . " he shrugs , pulls his gaze away so he can stare ahead at his curtains billowing in the night air , from a small crack in one of his living room windows .

the air is quiet yet loaded between them . ricardo works his jaw for a moment , feeling the bruising and aching still there from his tussle with taylan . " i trust you . " he says , and wonders if he'll grow to regret that . liking people is impossible . but trust ? trust is a currency . and he's willing to hedge his bets on effie . " . . . i wanted to tell you . both of you . i really did . " ricardo admits . he stretches his legs out before him , then takes another sip of his drink . why did he do what he did ? he doesn't know . he doesn't know why he does ANYTHING , really .

as much as ricardo's stunt had send effie into a tizzy ... it has sparked a fire under the register's ass. maybe, in a way, it was what was needed. a new spark that wasn't a body or new missing person— but a spark is all it took to birth a blaze. who else would post an anonymous shot in the dark tip? what the fuck else would he approve to be printed onto the web? the passion of recording may have been rekindled, but the weight of fool's gold could send them all into the pits of hell. in this she isn't immune to the bustle ; greeting a few interns, reviewing a concept piece, scratching about her own ideas ( one, specifically, centered around the elusive wanted man ). a little busy bee. buzzing , buzzing all around until it collides with a windshield— out of the corner of her eye she sees the man before his approach. recognizes him in an instant. local fucking celebrities, the talbots. had the town so deep in their pockets, it's astonishing how they're not sinking into the pits themselves. at least, on paper. politicians, even the small kind, love to put on a show. luckily, effie is of that same blood. not a celebrity, but a woman that could paint herself a portrait to please any painter. forget dragging herself to hell when she could paint it in a fantasy. " nathan talbot. " immediate reply in her heel-turn. meets his stride halfway with the raise of a brow towards a coffee.

" busy, interesting. sure, you could say that. " a hand rests to her hip as she studies him. a nasty habit of hers. looking for the fault ; a misprint. people were their own stories with missing pages and different details ommitted depending on its reader. " well, i've been busy. you've seen the front page, heard the buzz. i know you keep yourself well informed. " she hums, " but not enough to know charolette's also busy. " a slight pinch, but she offers it as a jest. pairs it with a light-hearted chuckle. a pinkish red tint for this particular portrait. despite her own columns about this family, she tends to return a good show. wants to dig some of nathan's fool's gold from his pockets. find the cracks. see what exactly he likes to paint. " but you're in luck, someone else here could use that coffee. " the hand resting on her hip raises to grab the second coffee in his hand. what it is, doesn't matter. this action is both to make a point and quench the crave for caffeine. takes a quick sip of it before she continues her brush strokes. " humor me. play a little pretend interview. " the hand with what's now her coffee gestures around, eyes following with the motion. " what's your thoughts on all this? i can't help myself but to ask the man 'in charge', after all. call me greedy. " another sip and a smirk just behind the brim. " gotta have more to say than just asking how i'm doing, or am i wrong? "

𝖫𝖮𝖢𝖠𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭　:　the register, 12:30pm 𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖳𝖴𝖲　:　closed for effie floyd @c0nnectdots

despite  the  news  that's  been  plaguing  the  town  for  days  now,  one  thing  prevails  in  nathan's  mind:  keeping  up  a  facade.  of  course,  it  isn't  like  he's  being  forced  into  this  charade,  in  fact  his  intentions  are  halfway  to  genuine,  but  playing  pretend  when  everything  else  is  falling  apart  around  him  is  easier  than  having  to  face  the  wreck.  so  here  he  is,  standing  by  the  front  desk  of  the  register  with  two  cups  of  afternoon  coffee,  one  to  give  to  his  beloved  wife  whom  he  is  allegedly  wholly  committed  to  —  except  charlotte  isn't  there,  because  apparently  she  just  left  for  lunch,  so  now  he  looks  like  an  idiot  standing  by  the  entrance  with  two  quickly  cooling  coffees  and  a  mildly  bruised  ego  over  his  failed  attempt  at  being  a  good  husband.  that's  when  he  sees  effie  in  the  corner  of  his  eye,  and  turns  on  his  heel.  “  miss  effie  floyd,  ”  he  calls  out smoothly,  sauntering  over  with  a  picture-perfect  grin  plastered  on  his  face.  “  must  be  a  busy  day  today,  ”  he  remarks,  gesturing  around  him  as  various  employees  walk  in  and  out  and  around  the  bulding.  “  how've  you  been?  there's  been  . . .  quite  a  number  of  interesting  stories  as  of  late.  ”

( samuel larsen . masc nonbinary . they / he ) . ⸻ damon del valle , a thirty year old , has survived another day in red creek where they have lived for their entire life . the charlatan is known for being charismatic and factitious and is often associated with always  having  a  smile  on  your  face  ,  but  it  doesn't  seem  to  be  good  natured  /  always  seems  to   have   something   tucked  behind  that   smile   that's   mischievous  ,   knowing  everyone   doesn't  actually  meaning  knowing  who  they  are  and   the  same  goes  for  you  …  maybe  everybody  knows   your  name  ,   but  who  are  you  really  ,  charisma   gets   you  far   and   you  know  it  and  thinks  it  saves  your  face . in a small town where they work as a tattoo artist at devil’s ink word travels fast . it’s hard to keep a secret , and it looks like the boogeyman knows that  [ THIS PAGE APPEARS TO HAVE BEEN BURNT ] .

full name: damon del valle. nickname(s): n/a, but you can try. age: thirty. zodiac sun sign: scorpio. birth date: october 27th. gender & orientation: masc nonbinary, they + he & bisexual. place of birth: red creek, michigan. occupation(s): tattoo artist at devil's ink , various other sidegigs. familial ties: single mother, only child and it shows. height: 6'0".

CHARACTER INSPOS : sand ( only friends ), zack taylor ( power rangers 2017 ), todd chavez ( bojack horseman ), nick miller ( new girl ), joel ( santa clarita diet ), kon el ( dc )

FAST FACTS ⸻

damon is a longterm resident of red creek and it shows and anyone who was in their graduating class remembers them for his antics. classical rowdy teenager into disaster of an adult, but they're not a terrible personal believe it or not! extremely approachable, can chat anybody up at a bar ... they seem to be everybody's friend. however, nobody seems to really know who they are at their core.

close with their mother and still frequents her two - bedroom home. above all else, their mom is their world. growing up it was just the two of them and despite his wild behavior ... he does his best to keep from disappointing her or letting her figure out what he does in his freetime.

a tattoo artist, but that isn't his only job. damon has been seen working at auto shops, running ubers and doordash, volunteer work. it seems they're always doing something for quick cash. most people just assume they're money - driven, but there's always a reason for everything isn't there?

has a variety of tattoos and piercings, too many to count actually. started getting them in their senior year of highschool and it became a right of passage for their main passion of tattooing. at the end of the day, they're a creative soul and find tattooing to be the easiest way to express their creativity and share it with others. their creativity also shows through eccentric style and their knack for putting on makeup.

FOR : open, come take a seat! LOCATION : sitting at a bench, just away from the party's warehouse TIMESTAMP : aprox 1:04am.

" talk about ... a mess, huh ? " effie says to the person lingering next to her stoop. since the warehouse began to clear and the music cutting with the announcement to evacuate ... she's had a cigarette between her fingers. another lost soul to join the bloody past of red creek. she's been here long enough, around for many a halloween, to know what the boogeyman mask represented. some were mindful, some were distasteful. the common denominator : all were aware. and that awareness ... was coming back to the forefront. and the hype about the town's potential ghost reviving beginning to surface into rattling rumors. it all comes full circle, doesn't it ?

the journalist's soul in her is alit in secret. the classic questions a buzz. how she'd write it, if she should even fathom to ask their friends or be more tasteful. questions and questions, ideas and ideas. however, she knows she'll let the hype die before typing away at her encrypted laptop. a fiend for knowledge, yes, but never crass. too many journalists out there were monsters after all. she'd never stoop so low as to disrespect someone like the others. effie's expression to the other isn't as panicked as it should be. remorseful, yes. scared, no. a sigh sounds from her lips with another puff of smoke. she offers a wry smile. " think its safe to walk alone ? not enough details out yet to know if it's, you know, smart to. "