— ; Interactions - Blog Posts

the message behind rafael’s words only deepens kennedy's amusement. it’s such a stark contrast to everything she’s ever known. she’s used to plotting, to blending grit and determination with a little bit of elbow grease to get what she wants. the simple idea that sometimes all she had to do was ask? that feels almost foreign to her— even for something as inconsequential as having rafael buy her a drink. “careful— give me too much power and i can't promise i won't let it go to my head” she replies, a hint of mischief finding its way in their eyes as they tap a cautionary finger on his chest. when rafael leans in, kennedy does too, smiling at his critique. “you’re only saying that to make me feel better!”  they holler over his shoulder, allowing themselves to be pulled in by rafael's familiar and ever so careful lead.

the bar is not nearly as loud as the dance floor but it’s still lively enough to warrant them staying close. any more yelling as kennedy fears they won't be able to use their voice tomorrow. “wait— that is the cutest thing ever!" fondness flickers in her expression at the mention of rafael's parents. "i’ll have to hold you to that dance another time, then. preferably when we’re less likely to get elbowed in the face. oh— i'll just have a tequila sunrise or something." they should probably follow rafaels lead and stick to nursing a beer for the night but they have never been a fan of them. prefers their flavored cocktails.   their index finger hooks onto the strap of his wings, careful not to snap the elastic as she fixes it over his shoulder. “nice costume, by the way. … icarus? no — wait, don’t tell me.” their eyes narrow as they try to place it. “the guy from saltburn?” the one that people swear looks like kieran but kennedy thinks it's just the height.

"all  you  need  to  do  is  ask  and  i'll  obey,  kennedy.  i'm  only  semi  -  oblivious."  he's  always  been  a  compliant  person;  the  spotter,  the  watcher,  the  willing.  won't  put  himself  into  a  risky  position,  but  won't  let  his  friends  walk  into  danger  alone,  either.  almost  too  eager  to  accompany  them;  like  it's  his  duty.  rafael's  smile  only  widens  as  kennedy  laughs,  his  gaze  drifting  upwards  as  purple  and  orange  hues  wash  over  them.  "and  between  the  two  of  us  -,"  leans  in,  eyes  falling  onto  her  again,  "-  i  don't  think  half  the  people  in  here  know  how  to  dance  -  to  anything.  but  -"  his  hand  finds  her  wrist,  gentle  as  he  guides  her  away  from  the  floor  and  towards  the  bar.  always  delicate  -  always  cautious.  "-  your  wish  is  my  command.  personally  -  i'd  love  to  waltz  across  the  room  with  you.  i  know  a  thing  or  two,  y'know  -  my  parents  were  big  on  that  stuff.  probably  didn't  want  me  to  embarrass  them  at  my  first  school  dance."

redcreek was a small town, which meant running into him was practically inevitable, she just didn’t expect it to happen like this. inside the grim little police station, with elliot wearing a uniform they never once envisioned him in. "sorry." they dip their head with a small laugh, realizing they were hovering by the door for a moment too long, "i didn't expect to see you here. wow. deputy mayers, huh? you always were...full of surprises." the words spill out before they could stop them, a poor attempt to defuse the tension, to break the awkwardness that had already started building.

fuck, they knew they should have prepared for this. done their due diligence of unblocking him on social media to check up on his life the moment they made it back to town. now they're they were, blindsided by the sight of him. stuck between two worlds— getting down to business or slipping into memory lane. their gaze flickers to his left hand, instinctively searching for the answer to their most pressing question... had he found someone to give him what kennedy couldn't? he isn't wearing a ring, but that's not enough to give a solid answer. they quickly shift to his badge, needing something professional to anchor themselves to.

kennedy finally sits down, their back straight, a practiced composure taking over as they pull the journal from their bag. "right. alaina price." they pause. the room felt smaller now. they want to think ahead, to push past the unease in the room, but their thoughts keep drifting back to the past. to elliot. "look," kennedy sighs, allowing themselves the momentary lapse in focus. "i’m not here for… anything personal. i just need information on alaina." they aren't sure why they're even telling him this. "i know you can’t share everything right now, but anything would help. the town’s already asking questions, elliot. starting rumors. they need something to hold them over." her words hung in the air, heavy and pointed, as she searched his face for any crack that might offer a clue, a sign of what he was willing—or able—to say. it wasn’t just about the case anymore. she knew that. but right now, it had to be.

IT'S REALLY NO SURPRISE that the moment elliot comes back from his coffee break, he's nearly accosted by the office secretary barreling through his door. there's someone from the press here, and the sheriff is out, she tells him. can i bring her in ? elliot figured they both knew that demetrius probably didn't want anyone in the office speaking to press without him—least of all elliot—but he's been on the job long enough to know the answer to give : no comment at this time. " fine, " he sighs. he's sipping his coffee when there's a knock at his opened door, eyes glancing over the coffee cup as he finishes his sip—and chokes on his drink. " kennedy. " oh, fuck. he'd been doing so well not running into her, and now here she is, looking like this is the last place she expected him. at least right now, the feeling is mutual.

coffee on the table, he finds himself standing out of his chair, a jolt of adrenaline hitting him harder than the caffeine so far has. " um, take a seat, " he motions to the chair in front of his desk, suddenly unsure what to do with his hands. fuck, his uniform has never felt two sizes too big until now—not even when demetrius is giving him one of his deep sighs. " what can i do for you ? " he asks once she's sat, hesitantly sitting back down as well. maybe talking business is the way to get through this moment.

any mention of marie never fails to make kennedy advert their gaze from santiago. it's subtle, usually under the pretense of being occupied with something else, like inputing a password into a laptop. "thank you." they say, not willing to comment on the two reminders that passweord held. 3126— the house the two grew up in. marie—that house was never meant for kennedy and their mother to begin with.

it takes them back to one of their earliest memories as a new 'family'. at the time kennedy was certain their mother's attempt of uniting their two families was just a ploy to make her own father jealous. a classic move: mom and dad split. mom and dad introduce new partners. mom and dad get back together again. but suzanne's affinity with jonathan herrera was of a different beast. when suzanne wasn't with him, she was daydreaming about him—his wealth, his gifts, his home—3126. the future he would provide her and by extension, his daughter... and kennedy absolutely hated it. so the first time santiago mentions his mother and how she was not coming back, kennedy responds with. 'well my father isn't dead so he is.'

an apology had been given. indignantly. from behind her mother's legs. an 11 year old who knew the cruelty in their words but was too overwhelmed by their own emotions to worry about anyone else's. though the years had slowly managed to mend the bad foot in which the two started their sibling relationship, there is a part of kennedy that still replays that moment. they can still picture santiago's expression—the hurt in his brown eyes, raw and clear in their memory. he deserved a better apology and maybe tonight was the best night to finally give it—

"that's so depressing, santi. don't say that." they say instead, brows pinching together both at his words and at their own internal cowardice. "the city could suit you too, you know." now that they secured access to a laptop, kennedy's shoulders visibly relax. "you know what? after crashing in that disgusting dumpster fire that june, finch, and avery like to gaslight everyone into believing is an actual apartment... the guest room doesn't feel too bad." they say with a chuckle. if a zombie apocalypse hits kennedy swears that their apartment will be ground zero. "i was thinking of renting something closer to work for the time being." closer to santiago too.

then maybe jon's requests to 'talk some sense' into santiago would lessen to the occasional text or phone call. kennedy knew coming back to town would revert them back to the role they often played within the family— the devils advocate. if the oldest can't lead by example, they're expected to play the role of a third parent. "he doesn't mean it." there they go. "he’s just saying that cus he thinks it’ll... i don’t know. stir something in you.” a sigh escapes them then as they go pinch the bridge of their nose, the wright of the night settling in. "sorry, i know i brought it up but... can we not talk about our parents tonight? i don't want to fight." not when their chest still aches from the panic that gripped them earlier—the panic at the thought that the body found tonight might have been his.

⁑ he rolls his eyes at the comment, all in good fun. ❝ yup. i'm, uh, so well - versed in it, didn't even open the laptop to clear it out. ❞ all said while the dust on the laptop cover tells an entirely different story. as it hums to life, he presses the back of his hand to his temple – like added pressure could stop the pounding in his head. as an afterthought, he adds, ❝ password's marie three - one - two - six. ❞ ( small reminders of his late mother are constants throughout his daily life, if one was to look close enough. )

❝ sorry, freshly accepted i'm doomed to red creek livin' forever. the city suits you, though. ❞ a tired laugh escapes him. just 5 years ago, santi would've shrunk away from the thought. now, it's met with bittersweet acceptance. a life in red creek is— well, it's exactly what he deserves. a small sting ignites in his chest at mention of his own father's excitement. for all intents and purposes, kennedy was his child too. she probably saw his fatherly side more than santi ever would. ❝ noooo. just makin' sure they haven't roped you into a permanent residency of the guest bedroom or somethin'. ❞ he exhales sharply through his nose at the invitation, not quite in him to have a laugh over it. ❝ tell jon he can ask me himself. last i heard from him, i'm not welcome at the table. ❞

it had been years since kennedy last stepped foot in the thorne house. nostalgic and new all at once,  pictures tucked inside smashed frames, their spot on the wall replaced by old graffiti.  murderer. burn in hell. boogeyman. so and so was here. the house had been around too long, access made all too easy for the town’s angsty youths and wannabe detectives. the chances of kennedy finding anything of note were practically slim to none but unfortunately for them, this was the only lead they had. the past thirty minutes had been spent digging through the drawers of a beat-up dresser, only to come up empty. “really fucking did a number on this place ” they mumble under their breath. the house creaks in response as if to share their sentiment. on to the next room,  kennedy was beginning to feel ill-prepared for this endeavor, having only brought a flashlight and their phone, which they had been using to record from the moment they entered the house. handy for snapping photos and collecting thoughts.  “check county records to see if jacob thorne owned any property other than — fuck!.” 

the assault of yellow light landing directly in their line of vision makes kennedy stumble back a bit, a hand instinctively rising to shield their face. they hear him before they can see him and while it only takes them a second it takes them to adjust to the added source of light, it’s a second too long. his words cause kennedy’s face to pinch further, confusion lingering for a second before recognition hits. a killer who deflects—of course he would. it’s a bluff, and kennedy is quick to clock it, straightening their posture while ( bravely )  clinging to the wall.  a small laugh escapes them, humor masking the adrenaline still pumping in her veins.  “from cold case enthusiast to hot-blooded killer—how does that sound for a headline?” ever so critical of their own work, kennedy mentally answers their own question with ‘you can do better’. still, not a bad start. “did you come here to feel inspired, kieran?” they ask, their own flashlight trained directly on his person, steady despite their shivering breath. it makes his height look that much more imposing, serving as a reminder that the chances of him being stronger and faster than her are uncomfortably high. they want to look around, to find an exit that wouldn’t require them to just run out the front door or jump out of the second-story window but they refuse to let their guard down… just in case. the room is perfectly still as the two stand off. "you always did have a fascination for the macabre, didn't you?"

…                      he had been here a thousand times before, a place for solace and rumination, for youthful rendezvous and misdeeds. here, he smoked his first cigarette with taylan and thought of himself as some kind of anarchist for tarring his lungs. here, he tried to speak with the ghost of jacob thorne, trying to understand him with every mark of growth on the door frame, every old photo abandoned, and every tall tale unburied. it was a place filled with ghosts, though nothing could harm him here. but with alaina price disemboweled, her organs bagged and sewn back in, thorne house now felt like an ancient beast disturbed ⸻ spreading its teeth and devouring him, gnawing on his autonomous nervous system until all his synapses could relay would be pastpresentpastpresent. it must all be connected somehow, and kieran couldn't think of another place the boogeyman could have gone after slipping away from his sight. so he searched and searched and searched for some trace, the beam of his flashlight cutting through the dust-cloaked darkness of sybil thorne's room. the house felt more alive than ever, but kieran did not flinch when he heard the creaking floorboards the first time, only natural for old houses like this to breathe every now and then. but then he heard it again, closer this time, his body tensing as he was reminded that the ghost he chased was more flesh than memory. and at the indication of the third time, the beginning of a drawn-out groan of wood shifting under pressure behind him, kieran immediately pivoted ⸻ flashlight slicing through the darkness, illuminating another trespasser. he expected a knife, he expected a mask, but the absence did not necessarily mean innocence either. “ huh ... ” he began, heart slowing into a more deliberate rhythm, probably should known that he wouldn't be the only trying to find answers here. “ i didn't expect the boogeyman to be just some journalist trying to create her own headlines. ” he deadpanned, a half-joke, a half-accusation, head canted to watch kennedy with wary fascination. @brntout

matilda's offer to let him stick by her side is sweet and a man with vikram's disposition can't help but immediately lean to decline the offer. "i wouldn't want to get in the way of your fun." then he remembers what his therapist who may or may not look like gabriel luna and be played by flea said, about allowing himself to be open to new experiences. "–but i might actually take you up on that... uh, if you'll have me." awkwardness and all. her laugh encourages one of his own, as he shifts a little in place, as if to settle more into the conversation. "no whispering tonight– i can do that." he's gonna have to if she has any hope of hearing him talk over the music. "yeah, wasn't he in that jumaji remake? i haven't watch it but i like the original."

vikram nods along as matilda explains the reference, trying not to show any confusion that would expose how chronically offline he is. has no idea why the local teens have taken a liking to calling him demure recently. "i don't think i've seen the picture. you'll have to show it to me when i see you tonight. get the side by side." vikram feels like his costume is not as clever or relevant in comparison. "i'm dressing as the phantom. from phantom of the opera? figured it was an easy enough costume to put together last minute." he already had the suit and the broodiness that came with the character. all he really needed was the mask. he wants to ask her if she's read the novel but instead thinks it would be better to take advantage of the fact that they rarely get to meet outside of the library to focus on a topic other than books. "are you heading home right now? would you like some company?"

“You know, if you want, you’re more than welcome to stick by me, since I’ll be doing the same. But either way, I’ll gladly take you up on that drink, if it means talking to you at a level above a whisper,” she said, a laugh bubbling out of her. She’d planned on chatting with him at some point that night anyway, but the realization that she had a Pavlovian effect on the volume of Vikram’s voice only made her more determined. “Um, yeah. Do you know The Rock? Like, the actor?” She stumbled over her words, suddenly very conscious of the idea that she could be explaining her costume all night. “There’s this picture of him with a fanny pack, in a turtleneck. I was gonna do that, but maybe switch the jean pants for a jean skirt and some heels.” Matilda made a mental note to save the picture to her phone, for easy access if anyone wanted to see it. “What about you?”

"hmm that you did." they muse, a smile tugging at the corners of their mouth. "man, you always had the best stuff." she was discreet too, which was something kennedy always appreciated about nadia. they can't even imagine what trouble they would have gotten in if their parents had ever caught wind of all the times the two smoked beneath the school bleachers, giggling about whatever nonsense was relevant at the time. they were a match made in heaven. nadia needed their book smarts to pass class, kennedy needed her street smarts to make this godforsaken town remotely bearable. an unlikely duo, but a friendship that kennedy didn't realize how much they've missed until tonight. distance ihas a watt of testing relationships and kennedy, of all people, knew that all to well. despite the years apart they still felt a little corner of their heart reserved for nadia. they didn’t know how to navigate moments like this, though. they knew she wasn’t the type to look for sympathy and it didn't feel right to bash her parents when nadia still clearly held some attachment towards them. would kennedy feel the same if they were in nadia’s shoes?

so they don’t say anything. instead, offer a solemn nod. they are sure they will ponder this later, when their brain finally manages to come up with something remotely wise. the glamorized pictures that nadia paints of their job description are far more exciting than the reality that is a gray cubicle and the sound of typing filling the air like elevator music. a laugh breaks out at nadia’s anchor-like voice and they follow suit, unhooking their arm from nadia’s to sit up straighter, raising a fist to their lips as if it were a microphone. “thank you nadia, for the local hottie report. we cut back to announce that unfortunately for everyone back at home, the glamor will end the moment the liquor leaves your system. we recommend thinking twice before sending that ‘u up?’ text.” not exactly the type of reporting kennedy does, but definitely more amusing on a night like this. kennedy’s smile falters a little as they cheer once more, nadia’s words stirring something inside kennedy. something they don't particularly want to put a label to yet. the pause between them is brief, but heavy and it seems they are both happy to choke it down with the tequila rather than addressing the unspoken truth – that despite rekindling their friendship, the years have placed them on different paths, two worlds apart. “you wanna go dance?”

kennedy's reaction is exactly why nadia finds it as indulging to tease them about santi . nadia would be lying if she didn't inwardly cringe at it , too . her grin stays large and present on her face as the two laugh . she feels like a teenager again , which is only elevated at the mention of study guides . " did i not offer you weed and alcohol aplenty in return ? " she pretends to scoff , as if the exchange wasn't still WHOLLY UNFAIR to kennedy . " i wouldn't have passed any classes without those study guides . " nadia's grades were as abysmal as anything else that requires her to spend time on it .

the warm contact of their arm around her makes her smile , almost abashed , down at the floor . they're both not huggers , but there's familiarity there . " i hear from her every now and then . " nadia replies and hopes to god they leave it at that . her phone burns in her pocket , silent and abandoned . a reminder of how her parents view her generally . " i mean your duty in the same way the royals talk about their crown . " in a way , kennedy and their job is comparable to the monarchy . nadia offers them her sweetest smile and is pleased when it works when kennedy eases up . " a fluff piece , huh ? what will that constitute of ? the night was young , and the town people were hot . . " she fakes a news anchor tone . honestly , nadia can't remember the last time she read the register , but she'd be more prone to pick it up now if it meant supporting kennedy . nadia beams , all teeth , as she clinks her second shot glass against kennedy's . " cheers to us drinking together again . who woulda thought that would happen ? 22 year old us would refuse to believe it . " it's meant to be said in a positive way , but it sounds like a horrible REMINDER OF FAILURE even to nadia's ears . she busies herself with clinking the shot glass again , with more determination this time , and swiftly downing it .

her compromise still threatens to leave vikram outside of his comfort zone but he appreciates her willingness to meet him halfway. he's never particularly felt like he was someone easy to be around—too quiet, too meek, too hesitant. sometimes, he wonders if he is deserving of hana's patience or the gift of her company and as often happens, guilt starts to creep in. surely there are better things, better people for hana to invest her energy in. but then she laughs, and the warmth that radiates from her is enough to melt those pesky fears. the last thing he wants is to diminish her enthusiasm with his lack of it, so he nods, a newfound determination to enjoy the festivities settling into his bones. “deal.” he says, smile obscured by his half mask.

her enthusiasm on his silly suggestion, paired with the reality of their height difference earns a laugh from vikram, nose scrunching slightly in endearment. "oh— that would probably help, wouldn't it?" arms still locked, he begins to bend his knees until they are as close to eye level as they can be. he shakes his head at the mention of her tiktok account. "miss sayoc, sometimes i think you might be the death of me." there's a fondness as he says that because they both know vikram could never say no to her. not fully. "ready?" he asks, eyes darting from the shot back to her.

☾ hana bobs her head in agreement: she's having a perfect night. moving back from los angeles made their hometown seem impossibly dull. but on nights like this, when the town convenes for something fun, she can almost pretend there's a comparison to be made. as expected, his reaction to her nightly chores is as amusing as ever. she laughs. ❝ you'd probably be surprised, but i guess i could rework the to - do list for you. let's say ... a dance, three drinks minimum, annnnd– no bailing until at least 12:30 ? ❞

an excited hum of approval leaves her at his suggestion. ❝ ooohh, you are so smart ! ❞ hana cheers, instantaneously moving to link their arms together. their heights make it look a little impractical. ❝ —you might have to bend down just a little, so we don't spill everywhere. ❞ just to tease him a little further, she adds, ❝ next one's going on tiktok for sure. ❞

under normal circumstances, the sight of a bustling redstone would have made vikram turn on his heels and find somewhere else to waste the hours away but nothing about today felt normal and it seemed like the whole town shared his sentiment in looking for a distraction from why. an audibly relieved sigh escapes him when he hears emilia's offer and he quickly makes his way over before someone else beats him to it. "thank you." he says, sinking into the seat beside her. "i thought i was going to stand there forever," only a partial joke. he would have sooner given up and headed home before pushing his way through the line of people. her comment about how depressing it is to drink alone earns a soft laugh from him. "that's actually what i do most nights." he admits, head casting down in a sheepish smile. "it's not too bad when you uh, just want to catch a game or make small talk with people. i usually go for a beer but—" he looks at the glass she just emptied. "—what were you having? looked strong." maybe he could use a bit of that today.

date : november first, around 9pm

location : redstone bar

for : open starter

" THIS SEAT'S OPEN, " she calls to someone, after taking a few heartbeats to watch the person standing struggle with finding a place at the bar to sit. the pub was surprisingly busy considering the news ; when emilia had headed towards the redstone bar after her shift at the diner, she thought for sure she'd be the only one here. as it was, she wasn't sure why she had to work a diner shift today anyway—shouldn't the murder of a townsperson, i don't know, mean some kind of town-wide day off ? but it was for the best, because if the diner closed, then the bar surely would be... and right now the only thing keeping her sane was the drink in her hand. her second of the past forty or so minutes. knocking the remains of her drink back, she motions to call over a bartender. " c'mon, what are you having ? it's kinda depressing drinking alone. " and right now, red creek was nothing if not depressing.

"eh, you're not missing about much. beer's just... you know, cheap." it fit his nature of taking things slow. shots were too quick, too reckless, and much harder to nurse on those nights when he simply didn't want to be alone. but quinn's offer was kind and as a man who could use a little more of it himself, it was only natural for him to agree. he taps her shot glass with his, then downs the shot. the burn is strangely soothing. it gives him something to focus on. "oh! yes, that's me." any reminder that vikram is not invisible to others makes him nervous. "yeah, i think I've seen you around too. i usually work with the mortuary so i don't really um, get to meet other people. what do you do there?" she seems a little young to be a doctor.

the  brunette  let  out  a  laugh,  “  unfortunately  ,  i'm  gluten  free  …  so  beer  and  me  don't  usually  get  along  .  ”  she  responded  ,  sending  the  taller  male  a  friendly  grin  .  quinn  had  recognized  vikram  from  the  hospital  ,  but  it  was  usually  during  a  moment  where  she  was  quite  busy  and  stressed  .  quinn  wasn't  super  outgoing  ,  but  she  wasn't  super  introverted  -  she  was  somewhere  in  the  middle  .  if  she  didn't  know  someone  ,  she  didn't  always  say  hi  ,  but  when  alcohol  was  involved  …  her  extroverted  side  had  an  edge  .  “  yeah  !  i'm  quinn  .  ”  she  responded  ,  holding  up  the  shot  glass  and  cheersing  .  “  vikram  ,  right  ?  i've  seen  you  a  few  times  at  the  hospital  ,  i  believe  .  ”

"if it makes you feel better, i think that you'd be better at a fight than me," admittedly, tthat isn’t saying much when the biggest risk they face at the office is a paper cut. "hey, wait—" they bend down to snatch the bag of peas off the floor but before they can nag him to sit back down, he's disappeared from the room. kennedy scoffs, sinking back into the sofa in a grumble and taking this moment to close their eyes. with a sigh, the adrenaline of the night drains away, replaced by exhaustion. what a fucked up night. the sound of the laptop thudding onto thetable jolts them, followed by santiago plopping back down on the sofa "what, did you have to clean your browser history or something? you freak." they reach out for the laptop and charger, quickly connecting the device before they forget.

the way santiago wrinkles his nose at the mention of their boss bring them to chuckle. it's nice to know that they might not be the only one offended by ricardo's antics. "yeah, him. he's a prick. i suppose all rich pretty boys are." how the hell he ended up in red creek is beyond them. they offer a lazy shrug at santiago's resistance to coming to new york with them. "dunno. think it might be good for you to go to the city. see that there's more to life than this shitty town." they have their attention focused on booting the laptop up now. "mom is... yeah. i think she's happy. i think jon is too, actually. you should have seen how hard he hugged me when they picked me up from the airport. thought the man was gonna break my ribs." kennedy shoots santiago a quick glance. "trying to get rid of me, already?" they ask, scrunching their nose in jest before offering another shrug. "i don't know. mom and jon would kill me if i didn't at least stick around for the holidays. i'm hoping i won't be long after that. i'd hate to give them the impression that i was here to stay for good." they pause then, before adding. "they wanted me to check how you were doing. if... you were planning on attending any family dinners."

⁑ he nods almost mindlessly, opting to trust that his friends made it home safe rather than spiral into a panic. ❝ yeah. guess i wouldn't be much help if i nearly get knocked out tryin' to split a bar fight. ❞ santi pushes himself off of the armchair, make-shift ice bag tumbling to the floor. ❝ i'll grab it for you. ❞ it's a welcome distraction from the pulse in his temple. he pulls the laptop from it's place on a (mostly empty) bookshelf. there's a dull ache in his chest as he peers down at long - abandoned textbooks; santi had loved nursing at one point & the end was so sudden. he spins on his heel before he can stare too long. he laughs out loud when kennedy suggests he may have signed an nda to work at heartbreak motel. ❝ you haven't been gone that long, kens. doubt they even know what an nda is. maybe i'll toss you somethin' if it happens. ❞ he drops the laptop on his coffee table with a concerning thump, then falls back onto the couch equally as careless.

❝ your boss . . . ricardo, right ? ❞ santi asks, wrinkling his nose. narcissistic may be the nicest way to put it. kennedy probably put up with far worse in new york. which— ❝ like you would've wanted me buggin' you in the city. ❞ there's no bite to his words, but they fall flat. ❝ suzanne happy that you're home for a bit ? how long are you stayin' in town anyways ? ❞

location : the police station

time : early afternoon, the day after halloween

for : elliot ( @ofmighty )

‘a deputy will see you now.’

it’s a small station. not much real estate to walk but her impatience makes the trek from the lobby down the bland hallway feel like an eternity. they had already spent hours there, hoping to speak to someone who could fill in the gaps that the public was so eager to hear. the victim was alaina price... what else? a wooden door is their destination, fitting in just fine with the unimpressive aesthetic of the old police station. they offer a nod at the receptionist in thanks before carefully opening the door and peeking inside. the first thing they notice is a figure with their back to them, a 'red creek police' patch prominently displayed on the arm of a black jacket. “good afternoon.” they call out, in case the creak of the door was not enough to announce their arrival. “kennedy stuart with the register. thank you for taking the time to—" they are mid-sentence when the familiarity of the person strikes them, stunning them into a surprised pause. "—elliot?"

horror and amusement meet in kennedy's shriek as nadia carries on about santiago. "ew, don't say that! you're gonna make me think i failed him as a sister." a topic ripe for debate depending on who and when you ask. kennedy is quick to take the offered lime but nadia's sweet confession causes her to pause. a guilt washes over them then. it feels awfully insincere to say they are also happy to be back in town but seeing nadia again has made their return far more bearable. they would rather lean into the truth of that. “of course — you can’t get rid of me that easily.” they scoot closer, hooking their arm around nadia's as if to empathize their point. “you owe me for all the study guides i let you bum off me. i charge interest, you know. i’ve come to collect.”

there's a reassuring squeeze on nadia's forearm as she replies. they're not looking at her. wouldn't want her to see their brow twitch at the mention of her mom. "yeah? have you heard from her at all?" the way nadia speaks makes kennedy fear the worst. the shots land right in their line of sight. "duty... what am i, a cop?" they laugh. "i probably shouldn't. i have work in the morning." overindulging in liquor was not exactly on the to-do but if there’s ever a night to let loose, it only makes sense for it to be the one where everyone steps out of their skin to be someone else. they look at nadia, taking a moment to soak the jovial challenge in her eyes. teeth sink into their lower lip in an attempt to hid the smile creeping on their features. how could they ever be expected to resist getting swept away in the storm that was nadia singh? "fuck it — it's not like anything exciting is gonna happen tonight. I'll probably end up writing a fluff piece about the party." with that, they snatch the shot closes to them. "your turn to pick the cheers!"

nadia snorts back a laugh . she always forgets kennedy and santi are related . maybe it's the fault of having never been close to her own siblings ( in age , memory or love ) . " hate to break it to you , but santi absolutely says where's my hug . and probably tells his close female friends ' my crush ? gulp . let's just say . . . you know her REALLY well ' " nadia throws back her head to laugh at her own joke , allowing her hair to rain down her back as she does . " other towns ? man , i've been in redcreek for so long i forget other towns exist . " nadia points out .

she watches kennedy chew on their lime , nadia's own untouched . she offers it to kennedy then suddenly , recklessly , feels the need to have another shot . she gestures to the bartender again . there is something heavy pressing against her throat . she doesn't want to think about it . " i'm glad , though . " she says , with a suddenness . " that you did come back . i know it's not the perfect scenario but . it's good seeing you again . " it's the closest nadia will ever get to saying I MISSED YOU . as the question turns to her , nadia's mind immediately can see a closing door , empty rooms , calls that were never answered . she works to keep her face completely neutral . " one day . " nadia says . she used to run away from redcreek any chance she could get . now though , she feels like leaving would be a betrayal . " my mum will come back though . i feel like i should probably be here when she does . " nadia shrugs , hopefully implying that there's nothing further to her words . as the fresh shots arrive , nadia grabs one again . " second shot or are you on DUTY ? " she raises her eyebrows , half - tease , half - dare .

“if they do let me back there, don’t expect me to be able to pour anything other than a straight liquor. id be a shit bartender.” kennedy was very aware her strengths and bartending was simply not one of them. she follows the other with amusement awed by how yasmine walks through the room like they own the place. it was her idea to get a drink but they are more than happy to let yasmine take charge. with their encouragement, kennedy squeezes herself into an opening. she raises a hand to get the bartender's attention, then stops, and turns back to yasmine. "wait — what are you having?"

they nodded their head solemnly and hummed in agreement. "they might even let you behind the bar. it's doubtful they would care about the legalities of it tonight." they continued walking and shoving their way through the crowd, hardly acknowledging how many shoulders they bumped or toes they stomped. "time to test your theory," yasmine said as they pulled their hand kennedy and pointed toward the bar.

vikram wasnt usually out during this time but with festivities to prepare for he decided to hit the town to get some last-minute chores done. primarily, buying too much halloween candy. his eyes meet hers down the street but he doesn't expect her to stop and talk to him. "hi matilda," the greeting begins as a whisper but gains volume at the end as he clears his throat. "sorry, i think i'm used to talking to you in the library." there's a knowing smile as he says that. "i hope so." see her around, he means. matilda's energy is soothing, something that vikram thinks he will need if he's going to be surrounded by so many people. "eh, nothing special. just gonna follow the crowd around and see what everyone else gets up to. you'll have to let me buy you a drink if we do run into each other." he clears his throat once more, "are you dressing up?"

closed starter with: matilda and vik (@brntout) setting: 6:05pm, downtown

With headphones in and hands thrown deep into her pockets, Matilda walked briskly down the sidewalk, more than ready to make it home. For reasons that seemed foreign to her now, she’d decided to walk to work that morning, and after stumbling upon a hoard of work that she’d forgotten about, she was now scrambling to make it home with enough time to grab dinner and get ready for the night. Despite that, she stopped at the sight of a familiar face walking on the sidewalk in her direction. “Hey, Vik,” she said, taking her earbuds out and dropping them in her pocket. “You gearing up for anything special tonight? Will I see you out and about?” 

“—and so my master plan to get you to buy me a drink tonight finally comes to fruition. about time you caught on.” they scrunch their nose in jest, playfully satisfied with his offer. “i mean, i don’t hate it…” they say, referring to the song. “i just— i don't know. between you and me, i don’t think i know how to dance to it very well.” the admission comes with a small laugh, a thin layer of sheepishness underneath. it's a reminder that this was never really their scene growing up. new york may have changed some of that, but the truth remains that they’re still no good with this kind of music. the beats were too amped for their usual swaying and with no lyrics to sing along to, kennedy was beginning to feel at a loss. confidence can only carry you so far. “that's why you have to get me out of here, rafael— before i resort to making us start ballroom dancing.”

truthfully  -  rafael's  been  nursing  the  same  beer  since  he's  gotten  to  the  warehouse;  no  liquor  needed  when  there's  the  remnants  of  a  traumatic  brain  injury  that  keeps  him  six  feet  off  the  ground.  still  -  there's  something  about  kennedy  (  her  smile,  maybe;  so  bright  he  has  to  squint  in  the  already  -  dim  lights  of  the  club  )  that  he  can't  quite  say  no  to  -  at  least  not  completely.  "no  -"  a  lopsided  smile  as  he  leans  in,  "-  but  i  can  buy  you  a  drink,  yeah?  unless  you  like  this  -"  a  vague  gesture  to  the  air  around  them,  "-  song?"

"so it sounds like you're having a good night?" even in her current state, hana's magnetism and her ability to command a room seems as prevalent as ever. even a man like vikram, who tended to navigate through spaces with a downcast gaze, can't help but have his attention on her as she weaves ( bulldozes? ) them though the crowd. his eyes are trained on white bunny ears, watching them bob in tune with the buoyancy of her steps. next thing he knows, he's settling himself into the space next to hana, sandwiched between her and another group of partygoers trying to catch the bartender's attention. hana beats them to it and while he can't really make out just what exactly she is ordering, he does manage to at least place his card down for the bartender to take. "goals for tonight?" he repeats the question slowly to give it some thought but before he can, hana takes off with her own ideas. the more animated she becomes, the more dread vik feels and suddenly his free hand clasps over hers, giving it a small, desperate squeeze.

"hana... please." it's almost a whisper, barely audible if it wasn't for the proximity. "have some mercy on me tonight. can we settle for... a dance, maybe? i don't think anybody wants to see me on top of anything." if he didn't have a fear of heights and djs, he certainly does now. "how about the goal is that i make it to midnight without wishing i would have stayed home?" there's a bit of a joke in there. somewhere. his eyes land on the drinks placed before them and is immediately weary of it as hana hands one over to him. he swears he can smell the heartburn from here. "oh, do you want to do that thing they do in movies? where they lock arms?" see, he's not a total stick in the mud! ahaha.

☾ hana is ever so grateful that vikram simply goes along with her plans. there's an internal moment of triumph whenever she manages to chip away part of the shell — even if it always seems to be temporary. ❝ perfect. 'cos i've had, like, so many shots already. gotta get you caught up, vik. morgue-a-ritas, mystery mimosas, green goblins . . . whatever will get the job done ! ❞ she shimmies her way between people at the bar with an over - zealous excuse me, pointing to something on the special drinks menu as soon as she can catch the bartenders attention. she pulls vik in too, wordlessly insistent that he take up space too. ❝ do we have any goals for tonight ? like, ummm . . . infiltrate the dj booth ? climb the tables ? ❞ hana's teasing, of course — suggesting bogus options to see the reaction they pull. no sooner do their drinks hit the bartop (a concerning shade of green) before she's pushing one glass into his hand. ❝ bottoms up. ❞

"overall, i think i might be more of a beer guy." vikram admits with a small smile, taking one of the glasses into his hand. "not the type to say no to a free drink, though." especially when its paired with such an amicable smile. "thank you, that's very nice of you. quinn, right?" he's seen her around the hospital during his visits to the mortuary. "do you, uh, want to do a cheer?"

the crowd at the bar was becoming a problem as quinn was hoping the person beside her was actually able to hear her words clearly . quinn's eyes shifted up towards the much taller male in front of her . " it's tequila . " she states , offering a friendly smile . " i know not everyone is a tequila drinker , so i'm hoping you're more of a tequila guy instead of vodka . " she responds .

"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? "

“you are just so…” frustrating. annoying. disrespectful. hurtful. “…typical.” the detachment in his gaze sends a wave of déjà vu over them. a memory flies by them, an afternoon where they cried to their mother on the way home from school, distraught over some playground injustice made against them. ‘that’s awful, sweetie. how did you do on your math test?’ it was then that kenny came to the realization that their existence is only ever recognized when they do something exceptional. it’s why they’re always, reading and writing. why they make time to work out no matter how exhausted they are, why they never left the house without looking presentable — they were an accessory, something to be bragged about. they played into it, but acceptance did not equal contentment and the more they molded themselves the more they felt a rumble within—a simmering anger that had taken root in their chest and now lodged itself at the base of their throat, itching to break free. if they were to finally snap, would people be inclined to listen or laugh at them? they think ricardo would fall under the latter.. it was stupid to think the two would see eye to eye. no, it’s embarrassing and kennedy should have known better.  after all these years, could there still be a corner of their heart that yearns for someone—anyone—to just understand them? stupid, stupid, stupid! 

they told their head back with a sigh, deep with an exhaustion stemming from years back. this time it’s their turn to look up at the sky and for a brief moment, they are distracted by a thought… when was the last time they saw stars? have nights at red creek always been devoid of them or is it just the one time they look that they decide not to show themselves? is this the price one has to pay for defying them? the mention of effie brings them back to earth, the sting of yet another jab at their ego anchoring them. ricardo doesn’t need to remind kennedy they are not the only writer worth a damn in this town — they are already painfully aware of it, thank you! but he does, and it feels intentional, like he's baiting them.  they don’t know what their expression is, right now. if they look like they want to laugh or cry or both. it doesn’t matter. they shrug the blazer off their shoulders, gathering it in their hand and pushing the fabric toward his chest—not shoving, because the last thing they want is for him to add ‘aggressive’ on top of his ever-growing determination to belittle them. “i said, five.” they spit back. "i’ll have something at your desk by five.” they were going to write this piece and they were going to do it well. if the story does happen to take off then they will be damned if they allow ricardo to be anything more than a footnote in its success. if ricardo has nothing else to say, they will turn on their heel and continue to make their way to red stone. with or without him

this is what ricardo is good at - ruining things . he was born to destroy . why else would he have been left at such a young age ? he's never quite been able to understand how to connect or converse or enjoy , much less love . he shakes the thoughts away , ignoring the feeling within him that reminds him : THIS IS WHAT YOU ALWAYS DO . this is all you're good for . kennedy's annoyance only vaguely amuses him . his brain is sinking back into its own comfort of a black hole . he finds himself barely paying attention as they speak , instead focused on his steps , and on REDCREEK . what is he doing here ? what on earth did he expect to happen ? sometimes he is that little boy all oven again , reaching up his arms to nobody , an empty kitchen .

he takes a long moment to readjust , realising they've stopped talking but seem to seethe on the spot . he blinks at them , genuinely puzzled for a moment before deciding that it probably wasn't anything CRUCIAL anyways . " sure , sounds great . " ricardo dismisses , with a small wave of his hand . he thinks of the countless times he's received blocks of angry , tirades of text . his ability to gloss over them is par to none . i'm not reading all of that , he'll often think to himself , with an eyeroll . it seems he can do the same when people talk too incessantly to him for too long about things he simply doesn't care about . " so . 6am , yes ? or is effie less . . . emotional about this than you are ? " ricardo chooses his words with faux - carefulness . he understands emotions are running high , hence why kennedy may have decided to start ranting - but ricardo doesn't have time or care factor for that . he just needs the best writer on this . he thought it was kennedy , but now he's beginning to feel he was more than wrong .

"you know i was trying to flirt?" vikram is totally butchering this. it's painfully obvious he doesn't do this often. a mental note is made to run this scenario by his therapist next time he sees them. 'i approached this lady but she thought i was flirting and i was not, not flirting but she called me out and i made it awkward. so how do i do that better next time?' something like that. "to be fair... it was a good hiding place. i don't think anyone would have thought to look down there." he wipes whatever debris was left on his knee from bending down, a chuckle escaping them once more at kirby's words. to think that the phantom's sins could be washed away by finding someone their candy bucket is nothing short of amusing. "i'm glad i could help." he looks around, noticing they’ve wandered onto one of the less populated streets. "can i walk you home? or... back to the main road, maybe?"

was  her  flirting  off  ?  no  ,  she  was  good  at  this  ,  so  good  she  did  it  on  accident  sometimes  even  .  “  i  know  you  were  ,  i  was  trying  to  -  ah  ,  forget  about  it  .  ”  she  followed  him  ,  a  dumb  move  to  follow  a  masked  man  but  he  was  looking  for  her  pumpkin  and  that  made  him  a  halfway  decent  guy  in  her  book  .  “  oh  great  ,  holy  shit  ,  why  did  i  put  it  under  a  car  ?  ”  she  racks  her  brain  trying  to  make  sense  of  the  rationale  there  .  what  if  the  person  whose  car  it  was  decided  to  back  up  over  her  candy  or  just  drove  off  ?  was  she  as  smart  as  she  thought  she  was  ?  clearly  the  fuck  not  .  “  thank  you  so  much  ,  i  was  gonna  spend  the  whole  night  just  moping  around  my  apartment  ,  wishing  i  had  a  fuckin'  snickers  or  something  .  see  ,  the  phantom  was  the  good  guy  all  along  !  ”

on the dance floor, they couldn't make much out of their newfound companion outside of their killer set of legs ( badum tss ) but now that they are in a quieter spot, kennedy takes the opportunity to quench her curiosity and look her over. "minnie? as in the mouse?" they ask, wanting to make sure they have it right. "that's so pretty. i'm kennedy." they introduce themselves with a smile. "yeah? are you saying we have the cosmos to thank then?" they can drink to that! they raise their shot glass toward her, angling their body to face her better. "me? oh i grew up here. born and raised like ninety percent of the town." they offer a one-sided shrug. they found their upbringing to be so mundane. "left town to pursue a career in writing— journalism mostly. i've only been back in town a couple months." a little detail that provides another practical reason as to why the two have never crossed paths before, but kennedy thinks they like minnie's poetic explanation better. "just the weekends? what do you do for work?"

"upped the budget? that sounds so for serial. i wouldn't know, i haven't been in town that long, i guess?" her nose wrinkled up. five years, give or take, could be a long time for some, but for minnie, it had passed in the blink of an eye. so much of that time wasn't remembered. she believed it though, and regardless, she twirls in the last song, and so does the other, and she thinks to herself: okay, yeah, this could be the whole point of this shit, and that's on that. eyes brightened at the rush of adrenaline, and the super change in the night, minnie sidles up to the bar, hand-in-hand, and look, it's the simple things. even this contact has them in a flush. oh, please blame it on the heat! "ooh, these are snazzy. we made a good choice. i'm minnie." is it a brilliant smile? at least the other can show it because her mask is over her shoulder, to avoid sweating her fucking balls off. "our orbits have totally chosen not to collide until, like, the time was right, and now's our time. that's just my opinion! or maybe it's because i work nights on weekends?" the nose scrunch returns. "okay, enough, what's your sitch?"

“i’m sure they are fine.” if she’s with taylan then kennedy feels a little better about selin's safety. what were brothers for if not to have some muscle when needed? or to provide a place to crash when the town decides to mandate a curfew all of a sudden? their smile only widens when santiago offers his laptop. "really? yeah, where is it?" it would be a good idea for them to check it out sooner rather than later. to this day, kennedy can’t fathom why he would leave his nursing job to work at a dingy little motel. it felt like such a waste and it was no secret that their parents felt the same way… but they don’t need to remind santiago of that—not tonight, at least. “maybe we should collab sometime. you hand me the fresh gossip and i see if there’s any story to be gained. did you have to sign an nda or anything like that? like, would you be allowed to tell me if someone was having an affair or something?” probably it wouldn't be newsworthy unless it was the mayor or the sheriff but still— “are you happier there?” kennedy can’t help but ask, perhaps against their better judgment.

santiago's question about how they’re doing at the register reminds kennedy of the interaction they had with ricardo earlier that evening. their expression shifts into something more sour. “my boss is about as narcissistic as it gets, which is… interesting, i suppose.” that’s one way to put it. you'd think they'd be used to dealing with them by now. "aside from that, it’s not bad. a little boring, honestly. tonight is probably the most newsworthy thing to happen in... well, 25 years." are they a monster for thinking that? maybe. "the parties in new york are obviously better. you would know if you visited me some time."

⁑ ❝ man versus chair, more like it. ❞ santi huffs, recalling the impossibly fast play - through of events. in all honestly, he may have acted with instinct over intellect, trying to pry the two apart and getting knocked back instead. ❝ don't even really know how that happened— one minute i'm chasin' after taylan & selin, the next i'm knocked flat on my ass. i'm sure she got home safe but it was so— . . . ❞ he puffs air into his cheeks, frustrated he slipped up on his one goal of seeing her get home safe. he tells himself he'll call first thing in the morning. at least kennedy doesn't push back on his offer to stay over; that's one less person he has to worry about falling into the hands of a knife - wielding boogeyman. even if they've never gotten along well, she's still his sister in all the ways that matter.

at the mention of her deadline, he feels a familiar twist of envy in his stomach — his step - sister, the best selling author, their parents are probably so proud. he tries not to dwell tonight. ❝ do you need a laptop ? i've barely touched mine since i graduated but– it probably still works. ❞ ( she might need to leave it plugged in, but still. ) there's the mention of his own work— the clerical position that he finally secured after leaving nursing. extremely dull in comparison. ❝ it's okay. i get to see what all the people in red creek are sneakin' to the motel for, which is fun. no shift tomorrow 'cos i covered the day shift today. ❞ he shrugs it off. ❝ how's workin' in red creek after leaving new york ? y'know . . . repeat of the boogeyman aside. ❞

“obsession?” she can’t help but laugh as that, though it lacks humor. "that is so dramatic, ricardo. i was just asking you a question." the silence that now envelopes them is not as comfortable. there's no solidarity no mutual understanding of how to navigate a story. what little patience they had for ricardo's antics is quickly depleting the more he speaks. "jesus, we get it. you're in a different tax bracket! do you really have to remind everyone of that every chance you get?" they are suddenly regretting the decision to accept the blazer. if he is intent on treating them like a child about it then they would rather freeze to death. kennedy meets ricardo's gaze as he scoffs at their plan, brows twitching into a frown. then they sigh, as if truly disappointed. “i must have mistaken you for someone with initiative,” they respond, fixing her gaze ahead of them once more, a newfound determination finding it's way to their bones. “fine — don’t help me gather intel. ill do it myself.” they don’t need him. they don’t need anybody. it was foolish of her to think the common goal or whipping up some notoriety was enough for them to work together. kennedy does remember him vaguely saying something like that to them and at the time, they bit their tongue. figured it was just him adding some good old corporate fear to the work culture. besides, what the hell could they possibly uncover in red creek? but now, their journalistic instinct tells them that there might just be a story to be told tonight and they aren’t interested in letting anyone’s ego get in the way of that.

they pick up their pace slightly, enough to step in front of him and put both of their strides to a pause. “i’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding between us, sir.” their voice shifts into a more professional tone but make no mistake — there is a definite bite in there. “i am sorry if i gave you the impression that i'm some lackey who's value rests on writing fluff stories for the piece of shit station you decided to burrow yourself into." it’s clear he doesn't know anything about them. the articles they’ve written, the stories they’ve uncovered, the damn book they wrote. and it's even clearer now that he simply doesn't care . "so let's re-evaluate each other's professional expectations, should we? how about you stop acting like i'm some inconvenience to have at your side and i'll stop mistaking your interest in the news as a willingness to help?" as per my last email, fuck you. 

HE SCOWLS AT THE LINE OF QUESTIONING . what may be harmless to others , royally pisses ricardo off . he doesn't like small talk . he doesn't like incessant questioning . this is the worst thing that reporters do and something he now only has HIMSELF to thank for picking the register to buy . inadvertently he's surrounded himself with nosy freaks . " what's the obsession with whether i watch movies or not ? are you planning an exposé on ricardo garcia's watching habits ? " it's not a snap , but it's close . his eyebrows set and his expression shutters off . he allows silence to wash over them as they continue walking , but he notes the way kennedy hugs the blazer slightly closer to their body . " don't spill anything on that . it's worth more than a year of your pay check . " he can't help add .

he silently agrees that the killer may be one for dramatics . a part of him wants to drive deeper and ask kennedy about their thoughts on what it means . why halloween . why that street . why that time . did they know people would be out ? was it accidental or planned ? but ricardo doesn't quite enjoy inciting conversation and a stronger part of him is worried that kennedy will take it as an invite to pester him with more questions in return . instead, he hums in agreement at their sentiment . ricardo glances at kennedy , with a scoff . " divide and conquer ? no thanks . i'm not your coworker . you ought to remember that . " he shakes his head . " i don't divide and conquer and i definitely don't take orders from my own staff . " he lifts a hand up , waving it . " what did i say on my first day here again ? something about ' you get me something interesting and you get to keep your jobs , otherwise , don't bother me ? ' tonight's hardly a call for us to sing kumbaya and collaborate . " ricardo feels restless then . itchy . he remembers why he doesn't like talking to people and especially shouldn't talk to his own workers . he doesn't need friends . he doesn't need anyone . he is uncomfortable because he knows , deep down , that's exactly what he needs . but a man raised a wolf will always only bare his teeth . it is in his nature . " no . " ricardo says flatly . " go find some sad loser to drink with you . " he's sure there's more than plenty still wandering around .

if yasmine shows discomfort, kennedy does not catch it. too preoccupied with reacting to their comment about the watered-down drinks with a gasp. "do you think so? ugh, of course, they would! think they might be willing to do a better pour if i offer to buy them a drink? with this crowd, they might actually need it."

"always. " gaze drifted to the glass in their hand, nothing more than melted ice. it took everything not to flinch at the touch, but didn't pull back, didn't want to be perceived as strange. "i think they're watering the drinks down for halloween. cheapskates. really i'll hold it against them."

the mention of santiago makes kennedy visibly cringe, nose scrunching in distaste as they shake their head. “no, thank god! do you think i would be able to show my face around town if i knew my brother was one of those losers? it's giving 'wheres my hug?'" kennedy lowers the octave of their voice to imitate what a man would so i don’t even know if he’s like, dating. maybe he should be.” perhaps a crush would give santiago some of the motivation that kennedy worries he sometimes lacks. “you don’t have any friends from other towns that you could... i don’t know, introduce him or something?” it's a silly question, one that they don't actually expect nadia to humor.

fingertips press against their own throat as they down the drink, a small grunt escaping them as they do so. "eugh, i think i just grew a chest hair." kennedy is biting into the flesh of a lime wedge when nadia asks her question, one that makes them fix their posture a bit. "of course. i didn't come back to town to settle down here or anything if that's what you're wondering. this is just, temporary. you know, while i figure out what to write next." kennedy isn't certain why they feel the need to explain themselves but they do. maybe it's to claw onto any superiority they might feel at the fact that they did it. in a town of wasted potential and unfulfilled dreams, ken made it out. "what about you?"

nadia pulls a face at the idea of tinder . and dating . and dating anyone in this town . it all feels too incestuous for her . " that makes two of us . " she agrees . " you have to tell me which redcreekian had ' searching for tinderella ' on their profile . was it santi ? please say it was santi . " the amount of shit she'll give him will TRIPLE . nadia barks out a laugh , loud and unceremonious . the bartender gives them another look but nadia is done paying him any mind . she raises her shot glass to kennedy before pressing it to her lips and downing the substance . immediately , it burns . nadia winces slightly but she's WELL VERSED with shots by now . " fucking CHEERS . " she rasps out , nodding . nadia looks around the bar , the crowded space , the familiar faces . " do you ever think about leaving redcreek ? " she doesn't know where the sudden question comes from , but it rips out of her from somewhere deep and unfounded .

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 ? "

vikram has never been good at delivering jokes. there was always something for him to fall flat in. his tone of voice, his expression, sometimes the context of the joke itself. "um, no? more like... i'm flirting with you by referencing a killer cheerleader while we live in a town with a —" okay. maybe he should have read the room better, with that one. he's grateful he's not facing her now or else she might catch the hint of a redish hue on his skin. vikram moves the flashlight further down, before catching a glimpse of a pumpkin shaped item a couple of cars down. "oh, i found it!" he proclaims, placing both his hands on the concrete to push himself up and go to the car in question. now that he knows where it is, he doesn't have to pull the chivalrous get-on-the-knee move. he simply bends down to retract the bucket before turning around to offer it to kirby. "is this it?"

“  are  you  flirting  with  me  by  referencing  a  masked  serial  killer  while  we  live  in  a  town  with  an  active  killer  on  the  loose  ?  ”  kirby  was  not  serious  ,  she  hoped  her  smile  would  show  that  but  also  …  read  a  main  street  buddy  .  okay  ,  that  was  nice  of  him  ,  pulling  out  his  flashlight  .  she  recognizes  that  it  will  do  very  little  ,  as  the  street  lights  are  on  and  the  bucket  is  neon  orange  ,  practically  glow  in  the  dark  .  however  ,  she  recognizes  that  he  is  trying  to  help  so  she  bites  her  tongue  so  as  to  not  ruin  his  moment  .  “  it's  somewhere  over  here  .  i  live  less  than  a  block  away  and  i  thought  if  i  hid  it  somewhere  over  here  ,  i'd  be  able  to  get  it  quickly  and  be  munching  on  a  snickers  by  the  time  i  got  back  to  my  place  .  ”  she  had  a  half  a  mind  to  crawl  but  she  also  had  common  sense  so  no  ,  she  would  not  be  getting  on  the  dirty  ground  .

"good save, babe. you had me worried there." they tease. as if hana could do anything to make her look ominous. kennedy thinks she could commit a murder and still find a way to make it endearing. something they might have to consider a little deeper about after tonight's events. fingers easily interlocking with hers as kennedy leads them out from the dancefloor. not without giving hana another twirl of course. "is it just me or is this party... actually fun?" especially for how low their expectations were to begin with.

☾ ❝ eee ! ❞ she nearly squeals at kennedy, nodding enthusiastically at the suggestion. ❝ yes please. i want one of those things that look like a lab experiment. ❞ she pauses, then laughs at herself. ❝ like, one of the tube drinks. not the people. ❞

it’s a surprise there isn’t more awkwardness between them considering how little the two have interacted with each other before tonight. ken had heard of the change in the register’s hierarchy before they had made it back to town and naturally, it made them curious. ‘who is ricardo perez and why did he decide to purchase the local newspaper station of some shit town?' in the two months since they’ve been at the register he hasn't really been around much for her to ask and whenever he was, work took precedence over any relationship building. that was perfectly fine with kennedy. their first impression of him had left much to be desired. a man in designer, with an air of self-importance, painfully aware of the edge given by his looks and money. his arrogance almost felt curated, like he had built it for the precise goal of pissing everybody off. tonight they find themselves pleasantly surprised by the man walking beside him. the fact that he’s out here with them, skulking the ominous streets while a potential murderer is on the loose is more than they can say for any of their former employers. ricardo is showing a willingness to get his hands dirty and that kennedy can respect.

“so you don’t watch movies because you’re too busy being rich?” kennedy flashes him a look — they are calling bullshit! “i’ll be fine.” hm, that’s not what he cares about. they add, “and i’’ll be able to write just fine, thank you.” quick to dismiss his comment, unwilling to humor any question to their competence, even in their current state. they aren’t wasted and they probably have the sobering effect of the news to thank for that. it was a poor move to allow themselves to get carried away with the evening’s festivities. one that they haven’t stopped mentally cursing themselves for. "oh — " ricardo’s gesture to give them his jacket visibly catches them off guard. a moment of chivalry that they wouldn’t have expected from anyone, much less him. then he follows it up with his usual snark and kennedy’s mind focuses on the familiarity of that instead.  “sorry, i wasn’t expecting to be out this late. i would be in bed right now if it wasn’t for the body. if there is a killer, then it has to be one with a flair for dramatics.” they huff indignantly but they allow their fingers tug at the fabric of his blazer,  securing it over themselves.  “the way you said it made it sound like you didn’t like halloween and i was just wondering why. sue me.” they reply, their voice kept at an even, matter-of-fact tone but if he were to take a glimpse of her, he would notice the corner of her lips twitch in amusement. the irony of him telling a journalist of all people that, when all kenny knows to do is dig and dig for something deeper. who would they even be if they didn’t read into things? if they didn’t push for more? even his refusal to elaborate intrigues her, and gives her an all too familiar itch to scratch, but they have more tact than that. besides... there’s work to be done. “great, we can divide and conquer then. make more use of our time that way.” they’re in a time crunch after all, with only so many hours left in this godforsaken night. “so you wouldn’t take me up on an espresso martini, then? killjoy.”

he lets out a long breath of air as they walk together . for a brief moment , he can feel the tension unspooling from within him . the tension that's made a name , clawed its way deep into his body , nested there , left bloody marks - refused to let him go . but when he inhales again , it's right back . heavier than ever . ricardo's only been here 6 months and in those 6 months he's spent next to no time at the register . THE REGISTER ISN'T WHY HE CAME HERE , it was just a great opportunity . on his first day in town , he'd done the obligatory show of face , but had hopefully made it clear that the register would continue it's boring hum-drum life without him . he was purely OPERATIONAL . everything changed , of course , when daniela went missing . he can sense that apprehension and distrust from kennedy . he gets it a lot . at least from them , it makes SENSE .

at their comment , ricardo manages a half roll of his eyes , using the opportunity to look up at the blank night sky . there's not a single star he can see . " being rich takes up more time than you'd think . " he replies coolly instead . it's not exactly a lie . he chances a glance at kennedy as they walk , analysing their drunkenness . " you better still write coherently . i don't want to read the front page of you just garbling drunken nonsense . " as kennedy wraps their arms around themselves , ricardo makes a show of rolling his eyes this time . he shrugs out of his blazer and places it over her shoulders . " next time , wear something weather - appropriate . " he continues walking , eyes still keenly ahead . " nothing's wrong with halloween . must there be ? sometimes things simply aren't that deep . " ricardo's voice is like silk , sliding between topics , words , sentences , oozing confidence he doesn't deserve to have . " firstly , i can talk up anyone . " it's true . when he turns it on , ricardo can REALLY turn it on . he simply chooses not to . " secondly , we're not getting you another drink . you owe me words and i owe me bed . if anything , we're getting you a coffee so you can stay up , preciously tippy - tappying away . "

"yikes, dude. they got you good." kennedy winces when he gestures towards his face. "people are losing their goddamn minds — did sel make it out, okay?" they ask, though they wouldn't blame him if he didn't know. maybe they should text her. a tender smile grows at santiago's offer. god, when was the last time they slept under the same roof? "it's okay, i can take the couch. i have to whip something up for work by 5am." they can still make it, they think. if they borrow santi's laptop and chug some water. "i don't think i could sleep even if i wanted to... do you have work tomorrow? how is that going?" is now the time for them to have some small talk? probably not but if the tremble of their fingers as they aimlessly smooth their dress down is an indicator for anything, it's that they would rather not be alone right now.

⁑ the corner of his mouth quirks into a smile when he's humored. ❝ glad you're okay too. ❞ and he's genuine about that. santi doesn't mention the body that police found tonight, but he's sure they know about it. ❝ fuck, i don't even know. i was walking to catch up with sel and then— i dunno, boom. smacked in the head. ❞ he gestures to the bruising part of his face. he hesitates for a moment, then offers, ❝ you should stay over tonight. i can take the couch. crazy night. ❞