cfsinners

[cfsinners]

andie-moreau‌:

Cid. Cid. That was her name. Though Andie wanted to say it was all coming back to her, the truth was that it simply wasn’t. She nodded along at the very basic information Cid revealed about herself and waited for the dots to connect. They didn’t. It bothered her none. It wouldn’t be the first or the last time she didn’t remember the details of a temporary lover. 

The flirtatious lilt in the woman’s voice hadn’t gone unnoticed. If anything, it amused her. It always had. She worked at a strip club, a gentleman’s club, call it what you want, but she did not run a brothel. People often came to her looking for more than her services permitted, and often they left bitterly disappointed and with wounded prides. That included one night stands coming back for more. It made Andie wonder if this was really about mail or if it was a reintroduction with the hope, or better yet, expectation it would lead to something more. But Andie was unbothered by the company of the woman wanting to “catch up”, even if it lasted only for a few moments. 

What were they supposed to say? Yeah, things have been a little weird since I last saw you a year ago. Glad to hear you’re doing okay. Just trying not to get decapitated myself, you know how it is. But Andie knew better and kept her remarks to herself. “That’s fine,” Andie nodded, stepping back from the frame and opening her front door wider. “Wanna come in? I think you could use that shot before going to the vigil,” She teased with a kind smile. Hell knows Andie would’ve needed it if she was participating in the gathering. Luckily, she wasn’t, and no one was going to make her feel bad about it. 

   Without a problem concerning Andie’s suggestion, she didn’t really hesitate when she was led in. “Sure,” was the only thing she said aloud, but her smile replied with a yeah, probably. Certainly a missing little girl was bad, or at least for the little girl and her parents, but that didn’t mean she was eager to attend. Though she did need to.     Admittedly, when Cid walked in she got the feeling that she remembered the place, but not enough. Whether the damage was done by time or alcohol, she couldn’t be sure, and she lent her ear to take in the music that was still playing faintly. “You’ve got a nice place.” She was certain as soon as the words poured from her lips that she’d said it before. Didn’t hurt to say it again though, especially when she was waiting for the right moment to glean information -- possibly blackmail. Nothing that she hadn’t used before, especially as a youth.     “You work at the Ice House, right?” She wasn’t sure if the question was any help to her cause, but she had to bring it up at some point. Even if they both knew that she had to know by now. It was the most scandalous place in town for someone to enter, but they were very strict when it came to the security of the girls working there. “I used to work across the street from a strip club, at an ice cream shop.” Did she? She didn’t remember there ever being a strip club in Notre Dame, where she had worked at an ice cream shop. “We saw all kinds of people walking in there.”

[cfsinners]

ben-raleigh‌:

“What makes you think I care about that?” Ben lied easily, eyes focused on the road as his peripheral caught Cid getting comfortable in the passenger seat. The reporter was aware of how calloused it made him seem but he wasn’t about to admit or share anything until Cid came clean.

“A child is missing, a man is dead– these are facts that I wrote about, that you’ve read about. It’s not up to me to solve the case, I’m just here to see how it all ends.” Another lie of course; while Ben had since decided that Cassie Klein was dead, it doesn’t mean that it was resolved. There was still the mud effigy and the white-clad figures from Petey Shanley’s statement, though if he were to be utterly critical, could be dismissed as mad ravings.

The note, the severed head’s whereabout and the surgical accuracy of the severing were much harder to ignore though. 

“So what, are you bored? Wanna play amateur detective cos everyone and everything in Wheeler’s not up to your standards?”

   What a look of surprise she gave him: brows rising, eyes widening just a little. Though it seemed 2D in the ways she didn’t follow through, with her lips just barely backing down from a smile, and eyes boring into him like oh, really. She had no problem suggesting that he might be projecting, even with just a gaze. Though she knew that he couldn’t have been just in it for the ride. He had a responsibility to the public as much as the PD did.    “Alright, I guess I made a promise.” But did promises really matter to her, or was she only keeping this one for show? There was no doubt that he didn’t think he could trust her. They were both grappling for information from the coroner, and he had just seen her keep up an elaborate lie. What if she was lying right now? What sane person named their kid Charity?     “Roman White? He shed light on a singular piece of the puzzle. Debbie Young. The newspapers described her as an upstanding citizen when she died. What a shock for our little town of Wheeler, huh? Less than twenty years ago. Rape and murder. To think that it all began with Cassie Klein? I think practice makes perfect. How difficult is it to bait and lure a six-year-old? Then there’s John Doe with holes in his pants, shirt, missing his head. I’d guess he didn’t have enough money to buy anything but those clothes. Yet, the hat he wore is at the crime scene with a note, blood clearly farmed and planted on the mud-idol. They’re uping the ante as they move. More difficult victims, but only crimes that they know they can get away with. And even if you don’t buy Debbie Young, the WPD couldn’t solve it then and they can’t solve it now. They’re incompetent. I want to help; bring whatever the fuck this is to an end.” No, she didn’t care if it ended, how many people died, the grief stricken in the Kleins’ hearts. She lived for puzzles, especially ones with such high stakes. Besides, it kept the blame off of her. Who goes digging to investigate the crimes they committed? 

[cfsinners]

@ben-raleigh

The Boys (2019-)

[cfsinners]

jaspermck‌:

Jasper wasn’t sure why he’d come. He had a million reasons to be apathetic towards the disappearance of a girl he didn’t know. He had a million more to get the fuck out of town before shit got even weirder than it already had. Maybe it was morbid curiosity, or some deep deep sense of pity that even he couldn’t identify or articulate. But he was here. Two feet planted on holy ground that hadn’t seen the likes of him in seven years.

This was not a place in which he was welcome. Not in his tattered and faded jeans and his blue floral sheer cardigan that hung too loose from his shoulders. Every eye on him felt like divine judgement. Jasper’s skin felt grimy in the sanctuary. 

This was a bad idea. But when he turned to leave someone shoved a stack of books in his hand. In turn, he shoved them at the next person he saw, headed towards the exit.

“I don’t know what to do with them,” he admitted, “I don’t know anything about this shit–uh… stuff.” HIs face flushed for a moment. Expecting to be chastised for his slip of the tongue. “I need a cigarette.” he muttered, still holding the stack of books in her direction.

   “Shit’s fine.” To be the first words she replied, they were a little off-center concerning the topic she should have focused on. She’d never seen this kid before, or at least not as far as she could remember the past year and a half. Though she wasn’t inclined to hold her arms out for the books.    He was young, and briefly she thought he might be a teenager. In fact, she couldn’t help being reminded of her teenage years before she’d found the library. How she flushed so many years down the drain. She paused to think how damaging it might be growing up in a town like Wheeler, but found she hadn’t the energy to be empathetic.    Instead, she blinked at him, unbending in her statement. “Are you not from Wheeler? Because I always got the impression that being devoutly Baptist was a requirement.” How old was he anyway? Should she offer him a cigarette? The librarian made a nod towards the door despite knowing he had his hands full, literally. “Put it on one of the pews, kid. I’ll bum you one.” She was a lawyer, not a doctor -- albeit currently a poor librarian trying to ration her cigarettes. 

[cfsinners]

amiraglenn‌:

“Hmm”, Amira hummed, slightly disappointed Cid couldn’t remember more. It could very well be a possibility then that her assailants were connected to other crimes then. All of the attacks seemed to have occurred in the midst of the blackout, which made narrowing down a specific time difficult, unless someone had their phone on them. It was odd though, it seemed as if the assailants seemed to know the blackout was going to occur, how else would they have have been able to move so efficiently around the town, terrorizing one townsperson to another. 

“Yep, you can blame that on those assholes too,” she nodded. When Cid’s attention moved to Forbes, Amira felt a bit guilty phrasing his own actions the way she had. It wasn’t her intention to make him seem incompetent, in fact he seemed to fair much better than she had in the grand scheme of things. “Forbes was attempting to fire at it in the process,” she explained, “then the brick hit his shoulder, and it was gone in a flash. Just ran out of sight.” 

Remembering she wasn’t the only one accompanied by a law officer that night she looked back over to Cid. “What about the agent? Was he able to do anything during your run-in?”

   At this point, she wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the company that had shut her mind off to the nuanced annoyances of the bar. The constant squeak of the bathroom doors, the trail of hot air blowing in whenever some patron waltzed in the door, the volume. She had a jarring headache concerning them when they’d first sat down, but now they were worlds away. It was good — for Amira at least, she didn’t have to hear Charity’s quips about these things every other comment.    She couldn’t stop Cid from being unimpressed, however. It really couldn’t have been that hard to catch a murderer in 2019. Not to mention, multiple murderers. If she were on the PD . . That was a scenario better left void. Her mind would never dwindle on the public good for long if it didn’t benefit her. She had no place serving the public. Though she did figure she could give Officer Forbes a pass; he was old. Maybe his age was finally catching up.    “You’d think with the sheer number reported, someone would have downed one.” It was food for thought, but she’d never imagine that there was anything even remotely supernatural about it. Cult members died just as easily as did regular people, though that might have been the problem. “He didn’t even see them. So, I guess, technically, I could have been hallucinating.” She knew that she hadn’t been, however, and she wasn’t about to claim that she was. “I wasn’t,” a stiff shake of her head, “I wasn’t.”    “I’m surprised some people don’t just leave.” She wouldn’t be one of them. After all, she had an agenda in Wheeler.

[cfsinners]

One track mind, one track heart.

If I fail, I’ll fall apart.

Maybe it is all a test,

‘cause I feel like I’m the worst,

so I always act like I’m the best.

[cfsinners]

andie-moreau‌:

Where do I know you from? The words flashed briefly across Andie’s mind before the realization came to her. And it seemed the woman standing before her already had that very thing in mind, the way she blinked and smirked at Andie knowingly. It was last year sometime when they found themselves tangled passionately in untidy bedsheets, mouths in places of heat and desire, fingers grasping at bare, sweating skin. Andie remembered breathing out the woman’s name. Too bad she didn’t remember her name now.

“Hi,” Andie softened. She shook her head and leaned against the door frame. It really had been a year since they’d seen each other. And from what she could tell, the woman still looked as good as the day they met. Grateful, Andie took the mail from her and tucked it up under her arm. “Um… this is going to be really shitty of me, but will you remind me of your name again?” She asked with a sly, apologetic smile. 

   It’d be a lie if anybody said the dancer wasn’t pretty. A close third or perhaps even second. Cid, of course, filling the number one slot herself. The other placements a mystery yet to be revealed. As far as sex went, however . .    “Cid. Or Charity, if you believe in Christian names.” A huff of a laugh floated from her lips, reaching to place her hands in the back pockets of her suit pants. “You’re always free to call me whatever you want though.” Cid only wished she had showed up for pleasure, but ever since she’d waltzed into town, she’d always been searching for something a little more permanent than the high off of a one-night stand. As much time she had spent in Andie’s bed, she didn’t know all that much about her. Even drinking at the bar, she couldn’t remember what they’d talked about. All that stuck was her job, and who knew what bigwigs came searching for pleasure when their wives weren’t in the mood? How many exotic dancers did the Sewards know combined? Had to be more than one.    “I really didn’t expect you to remember. So, it’s not a problem. I work at the library — though, I’m not actually from Wheeler originally.” She doubted that those additions would ring any bells, but what was a little truth before she figured she’d start lying? “Honestly, I’m going to that vigil tonight. But, if you aren’t busy, maybe we could catch up? I want to say that I owe you a shot or two.”

[cfsinners]

ssayeager‌:

His silence around anything that came close to emotional conversation was not something that Émile had intended to develop as he had aged. It had seemed to have been an unwanted aid in avoiding a close relationship with people during the last decade. Though at this point he was just extremely conflicted. Did he tell the woman? Did she even want to know? Or was he just… an FBI Agent. Some outsider who was forced to be in the town she called home. Some unnecessary, unwanted presence who was hurting her and her town’s identity. The possibilities of how people would dislike him always weighed heavily on his mind, and this was no different.

“Yeah. I was in Texas and Mexico for a bit. I was investigating this cartel. It was five years. My partner and I were sent in ten years ago, I came home five years ago. They never did. They uh… they were also my… partner you know?” He tried to explain as much as he could. He was a fuck up, he knew that much. Maybe if he had been then Sami would still be alive. Maybe they would’ve come back with him. Or maybe they would’ve come back and he would’ve been the one to lose himself. “But yeah, the cartel seemed to also be a cult. Based around Santeria and stuff. Kinda Like Adolfo Constanzo’s outfit in the 90s. Some… really fucked up shit happened there. Stuff I still see when I close my eyes you know?” Émile was desperate to try and explain the things he had experienced. 

“Of course I fucking know things should’ve never gotten this far. But guess what? When you’re playing chess with Bobby Fischer, all you can do is hope that he makes a mistake! They’re fucking smart. They’re like… I’ve not seen them really fuck up yet. And they’re always one step ahead. As long as they know the PDs moves before we make them, they’ll beat us.” He stated, standing up from where he was seated and turning towards the woman. “If I did what I want to do, I would go back out there with both of my guns and shoot anyone wearing white that I saw! But I can’t do that. They need to face real justice. The type that doesn’t make me as bad as them. More people won’t help… we need… a miracle.”

   The push of her glasses up the bridge of her nose was followed by a pinch of her lips together. She was only decent at feigning empathy. In fact, she had to hatch something to say that was better than a shrug of her shoulder. And she never said sorry. “Where’s home? DC?” A tactile question, meant to avoid her curiosity if it was against policy to date your partner. Although, she’d nodded her head stiffly at his admission. Should she have rolled a condolences off her tongue? He must have heard it too often by now, but it wasn’t an excuse. Instead, she drudged on, raised eyebrows showing her interest.    It took more than a second after it all to push herself from her perch by the window. A hand on his shoulder. A gentle, aching smile tugged across her lips. “Thank you.” Those she did say, but only when they were called for, or when she could gear up enough courtesy to. “For the truth. I appreciate it.” This was both those and an ulterior motive. The case files having since been on her mind once he swept them from her prying eye. She could offer her help in analyzing the evidence, but all she could say was that she was a lawyer. After all, who was better at solving a criminal cult case? An FBI agent or a corporate lawyer ( who had a bad run of it )? Or, she could take an entirely different route, after she pulled her arm back to cross her arms and sit on his bed — the springs squeaking.    “Honestly,” bullshit: honestly, “I lost someone in college. Not . . to a cult, but, well, an accident that shouldn’t have happened. He’s not here anymore, but sometimes it’s like he still holds a piece of my heart, you know? Especially when he could have figured this cult shit out in less than a minute — he was that fucking smart. I mean, when he wanted to be. And I guess you just have to move on.” Inventing something like this was nothing but fun, establishing rapport, staring up at the agent with a nostalgic gaze, though she really only remembered the Notre Dame Campus. “But, point is, if he weren’t brought down in his prime, you’d probably know him. FBI only hires the best. And you’ve got to be one of them.” A quirk of a smile enveloped her eyes. He deserved respect, and she could supply that without lying, but the flattery was something else. “I think, and you’re not gonna like this, but that you’re our miracle. I’ve lived in Wheeler for almost two years now, and I still doubted we’d actually get someone to sort the PD’s shit and take the reins. Ignoring all the shit, and however smart you think that cult is . .” After all, she was smarter. “I promise you, you’ve got them fucking beat. In more ways than one too — I mean, you’ve got me. Your impeccable sidekick, who, I guess, wields a fucking tetanus hammer places, but at least I’m cute, yeah?”

[cfsinners]

@layla-seward

[cfsinners]

amiraglenn‌:

“A rusty hammer?” Amia repeated, brows shooting upward as her mind attempted to fill in the blanks for her. Whatever story the witch could have weaved for herself though would have certainly paled in comparison to the horror story ripped from the silver screen Cid told. She had never counted herself lucky regarding her own encounter, that was until she heard the librarian mention the knife her white faced monster wielded. The fact that she faced two of them though, was enough to give her pause. She had faced only one from what she could tell, Darby and Ben as well, and yet Cid had the misfortune to come across two. If they all did in fact happen at the same time, that’d raise the number of potential murderers from the mere two that Petey saw to now five, and that was not counting the numerous other stories floating around town she’d yet to hear of first hand yet. 

“Do you remember how long your’s came after the blackout?” She asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. She hoped the police were keeping a record of just when these attacks were happening and where, knowing that could at least narrow down the pool of potential assailants. Maybe it was worth bringing it up to Darby about. “Yeah, definitely would have been an interesting read no doubt.” 

When the topic shifted to her own experience, Amira took a swig first, hoping the alcohol would make retelling the experience a tad more stomachable. “I was at Dairy Queen with Deputy Forbes. We’d just got done taking our dogs out for some time to run around for a bit together. The lights went out first, then pretty soon afterward a brick came crashing through the window, then another,” she explained, the memory of glass erupting around her sending a shiver up her spine. “The dogs were out in the back of my truck going nuts, but they fell silent after the second brick. Forbes and I went out to go look for them, and found that they’d managed to corner the thing by the dumpsters. It threw another brick at Forbes though before running off.” She was mad at herself for not trying harder to chase him down, maybe if she had there’d at least be another piece to the puzzle, instead of just more questions with no answers. 

   She had heard about the reports police were getting involving the blackout, not to forget the ten seconds of air time Wheeler had on the nightly news. However, the witch had a point concerning the time of the occurrences. It would be more than helpful to know the exact, or at least a close estimate, of the number of figures running around that night. The police would know how many to look for if they could actually do their job correctly. All they were good at was blocking off crime scenes. They didn’t even know how to keep information on the case confidential, nor how to act like they knew what they were doing. However much Cid wanted to place judgement on the WPD, she failed in recalling when the figures had stalked by the tool shed. She was going to retrieve her forgotten phone from her apartment after all, and it had been too dark to read her watch.    “Only that the storm was verifiably horrific at that point.” Though it had been like that the entire time, hadn’t it? So, her statement was not of any aid to prove the point that Amira must have been searching for. If she were more sober, she would have been an ounce more upset by her inability. But the librarian had soon been captivated by her retelling, twirling her earring while she listened. Why did she do palm readings when she could have wrote crime novels or read stories aloud to the kids on Wednesdays? It was a waste of talent, but Wheeler had a knack for sucking people dry and criminalizing then for having nothing left to give.    “So that’s why the windows at DQ are out?” Not to worry, that hadn’t been the only thing she got from the story. In fact, she was still brewing over it when she straightened up and clunked her glass back on the bar. “But Forbes didn’t nab the masked caper? Because of some pesky bricks?”

[cfsinners]

ben-raleigh‌:

“Roman, you really saved my ass back there,” Ben remarked and the coroner looked chuffed while shaking his hand. “Call me if you wanna grab a few drinks next time, I’ll drive back to Valparaiso, no questions asked.” Flattery was a necessity, more than spending cash on keeping your sources happy, making them feel wanted and valued was just another part of the game.

The pair waited until Roman White was well out of their hair before the reporter wordlessly made his way to the car. “Get in,” the words sounding just a bit commanding, an indication that he was used to either being in charged, or working alone. 

“Alright, so talk.” The drive back to Wheeler would be brief, especially with the car Ben was driving; but with an awareness that he needed to stall, the reporter made sure to drive leisurely. 

   “Can’t say please? You forget your manners in a place like Wheeler and all they do is talk, Ben.” The librarian was only messing with him, though he was lucky that she didn’t have it in for him. Reporter or not, he wasn’t the only curious person within city limits. Which meant that he didn’t own a monopoly on snooping, but she understood where he could be mistaken. Everyone was so boring, how could he expect anybody to be anything more? Or maybe that was her own person assumption of Porter County.    “What do you want me to talk about? Politics? I might be a government employee, but I can talk about that president of ours all day. Or would you rather talk about the upcoming football season? Mahomes, such a nice kid. Maybe he’ll be enough to propel the Chiefs even farther this year. Such a stunner too.”    She had since made herself comfortable in the passenger seat, the door closed behind her, lounging. The woman even moved to adjust the air conditioning of his car, as though she’d been out in that Indiana sunshine for hours. None of the above wiping away her mischievous grin, her gaze set outside the window of his car. The speed limit was forty-five, and she couldn’t help but notice that they weren’t quite testing it like they should have been. “You ever actually solved an open case before? Because that’s what you want, right? The sigh of fresh air that Cassie Klein is back with her family; that that mans death was not in vein.”

[cfsinners]

andie-moreau‌:

Wheeler residents could be so fucking stupid, sometimes it really did make Andie’s head spin. The worst part was Andie wasn’t sure if they were willfully stupid or blindly stupid. Perhaps it was a healthy mix of both. Were their heads really shoved so far up their own asses that they couldn’t read the depth of what was really going on around them? The answer was yes. She didn’t know why she was surprised. The people of Wheeler loved to put on a show for themselves, to prove to themselves and no one else just how supposedly good they were, and that was precisely what they were doing. 

Andie wasn’t going to a goddamn vigil. For what? Cassie Klein? Under normal circumstances, she could understand the gathering for the little girl who’d been missing for a month now. Hell, she’d be in attendance along with the other concerned residents, passing pitiful glances at the mother and father while exchanging encouraging words that probably meant nothing. But these weren’t normal circumstances. Things had gotten worse, far worse since Cassie’s disappearance. Did they suddenly forget about the blackout? Or how the white clad figures terrorized Wheeler in its darkness? The last time the town gathered, a man was decapitated, yet they still decided to gather pointlessly against the advice of the WPD. If they were so determined to open themselves up to whatever true horrors lurking right there in their midst, Andie welcomed them to. 

Music hummed from the Nina Simone vinyl spinning on the record player in Andie’s living room, filling the silence that would otherwise  be too loud for her to bear. She filled her wine glass with homemade sangria and placed both her glass and bottle down on the kitchen counter. Moving on, she stirred away her overwhelming thoughts in the form of sizzling vegetables in the skillet.  

But there was a knock at Andie’s front door, causing her to jump slightly and drop her wooden spoon. The quick spell of fear was just as quickly replaced by anger. She moved the skillet to a cooled burner and turned off the fire before making her way towards the front door.

“I swear to fucking god, if it’s someone asking about that goddamn vigil,” Andie grumbled to herself and glared through the peephole. A very tiny part of her felt relief to see it wasn’t that…thing from the night of the blackout. Regardless, she was annoyed by the disturbance. “What?” She asked with a biting edge in her voice as she swung the door open. 

   What better excuse to visit Wheeler’s most exotic dancer than an open mailbox? The mail no doubt addressed to an Andie Moreau, but unopened -- since Cid was not intent on being charged with a federal offense. Given, it was a re-introduction long overdo. The last time being well over a year ago. Though it would have happened sooner if Charity cared so little about her reputation to have entered the Ice House. A woman like Andie was difficult to forget, likely the reason she did so well with her profession. And while other people could look down their noses, she found that it was difficult to do without her eyeglasses needing constant adjustment. The reputation the dancer had? It was something to be respected, and used.    “Sorry, was I interrupting something?” She figured this was the best pit-stop to take before attending the vigil, but took the hint of the scent of a cooked dinner to mean that Andie was not planning to make it to say some prayers. Hell, if Cid had half a mind, she would not be going. But she was, so take that as ye will.    Nevertheless, the librarian blinked at the woman for a second too long, intentional it was. A sheepish smile wiggled across her lips, playing the part of a curious lady that she had no doubt that Andie often entertained -- given, much different from the lack of an act she’d put up months ago. She doubted she was bound to remember though. “But, uh, your mailbox was open -- I just figured I’d run up and deliver these myself. It’s nice to see you again though. Sounds like you’ve got plans for the evening.”

[cfsinners]

   The last thing Charity had been supposed to do was show up to the vigil. For one she had no place being in that church: she was atheist, or perhaps it was better coined agnostic for her irrevocable god complex. Not to mention she had never been raised Baptist. Her family had been starkly Catholic, despite flexible in attending church. Secondly, the vigil had been so carelessly advertised that she had known about it, meaning that everyone else, including those criminals in white, had to know. But that was exactly the reason she had to go. She had no doubt that some, if not most of the people actually attending were not what they seemed. And she had her bets on Cricket Carroll.     She wasn’t dressed any differently than usual, in one of her admirable tweed suit jackets. In fact, she never appeared to wear anything other than varying shades of brown and black. Perhaps that was why those rumors of being related to the mayor began. Perhaps she should have tried better to blend it, but everyone at least knew of everybody in town. Porter County’s head librarian was no exception. Though she had no idea why a stranger asked her to hand out hymnals.    “Thanks, but I think they’d be much better preforming that job.” She attempted to slide the opportunity off to the person on her right. Though she’d have loved to help with collection donations. 

[cfsinners]

Laura Harrier by  Eric Chakeen for  Tidal Magazine #9

[cfsinners]

don’t trust the b in apt 23 gifs // 60 of ?

[cfsinners]

lawisgcd‌:

darby, for the first time in years, didn’t exactly feel like going to work. after the lack of rest and the night of the blackout, he could have used a vacation. but he knew that wheeler and its residents needed all hands on deck. 

so, darby was making his rounds. there were too many people involved that night to expect everyone to go down to the station. he knocked on the door and gave a polite smile and nod when opened. “sorry for the intrusion. i’m just going around town asking folks if anything out of the ordinary happened on the night of the black out and seeing if they can help in any way. do you have a moment?”

   It was by no intention that she appeared unimpressed upon opening the door, although she was exactly that when she opened it to the deputy. Her lips pinched together, a singular brow arched as she heard the click of her earring being locked in correctly. However, when she’d turned in the middle of his speech to slide her satchel across her shoulders and grab Tybalt’s leash, she didn’t look quite so off-put by his sudden appearance at her door.     “I’m actually on my way out, officer.” She spoke, meeting his eyes before attempting to slide past him, the door locking behind her and the cat at the end of her leash. Odd looking, maybe, since the librarian was dressed rather professionally to be a crazy cat lady. “Though after the blackout, the walk to work isn’t quite as calming -- and probably not as safe.” Not that it had ever been calming, she hated walking to work especially in her heels. She could not afford the luxury of a vehicle, not when she was having trouble with her current debts. The stairs down from her apartment clicked under her feet, bothering to pause and spare a glance so as to usher him to follow. “You can catch a moment or two of my time along the way.” Unbending, but what else could she be in front of a police officer that had knocked on her door? And who knew what his personal biases were?

[cfsinners]

ben-raleigh‌:

“You’re fucking unbelievable,” Ben leaned in to respond in a low tone, careful to not be heard by anyone else in the diner as a ghost of a smile threatened to form on his lips. It was ballsy, to waltz into Valparaiso armed with nothing but her pretty face and an arsenal of lies and fully expecting to emerge victorious in whatever it was that Cid Barnes was trying to achieve. 

“What are you doing here anyway?” he asked, eyes narrowing as he passed off his suspicions to something more playful. Despite what Cid offered, he knew his options and it didn’t have to necessarily involve opening his wallet and buying breakfast for three or becoming her personal driver. But the reporter was curious, wanted to know what her angle was; he also knew that his question couldn’t be answered in a few precious minutes, so by the time the coroner returned in his seat, the waitress had already taken their food orders.

   A crafty grin pranced on her lips, countering his quiet words by leaning back in her chair like she might produce a laugh or a snort though she really only raised her brows. “I’m unbelievable? I think if I were unbelievable, you’d have noticed by now. Written it in one of your little articles about how the librarian is a total psycho!” She knew the coroner was still in the bathroom, but if there was a possibility he could have heard her, she didn’t care. All she earned were stares from a few morning-risers around the diner, none of which she was inclined to pay any mind. It was fun to fuck with the esteemed Ben Raleigh. How many times had she gladly and sheepishly fumbled to the records room to pull out some newspaper or report addressed to the public knowing he was looking at the wrong year or wasting time?     And while she claimed she was hungry, her stomach did not rumble or growl. Her motions appeared a little erratic and sudden now than vivacious, gravitating back towards the table and tapping a finger against her coffee cup. “Buy me some waffles and I’ll tell you on the drive back, hm?” It was less of a question than it was a statement, tilting her head to match his narrowed eyes and inquisitive expression. Sometimes a reporter had to work to get an answer. Money was no object to someone like him. So, it wasn’t like he really had to try. She was the only one who had to, but it seemed like he was quick to give in anyway. And when Roman White reappeared, all was normal again. In fact, when the food was rolled out ten minutes after the fact, she was surprised by how good it was and how quickly their coffees were emptied as well as plates.     “Really, it was amazing to meet you. I’m glad to know we have someone as professional as you working with both the PD and the public.” She was happier than she should have been, ushering Mr. White out. That much could be seen in her smile. “Drive safe, really. We need more men like you working the newspapers.” They had since walked outside, she waving to him as he climbed into his own vehicle -- just waiting to drop the act when she glanced back towards the reporter.