nadics

[nadics]

isnotgold‌:

“I never miss a step,” Rowan said coolly, fixing her with a confident gaze that suggested he was referring to more than just skincare. The banter between them went on for about as long as it could before she finally got down to business. He listened intently as she described herself, imagining what life must be like coming back to this place after such a long absence. Had it moved on without her, he wondered, or had it remained trapped amberlike in the past, much like its residents? He suspected the truth lay somewhere in between.

“That seems to be the case for a lot of people,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning against the bed gingerly. “Every other person I meet is either stuck here and wants to escape or escaped and then got re-stuck.” He couldn’t help but think of his own circumstances—his car breaking down as he tried to leave, then losing his wallet right after the car got fixed. That siren song that had called him here in the first place, one whose tune still lingered in the back of mind, burned between his ears yet somehow still indiscernible.

And now this. The fire. Rowan had explained it away in his head a hundred times over. It was a trick of the wind, he’d say as he tried to fall asleep. A wrong place, wrong time kind of deal. Yet even with all his justifications, a coil of doubt slid serpentine beneath his skin, writhing and whispering as he tried to make his peace. It’s unnatural, it said, intentional. You were targeted.

Targeted by what, though? That made him sound like a lunatic. He thought back to his conversation with Peter and immediately wished he hadn’t. As much as his paranoia wanted to assign some sinister meaning or agenda to what had happened, they had just been unlucky, no matter what Peter implied, whatever… voice he may have heard.

Well, it wasn’t the first time he’d shared his bed with crazy, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Rowan broke his gaze away from Nadia’s, fearing what she might see in it. He looked out the window instead, the fire playing over and over in his head as she spoke. It wasn’t that he’d heard anything, necessarily, but he’d felt it. A presence. It was one he hadn’t felt in months—one he’d been naïve enough to believe would go away. He couldn’t think the name, had blocked it out a hundred times over, yet still that face remained.

He screwed his eyes shut for but a moment, willing the vision away, and then turned back to Nadia.

“You mean besides Peter and I screaming bloody murder? No. I was kind of focused on, you know, being on fire,” he snapped. She’d struck a nerve, and she was sharp enough to know it. Still, being caught in a lie wasn’t a reason for him to air his private business to her.

“That’s a pretty specific question. I’m guessing the other people you’ve interviewed have heard or… seen things.”

She thinks about his comment, almost offhand. She thinks and she makes a mental note to really process that later. Something tells her there’s more truth to his statement than he even realizes. Everyone she’d known that had left Sallybrook was back, and maybe she’d fallen victim to the same pattern. That offer seemed too good to be true when the details were ironed out, but she’d taken them anyways. 

“I guess you’re right,” She stops for a moment, collecting her thoughts. “I... I hadn’t thought that through as much as I should have, it’ll warrant investigation.” Anything that could be remotely related to the Haunt seemed to warrant Nadia’s interest these days. “But take that with a grain of salt, I say that for like, half of the weird rumors i hear in town. If it’s not missing children it’s something else, you know?” 

That little bit of truth that was supposed to make the question bite less didn’t hurt as much as it would have a year before, with little stings would lead to binges and crying on her apartment floor. 

Something flashes on Rowan’s face, and he looks away. A clear cut sign of lying, Nadia’s detective brain screamed. She paused, and took in the weird shifty nature of the boy, and smiled. She wanted to be as comforting of a presence as possible. Nadia was playing at being the Good Cop lately, asking questions that weren’t as probing and being polite. Everything that had happened to lead here had made her that way. 

“That’s - I’m sorry.” She starts and stops, “I didn’t mean to upset you or anything, Peter told me basically nothing, so I’m hoping to hear from anyone else.” She pauses, and looks out the window. The city spreads out, and Nadia can almost make out the route she’d take home as a child. 

“I’ve heard from some witnesses, and some people. Nothing but rumors, though, and weird things. A kid was returned that night, too. It makes things...  different. Means the cops are tight lipped on the leads. Which means my source doesn’t want to talk, and so I’ve resulted to coffee house gossip that old women heard from a friend of a friend. It’s... tiring, honestly.” 

[nadics]

curandcra‌:

Elodie was taken aback at the other woman’s directness. For a moment, she froze in her steps, at a loss for words.

It was almost cruel how the memories of that night drudged themselves back up with the smallest provocation. Just at the other woman’s words, Elodie found herself back at the pier, staring at a stranger who was not so strange. William– the name had escaped her lips before she could stop it. He had turned his eyes to her with a vague recognition and she had reached out to touch him, not knowing what to expect.

When he had been real and solid, when he had said her name, she had felt her stomach turn. That night, she had stumbled away, she had turned into the shore, had made herself sick.

Even now, she wished she had not seen him.

“Nadia, right—” Elodie had a thin-lipped smile, but there was no welcome in her voice. She ground her teeth and pressed down hard with the pen on her notepad as she prepared to write down the order, “And how would you like that coffee?“

Nadia knew she was abrasive, sometimes even a brand of bitch at times. She had been for years, especially when she stared down bottle after bottle of liquor each night. She remembered the haze where men had called her rude names for rebuffing their advances, telling them they weren’t even worth her time when she was wasted and falling off of a barstool. 

The fire had reignited the feeling of wonder that Nadia held, the long seated desire to figure out the intricacies of the Haunt itself. She’d watched that fire from the distance, had seen Eloide practically sprint away from the water. She knew she had been near William when he arose, just like Nadia. She wanted to know if the girl had seen anything else, had heard anything else. 

(Nadia’s dreams were convincing her she’d heard Farah’s screams, but she knew that wasn’t true. Yet each time her eyes closed she watched her sister’s face twisted up in horror with bubbles floating to the surface carrying the sounds of her terror.)

“Two sugars.” Nadia responds, “And yes, it’s Nadia. Nadia Kazmir.” She tries her best to be as transparent as possible with anyone she speaks to. “It’s really not too much of a question, just wondering if you saw anything strange. Other than, like, William coming back from the dead.” She makes sure to clarify that, knowing how strange it was that another person was suddenly returned from the Haunt. 

(She hated herself that she wished it was Farah’s face walking out of the water. She’d trade her own life to see that little girl returned, no questions asked.)

[nadics]

Headcanons 2.0 (secrets edition)

♦ - something no one knows about your muse 

★ - a guilty desire they are ashamed of

♒ - a secret that’s obvious

∇ - a secret about your muses family 

☼ - a person who knows most of the muses secrets

♡ - a secret about their love life 

[nadics]

Give me a letter. 

a – age

b – biggest fear

c – current time 

d – drink you last had/are having 

e – easiest person to talk to

f – favorite song 

g – ghosts, are they real 

h – heritage 

i – in love with 

k – kissed someone

l – last time you cried 

m – middle name 

n – number of siblings 

o – one wish

p – person who you last called 

q – question you’re always asked 

r – reason to smile 

s – song last sang 

t – time you woke up 

u – underwear color 

w – worst habit

x – x-rays you’ve had 

y – your favorite food 

z – zodiac sign

[nadics]

                                                     he offers a h a n d s h a k e,                               c             r             o             o             k             e               d                                                                 five fingers.                                                           they form a PATTERN                                                       y e t  to be  m a t c h e d

                                                                                                       - pagan poetry, bjork

[nadics]

ms-davenport‌:

She shakes her head. Officially her case file is as cold as an other in Sallybrook, the only difference is that she’s no longer listed as missing. The force knows that she’s a lost cause when it comes to explanations or leads, but that doesn’t stop them. They grow bolder with the colder weather and the looming of Haunt season. She’ll be sitting behind the counter at Nina’s Records and one will stroll in, pretend to browse the selections, and then slide in front of her.

Still got nothing for us? Still our little Tabula Rasa?

“You won’t,” Leila said, her voice gaining strength for the first time. The police could scrub the scene down to every individual grain of sand and there still wouldn’t be an explanation. At least not on that included the simultaneous fires throughout various homes in town. “It was them. They won’t leave any traces.”

Nadia is glad that they’ve stopped questioning her, at least. She couldn’t imagine how horrible it would have been: coming back home after being basically kidnapped and then having to talk to Nadia for hours on end. She may not have run the whole thing like an interrogation (her interrogation skills were lauded by the Boston PD), but she knew how to press the right buttons to get answers. And when she pushed them on Leila, there was nothing there. No answers, only thousands of more questions. 

She’d never asked the one she really wanted to, anyway. The picture of Farah remained in Nadia’s pocket, and the thoughts of her sister’s empty grave haunted her on the long night she spent on the floor of her favorite bartender’s apartment. 

“I... I’ve got to try.” Nadia states, her voice unwavering. There’s an rational explanation for everything, the officers had told her at the Academy. She knew it wasn’t true, had seen the unexplained every year without fail. Still, Nadia was one of the last to hold onto that hope that they could solve everything, all they needed was a smoking gun and suddenly every child in Sallybrook would be safe from the things that go bump in the night. “I’m almost positive you’re right, but there’s no harm in searching.”

[nadics]

you are currently being possessed by PRIDE. haunting period ends: 11.22.18 at 12am est.

[nadics]

peter: [read]

nadia: you should know i'm not above bribing you with skittles and peach rings

nadia: i talked with my therapist today though and she suggested not doing that, but tbh she hasn't met you so she doesn't get it

[nadics]

      “ she said one day to leave her, sand up to her shoulders                  w a i t i n g                                         for                                                       the                                                                       tide...                            to drag her to the ocean, to another sea’s shore.                                              this thing HURTS like HELL...

                                                                    BUT WHAT DID YOU EXPECT?”

- the sea is a good place to think of the future, los campesinos!

[nadics]

peter: you still said it.

peter: i'm still mad at you.

nadia: can't really argue with that point

nadia: still doesn't make me any less sorry about what i said

[nadics]

nadia: look peter i'm sorry

nadia: you know i didn't mean half the shit i say i just get angry my therapist says i need to work on it

[nadics]

peterxfrancis‌:

He recognized that tone, he had heard it from many people before. When he had gone too far, when he had let them in to his dark thoughts and they got angry. He clenched his jaw, not wanting to make a big deal out of it, not wanting to lose another friend. But then she kept speaking, and assuming things about him, and he could no longer keep his words inside of himself. Peter had inherited his father’s temper, everyone who was close to him knew that. When he looked at Nadia now, his eyes were dark, and cold, as though someone else had jumped into his body. “Maybe I don’t want to be welcomed back to your office,” he said coldly, getting up from the chair and slinging his bag over his shoulder. He was still weak from the fire, his words had to come few and far between. “Don’t assume things haven’t been taken from me, Nadia, you know better than that, ” he says, his voice slightly raised. Or as raised as he could get it. “You don’t know me, or what I’ve been through, and it’s none of your fucking business if this fake-ass entity your chasing has affected my life or not.” He tightened the grip on his backpack straps, stopping himself from getting violent. He had inherited his father’s anger, but he would not be his father. “You’re the one out here, chasing this fucking fairytale out of hopes it’ll piece your life together again! Big fucking news, Nadia, it won’t! Stop blaming The Haunt because you can’t fucking handle grief or loss, and get some fucking help!” He turned around then, slamming the door open so it hit the wall, then slamming it shut as he bolted for the stairs. 

Nadia frowned at the door, watching Peter walk away. She didn’t want to push people away again, had always whispered the words when her therapist asked about her fears. But now, she knew she had to push someone away for her own good. At least for the time being. Sure, she was a bitch for acting like her old self when cornered. Sure, she always went too far when it came to things. Sure, she was the one who always fucked every friendship she’d ever had up. But that didn’t mean she had to admit any of that out loud, to someone like Peter who hadn’t lost his baby sister to a mythical force. 

“Where are you going to hide out from the cops, then? You’ll get yourself arrested within the week.” Nadia spat out, knowing it was a mean thing to say, but she wanted it to hurt at least a little bit. She was tired of being the one people beat up on, the second that they got tired of her inquisition or the moment they got tired of her. 

“I don’t know you, sure. But you don’t get to sling it back at me and pretend you fucking know me! Newsflash Peter, you don’t! You haven’t sat through people listening to your sob stories of fucking up everything in your life just so that they can get the motivation to get clean! You haven’t sat across from your family and felt like there was a black hole sitting next to you, sucking the life out of everything!” She stops herself, breathing hard and speeding towards the stairs. 

She pulls the chip out of her pocket and flings it towards the closed door and lets herself scream, “I got some fucking help, Peter. It’s your turn to grow up!” 

She looks at her own feet for a moment and thinks about what she’s just done and feels the tears spring to her eyes. She always was an angry crier and suddenly she rushes down the stairs to try and find her chip that she’d thrown. She sits on the floor, staring at the chip in her hands, and lets the tears flow. 

[nadics]

isnotgold‌:

“Throw them out? I need something to liven up the place,” he said, depositing them in the cup she offered. When he placed the makeshift vase on the nightstand, however, it fell over immediately. He shrugged and turned back to her, cocking an eyebrow as she gave her pitch.

So this wasn’t official business, then—that was good. Cops always set him on edge. Besides spoiling the fun at his favorite parties, he’d always been paranoid that they were on to him in his forging days. Though that fear had never come to fruition, the association stuck.

“I don’t know if fine is the word I’d use. I might be scarred for life if I don’t follow my burn regimen close enough, which is the true tragedy here. But no, I’m not gonna die, so don’t worry about losing your scoop.” He smirked. “You’ve got your captive audience. Fire away.”

Just as he was gearing up to answer a real question, he got instead the same one he heard about five times a day. He almost rolled his eyes—was there anyone who wasn’t born in this godforsaken town?

“You sure you’re not still a cop? ‘Cause these deep insights… you’re giving me chills,” he said, with the same jovial tone she’d used. It felt like some unseen game was unfolding between them: she lobbed the ball into his court, and he hit it right back. Pity he couldn’t quite see the score, or if they were even playing for points.

“No, I’m from California. I was visiting town as part of a cross-country roadtrip and, what can I say, the place has charm. So I stayed, at least for now. Ask me again in a month or two.” He peered at her for a moment. “Let me guess: Sallybrook born and raised, you know everyone and everyone knows you, and you definitely would have remembered me if I were a local, since no one seems able to keep their business to themselves around here. Sound about right?”

She watches the makeshift vase fall over and shrugs, knowing that there’s nothing more she can do for that situation. “Well, enjoy the brand new decor,” She says with a smirk, “It’s only slightly less depressing than the rest of the terrible hospital.” At least Nadia knew her stuff about hospitals, she’d seen the clinical rooms of most of the ones located in Boston, whether it was her or her partner in the hospital bed.

The memory reminds her too much of what she’s lost, so she shakes her head to will them away.

“Well let’s hope that you can incorporate it into your skincare regimen.” Nadia says with a grin, knowing that the joke is a little low bearing but hoping that she’s reading the room correctly. Rowan seems like the type who’ll get a kick out of terrible things being broken down into punchlines, just like herself.

Somehow, it reminds her of how she used to be with her brother, before everything went to shit when Farah was stolen by the Haunt. They used to spar verbally on the daily, but everything had the excuse of their joking tones. No matter how much their parents didn’t understand it, they did and that was all that mattered.

“Damn, if I’d known there was a possibility you were dying I probably would’ve brought you some life insurance papers to sign.” She responds, and then blanches at herself for getting distracted and saying the first thing that came to her mind.

His comments poke her in the wrong way, but she lets it slide. “I left in 2003, so I only know the people who lived here up until then.” She says, with sincerity in her tone. “And even if you’re not totally right, you’re not totally wrong either. Sallybrook has this way of dragging everyone back here, kicking and screaming.” That’s not even a joke. At the time, she thought the string of numbers in her salary was… strange. She knew the department didn’t pay that much. But they paid her that much, just to drag her back to her hometown.

“Back to the questions, then? Did you see or hear anything strange the night of the fire?” She starts off with some bait, and hopes that he’ll snatch it right up. He seems sharp, so she doubts that her usual opening questions will work. She hopes he’ll have something, or he’ll at least be curious as to what, exactly, he was supposed to see or hear.

[nadics]

ms-davenport‌:

"I don’t know him.” The words came instantly, a little louder and more direct than she’d intended. Already she was anticipating the questions. Do you have any memories of him? Why do you think he’s back? Do you think you two were held together? She didn’t have answers to those questions. Catching memories from those lost years was like trying to catch sunlight in the palm of your hand. They were there, they existed, but the minutes she tried to put them into words they evaporated on her lips.

She shoved her hands deep into her pockets, looking to Nadia’s feet. Better not to see the inquisitive looks, and better to keep her expression down turned. “Not from then. Not ever.”

William Porter’s face was one she remembered only vaguely from her childhood and from the posters. That careless Leila wouldn’t have taken a second look.

“Oh. Okay.” Nadia sees the look on Leila’s face as she turns her head to the ground and knows that asking any of the millions of questions that are on her mind will be the wrong choice. She stops herself and holds back, making a mental note that she will need to speak with Leila when things are so... fresh anymore. But now, she needs to be something else. The girl in front of her looks broken, and Nadia cannot deal with that look on anyone. Not her mother, not another person at AA and especially not on Leila.

“Are you alright? They aren’t forcing you to speak with them, are they?” Nadia knows what a dick the captain can be, but she can’t exactly imagine that the department has gotten this bad. Then again, maybe Nadia kept some of the officers in check, ones that she’s not seen on the scene.

“I’m really not here to question you, I just want to get onto the scene to see if I can figure out what caused the fire.” Because it’s not logical that the Haunt did it, Nadia’s mind says. She knows that others are thinking the same thing.

[nadics]

peterxfrancis‌:

Peter sighs and groans. He hated talking about the fire. He had been asked about it so much at that point, he wasn’t even sure what was real and what wasn’t. He picked up a petal and ran it over his lips, feeling the softness there as he tried to organize his thoughts for Nadia. “There was like…this hum first. And then the fire just fucking exploded,” he shrugs, still just looking at the wall, avoiding eye contact with Nadia, knowing that she’d definitely be giving him her processing face, and he didn’t want to see it right then. “And then right before the fire exploded again, I thought I heard a woman say ‘you will answer for your crimes.’ But I don’t even know if that was real. ‘Cause the person who was with me didn’t hear it.” He sighed and looked up at the ceiling instead of the wall, braving a glance at her before he did so. 

“I like skittles. Peach rings are my favorite though,” he says, putting the petal down. “And if you think I won’t end up in a hospital again, you’re most definitely wrong,” he teased with a slight grin, knowing it would either get on her nerves, or make her laugh. He was fine with either. He frowned a bit as he listened to her speak. It seemed The Haunt had affected everyone. He looked over at her then. “Wouldn’t coming back, without an education, without a life, really, be worse than staying gone?” His eyes were dark. Like they didn’t quite belong to him. 

Nadia wrote the words down and decided to leave it at that. He seemed... more unsure of things than she’d expected. Honestly, Nadia had expected the rumor she’d heard at the diner to wind up bein some wild exaggeration, so it was easier to just... leave that behind to be decoded far later. When Nadia was alone and could consider exactly what she thought mattered in the statement. And could debate on whether it was true. “I’m glad you’re okay.” She says, an air of finality in the statement. 

“Skittles and peach rings, I can do that.” Nadia smiles, “I’ll just have to have some for next time. Tell them I’m allowed to see you at least, if you end up there again. It sucks to have to break into hospitals.” 

She jokes. Her face falls as he speaks with a tone she almost doesn’t recognize on him. Cruelty isn’t something she often sees in Peter, except where his father is concerned. She swallows the lump in her throat at his words, and steels herself to not fucking cry at things she’d heard out of her own older brother’s mouth. “No. They’d be here, they could get those things.” She says, “It’d be better if she was never taken in the first place, but after all I’ve been through because of the Haunt, I don’t think abandoning my sister will help in any case.” She stops, her voice falling to a dangerous tone. “You wouldn’t understand what I’ve seen, what I’ve been through. You’re too young and no one was stolen from you.” She looks down her nose at him, her blood boiling all of a sudden. She is filled with rage she hasn’t felt since she was nineteen and her brother ruined Christmas. “But you should know that if I hear that sentiment in this office again, you won’t be welcomed back.” 

[nadics]

peterxfrancis‌:

“Fuckin’ sucked,” he said plainly, his limbs dangling from the chair he had sprawled out on, picking at a flower he had brought from outside. It would be dead soon anyway. He looked up at her with a look of recognition in his eyes. Of course she would ask about this now, of course this would’ve added more fuel to the fire she had burning inside of her, her incessant need to figure The Haunt out. “I hear something but…I think it was just in my head. I don’t know if it’ll help you.” He nodded, “Knew that was you. Yeah, me and Elliot ate them so quick. We were sick of the hospital food, to say the least. So, thanks.” He focused on his flower, continuing to pick petals off and placing each and every one on his stomach, watching how the folds in his shirt made them move. “Hey Nadia?” He asked after a quick moment of silence between them. “What’s the point of figuring The Haunt out? Like…what’ll that do, do you think?” 

“They always do.” Nadia responds. Except the one she’d sat with her partner in for days in a haze of returned feelings, she’d always hated hospitals. And she really had no filter when it came to her incessant questions, so they burst out of her without much control. “I’d love to hear it, Peter. It could be nothing but if it was something I think I should investigate?” She always wanted to figure things out, to find it out if they were related to the local horror movie plot. “Glad you liked them. Got a favorite? Next time you’re in a hospital I’ll make sure to bring whichever you prefer.” She jokes, with a smile but her eyes scream ‘don’t do this again’. 

She processes the question for just a moment and then her brain is dragged right back into her old nightmares. Her eyes glaze over just a bit as she remembers Farah’s face, the terror on her features. It should have been you, her own mind screams. She agrees with the little voice that sounds like her brother. “I - It’s personal.” She answers, “It took my baby sister when I was sixteen.” She states, quieter. If she trusted anyone with this, it was Peter. He had his own secrets, so she could share a little bit of her own tragic backstory. “I think it’ll bring her back, like the other two. Maybe I can bring them all back.” Her voice cracks on the final words, and Nadia snaps back into her chair to see if that answer will suffice. 

[nadics]

isnotgold‌:

Rowan was bored out of his skull. His throat felt like it had been dragged down a gravel driveway, and every time he moved, the skin on his lower back complained, fresh scabs threatening to tear open at the slightest provocation. He’d taken a few walks around the hospital and the courtyard, needing to see something other than the terrible coral-chartreuse vomit of a color scheme that lined the walls—Rowan had half a mind to look up the designer so he could get them fired for crimes against humanity. However, he could only go so long before the wheezing started again and he had to sit down.

So, with his options exhausted, he had settled on reading a book. An actual, physical book, something he hadn’t picked up in, say, six years? Maybe more. As a child he read obsessively, but somewhere along the way he’d lost the love—for that, and for everything else, too. The hospital had this tiny communal bookshelf, so he’d picked out some YA romance novel, hoping that maybe it would put him to sleep so he wouldn’t have to be awake for what was swiftly becoming the most boring forty-eight hours of his life.

No such luck. Just as he felt his lids growing heavier, the door to his room opened with a squeak. His gaze whipped to the door to find an unfamiliar woman standing there. His “aunt,” apparently. He raised his eyebrows, but honestly, this was the most interesting thing that had happened to him since he’d arrived, so of course he’d go along with it.

“Auntie!” he exclaimed hoarsely, dog-earing his book and rising from the bed. Just as he moved to hug her, the door clicked shut, and so, too, did his over-the-top smile fade to a bemused smirk.

Eyeing the bouquet she carried, he reached over her extended hand and took the flowers. He closed his eyes and took a deep inhale, the moment stretching on so long as to be comical. Let her prove how much she really wanted whatever she came for.

“Mm, lilies, my favorite,” he rasped, unable to contain a shit-eating grin. At last, however, he placed the flowers on the bedside table, then turned to face her.

“Well, Ms. Not-A-Cop, if you’re looking for someone to bust for weed, try the old guy next door,” he said, quirking an eyebrow at her. “I am but a humble reveler who got a little too close to the fire, or so they tell me.”

Now that she’d dropped the charade, he allowed himself a quick once-over, noting with some pleasure her smart outfit and excellent coif. He always did like a snazzy dresser. She could do a little better in the makeup department, but if she was trying to play the part of distraught family member, she was doing a great job of it.

“So, Nadia Kazmir, I’m guessing you’re here about the bonfire.” As if on cue, his voice hitched over “fire,” and he coughed violently. It took a moment and a gulp of water for him to regain his composure, his eyes watering from the force of the fit.

Nadia looked the boy up and down for a second, and then realized she was dealing with someone who knew what they were doing. He acted his heart out for a moment, and then he immidiately dropped that act when he knew he could. She was definitely impressed with Rowan from what she’d seen so far, and that was saying something. Most of the time, she just shrugged off first impressions but she thinks this one may stick. 

The flowers left her hands and she realized that she probably should have asked if he was allergic, or at least brought some kind of vase so that he could put them away. She spots a pretty big empty cup and decides to busy herself for a moment on making sure that the flowers have somewhere to go. 

“Here, sorry I didn’t bring a vase, I panicked when I was trying to buy them at the store and forgot to grab one. You can use this or you can throw them out, I’m not going to be offended.” She would be a little bit, but he didn’t need to know that. 

“That’s Ms. Used-to-Be-a-Cop to you.” She snaps, her tone light to show that everything she’s said is basically a huge joke. She feels a bit like her whole life is a huge joke at the moment. She’d done a sitcom routine and snuck into a goddamn hospital to talk with someone she didn’t know today, and if that wasn’t the plot of at least two episodes of Friends of The Nanny then she was sure that 90s television wasn’t as good as everyone remembered. 

“Yes. The Bonfire.” Nadia answered. “It’s just - No one at the department will let me speak to who they’re calling ‘witnesses’ and I was hoping I could get something out of you while you were kind of trapped here.” She smiles, trying to play that particular truth off as a joke as well. 

“Are you mostly alright, though? Like, obviously you’re not great but... you’re going to recover just fine in a while right?” She wanted to make sure before she went in on the questioning, it never hurt to just... check. She’d spoken to witnesses without that care before, and she still felt guilty about it. 

She stops for a second, “Wait, you’re not from here are you?” She asks, "You didn’t grow up in Sallybrook?” She considers the fact that he may not know much about what she’s going to ask, that he may have lived a life outside the threat of the Haunt. That would be something she’d kill for, to get a chance to live outside the horrors she’d faced at the whims of an unseen force. Nadia was convinced it was somehow responsible, and after hearing that someone had heard ominous words over the roar of the fire trying to consume them, she had to know... everything.