#dont match length i just decided to add a lot of lore as a treat

[riverbills]

River lit the cigarette before responding to Eliza. He usually only received imports after mentioning Richard’s name to producers. So, he was going to savour the opportunity to smoke a fine cigarette with a herbal kick. Even though he was sure Mrs Tristan would somehow sense he was smoking in doors and scold him for it.“You're not spoiled. You're just a classy lady who knows she deserves the finer things in life. There's nothing wrong with that.” If they had this conversation when he was thirteen he would have twisted the knife ; would have made a snide remark about how she always got what she wanted. But the two of them weren't kids anymore. River’s jealousy died years ago and now Richard was dead too so any residual bitterness River felt about not being his favourite ward was pointless.

Growing up he had mixed feelings about Eliza's passion for performing. Eliza was proof that Richard's favouritism was arbitrary and decided for illogical reasons he couldn't control. She and River were both artsy theatrical kids but apparently she had a certain je ne sais quoi River lacked and couldn't achieve if he tried. That was both a frustrating and reassuring realisation to cope with. River's mouth twisted into a small exhausted smile at Eliza's comment about New York art kids. “What's it like dealing with the New York art kids? I've heard they're pretentious and obsessed with a sense of authenticity they'll never achieve. Is that true?” He asked. He moved to LA for school and never looked back. His primary experience of New York Art Kids came from a production of RENT he saw a week before his twenty-second birthday.

River let out a hollow chuckle at Eliza's words. There were parts of his life that were stable but he still didn't feel like a real adult. He definitely didn't feel like a real adult in Woodrow. “Oh please, I surf IMDB then flatter actors by telling them I knew they had potential when I saw them play an unnamed bully stock character. That's hardly a real adult job. It's not like I'm debating international policy.” It didn't sound like it but River was grateful for his frivolous job. He couldn't handle having a job that was monotonous and significant.

River let out another laugh at Eliza's questions. He didn't remember her being this funny. Or maybe he was just looking for an excuse not to feel miserable.He was always looking for an excuse to talk about himself so he was grateful she asked multiple questions at once.“Yup. I haven't had to give up on my dream yet, knock on wood.” River reached over to tap on the kitchen counter. He wasn't particularly superstitious but he wasn't going to risk tempting fate.”Here's a secret the mayor doesn't want you to know; LA isn't as hot as you'd imagine. Your brain just tricks itself into thinking it's hot because it's sunny and in theory it's convenient to go to a beach.” River had been in LA long enough to stop romanticising it but he would never stop romanticising the lack of rain. “It depends on if you find being stuck in traffic for two hours and having people who were in one season of days of our lives twenty years ago cutting in line for coffee dazzling.” His fond tone and small smile were in contrast to his sardonic words. LA was a cutthroat town where dreams went to die but it was also his home. “It is slightly miserable but it can't be more miserable than New York.” Everyone he knew who had worked in New York complained about the rent prices and lack of space. But lucky for Eliza she didn't have to worry about one of those things.

He almost dropped his cigarette when she said she saw one of his movies at the video store. “Are you being serious? I'm having a horrendous day ; you can't joke about something like that.” River had only managed to sell two scripts that were made into complicated movies. It was rare for producers to take a chance on scripts they didn't view as instantly profitable. Often River's ideas were about niche subject matter or made more sense on an emotional level than a narrative level. “I hope it had a girl chasing after a tour bus on the cover. That movie is my magnum opus.” His other movie was a low budget horror comedy about a married couple inconveniently turning into a werewolf and vampire at the same time. The studio ignored that it was an obvious metaphor for a lavender marriage. He stood in confusion while Eliza rummaged for Goldfish Crackers. It took him a second to work out why she was avoiding the buffet. River came to the conclusion she wanted comfort food over food from the funeral. “I'm not sure.” He responded while walking over to join Eliza on her search. “Do you know who visits regularly? They're probably too sophisticated for Goldfish Crackers. It can't hurt to check though. Mrs Tristan might have a secret fondness for them we don't know about.”

“i guess i am a bit spoiled.” she said, trying for humor but sounding contrived. unlike most other wards, she didn’t have any real memories of a life before woodrow, and all the luxuries that came with it. eliza never really considered herself more spoiled than any of the other however, a feeling she knew would be heavily contested. “but the new york art kids are really serious about their tobacco. if you don’t smoke with style they would probably say you shouldn’t smoke at all.” she took one of the cigarettes and played with it around her fingers, twirling and twisting with and odd grace. “hmm networking. it makes you sound so grow up.” she laughed hollowly. they were all grown. for the better or for the worse.

“you’re in la, right? is it as hot and dazzling and slightly miserable as i remember?” eliza was an east coast girl through and through, and her few memories of california were not very flattering. she once got a sunburn so bad at santa monica it landed her at the hospital. not her finest moment. “i saw one of your movies at the video shop the other day. it looked cool. artsy.” finally growing tired of playing with the cigarette, eliza abandoned it and her glass of whiskey, jumping off the counter and coming closer to investigate the remains of the buffet. the baked meats that coldly furnished the funeral table, her brain supplied, making her stomach churn immediately. so instead of looking at the food, she started opening cupboards. "do you think they still store goldfish here?"