While Micaela Studies Her Wine, Vikram Keeps His Gaze On Her. Solely On Her. He Doesn’t Rush To Fill

"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. ❞

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."

the  irritation  that  drips  off  nadia  only  serves  to  amuse  salvador further.  he  takes  a  step  back  when  nadia  approaches,  giving  her  enough  space  to  cut  in  front  of  him   and  rearrange  the  display.  there’s  one  candle  still  in  his  hand,  head  dipped  slightly  to  get  a  good  whiff,  but  he  can’t  tell  what  the  candle  is  supposed  to  smell  like—  too  busy  looking  at  nadia  through  dark  lashes.  a  scoff  escapes  him  at  her  quip,  “don't  be  ridiculous,  nadia. curses  aren't  real. ”  his  looks  were  natural,  thank  you!  “—and  i  didn’t  cheat  on  her.  not  technically.  we  were  never  officially  together.  you'd think the cosmos  would have— i don't know —given  her  a  memo  or  something.”  he  shrugs,  as  if  it  were  no  big  deal.  ‘cus  it  wasn’t.  not  to  him  at  least.  “you  don’t  actually believe in  all  this  shit,  do  you?  it’s  okay–  you  can  tell  me.  promise  i  won’t  tell  your  boss.”   he  chooses  not  to  address  the  surprise  in  her  tone  when  she  accepts  his  offer  to  take  her  home.  it’s  true that he’s  the  furthest  thing  from  a  gentleman—but  even  he  has enough  sense to not  let  nadia  walk  off  alone.  he’s  not  about  to  pat  himself  on  the  back  for  doing  the  bare  minimum.  not  when  it  comes  to  this. 

 it’s  her  reply  to  his  second  question  that  he  focuses  on,  a  laugh  breaking  out  from  him  at  her  reaction. how  graphic!  “you  wanna  stop  thinking  about  my  dick  for  a  moment?  i  was  genuinely  wondering  if  you  wanted  to  hit  up  some  pool.”  he  really  was,  but  the  way  his  eyes  flicker  to  her  lips  might  make  that  hard  to  believe.  if  he  was  a  better  man,  he  would  put  up  more  of  a  fight  to  ensure  nadia  didn’t  get  the  wrong  impression,  but  the  thought  was  there  now  that nadia had vocalized  it.  huh,  maybe  words  really were spells.   at  least,  the  ones  he  was  willing  to  listen  to.   “--or  is  that  how  manifestation  works?”  he  asks,  voice  playfully dipping  in  tone  as  he  steps  closer,  placing  that  candle  he  had been  holding  on  to  back  to  its  designated  spot.  “you  don’t  have  to  be  shy,  nads.  i  give  just  as  well  as  i  take  if  that’s  what  you're  worried  about.” 

nadia points to the sign she's flipped to now read CLOSED . " the candles are sure done with you . " she states easily . nadia will never understand his seeming obsession with this store other than YES , everyone who works here is hot ( herself included ) . nadia moves around him , her fingers automatically straightening up the candles he'd just been lifting and sniffing . " and she cursed you to look like this forever after you inevitably cheated on her , i'm guessing ? " she says easily , with a grin stretching her lips . nadia rolls her eyes at the easy way he turns it all on . it's like a sport , and he's MAYBE winning bronze ( not quite gold ) . she pulls a face at his comment about locking him up and any ideas of fun . as usual , she chooses to ignore it . nadia does pause though , at the offer of a drive home . she likes walking when she can , but hadn't thought that with everything going on currently and the sun now SETTING . it may not be the safest thing to walk home . a lift might actually be useful . " ok . thanks . " she says , not bothering to hide her surprise at his offer . she narrows her eyes . " i don't have any plans , but if your next best option is to give you a blowjob or something , then i do have plans : it's buying a gun and killing myself with it . "

requests — anonymous asked — can you gif the ‘you’re not my type’ ‘we just had sex’ 'if you were i wouldn’t have, i’d have gotten to know you first’ conversation separately?

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. ❞

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.

“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. ❞

location : the dance floor @ the warehouse

time : approximately 10:30pm.

open : to anyone!

“are you thirsty? wanna grab a drink?” kennedy half yells into the other’s ear, yet her voice is barely audible over the music pumping around them. fingers flutter down the other's arm, ready to grab hold of their wrist to lead them out of the dance floor or loosely interlace her digits with theirs to twirl them around. depends on their answer!

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

 impatience oozes off him like expensive cologne. patchouli, sandalwood, and financial privilege all wrapped up in a smug, pearly-white grin. they’ve only known each other for a handful of months but kennedy deduces this might be where their professional differences lie. ricardo is a master at gliding his vibe meter between ball busting and indifference,. they got the impression that to him, results matter more than details ( or means? ) . kennedy on the other hand? is meticulous, incessant in their need to look at every angle, to leaving no stone unturned in pursuit for a good story the truth.  but they can play the game. have been around enough white collar honchos to learn the fine art of capitalizing. they lean in, lowering their voice to what could almost be a whisper but it's too sharp to fully make the cut. “it makes sense, doesn’t it? with her disappearance still fresh on everyone’s mind, it’s only natural for people to wonder if she has finally been found.” kennedy won’t confirm nor deny if they had a part in planting or spreading that seed but know if they had — they would have covered their tracks. “i say we throw that on there if the body isn’t identified by the time the paper hits.”  it doesn’t have to be right. they can word it so it sounds like they’re simply reporting on what the masses are fearing. if anything, it’ll add to the mystery of daniela’s disappearance if the body isn’t hers. a grim thought, freshly picked from a dark corner of kennedy's psyche that always seems to gnaw at them in times like this. the part best kept in the confines of her own subconscious.

 the silence that surrounds them is heavy, two pairs of eyes linked to each other in momentary… understanding? who knows. whatever it is, it breaks the moment he speaks up again and kennedy has to resist the urge to roll their eyes when he asks if they’ve collected statements. instead, settle on a sugary smile, picture perfect as the good little reporter they are. “yes, sir.” feed into the hysteria — now there is something the two can agree with. “unless you’re an incel dressing up as a rich asshole in a suit.” kennedy replies with a shrug of her shoulder, making a point to leave the ‘unbelievably hot’ portion of his get up out. they know better than to confirm or deny such an egocentric statement. besides, if he’s gonna make his employees walk alone in their fake blood-soaked prom dress on the night a body was literally discovered then it doesn’t matter how attractive he is — kennedy will label him a woman hater regardless. so they start walking, ultimately giving him the option to follow or not, though fully expecting him to. “well, boss. you have to expand your movie taste if you don’t know who i am dressed as.” or is it that he really doesn’t care? “what’s your favorite film?” they're expecting him either to list some raunchy film directed by a weird indie director or the wolf of wall street. 

he moves his index finger as kennedy talks , signalling she get to the point quicker . he's hearing a lot of BUMPS in the road and ricardo doesn't care for them . he doesn't care HOW they get the story , he just needs to know that they WILL . and in true fashion , they finally deliver those magical words . something on your desk by five . ricardo's face ghosts with an almost genuinely pleased smile . while it's clear that kennedy doesn't care for ricardo , and ricardo is like brutus in that he cares for nobody in return . . . he's appreciative that he can come close to TRUSTING them to always deliver . at the mention of the estrada's , ricardo feels himself do a double - take . for some reason , he hadn't even considered that . " is that what they're saying ? " his voice is harsh . " that it's daniela estrada ? " ricardo feels a sharpness overcome him , something akin to a lightning strike before a storm . he allows silence to wash over them . a RARITY , before he continues . " have you gotten statements from people who were around ? the more hysteric , the better . " he doesn't need to tell them how to do their job , but a change in topic is welcome . HE ROLLS HIS EYES . " please . an incel could never dress this nice . " he flattens his hands , smoothing them over his dolce , tailor fit blazer . " i'm dressed as a rich , yet unbelievably hot , asshole in a suit . " ricardo replies , voice flat yet smooth as always . his eyes graze past kennedy . " i'd ask what you are but i don't care and i'm sure it breaches some workplace relation with me being your boss . "