Paper Dolls (IC)

Collab: Don't Punch the Red Demon. Leon and Ginny


As she was pulled away from the red headed bastard, Ginny almost considered fighting, but two factors stopped her - the first, that Leon was considerably larger than her and really, had very little difficulty holding her back… the second that, in truth, she didn’t particularly WANT to hurt the kid. A part of her did, sure, but that part of her was an ugliness that she had tried desperately to leave behind, when she got on that bus. She wasn’t a bad person. She had to remind herself of that, daily… and all she wanted was to move on with her life. She’d snapped, but actually putting effort into hurting Reggie seemed wasteful.

So when Leon suggested fresh air, she didn’t argue, her breathing slowly returning to normal as her heart rate decreased, and the fog in her mind cleared. When they were outside, she huffed out a sigh and looked down at her hands, shaking slightly and scuffed from her impact with the chair and the floor.

Leon gently guided her outside of the bar, hesitantly closing the door behind him. At this point what happened in there did not matter. Another bartender was bound to come in shortly, and everything was decently locked up. The only thing Leon would have worried about was rapid depletion in stock, but to him making sure that his childhood friend was alright was top priority. His eyes flickered down to meet her gaze, noticing some marks from the scuffle. He smiled gently at her. “If that continues hurting I can give you some ibuprofen after our walk. I just figured you needed a moment away from the bar. Are...are you doing okay? I know that man was very cruel, but I need to make sure that you aren’t...well, going to hurt yourself or others.” He paused, cautious with his next words. “So what brings you back anyway?”

“...Trust me, Leon. This? This was nothing compared to…” Frowning, she shook her head, “I’ll be fine. He set me off. It was stupid, and it won’t happen again. I won’t let it happen again.” Breathing in, she shook out her hands, her eyes drifting upwards, moving to the cloudless blue of the sky overhead, “I’m not crazy. Whatever the hell he said, just… just get it out of your mind, okay? I’m not.” Sniffing, she turned her gaze forward again, shoving her hands into her pockets with a small wince.

“...I don’t even know why I’m here. I… I never intended to come back. Figured anyone worth seeing from back then would be gone. But I got this letter… felt like…” Blinking, her hands slipped free, her arms coming around her, “...Felt like something he’d send. And I guess there’s a part of me that still… That’s still afraid…”

“Relax. I do not think you are crazy.” Leon reassured her with a genuine smile, attempting to reveal how tempted he was to allow her to get one more hit in before he disrupted the commotion. He slowly exhaled, tempted to place his hand on her shoulder. Rather, he kept them firmly secure in his pockets, glancing down towards his shoes. His hat threatened to tip straight off his head. “A letter?” His brow furrowed. Who would have sent a letter to a missing child? Did Reginald have one as well? Where there other children here in the town? His lips dipped into a frown laced with concern, and slowly he brought his hand out to rub his brow. “I understand why you’d be afraid. I cannot imagine what it was like to be abducted, nor can I imagine what it is like to be brought back to a town where, in all honesty, I can’t believe people still live. It’s okay to be afraid. Just know that, well, you have childhood friends here. You should feel safe when they are around.” He swallowed uncertainly. “Do...do you still have that letter on you?

Chewing at the edge of her lip, she considered the question, before nodding, and digging it out of her back pocket, she held it out to him, “Came with… well… I guess you probably know about the dolls. I got rid of mine, fast as I could. Never thought I’d see it again, but the damn thing showed up with the letter…” Shaking her head, she returned her arms across her chest, “Never thought I’d see you again, Leon. Honestly… I kind of expected you to have been the first one out of this hell hole. You were always smarter than the rest of us, and damn if you didn’t deserve better…”

Leon gently inspected the letter, his eyes narrowing as he realized how to the point it appeared. The fact that the doll appeared with the letter sent nausea down his stomach, and for a brief moment, he thought he could see the writing of a ghost. Shivers trickled down his spine. “Ginny be sure to tell me if anything else comes to you in the mail. Or if you feel like something is wrong.” He wanted to make sure whatever had happened with her was not going to occur again, fear nipping at his stomach. “Well, I suppose there is a few reasons I stayed. Mostly to support the family. Bartending and acting doesn’t necessarily bring in money, but its stable. And I like the stability. If I could leave, I don’t know if I would. It’s not joy, it’s stability.” He smiled, shaking his head. “I would consider leaving. But...now I definitely know I can’t.”

“Well, hell. Don’t stick around for me. I… I’ve… Let’s just say, you wouldn’t like who I had to become.” Pausing, she shifted, shaking her head, “Everything feels wrong, Leon.” Her eyes stung as she concentrated a little harder than necessary on a passing lamp post, “Being here feels wrong. There’s just so much… and I know it’s gonna blow up. They won’t leave it alone. They’re gonna dig and poke and pry and… and they’ll unbury it all. And I just… can’t. I can’t go through it again. Living it was hard enough, but watching it unfold? Seeing them pick away at it? At me?” Sniffing again, she brushed a knuckle across her cheek in frustration, “...It was better, feeling like Ginny Edersheim was dead.”

“You are not giving yourself much of a chance, Gin. I’ve only rekindled our friendship for the last what...ten minutes?” He gently nudged her elbow with his, biting his lip as she spilled her emotions towards him. “Ginny I am going to be honest with you. Knowing that you are alive is one of the most joyous moments of my current life. I know you are scared, and you have every right to be. If I were you, I’d be horrified. I just...I just want you to know I am going to be there for you. You are my childhood friend. I know this situation is...weird. But...having you back in my life, and having the hope that there are others out there who are still alive, it brings me hope. I am going to be by your side if you need me. I promise. And if you want me to give you space, I shall do so. Okay?”

Biting her lip, Ginny nodded weakly, not entirely trusting her voice, which seemed to have been swallowed somewhere in a well of emotion. She wanted to tell him no. To tell him that she was better off on her own, and that she had no intention of letting anyone in - letting anyone close. But the fact was, she couldn’t do it alone. Tophet. She couldn’t stomach it on her own. And if she could think of anyone she’d feel safe with, it was Leon Cyrus…

“...Then there’s probably a few things you should know. Because… because they’ll find it, anyway. And I… I don’t want you finding out in some crap newspaper article. Is… is there somewhere we can go to talk? Less open?”

“There’s a few places. There’s always the home…” Leon mumbled. He chewed the inside of his cheek. “There’s also the cliffside. I don’t think anyone would be there this early in the morning. Just as long as we don’t stand on the edge, I think we’d be fine.” He attempted to joke, keeping his voice even and empty.

“...No. I… I don’t wanna go there.” On the journey to Tophet, she’d had time to peruse the news over the last several years, and she knew, now, what had become of her tormentor. It wasn’t the worst revelation in the world, finding out Diablo was dead, but she didn’t exactly want to go to the place the man made his exit from the world if she could help it, “You still at your old place?”

“Right. I can understand why.” Leon slowly adjusted his fedora. He slowly considered leading her back home and he nodded. “Sure. The next bartender who should be there soon probably wouldn’t mind covering the shift. I opened anyway, so there shouldn’t be too much trouble. As for home...yes. I’m still at the old place. Pops finally got enough money to have an extension, so I have a small apartment next to the house. As far as I know no one should be home to listen over.”

Nodding at the reassurance, grateful she didn’t have to ask, Ginny gestured ahead, “Lead the way, then. It’s… it’s been a while, and I was what… six last time I came over? You don’t still have Superman sheets, do you? Or wait… was it Green Lantern?”

Leon bobbed his head as he started to walk ahead, making sure Ginny was keeping a good pace beside him. His face grew flustered as she mentioned the last time she came over and despite himself, he laughed. “Green Lantern. I loved him as a child. I still like comic book characters, although I promise the sheets this time around are a simple white.” He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as he walked. “The house really hasn’t changed since. Pops likes to keep it how it is. Cleaned up. But, there’s still things there from when I was a kid. I still have that hang in there cat poster. Oh, speaking of cats...don’t be surprised. I’ve evolved somewhat into a cat person.” He coughed behind a closed fist “Not in a weird way but...well you know.”

“A cat person, hm?” Looking over at him, Ginny managed a small, weary smile, “I gotta say, I’m pretty surprised, Leon. Guy like you? Not where I pictured you being. Hell, I kinda figured I’d be fightin’ off an angry wife and a couple mini-Cyrus’s.”

“Ha!” Despite himself, Leon chuckled. He managed to silence himself, coughing as he pounded his knuckles lightly into his chest. “No no. No wife for me just yet; as much as I love the idea of mini Cyrus’s. No. I haven’t really had time for relationships or the desire. For right now foster cats are alright. Maybe one day I’ll adopt some kiddos but...no angry wife.” He paused, eyes tracing down the street. “Here we are Ginny. Just give me a minute…” he scrambled through his coat pockets, pulling out his house key before approaching the apartment door and prying it open. He bowed to Ginny. “After you.”

A brow lifted, as she stepped inside, her eyes wandering around the apartment with a modicum of curiosity. It was hard to ignore that he’d grown up… and really, there was a part of her… the part of her that didn’t tackle red-headed creeps in bars that wanted to know just what that meant. But ultimately, there was too much on her mind, and she couldn’t quite focus on what she was taking in.

“...It’s nice. Though, to be honest, I’m not hard to impress. I’m pretty used to crap motels, these days…”

“Thanks I suppose.” He gestured to the small living area, which had been adjacent to the kitchenette he recalled vividly struggling to install. There was a stingy peach carpet, along with two chairs. The poster was still hanging from the left side of the room, and none to his surprise, both of his young cats resides on the bed across the hallway. He grinned. “Take a seat, can I get you anything to eat or drink? Besides alcohol, don’t have that here unfortunately.” He slowly made his way to the kitchenette, staring back at her for a possible confirmation.

“A bartender who doesn’t keep his own liquor. I dunno if that’s irony, or not.” Moving to a seat, she sank down and folded her hands in front of her, gazing at her knuckles with a small frown, “I’m fine. Probably better I get this out of the way, before I lose my nerve.”

“I’m not much of a liquor person. Although I was very tempted to take that Red Devils drink and down it.” Leon admitted with a smirk, realizing now that it would be better just to sit and allow for Ginny to spill her sorrows. He slowly maneuvered his way to the second seat, plopping down and holding his hands patiently in his lap. “Please. Take your time Ginny. I need you to know this is a safe space to speak.”

“A safe space…” Breathing out, Ginny shook her head, “...I got a hard time feeling like anywhere’s safe. Especially not here in Tophet. But here goes…” Staring at her hands, she shook her head, “Should probably ask first… how much do you know? About… about everything that went down?”

“I understand. I just want you to know that you are safe here, or, well, rather that I wish to provide you a safe place.” He swallowed, unsure of how much he truly wished to know. He merely smiled. “I don’t want to force you to go into detail. I just want you to tell me what you feel comfortable saying. I won’t pry anything else out. If there’s something you wish to get off your chest, I am listening.”

“...Chances are… if… if they dig just deep enough, they’re gonna find it anyway. And like I said, I’d rather it come from me. I… After he… when he was done with me, he dropped me off in the middle of Grand Central Station. Just… walked in and left me there. I got picked up a few hours later by the station guards. And ended up in the system pretty quickly, after. I… I guess I could’ve told them who I was, where I came from, but I think a part of me was just so damn afraid if I went back there… he’d find me. So I just… I pushed it all down and I let it go. Bounced around for the next few years… till I hit one too many places that didn’t agree with me. It ain’t like picking out a cat, I guess. And it was one reminder after another… of Diablo.”

Breathing out, she shook her head, “So I took off. I left the home… Figured the streets wouldn’t be much better, but at least they’d be mine. It wasn’t great, but I survived… Ran into some trouble with the law a few times, nothing major… Couldn’t avoid trouble for good, I guess. Got into the wrong crowd, and I ended up with a… with a guy named Jack Baker. It was fine, at first… then it wasn’t.” Gritting her jaw, she straightened, “When I tried to leave, he took offense and things got ugly. I had no choice… but to defend myself. And I ended up in jail for it… I got out a few months before the letter came.”

Leon remained silent during her retelling of events, biting his lip as sorrow built in his chest. Diablo just dropped her off at a station? Let her loose? That meant it was entirely possible there were more kids out there. There was a chance they were all still…

Leon almost didn’t want to believe today was true. But Ginny had the doll. She had a letter bringing her back home. She reminded him of all the days they would spend time together and something within his heart threatened to shatter. He believed her. Despite the small voice in the back of his head telling her not to, he believed her fully. He exhaled, massaging his temple.

“Okay. Ginny, if that is what you are worried I was not going to like you for or think you are crazy for, you are sadly mistaken. I understand what you had to do to survive, and I admire you for being able to survive for fifteen years after what happened. It made you strong.” He gripped the chair arm uncertainly. “And maybe that means it was a good thing to give you only thirty seconds with that spawn.” He winked at her playfully, attempting to ease her once more. “I am sorry you had to suffer this way. I...would it be too soon to offer you to stay here? I know you had crummy motels and homes in the past but...if you are so inclined, considering your situation, I wouldn’t mind you staying in the apartment.”
 
“I'm not sure strong is the word for--” Pausing, she looked up at him, and unbidden, her lips curved in a smile, “So you did take your time. Leon Cyrus… You devil. Thanks. Though I think I regret it now…” Looking at her knuckles, she shook her head, before returning her gaze to the man before her, “...Y...you sure you wanna do that? It could be a press nightmare when they get wind I'm here. Last thing I wanna do is drag you into this mess. I mean… it's definitely an appealing thought, but… you gotta be completely sure.”

“Devil or saint to you, Ginny?” He smirked lightly, the demeanor of deviousness vanishing once he recalled her knuckles. “I have some anti-inflammatory medication if you wish. Should numb that pain right down. And yes, of course I am sure. I do not care about the press towards my home.” He thought about the last thing Bullock had yelled to him and Ginny, and he shook his head. He supposed he did deserve to be fired after what occurred, but right now that wasn’t his priority. “I am sure. Trust me. Consider it a welcoming gift. Besides, I’d rather know you are somewhere comfortable rather than the cheap motels they have around here. Or you know, keeping an eye on you if you think about trouble.” He teased her lightly. “I wouldn’t be opposed to tackling red heads, though. Just not the Saint-Clairs. Unless you really wanted.” He droned off, rubbing the back of his head. “No punching of red demons, please”

“If it's a choice? Definitely saint, Leon.” A sigh escaped, and for a moment she seriously considered the notion of turning him down. He was the only person in the world who knew both parts of her, but she couldn't use that to justify easier living just because it was a comfort…

And yet, she knew it would ultimately be better if she was somewhere she felt safe… Secure.

“I'll try my damndest to keep clear of tackling anyone. It felt good, but believe it or not, I'm trying to move away from that life.” Uncurling her knuckles, she nodded, “Meds would be good. I… I don't have money, but we could… we could work something out.”

“Good. I am glad you are trying to move behind it, but just know if Red there spews any more cruel words I will help you next time. Bullock or not. One moment, if you please.” Leon bowed his head respectfully, standing before directing himself to the kitchenette. While there he poured a large glass of water, savanging through the drawers until he retrieved a small bottle. He soon returned, placing the glass in front of her and placing the bottle next to it. “Two pills should numb that pain right down. And don’t worry about money. If you get a job it is fine. Don’t expect this to be a rent situation. I just want to make sure you are on your feet, does that sound fair?” He sighed “Although, I am sort of worried of having a job myself by tomorrow. But that does not matter. Tophet has plenty of things to do.”

“Hell…” Throwing back the pills, Ginny shook her head, “You don't really think he'll try to get you fired, do you? Not gonna need a full thirty seconds if he does.” Breathing out, she sank into the chair, “I'm not uh… not exactly used to getting something for nothing, Leon. Gonna take me awhile to get used to the idea this ain't a trade.”

“He might. I’ve been at the job a good while, and while the Bullocks are not always my favorite people...or politicians, I think I should be okay. If not, I know a lot of other areas that always need workers for tourist season.” His brow raised, head tilting curiously at her mention of a trade. “Don’t consider this a business negotiation. If you really want to give something back to me, just consider it your friendship. That and your cooperation to get back to your feet. That’s all I ask of you, Gin.”

“Not entirely sure I know how to do that… but I wanna try.” Looking at him again, her smile softened, “But you've already got the first part, Lionheart. Never needed to ask. I forgot a lot… had to, to keep from going crazy. But I never forgot you.”

“I never forgot you either, Ginny.” He leaned over to pat her shoulder, hesitation in his touch. He took a moment to collect his thoughts. “I am glad you decided to come back. I know it is hard but...I am glad to see you are okay and alive.” Leon prayed that the day couldn’t become any more bizarre.

Reaching out, she put her hand over his and for a moment, she sat in silence, savoring the brief feeling of security. Her eyes opened again and she nodded, “Alive, anyway. Okay might take some time. But I think for the first time in a long time it feels possible… And that's something, right?”

“It is a starting point. It’s always good to start somewhere.” The touch upon his hand sent shock through him, but it did not disappoint him. He smiled reassuringly. “And just remember. You need someone to help along the way and I will be there. Fair deal?”

“You think I'm gonna let you get away? After you counted to thirty for me? I thought I was the crazy one…” Giving his hand a squeeze, she smiled, before relinquishing it, “Can… can I do anything? Clean or… bake or something?”

“I am always in the mood for pastries.” Leon teased pleasantly, nodding. “If you want, I can make a chore list for the both of us. I just want you to get settled first.” He bit his lip. “I wonder if I need to call out today. I don’t think they will mind. You know, the whole family business and...well, missing child fiasco.”

“I make a pretty mean lemon tart… Mom's recipe. Only useful thing she taught me.” Before George had become the most important part of her life, “Does… is she… she still around?”

“Hmm? I believe she is. I have not heard of any deaths in the family as far as I am aware.” Leon confirmed, although he required a moment to gleam over any major deaths. “I believe she is still around. Do you want me to take you reintroduce you two?”

“No.” Frowning, she shook her head, “No. I got a short list of people I wanna reconnect with, Leon… And she ain't on it. Heard about her and George. A whole week after the funeral before they got together. Classy.” Biting the inside of her cheek, she shrugged, “Honestly? Aside from you, I can't think of a whole lot of people I'm interested in seeing right now. Dinah still around?”

“Very classy.” Leon mumbled his agreement, tilting his head before nodding. “Dinah is still around. She is as bubbly as usual, but really into murder now. Not murdering, per say, but researching it. She’s leading a walk to tourists to show all the missing children’s last known areas and their homes. She...She’s doing okay. She was really hurt when you, Grant, Kal, and Morty all disappeared. She lost a lot. I don’t know how she still smiles.”

“I dunno either…” It had to be just as hard on the kids who got left behind. She'd always wondered how it affected them, but thinking on it only made the idea of not returning worse. At least at the start, it had.

“I'll uh… I'll take the couch, by the way. I don't exactly sleep.”

“No. Please. Take the bed. I work early morning shifts and night shifts. I mostly end up sleeping in the theater some nights.” He admitted, shrugging away the nonchalance. “Besides. It’s rude to let a guest sleep on the couch.”

“Ah. But I'm not a guest. I'm a friend. And it's perfectly fine to let a friend crash on the couch.” Sitting back, she pinched her lip with her teeth, studying him, “But hey… if you insist, we could always share.”

“If you are comfortable with that, then I can live with it.” He agreed, placing his hands behind his head. “Whatever makes you content. Is there anything you want to see in town, or are you content with staying here for today?

A smirk lifted her lips and she sank back in her seat, “Wasn't exactly expecting to run into anyone. I'm not entirely sure what whoever wrote that letter expected. We… we could stay here, I guess. Or, I dunno… you could show me around. Just so long as we avoid any redheads.”

“That’s a problem. Lot of Saint-Clairs.” He winked, comfortably slumping into his chair. He paused. “You know. I am curious who wrote the letter. It might be a good idea if I try looking around for that. Seeing if there are any other kids possibly lurking around here with a similar background. Hell, I wouldn’t mind cornering Reginald and asking if he had a note. But that might end up bad. Very bad.”

“Yeah. Probably best I don't run into him again, period.” She didn't doubt the idiot would try to push her buttons again, and her patience had already run out with him, “It is weird though... That he and I show up the same day. That's a damn impressive coincidence if it is one…”

“I have a bad feeling you aren’t the only two in town.” Leon swallowed. “I don’t have any proof to suggest otherwise, but I think that this is bigger than just the two of you. If...if there are other people who are still alive, they could be back in Tophet.” Nausea built at the idea. “This broods some concern.”

“Been thinkin’ it myself. Don't want to, but it makes sense. Someone wants us back here in a bad way.” Shivering, she pushed out of her chair, arms wrapped around herself, “I'm scared, Leon. Big time.”

“It’s going to be alright Ginny.” He wasn’t sure how much he could promise, but he stood along with her, biting his lip as he faced her. “Just trust me on that, alright?”

Apprehensively, she reached out to grip his arm, “If there's anyone in the world right now I trust, it's you, Lionheart. I dunno about alright… but it's definitely an improvement. Now show me to the kitchen, so I can see what you've got for lemon tarts.”

Placing his hand upon hers, his eyes shimmered with mirth. “Lionheart hmm? What happened to TDH?” Skimming his thumb gently along her knuckles, he nodded. “As you wish.”

“I mean… it’s still true, but it’s you, Leon… If I’m gonna flirt with you, you’re gonna know what the hell I’m saying.” With a wink, she gestured, “Lead the way…”
 
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Dinah Shapiro

"I don't understand the people who live here Holly. Sometimes I think they function on nothing but alcohol and self loathing for each other. My father had the good sense to move us out of the town, rather than some, who decided it would be better to pretend that the children who went missing were nothing more then dust in the wind. Until...well, big names went missing." Her eyes drooped. "The Killigans really fucked themselves over. I don't mean to be cross about the family, but it is true. They didn't even both to write until Theona Killigan was gone from underneath their noses." They didn't care about the other kids. About Grant...Kal...Morty...Monique...Reggie...No. The case only mattered to them when Theona came into the picture. Bitterness burned in her throat. Despite not knowing all the kids who vanished, researching them brought her to a bizarre connection. She felt as if she knew every single one of them and that she could feel their anguish.

Most kids don't have to say their best friends were taken. Most kids don't have to say their sister was abducted. But this goddamned town didn't care until it was too late. Now the children have to reap the consequences. My childhood friends are dead. The only thing I have to remember them by is their murders. Bitterness burned at her throat, and for the first time since she planned the murder walk, her eyes threatened to burn. She placed a dainty hand to her lips, letting as many erratic breaths escape her without letting Holly know.

"Right. Sorry about that." She swallowed and allowed herself a place to sit, smiling now at a thought that threatened to overwhelm her body with glee. "I know you said you didn't need help around the shop but...is there a possibility you could show me how to make a milkshake? Those sorts of profits skyrocket during the summer and I assume you might need some..."

Is that a baby laughing?

Dinah's entire body tensed, the idea of an invisible child laughing sending fear down her spine. She knew about all those ghost stories. She wasn't about to become a blonde stereotype.

She turned her head to view a familiar looking man, whose head was ducked as he bounced a baby in his arms. Dinah felt the fear melt, and besides herself, a grin grew on her features. The baby's plump, rosy cheeks shone visibly against the blanket it had been wrapped in, a gentle giggle emitting from the bundle. The man was cooing gently, laughing along with the child before finding himself a seat. He didn't glance up to meet either Holly or Dinah.

"Seta, my dear." He cooed, balancing the child very carefully within his arms. "You are in a giggling mood for someone who was fussy with me not five minutes ago...Oh don't give me that face." The man stuck his tongue out the baby, only to kiss her forehead a moment later. He finally peeked up, noticed the two women, and blushed. "Oh, uh...Sorry. I just saw the sign and figured I could take a moment to sit down to feed my child. Sorry if I interrupted anything." The man inspected the two women for longer than another moment, his lips prying open in a gape.

"I...Dinah?" He questioned, brow furrowed in thought. Sudden relief flooded through him and he questioned. "Dinah Shapiro?" Dinah froze as the man sat up, locking his gaze with hers. Despite the sudden nervousness, she recognized the color of his eyes.

Coffee stained eyes. The ones that haunted her in the night when she was a child, and even now.

"Y-yes? Whose talking?" Dinah questioned, hand placed over her stomach in anxiety.

"D-di...I...I don't think you are going to believe me but...Its me. Im Mortimer Corson."

"W-what?" Dinah questioned, shock flooding her system. She looked from Holly to the man, pure confusion overtaking her form.

 
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Theona Rose Killigan | Location: Killigan Press | Interactions: Isaiah & Poppy

Theona reeled back, blinking owlishly at Isaiah.

...Okay. Fine. She figured she should've expected the animosity, though it did nothing to quell the anger fluttering up her chest. Nothing about her brother's stance and tone of voice bode well with her, flashbacks to several fights racing through her head in the span of half a second. However, she practiced decent self control and merely clenched her thought. "I get that you're pissed and emotional...but back the fuck up and cool your jets, got it?" In all honesty, that was the nicest response Isaiah was going to get.

"Look." She retracted her paper doll, as disgusting and old and slathered in long-since oxidized blood and debris. "You happy now? This is mine. That...that fucker made this for me after I cut my fingers on the stupid..." She shook her head. Now wasn't the time. "Point is, this is mine. I'm Theona fucking Killigan."

Stowing the doll away, she looked up, locking eyes with Isaiah. "Seriously, bro...it's me. I wouldn't make this shit up, alright?"

"ISAIAH DO YOU LIKE BLACK TEA OR GREEN TEA."

Theona nearly jumped out of her skin. For fuck's sake...

She raised a single finger, gaze still on Isaiah. "Mind if I get a cup?" she called out to the crazy woman.
 
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Isaiah Killigan

Confusion spread through his mind like a wildfire. He did as she told him, deciding to shut his mouth in order to avoid any more cruel words. Thoughts smashed into each other with the force of bullets. This woman could not be his sister. His sister was buried. Gone. Heaven or hell. Or no where. She was gone. End of story. There was nothing else to say. Theona Killigan was gone from life on Earth, gone from Isaiah's life.

The doll send scorching bitterness down his throat. He did not wish to identify the marks as blood, but the woman before him confirmed it. The doll...Only so many people knew about the forsaken family of dolls Diablo kept. The Killigans, and a few family members who got nosy. She couldn't have fabricated this, unless she truly dug through the files and data. If she did her research. But...How would she have known to go so deep into research? Disbelief built in Isaiah's stomach. He struggled to connect the dots in his head. This can't be. This can't be. Son of a bitch, her name just had to be spoken again today. Someone just had to say they were her.

Isaiah felt as if he was drowning all over again.

"Theona Killigan. If...if it is you...What was the nickname you gave me as a child? What did I call you?" He questioned, firmly crossing his arms. He ignored the request for tea, but was concerned to see that not a few moments later Poppy came back out into the open.

"Hi again Izzy! Here's your tea...And here's one for the lovely lady too...Isaiah I didn't realize you had a girl over~" Poppy cooed, eyes tracing over the three tea cups. She took her poison, sipping at it gingerly. "Who is she ~"

"She says she is Theona Killigan." Isaiah mumbled, eyes narrowing as Poppy's expression grew surprised. Poppy sipped more at her tea before placing it neatly back onto the table.



"Why hell-OH MY GOD THEONA KILLIGAN!" Poppy exclaimed cheerily, nearly bouncing from her seat. She eventually popped up, racing to tackle Isaiah with an embrace. While Isaiah managed to stick in place, he was nearly knocked over. He didn't bother to wrap his arms around the woman. "You found a missing child! And five minutes after I asked for your help! My goodness you are doing so well and I am so dang proud of you ~"

"I...Get off." Isaiah mumbled, gently unwrapping the woman's arms from his waist. It didn't stop her from beaming.

"Sorry sorry my dear. I am just so happy! Two down am I right? Goodness, we are doing such a good job."

"We?"

"Yes we, you silly bitch. Alright, Theona my sweet..." Poppy turned back to the woman, a bright grin on her face. "You've got one of those freaky ass dolls right? I do too. Pretty much twinsies." Poppy plucked hers from her back pocket, revealing a doll covered in pen marks. It appeared as if it was ripped from a children's coloring book. "So nice to meet you again fellow kidnappee. Feels like it's been longer than fifteen years and all that jazz ~ How you doing? Healthy I see...Grew up very, very well. What brings you back to little old Tophet?"

Dear God this woman is insane. My sister is alive and...for the first time in years...I need a drink.
 
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Reginald Bullock | Location: Black Rose Pub | Interactions: Bartender

Once he was sure the pair were gone, Reggie whipped out the numbers again, eyeballing the one for reaching the Bullocks. Taking one last sip of beer, he reached into his pocket and placed a twenty under the mug. An apology, though he couldn't say for sure if Leon would ever get it. Spotting what appeared to be another bartender taking up post behind the bar, Reggie waved him over. "Oi! Come here." The man of tall and muscular stature quirked an eyebrow, his bald head glimmering in the dim lighting, before making his way over to Reggie.

"What can I get'cha?"

"You know the Leon fellow that works here?" Reggie asked, already holding up the twenty from earlier. The bartender's confusion was steadily rising, though he did nod in response.

"Err...yeah, I know 'em. What about it?"

"Give this to him next time he comes in." Reggie expelled an exhausted sigh, sweeping back his hair in slight frustration. "Tell him it's an apology from the bloody prick of a red head. He'll know who it is."

There was a beat of silence. Reggie knew that his request set oddly with the man, but he refused to budge until the twenty was accepted. It was the most he could do right now; he had no way of contacting Leon, let alone Ginny, so this would have to due for now. In the end, there were only two people in Tophet he intended to harm, and they didn't Leon nor Ginny. They were simply pawns to a grand scheme.

Finally, the bartender accepted, snagging the twenty with slow hands. "Uh...got it. Want a refill while you're at it?" Reggie waved off the offer, already in the process of getting up and grabbing his luggage.

"If I drink anymore, I'll get more bloody bruised than I already am," he grumbled, very much aware of the bad shit that unfolded whenever he got drunk. Or buzzed. He always woke up aching everywhere, rather than just his head. Damn...Ginny really was fucking strong when she was pissed enough. The red head quickly walked out of the pub; if he was in that fucking place any longer, he would throw a genuine tantrum and that wouldn't be ideal at the moment.

He had a phone call to make.

From what Reggie remembered, the Residence Inn wasn't far from the pub and he recalled the general direction it was based on that...horrid karaoke car ride. God--he prayed to run into that maniac again. Something about her gave Reggie the creeps. That and her social butterfly ways irked his nerves; she was so oblivious that it physically and spiritually hurt Reggie. As he traversed slowly down the sidewalk, he started punching the contact into his phone, fingers on his free hand drumming against his leg with a certain nervousness. Well, not entirely nervousness, but loads of energy and restlessness.

He had to nail this.

And so he waited, the ringing on the other end downright torturous.


Garfield | Location: Town Gates | Interactions: Monday

Gar grew curious at Monday's sudden joviality, only for realization to sink in as she drew attention to her shirt. He stood from his bow completely, though one arm remained where it was hugging his stomach and placed his hat back atop his head. "Pleasures of all pleasures! Yep, that done heard it from me eyes and ears! That'll dull the lights if I do say so myself, but I don't! Or do I? Who knows? Do you? I don't!"

He tapped his temple, one eye open in an almost teasing manner. "Oooole Garfield keeps it'a super sharp round these parts! Let the dirt of my uncle ring out as its witness. Yep, yep. That it done did, I reckon." However, some of his joy dimmed when Monday asked to repay him somehow. Goodness gracious, didn't this woman ever learn? He already received what he wanted. A name to the face.

He shook his head while scratching at his beard with both hands, eyes hooded with sleepiness. "Nein! Nada! Zips and zaps! And'a zops. I don't wants nothing from ya's but a Monday." He pointed at her, tone cryptic. "Go be a good man. Not a Goodman. Go be and stay being what you've always been, I reckon." Delilah squeaked in agreement.
 
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Monday Goodman

"I do not know good sir." She claimed, surprised to feel content at the corners of her mouth. It felt somewhat foreign, ever since Jane had left her life Monday was not entirely sure how to handle the thought of even the smallest of happiness. Just the amusement was enough to send an unfamiliar flare into her diaphragm. "You certainly have the sharpest of edges my good sir. Much respect to you and your lady." Monday bowed, mirroring his actions. She was quite caught off guard as a tone of seriousness appeared to enter his tone as he once again asked of her to be a good man, not a Goodman.

"Sir, I do not know if I ever will be a good man." She mused, rubbing her chin in thought. "I've stayed being what I am for a little bit now, haven't had the chance the last two years. But I suppose I feel better about it now. Now, thank you again good sir for guiding me to my destination. Know that I keep that graciousness with me. And if you need me for a tale, I will be there. Or if Delilah, the fairest queen of ferrets, needs scratches, I shall give. I am afraid I must go to the Goodman house now. There is someone I need to see. It was a pleasure to meet both of you. I mean that honestly." Since when did I start speaking like this? Haven't spoken like that since Alice was still out and about. She always liked that weird talk. But it doesn't matter. It seems to make him happy.

"I hope we meet again, good sir Garfield." With another delicate bow, and a generous wave and smile to little Delilah, Monday began to trudge onto the street, hoping her journey would take a long, long while.

"Monique, Goodman?" The older woman adjusted her glasses to her nose, inspecting the shaking six year old with disdain and disregard. "You were dropped off by a relative on our establishment, is that so?"

What's an establishment? And why does she look so mean? Where's mama? I don't think I am home...And she is right. I was left. So...

"yes miss."

"Okay, Monique..."

"I don't like my name miss," Monique piped up, frowning innocently as she pulled at the hems of her dress. "The man who left called me Mona. Could you pretty please..."

"Quiet. Now. You are six years of age?"

"Yes. Seven in a month."

"Alright. I will have to place you with our other second graders for now. There are quiet a few there...Let's see, there is Summer, Lulu, Dalia..."

"Someone was named after a season?" Monique giggled, only to give the woman wide eyes as she was stared down. "Sorry miss."

"You will be placed there for now. I have a feeling you, Summer and Lulu are going to be relocated soon. This will just be a place to rest until then."

Relocated? That's what the old man told me when he brought me here. Are they going to give me back to him? Oh, I hope not. While he did feed and love me...he was really mean...

"Okay miss." Monique mumbled, watching the big, mean woman's finger raise to the door on the other side of the hallway. She could hear the faint giggling of girls. "Are they gonna like me miss?"

"For your sake, I hope so."

Monday continued her walk down into town, the flurry of faces never seeming to unsettle her. She did not like the particular crowd, but it was better than being alone in a crowded room with multiple young girls. Or one cruel man.

"Okay...Cliff side is up ahead. And I think i see the houses...this should be no problem at all." She attempted to beam, only for it to falter. She would give anything to go home and...well, morbidly, be with her Jane.
 
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Holly could briefly see the reaction in her former friend's eyes, as she spoke about the mistreatment of the missing children, and for a moment, she was sorry she'd brought it up, even if it was all entirely true. When Dinah had pulled herself together, Holly looked to the milkshake machine and laughed, softly at first, then a little brighter, "You know what, Di... Yeah. I could use the help. And maybe it's time, you know...?"

Not time to move on... but to move forward. To stop living in the stupor of loss and let life in a little, again. To let an old friend help her out. To let an old friend be a part of her world again. To let anyone be a part of her world again. The shop... the garage... her mind... it was all so empty, and maybe it was time to fill it a little.

The door chimed again, and she looked up to see the man wandering in with a baby. She'd just opened her mouth to answer him, when he interrupted, and looking to Dinah, spoke with a sense of disbelief. His answer nearly send Holly to the floor, and catching the counter, she stared at the man, "...H....how is this possible? Mortimer Corson died..."
 
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Collab Post: Lundi en Rouge | Interactions: Reginald and Monday @KatSea | Location: Sidewalk

Finally, someone answered on the other end and just as Reggie parted his lips to speak, there was a muffled exclamation, followed by some sort of ruckus in the background. Tripping? Objects falling? People falling? ...Hell?

“FUCK! OH! Sorry.”

Reggie blinked. “...Who the fuck?”

“Saint-Clair's investigators office, you’ve got the dough we can find that ho--”

He hung up. Immediately. Red instantly flooded Reggie’s face; he should’ve known Leon would fuck him over with a faulty number and now he was hesitant to try the other one. He almost regretted leaving a twenty for the asshole. “Fucking bloody town filled with bloody pricks and assholes,” he grumbled under his breath, literally steaming. It took every ounce of self-restraint not to crumble up the paper rather than looking over the second contact, his lips pursed in annoyance.

...Fuck it. He had nothing to lose at this point, but a lot of shit that he needed to gain. He couldn’t afford to let his own pride get in the way of that. As he continued walking, eyes glued to his phone, a suddenly impact met his shoulder, knocking the device free of his grasp and--

Crack



This was not his day. First the car karaoke, then getting tackled and bruised, and now this.

Monday’s mind swarmed with the ridiculousness of someone naming their child Summer, and the fact that she would have to face the Goodman house once more. And that’s not all. It’s by the water too. Might as well go drown. I’d rather do that at this point. The thought was short lived as her little form was bumped against, a faint crack causing her eyes to dive down to the pavement. “Oh...damn it…” Monday whispered under her breath, demeanor paling at the thought of an explosive reaction from the victim she had knocked into. Her shoulders hunched, knowing very well how expressive others could be when it came to even the smallest of inconveniences. She could think of several examples that brought bile into her throat.

“Sorry,” she mumbled under her breath, deciding to spend time helping the stranger. It would take time away from her getting to the house, which was the last thing she wanted to do. She did not wish to be in Tophet. She did not wish to see the God awful house that boasted so many horrid memories...So she prayed this gentleman here was going to distract her for a good, long, long time. She got to her knees and reached her hand out towards the phone to grab it for the stranger, grimacing as she could make out the cracks. She thanked God she was broke. She didn’t have to pay him upright for the transgression.

Reggie didn’t regard the woman at first. He merely closed his eyes, head tilted up ever so slightly as he inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. Patience. Patience. He needed to save his energy for the mission at hand. Slowly, he pried his eyes open, gaze landing on the woman holding his phone.

Dully, he snagged the device with a huff, “Yeah, sorry is exactly what I need to brighten up this wonderful bloody day.” As he examined the cracks and attempted to fuss with it, he couldn’t help but groan. It was definitely busted. So much for making phone calls today.

Monday felt dread creep up at her spine as the red headed stranger took a long breath, clearly attempting to calm himself. Despite the situation, and the fact that she was guilty of ruining his cellular device, a grin threatened to split her lips. It was not a grin of joy or content, it was that of overactive nerves.

“Ah. Crappy day I see. Sorry.” She swallowed as he snagged the phone away from her hand, fiddling with it in an attempt to fix what he could. “Yeah...that’s not gonna work anytime soon, Red. Sorry.” She slowly got back to her feet, placing her hands into her jean pockets. She rolled from the tips of her toes down to the balls of her feet, her head tilting. “I can’t do much about it. If you need to make a phone call or something, I am sure…” She paused, biting her lip between her bottom teeth. “Well, er, I don’t have one on me right now. Don’t really have a need to call anyone. But I think there’s still a landline at the house or something…” Her brow furrowed. When was the last time she heard that sentence uttered? “Uh...again. Sorry. Can’t do much else, buddy.”

Reggie’s brow arched when the woman spoke more clearly this time around, the peculiar way she spoke catching him somewhat off guard. It wasn’t unpleasant, just not what he expected to hear. But, then again, he was being hypocritical in the sense that most people never expected his accent either.

“Don’t call me Red,” he mumbled while stowing the busted phone away. He sighed, studying the woman with a critical eye. “You just go around offering that everyone you bump into? Sounds bloody unsafe as hell.” He quirked an eyebrow. “You could be helping out a serial killer, you know that? Or a...bloody...I don’t know.” His thoughts weren’t exactly at their prime right now; it could’ve been the hint of alcohol in his system or the leftover dizziness from Ginny’s beating.

Probably both.

“Might be unsafe, for all I know you are the next Ed Kemper. You have the hair but...not so much the size.” Her eyes squinted as she examined him, a giggle threatening to burst through her. She was surprised at the amusement she got from the possible forensics connections, before she finally settled on, “Although I think you might be more of a Ted Bundy. Could be wrong. But hey, I don’t know until I lead you home and you beat me to death with a tire iron.”

She paused, realizing her rambling had suddenly turned morbid. She shook her head, getting a slight whiff of alcohol off of him. It wasn’t as pungent as it was back at the old apartment, but there was no doubt in the scent. Her nose scrunched up. “I don’t know how intoxicated you are, sir, but I don’t think it would be a problem to have you get a phone call in. If you really need it, it’s not a problem. If you think I might be a serial killer, there are plenty of shops and plenty of people with phones.” Monday slid her hands further into her pockets uncertainly. “It is not like I really care if you are a serial killer anyway. I’ve had connections to one already, so it’s not like I am too afraid.” She paused again, wondering if she had spoken incorrectly. “Nothin big or anything.”

She brushed her hair back from her eyes, somewhat anxious at this point. She doubted this stranger was harmful, even with the smell of beer. Besides, she promised Jane she’d be a better person (at some point in her life) and now seemed like a good idea. Even if she got serial murdered by Ted Kemper here.

“So, you willin to go?” she questioned, if somewhat playfully. Her grin remained.

Reggie’s brow furrowed, turning to face her fully. “Wait a bloody minute, short stack. Are you trying to call me small?” He gave her another once over, emphasising her small stature. “I’ll pretend as if you didn’t demote me in comparison to Ed. Or Ted...whoever the bloody fuck they are. I don’t follow serial killers.” He could admit that he was somewhat disturbed by her apparent knowledge about the serial killers, but shrugged it off. He had just dealt with a scrapper; this was nothing. “And I wouldn’t use a tire iron. I’m classier than that. Don’t fucking insult me.”

He could tell by her body language that nerves were there, which he couldn’t really understand. Well, then again, most people were uncomfortable around him--at the very least. He more than likely said something offensive already without even realizing it. Hell if he cared. “I’ll take you up on the phone call, but don’t expect me to be civil along the way,” Reggie muttered while searching his pockets for a smoke. “People don’t call me Red Headed Demon because I’m a bloody giant cuddly pepper.”

However, he easily caught onto the serial killers connection comment and he squinted at her. “The fuck do you mean by that? Is my life seriously on the line here just because we decided to bump shoulders? Nothing’s small when it comes to that shit.”

“Ed Kemper was around six foot seven. You know, if you had another me on my shoulders, I would almost reach that height. Oh...right. I forget normal folks don’t look into that sort of thing. Many apologies.” She bowed, recalling the actions she had taken with Garfield. A genuine smile threatened to break out at the corners of her mouth. She didn’t take the effort to try and stop it as she straightened back up, locking her gaze with the oceanside up ahead. It was a block or so away now, but it still felt like it would take a century to make it to her destination.

“Ah. I see. You are more of a suffocation with a linen pillow kind of guy. Much respect.” She scoffed, attempting to relax. It was a little bit difficult, him being a stranger and the visible scent of beer plaguing him. Monday could sense he was harmless, however, and figured the company to the home wouldn’t be horrid. It might even soothe her-if he wasn’t a deranged lunatic with a thirst for blood and twenty year old women-

“Too bad. I was hoping you’d be a cuddler.” She mused, scratching her chin like a comical villain. “So, your name is ten Red Headed Demon? RHD? Sounds like the next best pansy alternative rock band.” The next question took her off guard, and she wished that she had kept her mouth shut. “No. You aren’t in danger. Promise. I meant nothing big. Just that I uh...research a lot. That’s all. Fascinated with them. Nothing big. The only danger you are in is if you don’t like the Goodman matriarchy…”

Reggie watched her bow, blinking owlishly and his cigarette completely forgotten. What the hell was with this weirdo? Did she not have a good grasp on socializing or what? He didn’t know what to make of the smile on her face, let alone that it was direction at him. It made his skin crawl, to be perfectly honest, and in a way he wasn’t accustomed to. “Uh...right. Apologies or whatever.”

However, he visibly flinched at the mention of suffocating with a pillow and his eyes hardened. “No, I’m bloody not,” he grumbled. “And you’re not fucking human if you do. Just rot in Hell after pulling some shit like that. His tone only lightened slightly as he continued, “And I’m not a cuddler. Doesn’t matter if I am either, cuz you’ll never find out, midget.”

It was...admittedly depressing to see how poorly of a liar this woman was. She obviously had much more on her plate concerning serial killers and the Goodmans, but Reggie couldn’t bring himself to assume the worst. This tiny, bumbling human...He had nothing to worry about. “Slow your bloody horses. I get it. No prying. I can appreciate that policy.” He nodded in the direction she was recently heading. “Just show me the way to that phone already and maybe along the way I can get a name. Unless you enjoy being called midget, which I’m fine with. It fits.” A ghost of a haughty smirk pulled at his lips.

“The name’s Reginald, by the way. Or Reggie. Whichever; they’re both far better than RHD.” His nosed scrunched up in annoyance.

“I agree with you. Suffocation with a pillow is very inhumane. Although, if I had to pick one way to go out, I think it would be wrapped up in blankets. I might as well be surrounded in fluff.” She took a moment to realize how ridiculous she might have sounded, but she did not care. This man was a stranger, not someone she needed to impress. “Oh, I won’t find out about the cuddly nature of good old RHD?” she cooed, glancing back at him with a smirk.

“Er, well, thank you for not prying. Much appreciated.” She bobbed her head in gratitude, knowing that if she was asked any more questions she would silence herself for the benefit of her own well being. “You can call me midget. Not exactly my favorite nickname in the world, but you ain’t wrong. Been this way since I was thirteen, always thought I’d hit a growth spurt at some point. Nah. I think God just stared down at me and went ‘Eh, I guess she’s close enough to hell for my liking.’ And then that was that. Close enough to the ground for good old Lucy in hell to...er, sorry. Rambling all over again.”

“Reginald. It sounds so...proper. Better than RHD. Okay, I will just call you Reggie then. Reggie is a nice name. Makes me think of a friendly, Red Headed Demon. My name is...Well, call me Monday. Monday’s my name.” She realized that she grew somewhat flustered and moved to adjust her shirt a little to the right to blur out the image. “Weirder than Reggie, I know. But uh...pleasure to meet you. Wish it wasn’t over a broken phone but...Life is life.”

“Ramble all you want,” Reggie smirked, “I might not be listening, but you’re free to yap away all you want. Today has been shit, so listening to you bloody spaz out makes it a little more tolerable.” What could he say? He enjoyed watching others making a fool of themselves and she seemed to fulfill the task with flying colors.

He snorted in light amusement. “Proper? I suppose so; parents were practically pogo sticks with how far they had those sticks shoved up their asses, so I don’t put the fancy naming above them...Lucy?” Reggie bit the inside of his cheek. Who in the hell was Lucy? As he said before, he wasn’t going to pry, but he’d been keeping tabs on the woman either way. One never knew how useful a spontaneous pawn could be.

“Nevermind. Probably just another dork ramble on your end. So, Monday? Monday…” He paused, mulling the name over in his head before grinning teasingly. “The amount of nicknames and insults I could pull from that shit...the potential is phenomenal, Tuesday.” He noticed the red flushing her cheeks, no matter her attempt at hiding it.

Instead of pointing it out, he sucked his lips into his mouth and stared ahead, not entirely sure why the sight made him feel uneasy. “So...how long you’ve been in this hick ass town from hell?” he asked.

“And rambling makes it easier for me to walk in this hellish town. So even if you ain’t listening and think I’m a psycho, I feel better inside. So thank you for your silent motivation...oh wait you aren’t listening. Sweet I can say as many crude things as I want to now. Fuck New Hampshire up it’s a…” She continued for the next few seconds of as ridiculous and as crude things to say while no one was listening, including “New England is the armpit of Canada that deserves to be buried in snow and plowed over with gravel…” and “God I wish that California would just sink into the ocean already.” She stopped her quick ramble, swallowing as she switched back to the conversation

“Heh. Pogo stick parents. That’s an image I did not need to see today.” She swallowed. “Uh...Lucy ya know? Lucifer…” She stared down at her shoes in shame, knowing that somewhere in the great universe, Jane would be giving her the middle finger. Her hand went unconsciously to the cross, tucked underneath her shirt.

“Yeah. Monday. Not a great name but it’s mine. And I don’t mind the dumb nicknames...Except Tuesday. That’s the worst.” She grimaced teasingly, feeling her shoulders slump more in relaxation.

“I just got here man. Paid some creepo to drive me from Dover all the way down the New Hampshire’s worst town ever. Tophet. Been here fifteen minutes or more and I already feel like someone is creeping over my shoulder. But...Er, I have family business to attend to. And unfortunately...we are almost there.” She pouted. “Godamn it.”

Despite claiming that he wouldn’t listen, Reggie picked up every crazy thing tumbling endlessly from Monday’s lips like a motorboat, his amusement steadily rising by the second. Christ--at least she was able to own up to her insanity. That was more than what he could say for someone else (insert Ginny here), but he wouldn’t dwell on that.

“Don’t forget that New England’s diet Canada too,” he mumbled, the slightest laugh tingeing his voice before squashing it altogether. “Right...Lucifer. I’ll pretend to believe you.” Reggie didn’t know what to make about the motion towards her collarbone; obviously, there was something hidden from view, a necklace, probably, but he didn’t really care. “I never said it wasn’t a great name,” he whispered under his breath, not entirely loud enough for her to hear. Well, he hoped she didn’t.

“If you’re dreading this little family get together that much, just ditch the bloody thing for a while. Go off and do what you want. Tour the town. Get drunk. What the fuck ever you do for fun.” He scoffed, staring off with an almost irritated glimmer in his eyes. “Don’t let bullshit family affairs control your bloody life.” He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to share advice (if one could call it that), but he didn’t have much of a chance to stop the words from escaping.

“Diet...Canada…” Despite herself, Monday threatened to burst into laughter, but she kept it muffled by pressing her hand to her lips. “That is a new one. I like it. Isn’t that also a ginger ale rip off?” She mused, twisting her head in order to try and hear what he said. It was very soft, but she couldn’t quite pinpoint. She assumed it had something to do with Lucifier(her favorite butt to every joke).

“Er...well, not so much that I am dreading it. I just really don’t want to see her, you know? Feels like my blood pressure is going to skyrocket,” she mumbled, knowing full well that she had to go check at least once. She needed to make sure that she was still alive and well. For old times’ sake. And for the fact that Monday had to love her. Monday had to love her for bringing her into the world. “I...You are telling me to go out and have fun? Ha! I don’t know the meaning of the word. Besides last time I got drunk I had to stumble home with a nearly twisted ankle and a lot of regret. But...then again...this is a tourist trap to the extreme. I suppose it wouldn’t be a bad idea to go around and get some dumbass trinkets.” She paused. “What about your phone call I promised?”

“Pretty sure it is,” Reggie muttered, features pinched in thought. He could’ve sworn he had a Diet Canada not too long ago. Regardless, he shook his head and focused on the present. “Have a mother you don’t want to see? For bloody sake,” he scoffed, something bitter infecting his smirk, “I can relate to that shit. So much that it’s fucking ridiculous.”

He stopped momentarily to shoot Monday a knowing look. “Oh, now you’re just assuming that getting drunk equates to having a good time? Sloppy, Weekend. Real sloppy.” The red head could admit trinkets wasn’t a terrible idea, but Monday could afford to step outside of her safety bubble a bit more. He wasn’t going to call her out on that, though; it was her life, after all, not his.

The red head quirked an eyebrow. “What about it?”

“Ah. So I am not alone in crappy female figures. Thank God.” She muttered, rubbing the back of her neck. “Oh I don’t think getting drunk is fun. But it sure as hell makes sure I don’t remember anything an hour before hand and two hours after. Or so. Depends.” She swallowed and shook her head. “Well, I don’t have a phone. If you want that phone call, we need to go to the house. If I go and let myself loose for an hour, unless...unless she’s cool with a stranger at the door, then I don’t think you are getting that call. So...do you really still want me to go have fun?”

“You’re assuming I’m going to make you choose,” Reggie sighed, shaking his head. “If a bloody hour’s all you’re giving yourself, then double that shit to two before you get stress lines in your forehead.” He squinted before muttering, “Well, too late for that...but still. Two hours to unwind. Then we head to your place and deal with the wench mother figure.”

He once again searched his coat for a cigarette, following through on the action this time around and placing one between his lips. He retracted his lighter, cupping the flame as he patiently lit the tip and inhaled a long drag. The soothing effects were immediate.

“You...you are forcing me to have fun?” Her brow perked, yet, a grateful smile graced her lips. “Reginald Red Head Beauty of a Peppry Cuddler...I like how you think.” Hesitantly, she nudged his side with her elbow as gently as possible. “Thanks. I don’t think you realize how much I just need a minute to…” She watched him light the cigarette, trembling occuring at her chest. She hated the scent, yet knew very well how soothing it could be to the soul. She stopped herself from asking. “To breathe. C-come on. A girl having fun on her own is no fun at all...and I take it you’ve been here longer than I have. I don’t know if all the old places are still here.”

“Don’t bloody call me that,” he grumbled, eye twitching a bit. Reginald Red Head Beauty of a Peppry Cuddler? Really? Fucking really? However, his thoughts were jostled by the elbow nudge...and he instantly realized what he was doing. That motion was far too chummy for his liking, especially with a woman he just met today.

In the span of a few seconds, he took one last drag, having noticed Monday’s reaction to the cloud of nicotine, dropped the stick and crushed it under his heel, expression unreadable. “Incorrect. I’ve been here less than a day. Or maybe you didn’t notice my fucking luggage.” He spat the last bit with heavy venom and sarcasm, gesturing to the rolling suitcase he’d been tugging along this whole time.

“Sorry. Thought it was funny. But a mouthful.” She retracted herself slightly after nudging him, holding her hands behind her back nervously. She rocked on her feet, nervous once again. She found it odd that he dropped his newly lit cigarette, knowing from her old petit ami that cigarettes were very expensive. It didn’t make much since that he crushed it. Her brow furrowed. “Oh...I’m blind.” She giggled sheepishly, fanning herself of heat. “Well...er, if you don’t find my rambling annoying, we can go search this city together then. So...what brings you to the valley of hell?” She proposed her question smoothly, turning her back from the house. She felt liberated.

“I do, but I guess that won’t stop you, now will it?” Reggie brushed his hair back, somewhat frustrated by the predicament he had accidentally put himself in. This entire day was planned right down to the very hour and yet, here he was, wasting time with some random midget woman who broke his phone. He brought this onto himself; he might’ve been an asshole, but he was also a man of his word, so turning his back on her now was unfortunately out of the question.

Heaving a heavy sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose and said, “Let’s not waste anymore of my bloody time, yeah? And don’t worry about it. Why I’m here is my fucking business, not yours.” A harsh bite infected his tone, though he refused to lock eyes with Monday.

“Oh, don’t worry. It grows on you quick. Mostly because it doesn’t stop.” She smirked, not caring if she was annoying him. She didn’t feel as lonely or as frightened anymore, even if it was with this profuse, grump of a man. It made her feel a little bit better. “I won’t waste your time. Promise Reg.” She winked. “I am gonna bless it.” She paused and glanced ahead of her, noting the bitterness in his tone. “Sorry. You didn’t pry into my business so I won’t pry into yours.”

“Great,” he grumbled. Without another word, he started picking up the pace a bit, not exactly keen on extending this conversation beyond what his tolerance could handle. Whatever questions or comments Monday threw his way were answered with silence or grunts, his mind straying somewhat.

However, his steps slowed as a peculiar shop came into view and his stomach twisted into knots.

Seriously.

This place--the same fucking place that karaoke bitch threatened to drag him into earlier?

Reggie could’ve sworn a headache was peeking over the reason. Either way, he didn’t have the will power nor motivation within him to defy fate, no matter how cruel it could be. He pointed bitterly at Hugh’s Ice Cream Parlor. “First stop,” he said, voice flat.

Monday blinked as he spaced out for the rest of the walk, but it didn’t matter. Her brow lifted as the man seemed to tense at the ice cream parlor, once again threatening to make Monday smile. “Ice cream huh? Usually a guy asks me to dinner first,” she cooed teasingly, happily accepting her fate.

Her shoulders tensed. Why did she feel so content? So...not tense? Her brow pinched in thought. It didn’t matter. It’s not like the icecream was poisoned. Or he was gonna kill her. This was normal for people to do, right? Just hang out? She let the smile take over.

“On me buddy.”

Reggie rolled his eyes. “We’re splitting and that’s final.”
 
Leon briefly excused himself from the small kitchen to retrieve his phone, punching in the work number to handle his sudden absence. Leon had never been the one to miss out on work before, and he figured one day of playing hookie wouldn’t get him into trouble. He knew he could talk himself out of it if need be, so he kept his voice relaxed and cheery as a fellow bartender picked up the phone.

“My good friend, apologies for not being in today. I had a bit of a family crisis. You can handle the shift on your own I assume?” Before Leon could respond the man on the other end replied.

“I prefer the workplace to be more silent, anyway. Oh, and one of the other tenders have informed me that an angry red head as left you an apology here. Twenty dollars worth. Did you get in a fight or something today, my brother?”

“Not quite,” Leon mumbled, thanking that man for his trouble and hanging up without another word. Slowly he made his way back towards the kitchen, recalling that Ginny mentioned something about a lemon tart. “So, I haven’t baked in a good while. Care to give me a refresher on that field?” He offered a pleasant smile, opening up pantries to reveal ingredients she might need. He wasn’t sure if he had everything, but it should have provided enough for at least a small product. It was certainly enough to make a mess if he had been in the mood.

As he opened the cabinets, for a moment, Ginny studied the contents. She couldn’t remember the last time she saw a pantry full to the brim - not with things she’d wanna cook, anyway. Pinching back a sudden sense of irritability towards her past, she reached up to take down the sugar, before turning to Leon with a quirk of a smile, “We’re gonna need eggs, lemons, and butter. An unholy amount of butter…”

“Alright, Paula Dean. Teach me something new.” He chuckled as she reviewed the ingredients. He swiveled to greet the small refrigerator, mouth watering for the first time that morning. He rested a lumbering hand over his stomach, the small rumble vibrating mercilessly against his skin. “Oh dear.” He chuckled lightly before prying open the fridge, his eyes adverting to the the carton of eggs and the packages of butter he had remaining. He forgot how much he stocked up on, but reminded himself that it was a good thing to do at least every so often. Even if he didn’t bake much. He plucked both of them from the bridge, balancing the cartoon on his arm before sliding it down to the counter. “I may or may not be experienced well enough. I am not exactly good at taking care of myself when it comes to food.” He smirked thinly, recalling the days when he barely had anything to eat. He had been in that bend multiple times, but was relieved to have the opportunity to make something for the fun of it. “I think I’ve got just about everything here for you. So, step number one, oh wise teacher of mine.”

“Oh, Pretty Boy… don’t tell me that. There are things I could teach you…” He moved to collect the other ingredients, and as he did, Ginny turned to watch him, a merciless smirk on her lips. It was easy. Too easy, folding into old habits… especially when Leon looked the way he did, was the way he was… It was hard to remember that this wasn’t the life she’d been poured into. That this wasn’t necessary, to survive… to thrive.

“One thing I know, even if it didn’t do me much good on my own, is how to cook. I’ll take good care of you…” She mused, as she located a few mixing bowls on a shelf, and pulled them down, setting them out.

“First step is the Lemon Curd… Gotta mix the butter, sugar, lemon juice and zest together… then you’re gonna put it on a double boiler. That’s one pot with water, another pot on top, with the curd in it…” Grabbing a knife from the block, she worked on zesting the lemons, glancing over her shoulder at him, “Can you separate the eggs?”

“Oh I am sure I could teach you a lot of things too.” He suggested, tone innocent and purposely unknowing. He was tempted to turn back as he could feel her eyes on him but he made no attempt to check if his assumptions were correct. “Oh, wonderful! I am so glad you are good at cooking. I do not feed myself properly because I fear for the sanity of my own taste buds.” He slandered his ability with a smile, turning to her as she once again directed him. “There is one thing I know how to do, and that’s how to break an egg.” He made mental notes of her directions, grabbing a small bowl to place the eggs into. He wondered if she had enjoyable days after her endeavors and hoped that this time to bake would relax her into his home.

He began to absentmindedly crack the eggs and place the yolks into the bowl. “So, how many times have you made this?” He inquired in an attempt to be friendly, peeking back at her with a content gaze. “You seem to know what you are talking about, which I am most...grateful for. I have not had a good dessert since the Rockwells made a black forest cake for their goodbye to the mayor. Twas a sad day, when Silas Rockwell took his place back at home and away from the office. Had the Bullocks ever since, ya know?” He mimicked a shudder. “Speaking of them, I called the pub, and apparently he left an apology. Weird huh?”

“Doesn’t surprise me…” Ginny started softly, “People like that… they’re lookin’ for a fight for a reason, and nine outta ten times, it’s cause they’re so pissed at themselves, they gotta find some kind of punishment. He’s an ass, but hell if I don’t understand him more than I’d like to.” Shrugging, she took the yolks and added them to the bowl with the lemon zest and juice, gesturing to the sugar, “Three-fourths cup, into the pot. I’ve been making this recipe long as I can remember. It was sort of my go-to on the days when it was really rough, before Diablo, you know? When Mom was in one of her ‘too busy to parent’ modes.” Mixing the egg yolks into the lemon juice, she glanced over to him with a smirk, “Bullocks being in charge is just crap, Leon. But it makes sense for this hell hole of a town…”

“I’ve met a lot of people like that at the pub, Gin. I just don’t understand why people are so angry. We’ve all had hard patches, it’s more of how we get through it then what happens. Just taking a deep breath can help.” He offered her an encouraging smile, taking her instructions and measuring the sugar to pour into the pot. “I see...well, I know what it’s like to have a busy mom. I didn’t necessarily do baking, but I was more of a...er, well maybe you will remember my more musical senses. Have things been feeling better for you Gin?” He questioned her softly, concerned that she was damaged from Diablo, or at least further than he was able to see on her exterior. “Just know you can talk to me if it’s not. And as for the Bullocks...well, I can’t really say anything bad about them. They are my bosses. And I guess we have to thank them for Tophet being a town, still. The whole summer of smoking pot and screwing women by the cliffside.” Leon shuttered. “I am still convinced some town members have a good amount of Bullock DNA.”

Smiling dryly, Ginny shook her head, “She wasn’t busy, Leon. She just didn’t want me. And before you go all deep and adorable on me, telling me how I’m mistaken or whatever, trust me… it’s the truth. Me disappearing? Supposedly dying? It wasn’t a tragedy… it was a frickin’ relief. She could finally run off with George and live her happily ever after.” A sigh escaped, as she poured the lemon mixture into the pot and stirred it together, “What were you saying about not being angry?” She added with a smile. “I dunno if better’s the right word for it… but I found outlets, you know. Ways to forget… to put it aside. Talkin’ ain’t my strong suit, though.” Looking his way again, a brow lifted slyly.”

Turning on the double boiler, she leaned back against the counter, eyes moving to his, “And you ain’t wrong about that, either. Bullocks definitely weren’t concerned with oversharing…”

“I would like to say, even if she didn’t find it to tragedy, there were many people who were devastated by you being gone.” He swallowed, anxiously scratching at his jeans. Losing Ginny and Theona was a blow to him, harder than anything that would greet him later in life. He never imagined having to die that young, having to lose anyone that was near to him at that age. He didn’t know how he processed it at the time. But he did. It continued to scorch within him. “Talking may not be your strong suit. But as I have said before, I am willing to teach you a few things.”

“Oh. I wouldn’t be surprised if every family had some connection with the original Quentin Bullock.” He scoffed under his breath, eyes drifting to meet hers. He recognized the color from when he was a child, nostalgia threatening to rush up to his chest. “So...on a happier note, how long do we boil that custard for?”

“Hm…” A smile flickered to his lips at her words, and she considered it for a moment longer than she probably meant to. Someone missing her… wanting her around when she wasn’t. It was a novel concept, but it was also hard to believe, considering everything she had been through that contradicted it… “For what it’s worth, then, thanks. I guess it’s nice, knowing someone out there was thinkin’ about me.”

Holding out a whisk, she handed it to him, “Ten minutes, and you get the pleasure of whisking it while I make the crust.” Grabbing the butter, she slid a stick onto the counter and another knife, cubing it into small pieces, “I’m not too keen thinkin’ I’ve got Bullock in me…” She noted after a moment, “And sure as hell not too jazzed about the idea of you and me bein’ related.”
“How could I not? You were a childhood friend. Sort of hard to forget, too.” Leon decided to plot his words out cautiously, not sure how much he wanted to tell her about his childhood sorrow. He did not know if it was natural to feel such dread as a child, many days staring at the ceiling and wondering if the children’s souls were guided correctly to heaven. The many nights he wondered still if there was a heaven. He sighed lowly, a smirk etching itself into his lips as he was handed a whisk.

“How fun. You can count on me to whisk correctly.” He paused. “I suppose that sounded better in my head.” His mind caught Ginny’s words at the last second, realization flooding over him. However, mischief tainted his eyes and he questioned, voice light and innocent “Why aren’t you excited about that idea?”

“I guess it’s easier to think that everyone felt the way my mom did.. Makes it easier, not being able to come back. Honestly, as messed up as it is, what she did, it was kind of a relief, not feeling like she was mourning me…” A sigh escaped, briefly, before she shifted, looking over at him again, “...Cause this ain’t Kentucky, Leon… and I got no plans to share a bed with my almost-brother. You got graham crackers?”

“I couldn’t imagine that feeling.” He mumbled, shoulders tense. The mere thought of someone’s own mother not mourning their death was beyond horrifying. Leon’s mother had not necessarily been a role model, but the difference was that she came back. He exhaled slowly and suddenly laughed at her explanation. “Sleeping in a bed with my almost sister does sound awful. But luckily you and I have no familiar connections…” He glanced down at his form, then to hers. “Nothing at all. Oh! Graham crackers...I should have a few still around here…” He scoured through the cabinets, fingers finally managing to grasp the thin plastic bag containing them. He tossed them carefully to Ginny.

“I survived it, anyway…” Somehow. Someday’s, she wasn’t entirely sure how… but she had. And that was something her mother couldn’t take from her. That was something no one would ever be able to take from her.

“Hmm… Lucky, indeed.” He looked her over and Ginny did not miss it, as a grin burst to her lips. As he moved away, she took over the whisking, gesturing to the bowl of cubed butter, “You’re gonna take those big strong hands, Sugar, and crush up the graham crackers into the butter, until it makes something like a dough. Lemme know if you need any help.”

“Someone’s happy about that.” he teased, brow perking as a grin burst along her lips. In spite of himself, a smile threatened to pull at the corner of his mouth. “Oh? Big and strong eh? I don’t know about that. Guess we will just have to see…” He did as she asked of him, taking the graham crackers and beginning to crush them up into the butter. He was surprised how soothing it was to his hands, the work reminding him of making stage props at the theater. The texture was a bit odd, but it sent him into a content state of being. “I don’t think I will need help. Unless you really want to help crush this up.”

“Hmm.. No. I like watching, just fine.” She teased, giving the custard another quick whisk, before turning off the heat. She pushed it to the back burner and after a little searching, found a pie pan, putting it on the counter, “That’s perfect. Now drop it into here and we can knead it into a crust form.”

“Oh, you like watching huh?” For extra teasing, he made his movements slow and deliberate, biting down each escaped chuckle. He stopped his work as she directed, head tilting as she revealed the next step. He took the dough and plopped it into the pie pain, brow remaining raised. “We can knead it huh?”

“You…” Looking up at him, she grinned, and for the first time, a hint of color brushed her cheeks as she shook her head, “You know what I meant. Pull yourself together, Lionheart. This is serious business, now. The crust is the most important feature. Now…” Shaking back her sleeves, she eased between Leon and the counter, and pressed at the ball of dough, gingerly edging it along the sides of the pan, “See how it’s done?”

“I am very pulled together. You are the one with the healthy glow.” He cooed lightly, smirking as he did his job of flustering her. He glanced down at her attentively as she placed herself between him and the counter, smoothing out the dough. “I see very well, Gin. Mind if I give you a hand?” He asked her, reaching from behind and attempting to follow her movements.

“Pretty sure…” She murmured, forgetting for a moment to pay attention to the crust, “That your hands… are twice the size of mine.”

“Hmm? I don’t know if that is entirely true. Maybe not twice…” Leon mused as he peeked his head from the crook of her neck, making sure to give her enough space if she wanted to move away due to discomfort. “Am I doing alright?’ He questioned as he moved, attentive that his hands didn’t bump into hers.

“...You do any better, Darlin’, I gonna forget what temperature this goes in at…” Resuming her own process, she looked down at the crust with a nod, pulling her hands free to brush them off on a dish towel, “Looks pretty good. Now we need to bake it, and then in goes the custard.”

“I don’t want to make you forget things you should know. That would be horrific.” He smirked, glad to see that she managed to gain her composure once more to handle the crust. “How long should we bake that for?” He questioned, removing himself from behind her and taking a place next to her. He found it amusing, to see her somewhat colorful. It made him smile.

“I’d like to forget a few things, to be perfectly honest…” The words were said lightly, but there was a part of her that meant them. A part of her that knew all of this… the senseless, lighthearted flirting - even the heavier stuff - was something that was entirely defensive. She didn’t want to go back to the memories… to talking about what she missed out on. She didn’t want to remember him and everything he’d done… all the lives he had ruined and taken…

“About twenty minutes.. Which means we got time to kill…” Pushing a few things out of the way before pulling herself up onto the counter, she looked him over with a smirk, “Any ideas?”

“Just know if you ever need me to help you forget things.” He suggested lightly, although a part of him meant it. He wished to distract her from the bad things, even if this reunion had only happened a little while ago. This was his friend after all. He did not like knowing that she was hurt. That someone had hurt her.

Leon’s thoughts of sorrow were put to a sudden, shrieking halt as Ginny pulled herself up to the counter, looking him over. He was relieved for his dark skin in that moment, hiding the heat that threatened to consume his features. “I don’t know. Talking is always a way to pass the time. Catching up and all that…” His gaze met hers, keeping the innocent glimmer in his eyes.

“Hm…” It came out a purr, and feeling that once again, she had the upper hand, Ginny shrugged, reaching up casually to straighten Leon’s collar, that most definitely didn’t need straightening, “That’s a thought. But I dunno… We’re pretty creative people, you and me. More creative than that.”

Leon felt the heat grow worse as she adjusted his collar. He knew his habits better than anyone else. He knew how to keep his collar straightened and professional. She purposely reached up to...His heart threatened to hammer against his chest and he pulled anxiously at his adjusted collar. “We are very creative people. I...uh...well, what do you suggest, Gin? You seem like you have an idea…” He swallowed

“Well…” She murmured softly, still with the sly smile, “We did just discover we aren’t relatives… so, that opens a number of interesting doors…”

Leon was tempted to sign the cross over his chest and pray for mercy right then and there. He found his breath was caught in his throat and slowly, he managed to catch his composure. “What kind of doors are we talkin here?”

Grinning a little, Ginny sank back, a brow quirked just so, “...You work in a bar, Leon. This can’t be the first time a girl’s come onto you… I ain’t exactly the reigning queen of subtlety.”

“You...You are coming onto me?” He was speechless, to say the least. His hands gripped the sides of the counter. “Uh...isn’t...isn’t that a little...I don’t know...uh, sudden?”

Her eyes rose, moving to his and she gave her shoulders a bounce, “You tell me, Leon… What do people wait for, anyway? You’re an attractive man, smooth as hell, and you’ve already done for me what nobody ever bothered to… Why pump the brakes?”
“Ginny. You are my friend, and I have found that I enjoy your company a lot. That does not mean I expect you to commit certain acts. We have only rekindled our friendship for what...less than half an hour? Teasing you is fun, being with you is fun. I think we need to think about what you are asking for just a moment. And it’s nothing against you, I just want to make sure we are both aware of what is being put on the table. Okay?

“Everyone expects it from me. Ain’t my first time around that bush, Sugar.” The words held something of a note of bitterness, that Ginny didn’t even mean to convey, and for a moment, her eyes faltered, lowered, as she considered what he was saying. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she shrugged, “But if you don’t want me, I get it.”

“I don’t expect it from you, Ginny. I don’t. All I expect from you is your friendship. Alright? If you think that I expect something sexual...well…” He paused. “And It’s not that I don’t want you. I want you to be here, teasing me, being my friend. I am just saying...I don’t think that what you are suggesting is something that is necessary because you are living with me. Okay? I think those sorts of acts are sacred. And I wouldn’t want to do that with you if it doesn’t feel like it’s sacred or welcomed.” He smiled. “Besides. Again. Childhood friend. My friend. Not something I expect from a friend. Just a smile and a bad joke from time to time.”

Blinking, Ginny stared at him, and for a moment, disbelief flashed through her gaze. It was impossible to understand, coming from a world where that was all she was good for. A world where sometimes, they didn’t even ask… It was assumed that’s what was going to happen, and Ginny did what she had to, to survive…

She’d spent more time staring up at popcorn ceilings in crap hotels than anyone ought to, and it had become second nature, by now…

Sliding off the counter, she crossed her arms over her chest and moved to the window at the end of the kitchen, looking out at nothing in particular, “...Sacred.” With a small scoff, she studied her reflection. There wasn’t a damn thing about her that could be described that way. Not anymore.

“...I don’t even know what that means.”

Leon felt his heart plummet to his stomach as she slid off the counter and walked away. Sighing he took his hat from his head, approached her gently from behind, and placed the fedora upon her head to make her feel better about the situation. “It means that I value our friendship. Already, I value it very much. I don’t want you to think that you are expected to fill a roll. Okay? We can have fun, sure. But...Let’s just take things a few steps at a time, okay? It doesn’t mean I enjoy you any less. It just means we both need to consider things before we jump into the act.”

Turning back to him, she blinked again, reaching up to tip back the brim of the hat so she could see him. Breathing in, she seemed staggered, and really, she was. She had never been valued. Not by her mother… not by Diablo… not by anyone. Even the people who cared about her as a child had given up looking, given up hope. Her entire life had been people taking advantage of her vulnerabilities… pulling away at her, until she had nothing left to value.

Tears burned and she blinked harder, looking down until the hat covered her eyes, “...I dunno if I know how to do this, Leon. You keep saying I’m your childhood friend, but you gotta realize… that Ginny… she died, a long time ago. I… I don’t know how… how to be anything more than… that his little doll.”

“I told you I can teach you a few things. Ginny...Look at me.” Leon gently tipped the hat back to reveal her eyes, evidently burned with tears. He sighed, brushing his thumb gently against her cheek to wipe any tears that may have strayed. “I don’t think the Ginny I knew died. I think she is here with me now. I think she is scared, hurt and uncertain. And that is okay. It is okay to be scared. I...I am here, you know? You are going to be living with me until you get back on your feet, so you are going to need to learn how to handle my pestering about your well being. You are much more than what he tried to make you. Hell, I’ve only been with you for half an hour and I know it. I already know you are a strong, fierce woman. I wouldn’t have been able to stand against that man. You did. That tackle...Damn it, it made me proud.” He smiled reassuringly. “Just know you don’t owe anyone anything, okay? You just owe it to yourself to keep yourself strong, and to let yourself loose once and awhile. I am here. I will be until you do not need me anymore. Even past that.”

Jaw tightening, hands trembling, fighting back the emotions that wouldn’t stay where she’d buried them, Ginny watched him as he spoke, and the words felt good… so good, but like a beautiful lie. How could she be strong? How could anyone think that about her, when she’d fallen so far, so hard…

“...If you’re tryin’ to convince me… that sleepin’ with you’s a bad idea, Leon… you really suck at it.” And with a sniff, she wrapped her arms around his waist, burrowing against his chest, “I’m sorry you got stuck with one of the broken ones…”

“Mm. I never said it was a bad idea. I just said we should think about it.” He teased lightly, blinking now that she wrapped her arms around him. Slowly he hugged her in return, patting her head soothingly before running his fingers down his hair. “Don’t be sorry. I told you. I am proud of you. You are strong. It’s okay to be broken. It’s not a burden on me. I am more than happy to have you alive and with me now. My words have never been more true. Promise.”

“...Leon, sweetie…” She murmured into his chest, “I think you might be crazy. But I think I’m okay with that.” Leaning back, she dried her eyes again, looking up at him, “...Sacred, huh? How… how’s that work?”

“Oh. I know I am crazy.” He soothed to her, making sure that his chuckling rumbles were soft as to not disturb her. “So...well, sacred being that you do the action with someone you love. And it acts as a bonding thing, you know? Not so much as a pleasure for one party sort of thing. Just...a way to bond with someone you love. It might be cheesy in my way of looking at it, but it’s how I feel towards it.” He paused. “It also means you really know and respect your partner.”

“Hell…” She breathed, running her hands along her arms with a shake of her head, “...That… that sounds like a fairytale. But if that’s… I mean… if that’s how you roll.” Biting her lip, she rolled her shoulders into another shrug, “Maybe… maybe I could give waiting a try.”

“I am not going to force you to do anything Ginny. But here is my piece of advice. You owe no one anything. And...do what you are comfortable with and will make you happy. Okay? Now...how’s that pie crust going along ~” He cooed to her teasingly, squeezing her form gently.

“We uh… we didn’t put it in.” She said with a small chuckle, “Got a little distracted.” Unraveling her arms, she took his hat from her head and returned it to his, standing on tip-toes to reach, but before she’d flattened her feet, she turned and gingerly, pressed a kiss to his cheek, “...I dunno what to make of you, Leon. And I won’t pretend like this is gonna be easy, because damn… God did a good job with you… but I mean it. I wanna try. You deserve it… and maybe… maybe I can finally start thinking I deserve something, too.”

Leon’s brain nearly shut off at the gentle kiss that was placed to his cheek after she placed the hat back on. His blush was very visible upon his cheeks. “Heh. Thank you, Ginny.” Slowly, he leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. One that was meant to express his loyalty in their friendship and his care for her as a human being. “You deserve the best Ginny. I will be here to remind you that.”

“See…” She teased, with a small, sad smile, “On our way to sacred, and we didn’t even finish the tart.” With a wink, she crossed the kitchen, and as if nothing had occurred more than a brief interlude of humor, Ginny resumed her role as baker, sliding the crust into the oven door.
 
Mortimer Corson

His eyes flickered between the two women, realizing one of them was about to fall into the counter. Swiftly he made his way to her side, eyes inspecting her for possible injury. He bobbed Seta in one arm, offering a hand to the dazed woman. "Are you alright? Um...Well...to answer your question, I did not die. I am quite alive. You didn't find any children's bodies or anything did you?" He inquired, pale with concern at the thought. Were there others that were dead? He didn't believe he was the only one to be lucky enough to be dropped off, even if it was hours away from his home. Bangor did have his perks, as empty as a town it was.

"N-no. No bodies." Dinah answered, demeanor flushed. Mortimer recognized the stagger at her feet, cautiously making his way over and placing his hand upon her arm to keep her steady. He locked his gaze with her, surprised to find no struggle at his touch. She merely returned the stare, mouth gaped wide open. Seta's giggles threatened to send Dinah to the floor. "No...no corpses. H...how do w-we believe..."

"I am your brother by choice, Dinah. Stronger than the bond of the water of the womb." He whispered, having only recalled that piece of Hebrew from Dinah's pledge to him as children. "I am your brother by choice."

"Brother." She whimpered, visibly shaken with emotion. Mortimer was surprised to recognize her next words, not sure how his brain was able to process the language he had not heard in years. "You have come back to me." Seta's laughter broke Dinah out of her trance, the woman taking two steps back as she pressed her hand against her lips. "Show me your wrist." She demanded, to which Mortimer happily complied. Seta's name overtook the scar he had as a child.

"The scar I had from nearly falling off the cliff as a child. You scrapped your nails so deeply into my wrist trying to pull me back up that the scar never quiet healed. And I kept my promise. Tattoo over it. Trust me, your nails hurt a lot more than that needle ever could."

"Nickname. Now."

"Di. Nanny if was being particularly cruel." Mortimer replied, adjusting his grip upon his child. "We celebrated Hanukkah together. You and I celebrated Christmas for the first time that year I went missing. Avi set up that secret Santa thing, remember?"

"You gave me that ridiculous little snow globe..."

"And you gave my mother a plushie otter with a Santa hat. She loved it." He smiled sweetly. "I don't forget my time with you, Di. Never have." Dinah's demeanor hardened, staring to the young woman before back to Mortimer. Her lip threatened to quiver.

"God help me! Get this vision away from me, cruel devil!" She exclaimed once more in Hebrew, bringing her knuckles up to her lips. Her eyes remained glued to her child hood friend. "You are dead. I have known this to be true for fifteen years. Why didn't you come back? Why did you..."

"Sister." He muttered softly, eyes tracing down to his child. "I did not wish to come back because I was afraid. But now I have someone to look over. I know this seems impossible, but it is me. I promise I would not lie to you."

"Is she yours?" Dinah mumbled softly, gaze drifting over to the young child.

"In a sense. Listen...Di...I am so..."

"Shut up." She muttered, her footsteps firm as she brought herself to his form, hugging him tightly despite the infant in his arms. "Brother by choice if this be an illusion..."

"No. I am me." Mortimer answered, eyes scorched. He wrapped one arm around his childhood friend, squeezing her to him. "It's been a while. I am sorry."

"You are going to want to hold me for a while, maybe Morty."

"Why?" He questioned, feeling her threaten to stagger once more.

"I think I might faint." Mortimer's eyes darted over to the young woman, pleading for help. He had a harder time recognizing the woman. He attempted to place a name to the face, struggling briefly.
 
Holly's cheeks blanched at the man's words, and her grip tightened on the counter. How was it possible... How? He spoke to Dinah, and she couldn't understand what they were saying, but it was evident by the way that Dinah reacted that he was who he said he was...

But how...

Tears bloomed in her eyes as the realization struck that he might not be the only one... There was a possibility... A real, genuine possibility that her sister was out there. Poppy might be alive and a small, selfish part of Holly could nearly taste the vindication of her father having to apologize for his treatment of her during the whole incident... It was a lot to grasp, mentally... A lot.

Looking up when Mortimer called out to her, she nodded and moving behind the desk, she found the folding chair she sometimes sat in, bringing it around and unfolding it for Dinah to sit in.

"Here, Honey. Just breathe... Can't pass out on me. I need my milkshake assistant ready for business." Glancing up to Mortimer, she managed a weary smile, "It's Holly, by the way. Holly Saint-Clair..."
 
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Mortimer Corson

Mortimer bit his lip as he watched Dinah be seated, the woman fanning her clearly bright cheeks. Mortimer just realized that the woman had been soaked, and staring down at his own shirt, she had left a water stain covering the entirety of his chest. "Holly...Saint-Clair." Mortimer slowly nodded his head. "You...you were so young when...when we went missing. You've, you've grown. Don't look anything like your pops though. Not a bad thing. Just...it's good to see you." Mortimer bobbed his child gently as he stared down at his old childhood friend.

"How..."

"Um...well..." Mortimer squirmed somewhat in place, his gaze darting between the two women. "I don't really remember much, to be honest. I just know that Diablo dropped me off at someone's home."

"W-where?" Dinah slowly inquired, her healthy glow beginning to return to her cheeks. Her fingers dug into the chair, knuckles white.

"Bangor, Maine." Mortimer slowly managed, bitting his lip. "I was placed with a social worker. This is her child, Seta. Seta Sweets. Um...well, I am here because Seta's mother passed a little while ago and I...I figured my family needed to meet their new addition. I was getting home sick, too."

"So...that's...not your child?" Dinah asked, her brow furrowed.

"By choice, she is. By blood..." He paused, shaking his head. "I am sorry I didn't try to get in contact before. Diablo threatened to kill my family if I came back..."

"Mortimer, he's dead." Dinah admitted to him, eyes drooping. "He's been dead after the Rockwell kid went missing."

"The mayor's kid went missing?" Mortimer frowned, concern flooding his eyes. He didn't know how many victims Diablo took after him, but he figured he was most certainly not the last. "Goodness...oh, um...well, Holly...miss Saint-Clair, I wish to inform you that..." He paused, his voice catching in his throat. "One of the things I do remember about being in Diablo's home was that your sister was there around the same time as me. I saw her when I was first taken in. And...well, the last I know is that she escaped. Diablo wasn't particularly happy about it." He swallowed. "I don't know where she is though. I am sorry. But...I think she's out there." He tried to assure, knowing that Holly's experience must have been painful. To lose a sister. "Just thought I would let you know." Sheepishness colored his features.
 
“...She escaped…”

It was Holly’s turn to need a support, as she leaned back against the counter again with a sharp inhale. Her sister wasn’t just alive. She had been alive… and out there… for years. Alive and well, and whole… and she hadn’t come home. She hadn’t tried. Mortimer mentioned Diablo’s threat and it seemed fair… but fifteen years. It was a long time to hide away without a word. And it hurt.

Mortimer caught the horrified yet knowledgeable demeanor of Holly Saint-Clair, a pit setting deep into his stomach. He was surprised to notice that Seta had fallen comfortably asleep into his shoulder, a prayer of gratefulness flooding from his lips.

“Poppy...Morty...do you know if anyone else is…” Dinah asked in her daze, her eyes glassy and unable to focus on her friend of old. Mortimer bit his lip.

“I was only there a week Di. He didn’t have many kids when we were there. I...I didn’t get to talk to Poppy. But it seemed like she was there long enough to see another kid...I couldn’t imagine he would keep me alive if the others were gone.”

“Kal. Grant. Do you know if…”

Mortimer frowned. “I’m sorry. I don’t.”

“...Why would he…” Shaking her head, Holly rubbed her hands over her face, as the horror seemed to cascade into aggravation, her chest tightening, her jaw clenched, cheeks bright red, “Why would he just let you go? That doesn’t… It doesn’t make any sense. Why would he lie and say he killed you? It got him killed! I don’t… None of this makes any sense.”

“Diablo is dead?” Mortimer blinked. He thought he had heard it somewhere, and he thought it was probable he was told mere moments ago. However the shock began to overtake him, his grip on Seta tightening involuntarily. She squirmed, causing him to loosen his hold. “Holy...oh my God. The devil is...dead.” He wasn’t sure if it was relief or horror overtaking him. “I...I don’t know why he would tell you he killed us. Is that what he said? He told me that he tired of me. I screamed too much. He said that...burying me in the backyard would take too much space.” He swallowed, memories starting to flood back at a rate too rapid for him to handle. He swallowed and cradles his child close, a shattered breath escaping him.

“I don’t understand. I don’t.” Mortimer repeated, until one important detail struck him. “What do you mean got him killed?”

“They drove him off a cliff, Mort…” Holly answered, shaking her head, “The whole town. Like an angry mob in Frankenstein. He told them all the kids were dead… had their dolls… and they drove him off…” Pausing, she raked her fingers through her hair, her eyes shifting to Dinah, “...Please… tell me this isn’t some messed up plan for the Murder Walk.”

“N-no.” Dinah murmured, her heart slamming in her chest. Slowly she reached for Mortimers hand, to grasp it, to squeeze it, to see his scar. “This isn’t my idea. This isn’t me.”

“Dolls...those fu-“ Dinah could tell how close Mortimer was to swearing, but he clamped down on his lip at the last second. “Hold on.” Slowly, he reached into his back pocket, still gently bouncing his child. He managed to wriggle out the doll from his pocket, the poor piece of cloth tattered and torn. He held it out before him, eyes widening as Dinah’s head slumped over in her chair. “Di? Dinah?”

Frowning, Holly rose again, slightly grateful for something else to focus on. She crossed behind the counter to the sink and grabbing a clean rag, ran water on it, before heading back to where Dinah had slumped, “..Here. Sit her up. Put this on her forehead… She… this… it’s a lot to take in. She’ll be alright.”

Oh God” Mortimer mumbled, fear overtaking her system as he adjusted her as best as he could with a child in his arms. He slowly placed the wet rag over her forehead, gently brushing stray hair from her face and patting her cheek.

“Mm. Five...minutes.” Dinah finally mumbling, eyes flickering open as she awoken. Her eyes traced down Mortimer and for a moment, he was concerned she would faint again. “Oh...Oh I am...I am sorry. Got a little dizzy there.”

“Just breath, Di… You gotta make sure you’re breathing, yeah?” Sinking down before the chair, Holly frowned softly, “This is nuts. This whole thing is nuts, but passing out isn’t gonna be good for any of us. You alright?” Looking to Mortimer, she smiled dryly, “You ain’t gona pass out, either… okay?”

“Can’t, Hol. Cant risk dropping the baby.” Mortimer attempted a smile, but he could feel his color drain away from his face. He felt ill and jovial and grotesque all at the same time.

“I’m breathing I’m breathing.” Dinah complained, her head fuzzy as she leaned her head against the chair head. “Oh God...Morty please don’t take this the wrong way...I’m sorry I’ve been so in shock, I’m just so happy you are alive…” Dinah pressed her hand over her heart. “It doesn’t seem possible. It...doesn’t feel real.”

“Nothing does.” Mortimer grumbled, sitting down in front of Dinah’s chair. He glanced up at her. “I’m sorry for not coming back sooner.”

Curling her knees up, Holly’s eyes strayed across the floor. There was a spot in the shop she always avoided, walking around it, even when she didn’t have to… A spot that, in her mind, would never be clean… no matter how hard she tried. She’d found him that morning on his back, eyes staring blankly up into the ceiling, the color drained from his face…

That damnable spot stared back, sometimes… and today, felt like one of those days. When it just hurt. It all hurt.

“...You shouldn’t apologize, Mortimer. We’re just glad you’re alive.” She said, quietly, “Someone in this damn town deserves the break.”

“How bad has this town been since I’ve been gone?” He whispered, pressing a kiss against his child’s head. “I can’t imagine it’s gotten any worse…”

“Oh, you’d be surprised. The Bullocks are in charge…”

“Oh God, get me back to Bangor.” He grumbled, rubbing his eyes with his free hand. “I didn’t realize it could get that bad. I always imagined one of the Cyrus boys heading back into office.”

“If Leon Jethro Cyrus got into office...there would be a lot of happy girls.” Dinah commented with a smirk, her demeanor still pale. She slowly managed to sit up. “Have you tried to get into contact with your family, Morty?” Mortimer did not respond, cheeks aflame. He nodded slowly.

“Lemme guess…” Holly answered softly, “Didn’t believe you.” Rising, Holly brushed off her jeans, shaking her head, “You should go back to Bangor. Get the hell out while you still can. Not everybody gets to come back from the dead…” Her gaze flickered to the spot across the shop again and she fought a grimace, looking away, “But you picked the worst possible place for a resurrection.”

“No. She shut the door on me. Didn’t have much time to show her the doll or anything.” Mortimer paled now as she suggested going back to Bangor, misery settling deep into his stomach. “That’s not exactly an option, Holly. I don’t really have anyone to help me with Seta and I figured that getting her back home would...would give her a chance to be raised well.”

“And you think this is the place for that?” Shaking her head, she turned to the counter and rounded it. For a moment, she was quiet, bending down to the small refrigerator beneath the milkshake machine. When she came back up, she had a small bottle of milk. Wiping the condensation from the outside, a sigh escaped, “The town that let their own kids get picked off, one by one… Then blamed it on the ones left behind? The town that drove a man of a cliff cause they were too damn scared and ashamed to let him face real justice. The town that buried a…” Pausing, she breathed in, her fingers clenched tighter around the bottle, “That buried a murder investigation because they didn’t want the bad press… You think that’s a place to raise a baby?”

Mortimer felt his face growing hot, directing his eyes down towards the tips of his shoes. “Look. This place isn’t exactly heaven. It’s not exactly home. But it’s where I know best. I lost someone important to me in Bangor and I can’t go back now. This...this place is where my family is. It’s where my old friends are. It’s where I lived and where a part of me died. Like it or not, I am bound here. And...well, if I can’t convince my family that I am me, I will move on until I can find somewhere safe for my baby. I am just hoping that it doesn’t come to that.”

“You’re making a mistake. It ain’t heaven, no. It’s hell.” She said plainly, before setting the bottle at the end of the counter, “...You said she was thirsty… When she wakes up, she’ll probably want this.”

“Thank you.” He bobbed his head, holding the drink cautiously in one hand. Seta shifted slightly in his grasp, yawning quietly into his shoulder. She slumped soundly into the crook of his head. “I don’t know what else to do Holly. I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Where you staying…?” She asked, with a small, resigned sigh.

“Small motel around the corner. It’s not much, but I have some cash on me to last at least a few days. There’s always the car if I need it.” He admitted, realizing how his situation sounded. It wasn’t ideal.

Shaking her head, Holly rounded the counter again, “I have an extra room upstairs. You safe that cash for that little girl.” Looking to Dinah, she shrugged, before turning back to him, “There’s a few people here who won’t turn their back on you. But don’t trust anyone if you don’t have to, Mortimer. This town… it’s not just that it’s gotten bad. It’s bad at the roots, and no one seems to care.”

“Thank you, Holly. I don’t want to have to burden you though. Besides, Seta can be fussy at night and I don’t want you to have to handle that.” He bit his lip uncertainly. “I know my way about this town. It may have been fifteen years, but I know better. No one has ever cared, Hol. And I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised its still this way. If it had changed for the better, I’d imagine this is my heaven and I am dead.” He smirked.

“It’s fine, Mortimer. I don’t sleep much at night, and the room’s just going to a waste.” Rubbing her brow, she gestured to the staircase that led up to the small apartment, “There’s a thrift store down the street, and I’m sure they’ve got a pack n’play for Seta. You want to take care of her, this is the best bet you’re gonna get right now.”

“Thank you, Holly. You have no idea how grateful I am.” He bowed his head to her, eyes shifting to Seta as she began to stir. She lazily lifted her head and began to coo nonsense, Mortimer taking the opportunity to feed her. He gently patted her back. “I have to repay you, Holly.”

“You know I can babysit too, Mort.” Dinah promised, a smile on her face. Mortimer nodded, almost overwhelmed with the support and reunion.

“Thank you,”

“I gotta get back to work…” Holly stated, brushing back her hair, “Just… make yourself comfortable. Key’s on the hook behind the counter. Dinah… I guess I’ll see you around…”

“See you around.” Dinah mumbled, Mortimers eyes meeting hers briefly. There was silence as Mortimer went behind the counter to grab the keys, but slowly popped back up.

“You still live at the same place? I should probably walk you back home…”

“I’ll be fine Morty.” Dinah promised, eyes a little bit red. She stood, finding her footing before releasing a slow breath. “Actually...could you?” Mortimer nodded, biting his lip and glancing back to Holly. “Maybe you should take a break from working. I think, I think we are all needing one.”

“Working isn’t the problem.” Holly muttered, as she started for the garage, “The rest of life is…”
 
Collab: Spilt Tea(flavored ice cream) Reggie @Mobley Eats

Monday couldn’t remember the last time she sat down and shoved her face full of ice cream. She could estimate, recalling the one time she and Jane had watched the Notebook and shoved cartons of ice cream into each other’s faces. She missed Jane, for certain, but one touch of the cross and she was back in time again. Jane’s arms were still about her waist, telling Monday that she was loved. Telling Monday that not all men are supposed to be dicks.

And she supposed Jane was partially correct. Red here was a bit grumpy, but he offered to split the bill for the ice cream. She supposed that this was an incredibly kind thing to do, and she felt her heart warm at the prospect of making a friend. Monday wasn’t always a social person, but it did feel nice every once in a while. She bounced on her shoes as she got her order, cookie dough her poison of the day. It was a miracle that the shop wasn’t incredibly crowded, although she knew very well how tourist traps worked. They filled up, quick. Sardines in a tin.

“Thank you again.” Monday claimed, fetching her ten dollar bill and paying for it before he had a chance to argue. She pocketed the remaining change into her coat, strolling to take a seat and get cozy. Her entire body was so relaxed that her back was forced to support most of her body. “I really appreciate the distraction. I wasn’t too keen on going to that house, so I am glad I have a little time.”

Annoyance reigned supreme over every inch of Reggie; his visage, his posture, his grumbles, his aura...everything. He hated himself. He hated his mouth so much, especially now. Why did he have to do this to himself? What devil spirit possessed him to invite this woman to a tour of town and ice cream?

He blamed Koda. Cheating bastard and his bloody generosity; it was like toxic sugar that one could never wash off their skin. He pulled from his thoughts long enough to order Moose Tracks ice cream, one of his favorite flavors. Well, it was actually Koda’s until he got him hooked on it...Reggie shook the memory off and rolled his eyes at how quickly Monday paid for her share. “Paranoid much?” he said, shaking his head. Regardless, he sat across from her, though he refused to make eye contact.

“Err...no problem. Let’s just eat and keep pit moving.” He wasn’t really in the right mindset for extensive conversation, let alone paying much attention to reality in general. And, because of this, the next thing he did was entirely unintentional. He lifted the cone--to take a lick, obviously, only to smear the treat all over his nose. “Ah, fu...f-f--”

And he sneezed.

All over his ice cream. A small spurt of the cold treat flew, missing Monday entirely, but decorating his beet red face like an angry Christmas tree. For a moment, all was quiet, before he seethed behind clenched teeth, “Not...a single...word.”

“Oh, of course.” Monday was happily munching a piece of cookie dough from the ice cream, only to hear a distraught sneeze moments later. Her eyes widened at the spectacle before her, the poor man before her red and smeared with ice cream over his nose. For a moment, Monday wanted to laugh. She really did. Her own face grew red, but she realized how shitty of a day this man was having. Laughing was cruel, considering his distraction. Clasping a hand over her mouth, she gestured for him to give her a minute. She climbed out of her seat, scrambling for her remaining change, nearly letting giggles burst forth. Don’t laugh...don’t laugh…

“M-m-moose tracks?” She stammered cautiously, the laugh bubbling in her chest until it burned. She would not. She would not. She ordered with her cheeks red, a hand over her face, and shaky hands. Getting the second treat, she glided by him and placed it in his hand, before skimming over to her seat. To silence herself, she pressed her ice cream to her lips. “T-there you g-g-g-go.”

Although Monday making a visible effort not to laugh, her amusement wasn’t lost on Reggie and as a result, his blush darkened ten fold. He remained where he was, yanking a napkin free of the dispenser and cleaning his face all while grumbling under his breath, “Bloody stupid day. Bloody stupid town. Bloody stupid broken phone. Bloody stupid ice cream--Bloody stupid bumbling woman…” However, his complaining died once she returned, somewhat surprised that she had paid for another ice cream cone.

Reggie glared at the treat, as if it was the reason he was having such a fucked up day. After a moment, he glanced up at Monday, then back down...then back up again. He pressed the cone to his lips, letting loose a low and snippy “thank you”. He slid down in his seat a little, appearing very much like a child who’d been scolded by his nanny.

He glared at Monday. “What’s so bloody damn funny…”

“N-nothing.” She stammered, shaking her head as the red managed to vanish. However, an idea blossomed in her head and the giggles threatened to escape her once more. Dramatically, she brought the ice cream to her mouth and took a lick, making sure to purposely blot her nose with some of the vanilla. She raised her eyes to meet him, brows wiggling. “See, all good and fun here,” She paused, making a silly face as she brushed the ice cream off with her thumb and smearing it on a napkin. “C-c-cold.” She grumbled, swinging her legs slightly underneath the table.

“The bloody fuck are you laughing at?” Reggie was sopping wet, glaring daggers at the broken faucet as he gushed overhead like a fountain.

Another giggle from Koda, though he did his best to smother it. “S-sorry, sorry. It’s just...Oh dear. You remind me of a grumpy cat taking a bath. It’s adorable.”

Reggie’s glare increased ten fold.

“Oh goodness, you’re still snippy...Here!” Suddenly, he seized the sink with both hands and leaned forward to stick his head into the geyser, whipping himself back. He was now just as soaked as Reggie, maybe worse. “Better?” he chuckled, eyes twinkling.


Reggie blinked slowly, just staring at Monday with a slew of mixed emotions. “Uh...just eat your ice cream, fucking weirdo,” he stammered, eyes glued to the table.

“Right. Sorry.” Monday wasn’t quite sure what she was apologizing for, but she figured she did something to cause him emotional turmoil. What, was a girl making a fool of herself enough to make him upset? She shrugged. It didn’t really matter. As much as she was trying to enjoy herself, he doubt he would seriously consider a friendship. And that was okay, because Monday wanted to get out of the hellhole as soon as possible.

Check in on old Momma Goodman, make sure she’s still kicking and not dead from the needle, then scadaddle. Simple as that. But then again...maybe I should consider what Gar said. Don’t be a Goodman. Be a good man. But the problem is...I am not a good man.

Monday sighed. “Okay. Buck up, Red. And I will have you know, combining “fucking” with anything else makes it ten times more intense. And I am way too tiny to be an intense weirdo.”

Reggie almost wanted to say something in response to the apology, only to have second thoughts and close his mouth. She might’ve been a pain in the ass, but she didn’t do anything in particular that warranted a “sorry”, unless being “intensely weird” was a crime nowadays. Either way, the redhead overlooked it and rolled his eyes at Monday’s attempt to lift his mood. “Buck up, she says. I’ll keep that in mind for my collage of inspirational quotes…And I beg to differ, Shortstack.”

For the briefest moment, amusement danced in his eyes.

“Size doesn’t always matter, not for being a bloody intense weirdo. I say you fit the bill just fine,” he said.

“You have an entire fucking collage, and you call me the intense weirdo.” She teased him, nibbling once more at a chunk of cookie dough. Bliss overtook her features, and with a near full mouth she claimed. “Thank you.” She swallowed, bestowing a grin. “I take much pride in knowing I fit at least one bill. I guess I have Napoleon syndrome, I swear I have the heart of a lion, but the size of a rabbit.” She leaned back in her seat, once again swinging her feet(But being extra careful of his own). “I know I shouldn’t pry, but what are you doing for this Summer of Love and Bullshit?”

“Apparently you’re a bloody nerd too,” Reggie mumbled, releasing a small scoff. He listened tiredly while eating his ice cream, though he stopped abruptly as annoyance seized him from head to toe. “Like Hell I’m going to that,” he said, “Anything to do with summer, the season from Satan and Love, the product of Satan Jr, and I’m out of there. Probably just stay inside and drown in Netflix and collages.” He tagged that last bit with a mocking hint to his tone, though it wasn’t entirely directed at Monday.

“A bloody nerd and proud.” Monday put on her best British accent, although it faltered into an unfathomable and nearly unidentifiable Scottish accent. She blushed briefly. “That actually sounds like a lot of fun. I have been meaning to binge.” She grinned fully, exposing her pearly teeth. “I think if I do get the opportunity to binge its going to be one of those dumbass baking shows. Maybe

I’ll drown in trying to make sweets of my own. Or...man, I haven’t read a good comic in a while. Maybe binge Marvel?” Her voice became laced with dreaminess. “Chris Evans can save me from world destruction anyday.”

Reggie’s nose scrunched up at the awful accent. “Wha...Is that supposed to be me? Bloody Christ, that was damn awful.” A laugh escaped him, only for it to vanish just as quickly, his mouth snapping shut as he cleared his throat. “Practice, short stuff. Practice. Lots of it...Baking shows, huh.” He shot her a skeptical look. The redhead wasn’t afraid to admit that baking shows were entertaining, as long one watched it with the right company. At the very least, her presence didn’t make him want to vomit or strangle a daisy…

No. That was dumb. No Netflix nights with this...this miniature wackjob. He was insane for even dabbling in the idea. “Slow down, munchkin. Your little nerdling is showing…” In the next moment, he had finished his ice cream, munching away at the last of his cone.

“Hey, I tried. I bet you can’t impersonate me.” She claimed with a light pout, although a smirk overcame her at the sound of his laugh. Oddly enough, when he did laugh, it was nice. And, surprisingly not mocking?

“Oi, nothing wrong with Mary Berry. Old lady knows how to critique a English pastry.” Monday grumbled, realizing now that she wasn’t sure if she still even had a Netflix account.

Maybe dick ex wouldn’t mind if I sneaked into his account. Sounds good to me

With that decided, Monday was content and smiling once more. “Hey...nothing wrong with being a nerdling.” She pouted once again, until a brilliant thought hit her “Dude, have you seen The Good Place? That would be an awesome show to binge. I’ve watched it three times already.” She cleared her throat. “Er, might be inching more into nerd territory.”

“You’re right, I can’t and I won’t be trying anytime soon,” Reggie said, smirking faintly. “Tophet only needs one squeaky babbling leprechaun. And...I actually don’t know who the bloody hell Mary Cranberry is. You’re spouting a foreign language now, chipmunk.”

He extracted another napkin, cleaning up any mess he had leftover on the table. It didn’t matter where he ate; Reggie hated leaving a public restaurant and not tidying up his area. It was annoying. He casually leaned forward to clean up any bits Monday had dropped too...and continued doing so in one minute intervals as they continued conversing.

“Okay, obviously you binge far more than I do--congratulations,” he said sarcastically. “I’ve heard of The Good Place and I’ll admit, the trailer intrigued me. A Good Place for heaven, a Bad Place for hell…” He crossed both arms on the table, squinting at the woman as if he was scrutinizing her. “Now...I will bet money that your tiny ass would wind up in the Bad Place. Just for that horrid accent.”

“Oi, now I’m a chipmunk? Make up your mind, am I a munchkin, a short stack or a chipmunk? All have very different connotations.” She watched him begin to clean the table of their mess, a frown at her lips. She tended not to clean up until she was fully done, but as she nibbled the final piece of the cone, she reached over to assist him. She hummed merrily.

“Oh yes, I am meant for the Bad Place. But I think I’ve got Saint Peter on my side.” She patted the cross underneath her shirt, her smile somber. “Kind of have a promise going on.” Her lips pursed in thought, taking a napkin to wipe her lips of any remaining ice cream. “But if I do end up in the Bad Place, at least it’ll be warmer than New England.”

“You’re all three, live with it,” Reggie grumbled, pausing only momentarily when Monday started helping him clean up. Some discomfort bubbled under his skin, unsure of how to receive the action; in the end, he settled for smothering the emotion and focused on the woman again, taking note of her slight dip in mood after mentioning Saint Peter. So there was something there and apparently something of decent importance to her.

“A promise to go with a necklace.” It came out more as an observation rather than a question, the slightest hint of interest in his eyes. “Nothing too warm for you, Weekday. Your pasty ass wouldn’t make it. Neither would I,” he tacked on the ending in a muted mumble; he wasn’t blind to how pasty pale he was.

“All three, hmm?” She questioned, finding content with it at least being confirmed by this red head goofball. Her hand tensed as she finished cleaning, his words managing to strike deeper than she thought they would. Disposing of the napkins quietly, she slowly managed. “A prayer a day keeps the demons away, don’t you know?” She pushed that piece of the conversation aside, Jane’s voice ever present in her ear.

“Heh. We could firebathe together you know. Get our pasty asses super crisp.” Pressing her fingers together, she made a sizzling sound as she pressed her tongue against her teeth. “...That sounds worse than I thought it would.”

Reggie knew when to let a topic slide, he knew the signals on an intimate level. Lips pursed, he shrugged in response and decided to reply to her latter comment about firebathing, though he committed “A prayer a day keeps the demons away” to memory. Well, he knew the say already--obviously--but the fact that it held some sort of significance for Monday was new information.

“I can firebathe on my bloody own, thanks,” he said, smirking somewhat. “And you’re right. That sounds fucking strange, half of the reason being that it came from your weirdo ass. Now,” He stood from the table, adjusting his expensive jacket accordingly. “Are we through with this…” A quick glance around. “Frozen Children parlor of doom?”

“Don’t make me firebathe all by myself. I don’t need some demons to get any ideas.” She winked at him, withholding all the ass jokes possible that she could make. “Hmm. Anything that I say is gonna sound weird regardless.” She slowly made her way to her feet, smirking at him.

“Frozen Children parlor of Doom? Who ruined your childhood?” She questioned lightly, chuckling under her breath as she brushed off her shirt. “To your phone call, or will you indulge me in freedom for a little bit longer?” Monday felt her shoulders slump, realizing now that staying away from the problem for any longer would only cause more problems. “You know what, thank you for the little freedom I have. But for now, your phone call awaits.”

“Everything,” Reggie said with an eye roll. Of course, that was a gross exaggeration, but he didn’t have enough motivation to feel embarrassed about it. He was somewhat surprised to see Monday swallow back her displeasure and accept the inevitable, but again, he wasn’t one to shine a light on topics that were not any of his business. The redhead shrugged before exiting the parlor, holding the door open for Monday. Instinct. Not intention. The Johnsons had drilled manners into him like a naval soldier.

“Then let’s not make it wait any longer,” he grumbled.
 
Leon happily settled back into the living room once the pastry was placed into the oven to bake. He placed his hands in his lap and hummed, the conversation that he had engaged with in previous minutes haunting his head. He did not know how to feel, but he knew that he had a promise to uphold. He was just fearful that she would attempt to make another move, but he felt that he had set appropriate boundaries. There was one last thing to do, although he knew it would be hard for her. A few minutes of silence passed before he emerged from his seat, hands clasped in front of him politely.

“Ginny, dear, I believe that after we are done baking, we should go inform someone, even if it is not your mother, that you are alive and well. It would be better for you to introduce yourself now rather than waiting for Isaiah Killigan to somehow find out.”

A frown crossed Ginny’s lips as she looked up at him, “...God. Isaiah Killigan’s still here? What’d they blackmail you all to stay or something? I figured he’d blow out of here first chance he got.” Shaking her head, she looked away, “I dunno, Leon… I just… What’s the point? No one even cares…”

“Isaiah has been here a long time. I don’t think he has it in his heart to leave. He took over his family’s business, you know. I think the writing provides as therapy.” Leon could remember the time when only alcohol could soothe that man’s sorrows. It shifted fairly quickly, but the memories remained lodged in Leon’s skull. “I do not think that is true, Gin. I think we at least need to inform people you are okay. We’ve had other childhood friends, and I bet there is someone in your family you missed you so much it hurt.”

Biting her cheek, she shook her head. She hadn’t wanted to think about it… but he wasn’t gonna let her get away with that, and somehow, she wasn’t surprised, “Hell, Leon. Ain’t fair you’re gonna make me so tense and not let me do anything about it.” A sigh escaped, as she ran her fingers through her hair, “Is… is old Abraham still around, too?”

“Sorry.” He mumbled, his eyes brightening in thought. “I believe Abraham is still around, yes. I haven’t seen anything in the newspaper to suggest he has passed. I would guess he’s still even in the same old house. Do...do you wish to go say hello to your grandfather? I think you should. Let him know you are okay.”

Arms looped across her, Ginny shrugged, “I dunno, Leon. It… it’s been a long time.” Looking up at him, eyes uneasy, she shook her head, “He might not even wanna see me.”

“You don’t know until you try, Gin.” He tried to reassure, ruffling her hair with a smile. “I am sure he would be more than excited to realize his granddaughter is alive. Besides, it’s best to let people know you cared and missed them. I promise, you won’t regret at least trying.”

“Bah!” Swatting playfully at his hands, she smoothed back her hair again, shaking her head, “Fine. But if you’re wrong, you owe me, big time…” Pointing up at him, her expression fell serious, “Deal?”

“Sorry again, dear.” He smirked at her playfully, though grew somber quickly. “What do I owe you, perchance?” He questioned, his head tilted

Lowering her finger, she shrugged, “Well, I mean… You ixnayed my usual suggestion,” Giving him a pointed once over, she grinned, “And unless you change your mind, I guess I gotta get creative. Hm. Alright… How about this. If you’re wrong, you owe me the most ridiculous, and unchoreographed dance routine this hellhole of a town has seen.” Holding out her hand, her expression remained straight, “Shake on it.”

“...I am going to do it regardless if it makes you smile. But I will shake.” He took her hand gingerly and gave it a firm shake. “Now come on, let’s go speak with your grandfather. I know I will be right, by the way. I, Leon Jethro Cyrus, am always right.”

“And so humble…” Ginny said, and as he released her hand, she gave his butt the tiniest of taps, “Sorry... “ Holding up her hands, she shrugged, “Not sorry. Lead the way.”

Leon began to internally panic at the touch. Oh God. He knew to expect more of those. He sighed softly and opened the door for her, praying that this trip would go well.

Leon lead her to the car fairly quickly, knowing that his father had left the key back in the main house. After retrieving the item, he raced back to the car and gestured for Ginny to get into the passenger's seat. “Alright. I am about of a subtle funk guy, so feel free to complain about my music choices.” He smirked and started the car, beginning an internal prayer that this would go over well. He was looking forward to the dance, however.

Ginny looked over at him, shaking her head, “Like you need to tell me twice to complain about your music choices?” The words were light enough, but sitting in the car, Ginny felt nothing but weight… Weight, pressing down on her, threatening to bury her. She knew he was right - like a bandaid, she needed to put her name out there to the right people immediately… but hell if it didn’t feel like the sting was worse than the relief.

“I’m gonna shut my eyes for a few minutes, though, so you’re safe… Just lemme know when we get there.”

“Hey, me and Ray Charles have shared some good times together.” Leon promised, pulling out of the driveway and beginning on route towards the address where he believed Abraham would still live. “Will do. Rest well.” He commented, keeping his eyes directed on the road as they went. The silence was nothing new to him, but he felt tension building on his shoulders. He couldn’t help but feel bad for Ginny’s situation, but he knew he was right. She needed to tell her family. Even if it hurt.

The drive was longer than Leon dared to remember from before. He parked on the street, gently tapping Ginnys shoulder. “Here, love.”

Her eyes opened, though she hadn’t really slept, and as she looked out the window, a rush of nostalgia hit her in a wave strong enough to drown. Her eyes stung, and she blinked them rapidly, shaking away the emotion, as she reached for the door handle with a nod, “Great. Let’s get this over with.”

Pushing out of the car, she rose to her feet and breathing in, eyed the house. Abraham Edersheim had lived there his entire life in that home - an enormous brick manor overlooking the water. She could still draw to mind everything about it… the way it smells, the rooms and what they held… even the feel of the rug she’d lay on in the parlor, watching dust motes glide through stream of solid gold sunlight.

Everything had been easier when she was a kid, and too stupid to understand her own mother didn’t want her. Grandpa Abe had been sweet, and she’d loved him. But she was older now, and she’d be nothing but a disappointment…

Drying her cheeks with the back of her hand, she looked to Leon with a nod, “Ready?”

Leon stood hesitantly next to her after jumping out of the car, his hands at his sides. The house was something he could remember as easily as any other home in Tophet, the brick manor reminding him of the old political hall. He exhaled slowly. “I am. If you are. Just remember, I am here for you.”

“Thanks…” She answered honestly, looking up at him with a small smile “Just uh… don’t let me run away too quick, yeah?” With a shaky breath, she started up the small hill, along the cobbled path that led to the door. When she arrived, she paused, staring at the lion-head knocker, remembering fondly how much she had loved it when she was little. Aslan, she’d call it… after her favorite story.

Reaching up, she brushed her fingertips over the handle, before gently knocking.

“I’ll catch you.” Leon promised gently, walking after her and being composed the entire way up. He was used to being silent, although there were a thousand words he would have liked to say to comfort his friend. None of them found way to his lips, and as a result he found himself beside her as she knocked on the door. Leon patiently waited, placing his hand upon her shoulder and giving it a comforting squeeze.

Her smile was gentle, when she looked up at him, surprisingly so. It wasn’t the general Ginny air, and it probably had a large deal to do with the nerves, eating away at her. For several seconds, she waited, and fear plunged heart deeper into her stomach, “Maybe he’s not--”

The door creaked open so suddenly, Ginny jumped, wide-eyed gaze moving to see the young woman standing in the frame, a brow lifted in curiosity, “Can I help you?”

Leon blinked at the sight of a young woman at the door, then realized it was most likely someone who helped Abraham live at the house. It wouldn’t be uncommon for such a thing to happen. He had been in the mood to help Mrs Goodman out from time to time, but it wasn’t like he was ever at her house. “Yes, is Abraham here?”

“Mr. Edersheim is in his study.” She looked between the pair, and her brow remained aloft, “What can I do for you?”

“We’re here to see him… If… if he’s up for it?”

The woman stepped back, considering the question, “I’ll go and ask. Please wait here.”

She closed the door without another word and Ginny blinked, looking to Leon, “I guess we just wait?”

“We should.” Leon took a moment to consider his next words, his hand remaining on her shoulder. “I am sure he is going to be so happy to see you. I am grateful you agreed to go see him. It’s going to be good for the both of you. Promise.”

“You’re just tryin’ to get out of that dance…” Ginny teased, but her smile faded as the door pulled open again and the young woman reappeared.

“He’s very tired, so please be brief. Do you know--”

“I know the way.” Ginny answered with a nod. She looked to Leon, and taking a breath, stepped into the house. Her grandfather’s study was on the lower floor, down a long hallway that was littered with photographs… plants, animals, smiling faces, automobiles, food… anything a person could imagine, it seemed, had been captured, and Ginny remembered almost each and every one with a warm fondness.

At the door, however, that warmth fled as fear assaulted her, and for the second time, she felt frozen by indecision.

“I told you I would dance regardless.” Leon smirked, but noted very quickly that the woman had returned to lead them inside. Keeping near Ginny to encourage her, following close and observing everything the house had to offer. The photographs were beautiful. The house itself was welcoming and warm.

“Hey...You’ve got this.” He reassured her as she stopped at the door, a frown at his features. “I am with you all the way.”

“...I’m not her, anymore, Leon.” She breathed, and in frustration, she could feel her eyes tearing up again, “...I’m not that little girl. And he… he won’t… He’s gonna… I can’t…”

Leon gently took her hand this time, squeezing it and turning to face her. “Ginny. I know this is hard. I cannot begin to put myself into your shoes. But I need you to know, that man, with most certainty, felt his heart rip to shreds when you went missing. He loves you. You should go see him. Because even if you did change, well...that doesn’t change his love for you. I promise.”

“...You’re not going anywhere?” She asked… but it was a question she didn’t need an answer to. Breathing in again, she turned to the door and after knocking, turned it, stepping inside.

He sat where she’d seen him sit so many times before, the same desk, same chair… It was a time warp, as if nothing had changed at all. Nothing but the man himself. He was older, and thinner, and there was a weariness to the man that suggested age had started to get the best of him. As he looked up, however, his eyes were still the same sharp, steely blue, and his smile warm and generous.

“Well… it’s not my birthday… so I’m not sure why you’re here, Pretty Girl… but I’m not complaining.” His eyes shifted, moving past Ginny to Leon, and a brow rose, “Why… Leon? That you?”

“I would never.” He promised, stepping inside after her. Leon felt his chest tighten at the sight of the man, having seen him around before. Leon knew just about everyone in town and made sure everyone was good and happy when they needed him. Abraham was no exception, but the young man felt that the hadn’t spotted the fellow in a good while.

“Hello, Abe.” He greeted pleasantly, a warm smile upon his demeanor. “Looking chipper as always I see. I have some good news for you, but I think miss Ginny should it explain it herself.” He claimed lowly, being sure to be gentle with his words. “Abraham...I have some really, really good news.”

The man’s expression shifted at those words, his eyes shifting between the two, “...G...gin…”

“...Hey.” There was too much in those words… too much emotion, too much pain. Her heart was in her hands and it hurt, but she wasn’t running. Not anymore.

“...Dear God.” Abraham whispered, sitting up straighter, his eyes dancing to Leon again, “...It...you’re… You’re sure?”

“I am sure, Abe. I don’t think I have ever been so sure in my life.” He vowed, a hand over his heart. His eyes flickered to Ginny. “It’s her. I am sure that this is your granddaughter.”

Rising from his seat, he moved, perhaps a little too quickly, stumbling for a moment, before his hand grasped his cane, and Ginny held her breath, watching him come closer. He looked up at her, his eyes studying her, before without a word, his arms came around her. The sob came, unbidden, as Ginny returned the embrace, and for several minutes, there was just that moment… unspoken and tender.

When Abraham finally released her and stepped back, he shook his head in disbelief, “...I don’t understand. They said you were dead. How is this possible?”

“...It’s… it’s a really long story, Grandpa Abe. And it’s not my favorite to tell. Think… think we could just skip that part for a little while?”

Nodding, Abraham gestured to the couch a little ways away, “Please… Both of you. Sit.”

Leon took a polite step back as the grandfather and granddaughter reunited. A small smile threatened to peek at his lips, the sight soothing to him. He had been right. He wanted to make sure that Ginny knew that she had been missed. That she had been loved. “Turns out as per the usual, the Killigans highly exaggerated the story.” Leon mumbled, although now he could feel his chest throb for Theona.

But now there was a chance that she too was alive.

“Thank you sir.” Leon bobbed his head and slowly took a seat, hands folded in his lap. “Your granddaughter met up with me today. Her story is...quite something. But I can assure you she is quite the strong woman, and she is currently taking residence with me until she can get back to her feet. She is doing very well.”

Looking to Leon, as he sank into a seat as well, Abraham nodded in appreciation, “Thank you. I’ve no doubt she’s in good hand. I would offer you stay here, my dear Virginia, but this place? It’s cold and dark… and I’m an boring, old man.”

Sitting beside Leon, Ginny shook her head, “You know I love this house. But… but things are gonna be weird for a little while, Abe. And I don’t wanna bring that down on you. Leon, here, he’s a big, though guy… he’ll keep the vultures away, while we figure things out. But I… I’d like to see you. Visit?”

“I would hope so…” Abraham said, with a laugh, “Forgive me… I’m still quite in awe. So long, Ginny, I have prayed that you were alive. I had never truly believed you could be gone. And here you are…”

“You are always welcomed at the Cyrus home, Abraham.” Leon vowed, hand pressed along his chest. “Please, if you are in the mood, come swing by. Dad is always in the mood to share his food with people anyway.” He smiled pleasantly at the two, leaning back into the couch. He could not imagine the pain Abraham went through. Leon went through his own sorrows, but he imagined a biological child or grandchild was far different. “She’s quite the survivor Abe. She can throw a bit of a punch.” He teased her, bouncing his elbow lightly against her shoulder.

“Oh, ho! I don’t doubt it!” Abraham laughed again, as Ginny’s cheeked reddened slightly, “My Ginny was always a firecracker… Though I do hope you weren’t on the receiving end of that particular bit?”

“Oh no sir I was most certainly not. I am not a fool to pick a fight with this lovely lass.” Leon vowed, grinning contently at the man. “Little redhead at the bar. You know how they can be Abe. Cranky and irritating.” Leon rolled his eyes. “But, there is no matter to that. I am quite proud of her strength, Abe. I am telling you, she’s one hell of a survivor.”

“I don’t doubt that, either.” Abraham’s voice softened, and he smiled warmly, as Ginny stared a frayed string on her jeans.

“You two keep talkin’ about me like I’m some kinda saint. Honest… it’s not that big.” Smiling dryly, she shrugged, “I just… I got by cause I had to. That’s all.”

“Still something to be proud of.” Leon protested, shaking his head. “A lot of people wouldn’t have been able to do what you did. Or tackle with the same speed you did. Seriously...think you set a record…”

“A tackle??” Abraham’s amusement lit up again, and Ginny shook her head, giving Leon a gentle nudge with her elbow.

“Would you stop? You’re gonna make him think I’m some international assassin or something.” Smiling, she shook her head, “It wasn’t a big deal, Abe. Just… someone with a big mouth, and I reacted.”

“Mm… A big mouth in this town? I can’t imagine.” Chuckling, he shook his head, coughing into the bridge of his hand as it built into a hack.

“Oh, so you are telling me you aren’t an internal assassin?” Leon cooed, ruffling her hair playfully. Hearing Abraham cough, however, our concern into the young man’s stomach. He hopped to his feet and inquired “Sir are you okay?” He took a step or two closer.

Waving his off, Abraham gave another shake of his head, as Ginny sat up, concerned laced in her features as well.

“It’s fine… it’s fine.” Sitting back, he breathed in deep, coughed once more, then sank deeply into the chair, “I suppose it’s best I’m forthright with you, seeing how you’ve been through quite an ordeal…” Folding his hands in his lap, he looked between the two, “It’s ironic, Ginny, you’ve chosen now to rise from the grave, when I’ve got one foot in mine.”

“...W...what?” Ginny asked, her voice losing strength for a moment, cracking, “N...no. I… I don’t understand?”

“My lungs aren’t what they used to be. In fact, they’re… well, it’s a small miracle they’re functioning at all. It’s terminal, Virginia. I’m sorry.”

Leon’s heart dropped to his stomach and he slowly sunk back into the couch. Terminal. Abraham was going to die, as all things did, but Leon still felt his heart threatening to pound straight from his chest. “I am so sorry, Abe.” He had no doubt this man would find the straight path to heaven, but it was still hard to realize the mortal plane was ending. Especially when Ginny had just returned.

Ginny said nothing, her eyes falling to the floor as she listened to him talk. The words revolved over and over in her mind, steadily over-powered by the sound of her heartbeat in her ears. Terminal.

The one damn person who wanted her… and he was checking out early.

“...I’m sorry, too.” she whispered, shaking her head, “...How long?”

“...Six months. Maybe a year, if I don’t decline. I’m not giving up, Gin. I want you to know that. Especially not now. But… but I thought it was fair you should know.”

“...Right.” Ginny nodded, rubbing her palms on her jeans, “Right. Well, hey… That’s some time, right?”

The door opened, and the young woman peeked her head in, “Mr. Edersheim? It’s nearly noon…”

“Ah… My jailer.” He said with a small grin, “Melinda. This is Virginia… Ginny. My granddaughter, and Leon. Her friend.”

Melinda stepped fully into the room, her eyes skimming over the pair with curiosity, “...I’m sorry, sir… Didn’t… wasn’t your granddaughter…”

“No small miracle, my dear.”

“Hm. So it seems…” There was a flicker of doubt in the woman’s eyes, but it softened as she bowed her head, “It’s nice to meet you both. I’m sorry to interrupt but…”

“Yes, yes. Noon. Ginny… my darling. I must be off. But please do promise you’ll come by again? The both of you?” He added, looking to Leon.

“Yes. We will both be back to visit. I promise Abraham. Daily if need be.” He promised, biting down on his lip in uncertainty. The situation was nowhere good, but there was a bright side. Ginny had time to make amends. She had time to say goodbye. Something she wouldn’t have had had they stayed at the apartment. His eyes flickered apologetically to the woman. “A pleasure to have met you as well. Thank you for caring for him, the good man.”

“Gin?” He questioned, offering his hand as he stood from the couch. Concern was present along his features.

Nodding, Ginny rose, her expression steel, “We'll be back. C'mon Leon. Let's get outta their hair…”

“Okay.” Slowly Leon led Ginny out of the room, his heart in his throat. Once they were down the hall a little bit, Leon turned to face the young woman and asked her softly, with the grace and cautiousness of an attentive caretaker. “Are you okay, love?”

Taking in a breath, Ginny shrugged, and her eyes stared at a fuzz on Leon's shoulder with fixed attention, “I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be. I'm always fine. We should go, yeah?”

“Yes, we should.” Leon took a moment to consider his next words. “What happened is hard to handle, I know Ginny. But I just need to make sure you are alright after the news. It’s okay to feel saddened about it, I myself am very saddened by the news.”

“Don’t worry about me, Lionheart.” Ginny stated, with a smile that never quite reached her eyes, “I’m a survivor, like you said. Besides… It’s been a while, right. Why get attached.”

“Because its a good thing to at least say goodbye.” Leon told her gently, feeling his chest tremble. “Because he still loves you, and I know you still love him. It’s going to be good to at least spend what time he has left together. Make him happy before he goes. No regrets, Gin.”

“Yeah…” She murmured softly, “Maybe. I dunno. Not exactly a champion at making people happy, but I’ll do what I can.” Clearing her throat, she straightened, hands sliding into her pockets, “Anyhow. Can’t stop it, right? Let’s go.”

“You make me fairly happy.” Leon claimed with a smile, unlocking the car and climbing in silently. “We can at least enjoy the tart when we get home.”

“Careful, Leon…” she said with a small smirk, “I’m gonna think you’re talkin’ about me.” Slipping into the car, she frowned softly, her legs curled up on the seat, arms looped around them. It was too much. Too damn much. And she was ready to go home...
 
Collab Post: Kal and the Awkward Boi | Interactions: Grant @Elle Joyner , Mr. Grotski & Kahlila | Location: Johnsons Household


...Welp. Shit. This was happening.

Kal may or may not have been gripping the steering wheel tighter than was necessary, but every other inch of her demeanor radiated her usual energetic nonchalance. A paradox, but that was how she rolled. Intended to always roll. She didn’t have much to say during the drive, eyes set ahead as she let The Beatles blast from her speakers once more, humming along to every song.

It was insane--she remembered where her home was. Like it was nothing. But, then again, who’s to say they didn’t move? Maybe they relocated after all these years? And maybe, hopefully, this trip would be all for nothing...Naw. Kal couldn’t afford to think like that. Shouldn’t. It was jacked up. No matter what she felt, that was her fam and they deserved to know that she was alive. She just wished she knew what would come after.

Grant was grateful for the uncomfortably squashed feeling Kal’s car gave him. Without that notion, he might’ve had time to focus on the news he received from Maria, and the last thing he wanted was to dwell… It wasn’t ideal, but he had other things to deal with, first, and the main priority at the moment was Kal’s own reunion.

Looking over at her, he managed a small, weary smile, “You alright? Good to go…?”

Kal nodded. Once, just once. “Yep,” she said, popping the “p”, “Good as I’ll ever be, Grant my man.”

Chuckling, Grant gestured faintly to the steering wheel, “You sure? Cause if that thing had lungs, you’d be guilt of murder, right now.”

“Man, wha’chu talking about?” Kal chuckled, slackening her grip and casting him a side glance. “It’s fine, everything’s cool. Good in the neighborhood. I’m swaggin’, totally fine.” There were almost there, now that Kal thought about it. Damn...time sure was moving fast, wasn’t it? It didn’t seem that speedy on their drive to Grant’s house.

“Oh, no doubt…” Grant said with a nod that suggested he didn’t believe one work out of the woman’s mouth, his smile still warm, “But, you know… if you weren’t, that’d be okay, too. I already got mine out of the way and I’m still shaking inside. This… this is kind of one of those things in life that’s just… scary.”

Kal sighed, catching the obvious “I call bullshit” in Grant’s tone. Damn, what was she even bugging about? She was totally fine a few minutes ago. “...Alright. Okay. Maybe I’m a little shaky, but I’m not scared or anything. Just, uh…” Her fingers drummed against the wheel. “Kinda wish I knew what was coming, ya know?” Her voice trailed off as the Johnson household came into view; there it was, still painted a crisp blue...That was a fresh coat, Kal could tell, and the lawn was in pristine condition. They were still neat freaks, to this very day.

“Welp, nervous or not, can’t really turn back now,” Kal said, biting the inside of her cheek.

“I hear ya…” He said with a nod, before reaching out to give one of her hands a ginger squeeze, “I’ve got your back, Kal. No matter how this goes down… you were there for me, and I’m gonna be there for you. Alright?”

Kal parked in the driveway, falling back into her seat as she took a moment to breathe, to register the care behind Grant’s touch. He meant every word, of course he did, but thinking about it made the knots in her stomach loosening up, if only a little. She patted his hand with her free one. “Thanks, Grant my man. I just uh, need to breathe, grab that snorkel, and swan dive into this shit, right? Won’t be bad at all!”

Finding a speck of confidence, she quickly seized it and get out, scaling up to the front door. She didn’t give herself a chance to hesitate; nodding at Grant, she jammed her thumb into the doorbell and a soft chime reached their ears. Serene.

In an instant, there was a click. A patient pause, then the door opened, revealing an older male with kind eyes and salt-pepper facial hair. He was a bit meatier than others, but wore the weight like a pleasant modern day Santa. “Yes? Are the Johnsons expecting company today?” he asked, eyeing Kal and Grant.

Kal opened her mouth...then closed it. “Um...uh,” she stammered, struggling to focus. “...Grotski? Mr. Grotski?”

Grotski squinted, withdrawing his reading glasses to get a better look at the pair. “I, why yes, that’s me. Do I know either of you?”

Looking to Kal, Grant gave her arm a small squeeze again, looking up at the woman with a nod, “My name is Oliver Grant, and his…” Looking to Kal, he waited, patiently.

As if the squeeze had jostled her from a dream, Kal blinked the fog away and started fumbling through her pockets. “Uh, shit! I mean, crap, yeah, hold on.” She pulled out the paper doll, still in origami swan form and held it up for Grotski to see. “So, uh, Grotski, my man. Gonna sound weird but...Kahlila. Kahlila Johnson? That’s me. We...You taught me everything I knew back in the day, before, you know…”

Grotski fell silent, watching Kal spiral into a bumbling mess with unreadable eyes. He glanced back over his shoulder, as if making sure someone didn’t call him name, then back at the pair. The smallest hint of sadness tinted his features. “...Listen, ma’am, sir, you both seem like lovely people, but I’m terribly busy at the moment. Perhaps you can schedule an appointment with the Johnsons at a later date?”

“Wha…” Kal nearly deflated, but forced herself to keep face and push on, “No, dude, seriously, it’s me! I mean, can’t we sit and talk a little? Just a few minutes?”

Grotski shifted uncomfortably. “I really shouldn’t…”

“She came all this way… and this is her family.” Grant added, frowning softly, “Least you can do is hear her out… right?”

Grotski’s brow furrowed, the first sign of annoyance he’d shown so far. However, just as he was about to protest further, a small voice traveled from inside the house. Young. “Mr. Grotskiiiii, I don’t know this one!”

A little girl came bounding up to the door, clutching onto Mr. Grotski’s pants leg and preparing to bombard him with rapid fire questions, a paperback mathematic book dangling from her free hand. However, her attention was instantly on Kal and Grant, the former locking eyes with her.

The similarity was striking. Hard to ignore nor deny.

Hesitantly, Grotski shushed the child and gestured inside. “In a moment, Kahlila. In a moment. Work on the next problem for me.” Kahlila pouted, not exactly keen on the idea of foiling her procrastination plot, but she obeyed either way and ran off, the sound of her bumping into something expensive along the way.

Kal...didn’t really know what to say. Or do. She just stood there, mouth clenched shut and openly staring at Grotski. The old man took a step back, hand clenching the door knob. “I don’t wish to be rude, but I’m in the middle of a lesson,” he said.

Grant stared in shock, his eyes widening at the name that rolled from Grotski’s tongue. He’d expected a lot, but this… this was…

Reaching out, his fingers gripped Kal’s hand, and he shook his head, “Are the Johnsons home or not? Because we’re not leaving… Not until Kal’s said her peace.”

“Listen,” Grotski sighed, pulling out a small writing pad and pen from his chest pocket, “I follow strict rules and regulations as assigned by the Johnsons...I truly am sorry for this and whatever’s troubling you, but I cannot allow you inside without an appointment. We can schedule one as soon as possible; all I need is your contact information.”

“Grostki,” Kal started, her voice small, confused, “Dude, please…” Her brain scrambled for the right thing to say, something that would at least garner a speck of belief in the man’s eyes...She could try that. She could, but it was a longshot. “You know, you uh...you liked teaching me quotes and shit, said it’d keep me sharp? Um,” she shifted a little, “Keep your face always toward the sun…and shadows will fall behind you. Walt Whitman, right? You always loved that shit.”

The rotund man, even with years of practiced poise and patience, couldn’t hide the pure recognition that flashed in his eyes, yet everything else about him remained stoic. Quickly, she scribbled something down on the pad, ripped it out, and shoved it into Kal’s hands. “Call me later tonight, ma’am. I bid both of you a fine evening,” he rushed out, starting to close the door.

It was evident, the recognition, and still the man closed the door on them. Grant’s cheeks flushed with irritation as she shook his head, staring at the door knocker with all the consideration of ripping it off and throwing it across the front lawn in pure spite, “...Hell. Kal… I…” But what could he say? What words were even worth saying.

That was it. That was everything to it. Kal stared at the crumpled up sheet in her hands, using every last iota of will power to erase the quivering from her form. This turned out...far different than she expected. She anticipated some fucked shit, she totally did, but this was nothing like she ever imagined. Technically, completely, without a shadow of a doubt...she’d been replaced. All the way down to the name.

Sucking in a slow breath, she stashed the paper away and shot Grant a tight-lipped smile. “Well damn...Hell is right, Grant my man. Let’s go,” she said, forcing herself to descend the front steps.

Blinking, Grant watched as she started down the steps and shaking his head, he looked back at the door. Taking a breath, he knocked again, harder this time.

“Dude,” Kal sighed, reaching out for his shoulder, “Let it go, it’s cool--”

However, true to form, Grotski answered the door once more, though his polite expression was quickly awash with exhaustion. “Please, just leave me and my student in peace,” he muttered, rubbing his brow.

“Oh, trust me, bud. I got about eight seconds left in me to stand here and deal. But those eight seconds, you’re gonna just listen, alright? I’ve known Kal about three hours now, and I can already tell that she’s just about the coolest, most special person I’ve ever met. And if that isn’t good enough for you or your people, then that’s too damn bad… but pretty fair, cause you know what? You don’t deserve her. So go ahead, go back to your lesson… and to your little clone, alright? And enjoy the festering guilt of knowing that you turned her away, and lost out.” Stepping back down the first step, he shook his head, “You know who she is… you just don’t wanna see it.” Turning away, he nodded to Kal, “...Let’s go.”

A tense pause followed Grant’s words. Among that silence, Kal gaped at her friend, brain absolutely frying around the edges as gratefulness flared up her spine. In a matter of seconds, the gape twisted into a smile that could rival the radiance of the sun. It still hurt to be replaced, but it helped to realize that her friendship with Grant was irreplaceable.

In comparison to her excitement, Grotski withered under the assault like a slug treading through salt piles. He didn’t fight back, didn’t protest, because a large part of himself couldn’t hope to do so. Plus, raising voices while Kahlila was around would be unsavory and ultimately reach the Johnson’s ears by nightfall.

“Well...it seems that I’ve rattled your cages. I’m sorry for any inconveniences, sir, but…”A glimmer of wetness shimmered in the old man’s eyes. “My Kahlila was taken ages ago. I’ve moved on...Perhaps you both should move on as well.” He locked eyes with Kal once more, a message hidden deep within them, but the woman couldn’t tell if she could decipher it or not. Swiftly, the door closed once more and the pair were left alone.

“Dude...Grant,” Kal breathed, “That was…awesome. Intense, b-but awesome.” She smiled at the man, a hint more of the hurt lifting from her shoulders, though she knew it’d all come crashing back down in due time.

“I’m sorry, Kal, I know I--”But as she continued, Grant blinked, and a small, sheepish smile came to his lips as he shrugged “...Honestly, I meant every word. You got me through Maria, and that crap news about my mom. It’s the least I could do.” A sigh escaped and he glanced back over his shoulder, “...They’ll come around, Kal. And if not, well… You got me.”

Gently, Kal punched him in the shoulder. “And that’s all I need, Grant my man,” she said before shoving both hands into her jacket pockets and nodding back at her car. “This day has been official shit, yeah? Think we oughtta fix that with some chilling and junk food,” she said, voice carefully nonchalant. She’d rather be alone for the night, wanted to be, but knew that she needed to have Grant around, at least for a little while longer.

Nodding, Grant slung his arm across her shoulder with a small chuckle, “Sounds like a plan to me, Kal.” The smile faded ever so slightly as he started for the car, “But uh… just so you know. If you need to pull on that whole… venting promise… you just let me know yeah?”

Kal hopped in and cranked the engine, allowing herself a brief moment of contemplation as she focused on the tank gauge. Nearly full; man, this was such a small town that she barely had to fill up. Any other time, she would’ve felt pumped about that. “I know,” she quipped, “I ain’t forgotten about it. Just uh...don’t really wanna talk it out just yet. Can I, just...kinda…” Nervously, she placed one hand down, palm faced skyward with her gaze locked ahead. “Gimme a hand to squeeze? Just for a hot minute? Swear I’m not tryna make it awkward or anything, just, uh...yeah.”

Grant didn’t even wait for her reassurance before his hand fell into hers with a nod, “Whatever you need, Kal. Honest. Whatever you need…”

Shooting him another smile, Kal squeezed his hand and pulled out of the driveway. She couldn’t get back to the Inn fast enough.
 
  • Sympathy & Compassion
Reactions: KatSea
Collab: Apartment Therapy, Ginny @Elle Joyner

Leon drove silently, the trip to the apartment rather uneventful. He made sure that his taste in music was muted, that he drove at an appropriate speed to deliver them home, that he didn’t accidentally pick at a nerve. He knew how delicate the situation was at this point. The terminal illness of her grandfather was tragic. Having been separated fifteen years ago was tragic. Feeling alone was...Leon did not know how to comfort the young woman. He knew that he could house her, that he could provide her a comfortable environment for her to settle into. He could not bring the person she cared for to proper health. He could not restore the fifteen years of loss, of separation, of the trauma that Diablo brought.

He parked in the front. His father wasn’t home yet, and as far as he knew, the apartment was still in its serene calm. He hopped out of the car and opened her door for her. “After you.” He managed a soft smile at her, hoping to bring her some peace.

What she wanted… what she desperately wanted more than anything, was a drink. It was a dangerous mentality - she knew. But she didn’t care. She’d received just about the worst news she could imagine receiving, and a dry apartment was hardly something she was looking forward to.

Stepping inside, she ran her fingers through her hair with a deep breath, “Not exactly how I pictured any of that going…”

“I know, and I am sorry. I am sorry about Abe.” Leon stepped in after her, closing the door behind them. He ushered her gently inside, gesturing that she sit once again upon the couch. He sat upon the arm of the couch, his head tilting. “Is there anything I can do for you, Ginny? I know these are hard times...and I just want you to be alright.” Leon bit his lip. How was he supposed to comfort her about this incoming death? How did anyone take him aside when he was a child? Telling him that the deaths of the other kids were something he could learn to cope with? He did not know. He didn’t understand. Losing someone that meant so much...It felt like a thorn in his heart.

His words were sweet, but Ginny couldn’t help the edge she felt. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair, and for the first time a long time, she felt justifiably angry. Not pissed cause some guy in a bar touched her butt, or she was denied alcohol cause she was too wasted to function. She was pissed. And she wanted a damn drink.

“...I can’t do this, Leon. Sit here and talk and pretend like this is all good...” She stated simply, shaking her head, “I just… I need to go… for a walk or something. Clear my head. I… I’ll be back, okay? I just need… I need a little bit of time.”

“Take all the time you need.” Leon stated calmly, a frown presented firmly along his features. He did not know where she would go on this walk, and concern bubbled and boiled in his chest. Gently, he asked. “Are you sure you do not need someone to come with you? I am not going to force this upon you, but I am concerned about you.”

“No…” She murmured, shaking her head, “No, Leon… I’m just… I need to be alone.” It wasn’t true. She knew herself well enough to know that the last thing she really needed was to be by herself, but Leon was a good man, and the chances of him letting her do what it was she needed to do were slim to none…

“I’ll be fine, Lionheart. Just… Don’t wait up, yeah?”

“Okay. Just...don’t do anything that I am going to have to carry you home for, okay?” His brow perked. “Just...Just be careful. I know you are a strong, capable woman. I also know there are a lot of red headed demons out there, and I just want to make sure that...well, I can be there to root you on if you need it.” He finished instead, offering a gentle smile. “Take your time. Just know that if there is any problem, I am here.”

Nodding, Ginny smiled faintly, a smile that never quite reached her eyes, before she turned on her heels and made her way back out the door.

It was several hours later, when Leon’s phone would ring, three sharp chirps in the middle of the night.

Leon’s eyes dared to close, but he hadn’t tried to sleep. Ginny hadn’t come home for hours on end, and Leon did attempt to get in contact once or twice. He had decided she was simply taking her time, but worry was beginning to burn in his gut. He stayed, reclined in the couch, eyes glued to the ceiling. Blues Brothers beamed in the background, the soft music comforting to Leon’s quivering soul. The phone call that shrieked through the bottle smashing upon the TV, however, sent a shock of nerves down Leon’s back.

He rolled over onto his stomach and feebly reached out for the cellular device, the caller ID pinging the number as Ginny’s. He did not know how “oh thank God” and “oh fuck” managed to seamlessly bind together in this moment. He accepted the call and hastily pressed it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Leon??” The voice on the other end was unmistakably Ginny, but there was a lilt to it that suggested she wasn’t entirely at her best, “Oh good! I called like… sis…. sixteen wrong numbers. Did you know that there’s… a twenty-four hour Chinese joint one town over? Wild right? FINE! I HEARD YOU!” The shout came suddenly, her hand muffling the sound, but not entirely, “Listen Leon… I… might need you… to come pick me up. Cause I think I’m being arrested.”

“Oh Jesus.” Leon pressed his hand against his mouth as Ginny’s voice bustled to life, visibly drunk. Leon could recognize the slur anywhere, his heart leaping into his throat. He shouldn’t be surprised, but he had hopes that perhaps she had gotten distracted at the beach. Had found the murder walk. Snuck into the Bullock’s office. Drinking and getting arrested, however, came to be a bit of a shock. He brushed his hand over his head. “Where are you?” He inquired, letting panic overwhelm his tone. He knew he would have to go to the station to grab her, but he wanted to know exactly where she had been arrested.

He hopped to his feet, and with his phone still pressed firmly to his ear, he slid his jacket on. “Im coming I’m coming. Just do what the officers say…”

“I’m at my mother’s.” She muttered, “George is being a dick... Big surprise! YEAH! I SAID IT!” There was a pause as the phone lowered, and something that sounded like more screaming, a male voice joining Ginny’s, “Just… just take your time, Leon. I’m gonna kick his ass…”

“Oh, dear God Ginny…” Leon began to swiftly pluck on his shoes, hopping around on one foot as he rushed to find the remaining boot. “Just...Please don’t kick his ass. Please. Just do as the officer says and I will meet you at the station. Stay on the phone as long as they will let you, okay?” He rushed out the door, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t want to control her. He did not want to be too demanding of her. But he knew he should have seen this coming.

“They’re tellin’ me I gotta hang up. Guess… guess I’ll see you soon.” There was a click shortly there after, but in the background, the yelling had started again.

Leon cursed under his breath as he shoved his phone into his coat pocket and scrambled down the apartment stairs to the car.

He was sure to blast smooth jazz in his spite on his way down to the station. Parking in the police station parking lot, he slid out of the car and narrowed his eyes at the front doors. It seemed rather quiet, this time of night, and Leon knew why. Keep everything hush hush during the summer time. Tighter security. Tighter restrictions. They were keeping everything tidy. Even the police station. If someone was getting arrested, even this late at night, they were going to keep it hush hush.

He slowly made his way up to the front steps. Pushing his way past through the doors, he saw that the station was relatively quiet. There were a few officers in front, while some were handling paperowork in the back. He approached the one at the front desk, tipping his fedora politely. “Good sir...I am here to see Virginia Edersheim.”

“Ugh.” The officer behind the desk rolled his chair back from the edge, and with a thumb, gestured down the hall, “Holding cell. We aren’t charging her with anything, so there’s no bail, but you make sure she gets home, yeah? Cause she gets into it with anyone else, she’s not gonna get a second chance.” Turning, he called out to another officer, heading down the hall, “Oi! Mack. Let the fireball out, yeah? Her boyfriend’s here to pick her up.”

“Yes. I will take her home. There is no need to worry about it.” He ignored the boyfriend piece, fists clenched before he shoved them into his coat pockets. Irritation threatened to overcome him, but he patiently continued along the hall to the holding cell. The officer, Mack, had unlocked the door to the holding cell by the time Leon trudged down. Leon’s arms crossed along his chest, disappointment visible along his features at the drunken Ginny within her cell. “Home. Now.”

Ginny looked back at Leon from the position she’d found herself in - lying upside down on a bench, feet crossed and leaning on the wall. At the look he gave her, she made a sheepish face, with a small, cocky grin, “Uh oh. Dad’s maddddd.” Flipping over, literally, she rolled to her feet, and brushing back her hair, headed to the opened cell door, “Am I grounded?”

Leon had to absorb every piece of patience that remained in his soul. The position she was in made him furious, an emotion he had not felt for years on end. It tasted sour against his tongue. Gently(as he could) he grasped her wrist and narrowed his eyes. “We are going home. If you pull another stunt like this I don’t know how much longer I am willing to let my home be yours. Understood? We are going. Now.”

“Hmm…” Shaking her head, she followed after, him, but not without a dry, hollow laugh, “See… That’s what I told you, Mack! He’d chuck me to the curb before the tart cooled! Cause whatd’did I say? Nooooobody wants me. Nobody ever did! ‘Cept Gramps, and he’s toast! Whoo… what a hoot.”

Shaking his head, the officer gestured to the door, “Drive safe…”

Leon didn’t bother to respond, knowing that speaking with a drunken woman was like trying to confess sins to a rock. They aren’t gonna listen, and they ain’t as hell gonna be willing to move. Leon silently gave the man a nod, taking Ginny gently by her wrist and guiding her outside. Leon scrambled for his car keys, popping it open and opening the car door for Ginny. “Get in.” He asked of her softly, eyes threatening to burn. He couldn’t tell if he was more sorrowful or angry.

He opened the door, and Ginny wavered for a moment, before slipping into the seat. Outside, in the fresh air, some of the fun wore off… and as she pulled her feet up on the dash, she could tell it wasn’t going to be long before the buzz flipped into a headache and regret…

But that didn’t mean she had to make it obvious…

“...Mack’s kinda cute, yeah? Reminds me of this guy from… God, where was that… Oakland? Or… Oatland? I can’t remember… but boy was he fun.”

“He’d be cuter if you weren’t arrested by him.” Leon mumbled, eyes trained on the road ahead of him. His grip on the steering wheel tightened. “What the hell were you thinking?” He asked, focusing on keeping his voice soft and composed. “I was worried sick about you, and you go out drinking and get arrested for harassing your mother and her boyfriend. Did you even think? I want to know why in hell you thought what you did was a good idea.” Leon knew that he wasn’t going to get a good answer. But it was better to vent now when there was a possibility she wouldn’t remember. He didn’t want to be angry. This infuriated him, however, and he figured he should have saw it coming. He just wanted to give her space without controlling her, and she ended up abusing her time. He clenched his teeth but remained tranquil as he drove

“Who said I thought it was a good idea?” She asked, plainly enough. “You think I don't know it wasn't, Leon? You think I wanted this? Any of it? I never wanted to be here… not ever again. But when the hell do I get a say, right? So maybe I wanted a say… maybe I wanted to deal with her on my time… in my way!” Pinching the bridge of her nose, she shook her head, “What'd you care anyways. I'm never gonna be her Leon… your Ginny. That little girl died a long time ago and she's not coming back. And this? This hot mess, disappointing wreck? That's what you get. So you might as well stop the damn car and let me out. Cause eventually, you will. And I'd rather deal with it when I've got enough alcohol in me to take it.”

Leon pressed his foot gently on the brake, pulling over to the side of the road as she spoke. Putting the car into park, he placed his elbows on the wheel and placed his head in his hands. “Ginny, I’ve told you this. I’ve told you this again and again. I don’t care if that little girl is gone, I just know that you are back in my life and as your friend it is my responsibility to care about you and look after you. Alcohol is not the way to care for yourself and you know it. Look where you are now. It’s not helping. It’s not helping you at all. Ginny...dear Christ, there are better ways to handle this. This is only going to continue to hurt you. I’m not going to give up on you, Gin, but good God, you need to be willing to work for this too. Because I am not going to carry you every time you fall by your own admission.”

“I didn't ask you to carry me. I didn't ask you to get involved. Trust me… The last damn thing I need is to hear how screwed up I am. I get it. But this? This is me, coping. And if you don't want that, fine. Trash doesn't ask where it belongs… It's not the first time. It won't be the last time.”

“It’s not coping, Ginny. It’s running away from the goddamn problem and it’s not going to make your pain go away. It’s not. It’s going to get worse and worse. Drinking fixes no problems. I swear to God Ginny, you have no idea how much I care about you and how much this hurts to watch. You can’t be going around and doing this sort of shit. It’s not wasting my time to care for you, it’s wasting your own time to get better.”

“...She didn’t even flinch, Leon.” She muttered, curling her knees to her chest, “...I told her who I was, and she didn’t even flinch. Just shrugged and asked me what I was doing there… What I wanted. Do you have any idea how much that sucks? To know your own mom didn’t want you? Came back from the frickin’ dead, and she had nothing to say… Maybe it doesn’t fix your problems, but it makes me feel a whole hell of a lot better. I just… I don’t wanna think, anymore. I don’t wanna feel like this. I would rather feel anything else… anything.”

Leon paused, her words hitting him like a dagger to his heart. “She’s a bitch, Ginny, we both knew that. That doesn’t mean that you being back isn’t something that isn’t cherished. I know what you are feeling isn’t okay, I know there is a lot to feel because hell, this situation is awful. This situation can’t just get better with talking and sharing your feelings. But this situation won’t get better with drinking, either. I told you I’d be there for you. I want to make you feel a different way. Drinking...drinking is just going to make things so much worse. Believe me, I’ve seen it so many times and I can’t bare to watch it happen to you.”

Her eyes stung and her throat tightened and for a moment, all she wanted was to get out of the car and run. Just run. She wanted to get away from Leon, from her Grandfather… from Tophet. From everything that hurt. Because feelings sucked. She’d tried so long, so hard to fight them off… and now they were staring her in the face, and all she wanted was to escape.

“So what do I do, Leon? Because the two things that work, you won’t let me have… so how the hell do I get through this mess?”

“Oh, so sex and alcohol works, huh?” Leon roughly ran his hands down his face, letting a slow exhale escape his clenched teeth. “How well has that been working for you now, hmm? It got you arrested, and if violence is one of the things that soothes you too, it’s only going to get you jail time. Honest to God, Ginny, if this is what works I don’t want to see what doesn’t.” Leon inhaled patiently. “How many times do I need to say that I am here? That there are people here who care? Abe, even for what time he has, is here for you. I can get you therapy, I can schedule for work, I can find a way to make you comfortable...but goddamn it Ginny, this is no way to live and you know it.”

“And you think therapy will? Some egghead in a chair, telling me what I feel and why? I know what I feel, Leon. And I know why. That’s not the problem! Problem is, I don’t want to feel it! I want it gone… numb… forgotten.” Her eyes burned again, and she lowered her gaze, “It’s no way to live, but what the hell life do I have anyway? Abe’s got what? A year? Half a year, maybe? And you? Leon… God.” Pinching her brow, she shook her head, “You think I wanna drag you down with me? You think I wanna see you get sucked into this crapfest?”

“It’s a start.” Leon mumbled, nearly defeated. He rested his forehead against the steering wheel, puffing out his cheeks. What was he supposed to say? He didn’t know how to fix the wounds that needed repair. He didn’t know where to start. “You have the rest of your life ahead of you, Gin. There is still time to make things change. I know he doesn’t have long, but that doesn’t mean you should isolate. That you should let him go. Because trust me, when he is gone, you are going to regret it.” Leon swallowed, leaning back into the car seat now.

“As I have said before, Gin. I am beside you when you need me. And I know right now you need help. If it’s not in the form of me, I understand. But what you are doing now is not going to help anyone. Trust me, it’s not.”

Brushing her cheeks with the backs of her hands, she shook her head, “I don’t… I don’t know what I need, Leon.”

“I...I don’t know Ginny. I don’t. I just want to help, and I feel like I am blind to what I can do.” He started the engine again, eyes scorching involuntarily. “Just know you don’t have to be alone. You never have to be.”

“I’m gonna ruin you… Why don’t you see that? Why can’t you see it…?”

“Does it look like I care at this point? I wouldn’t have come to the jail if I had cared so much about such a thing.” He offered her a pained smile.

Sniffing, she looked at him for the first time, shaking her head again, “...I’m sorry. I… I messed up. I am messed up. I just never thought I’d be back here… and it’s all happening too fast. I’m freaking out, Leon. And I just… I’m scared.”

“I know. And it’s okay to be scared, Gin. Honestly it is. The first step is admitting the problem. The second step is to just let people help out, okay?” Leon’s eyes flickered up to meet hers. “I think you need to go to bed, okay? First thing we are going to do when we get home is get you hydrated and tucked into some blankets.”

“Couch.” She said softly, looking away again, “And don’t argue. I put you through enough crap… I’m not gonna make you sack out on a couch, too. Besides… I don’t sleep. So… it’s not like I need it.”

“Look, I am not forcing you on the couch. Secondly, I am strong enough to carry your drunken butt to bed. Third, if you are sleeping on the couch, I insist we share.” He smirked lightly. “Plationically of course, but I’ve heard plationic cuddles can help with the hangover.”

Glancing at him again, Ginny shook her head, “No way. I’m tryin’ to be good, Leon. But you lay next to me, ain’t nothin’ sacred gonna come from it, I promise. You know I’m stubborn enough to win this… even half drunk and damaged.”

“What if I make it a challenge for you to be sacred?” He teased her with a smirk, a brow perked. “But if you insist. I’ve got brawns over brains, so I think I can win,” He winked at her and began to drive onto the road again. “I’m glad you are okay. I am sorry I didn’t say that first off but...I am relieved you are okay.”

“Don’t apologize. I’d’ve been pissed at me, too.” Frowning, she shook her head, “I didn’t mean for it to go down like this. I just… I was just gonna have a drink, and call it a night. Next thing I knew I was back home and I just… I let it out. Then George is calling the cops, and I called you… and…” Breathing out, she shook her head, “Point is, you don’t need to say sorry. I do. And I am.”

“I know. And I forgive you.” Leon mumbled slowly, pressing lightly on the gas. “I know it’s rough, Gin. And your mother and her boyfriend aren’t making this situation easier.” His eyes threatened to flutter close, but he forced them to remain open. “I can’t stay mad, to be honest. Just...next time you are heading out…” He exhaled. “Be careful.”

“Husband…” She murmured quietly, “...She married him.” Smiling dryly, she shook her head, “Don’t worry about me, though. I got nothing left to say to her. Far as I care, she’s as dead to me as she wishes I was.”

“Lucky couple.” He mumbled, seeing the apartment in sight. He pulled up front and parked the car, opening Ginny’s door for her. “You can walk straight, right?” He inquired with a small smile. His eyes flickered down to her and frowned. “You know, you don’t ever have to handle your mother again, you know that right? That is one person you can cut out of your life.”

“Yeah, Leon. I’m good.” With a shrug, she pushed the door open and slipped out, “...I’ve… let’s just say this isn’t my first time overdoing it. Learn pretty fast how to handle the aftermath.” Glancing to him, she frowned softly, “...And I know. I just… I… I had to see, you know? If she really… Anyway. Doesn’t matter. It’s over, right?”

“It is. And what she thinks doesn’t matter, okay?” He lead her carefully inside, sitting her down on the couch before making his way into the bed room and peeling a blanket off. He returned, wrapping it firmly but gently around her shoulders. He sat down next to her, fluffing a pillow and blacking it behind her head. “Cozy?”

Smiling faintly, Ginny shifted closer, curling into the crook of his arm as she lay her head on his shoulder, snuggling the blanket around her with a small, firm nod, “Now I am. Hell, Leon… I never thanked you… For picking me up.”

“I mean...I was sort of being pissy. And being a busy bee about it.” He mumbled, hesitantly deciding to extend his arm to wrap it around her shouders. He placed his hand upon her arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It’s not a problem. I wasn’t going to let you stumble home. You would have taken out an entire, grumpy red head family by the time I found you.”

Laughing softly, she shook her head, “You know… I was gonna say that I don’t have anything against redheads.. But now that I think about it, pretty much everyone I’ve gotten into it with has been a damn ginger. What is that about?” Leaning her head back, she looked up at him, “And you were being pissy… But you’re cute when you’re pissy, so… feel free to get mad whenever you want.”

“Mm. You ever meet the Saint-Clairs?” He teased softly, rubbing his hand up and down her arm soothingly. He bit his lip as he leaned his head back, staring down at her with a pleasant smile. “Mm. I don’t get mad very often. I don’t like getting angry, so I tend to just ignore the source of annoyance. I can’t tend to do that now, though. But I promise I won’t get angry with you again. Or...at least be as vocal as I was.” He vowed, eyes threatening to close.

“Boo…” She teased, before shaking her head, her crown resting in the nest of his neck, “Guess I’ll just have to find other ways to get you all fired up, hmm? Creative ways…”

“Mm, good luck. I am a patient man.” He mused, keeping his voice light and controlled. “It comes from living in Tophet for years at a time. It’s gonna take a lot to get me all fired up.”

Grinning, she tiptoed her fingers along his arm, draped over her shoulder, “Is that a challenge, Leon?”

“Mm. I don’t know, Gin, am I awake enough for it to be a challenge?” He teased, not even bothering to reach up to the fingers climbing up his arm.

“I mean.. I could think of one or two ways to wake you up…” She mused, “But I did promise to behave, so…” A sigh escape and she curled her feet beside her, shifting a little, to lay the pillow on his lap, her head on the pillow, “I dunno if I said or not… but… I’m just… I’m really glad I found you, Leon.”

“Mm. Maybe when we get to know each other a little better, Gin.” He claimed with a little smirk, moving around to make her more comfortable as she laid down. His hand absentmindedly fluttered beside her head, his fingers gently lacing through her hair. “Um...tell me if this makes you uncomfortable, okay?” He paused, however, as she admitted a truth to him. A smile took place upon the corners of his mouth. “Im glad you are back, Gin. You have no idea how glad I am that you are home and alive.”

“...Hell, Leon.” Laughing softly, she shook her head, “Only thing gonna make me uncomfortable is if you stop…” Letting her eyes flutter closed, she sighed, “Home, anyway… we’ll see about alive.”

“Just wanted to make sure you weren’t going to swat me. You being a little tiger and all.” He teased her, continuing to gently stroke her hair as she spoke. He made sure her blanket was tucked neatly by her chin and that she was cozy beside him. “I’m keeping you alive, damn it.” He mumbled lightly, smirking.

“Fine…” she half-whined, with very little effort, “If you insist…” A yawn escaped, and she curled up closer, “...Just… just gonna rest my eyes for a minute, okay?”

“You know you are allowed to fall asleep on me, right? Besides, that makes you win the well-behaved bet.” He slowly adjusted himself so he was slightly lying beneath her, his hand resting upon her back. “Please. Rest.”

“...Mmm…” Chuckling wearily, she nodded, “...I’ll behave. Maybe.”

“Please do. I’m very ticklish and I don’t want to jolt you out onto the carpet.” He threatened, although he kept his voice soft and teasing. “Just rest for now and do as you please in the morning.”

But whatever Ginny might’ve said never came out, because in those few seconds alone, she had already drifted off.
 
Monday Goodman



The walk down to the Goodman house was longer than Monday would have dared to imagine. Perhaps it was her quick turn to quietness, or the gravel crackling beneath their feet, but she found that each step took an eternity to complete.

"Xeno's paradox, the idea that each action requires a halfway point. Once the halfway point is completed, there is another halfway point. Therefore, no action should ever be possible. We will never get to that desired place."

"That's bullshit if I ever did hear it." Monday's voice drawled, her head heavier than usual. Beer continued to linger along her tongue. Luke was feeling a little more adventurous than she was last night, and it led to nothing good. At least the alcohol wasn't cheap. "My head is too fuzzy for this."

"Im telling you this for that reason. Drink." Jane's fingers skimmed along the bottom of Monday's chin as she tilted her head, making it easier for the young woman to swallow the water. She weakly reached up to tap Jane two times, signaling it was time to stop. "Not to mention that it was one of the first things we talked about. You don't remember that?"

"What...is Xeno supposed to be the trigger word that awakens me from a hangover? Hell if I believe that, babe." Monday slurred, tiredly raking her hand through her tangled hair. "Course I remember it. You were a little kid, quoting Xeno's fudging paradox. Did you even understand what it means?"

"It helped me get through things, believe it or not." Jane plopped the water bottle onto the desk, slumping next to her friend. She took Monday's hand in her own, squeezing it reassuringly. "You ever watch Unbreakable? Takin ten seconds at a time. You can get through anything with halfway points. When you've gone halfway, you only have another halfway to go. And hell, don't you think that proves a point of eternity? We can never reach an end..."

"Yet, the clock hands disprove the theory." Monday repeated from memory, rolling her eyes. "The little hand can go over the big hand and vice versa. Nice try, fuckin nerd." A kiss was pressed hastily to Monday's cheek, Jane grinning as she let go of her friend's hand and flopped cozily onto her shoulder.

"See. You are better already."



Monday's eyes burned at the sight of the house. She could still hear Jane's voice boom in her ear. Her arms around her waist as her face buried into her shoulder. She reached up as if to nuzzle her hair, only to realize nothing but air had greeted her. She quickly lowered her hands back to her pants pockets, fumbling for words as her feet guided her to the front door of the decaying old home. Monday could see the mold nipping at the foundation, a few holes decorated along the wooden frame. The gray paint had began to peel, even before Monday's nail had a chance to scratch along its thin surface. The windows were intact and the roof was surprisingly still sturdy. The front door before her seemed rotten, and yet the knob was freshly cleaned.

"Oh. Oh God." She whimpered, wanting to step aside to throw up. Nausea built at her throat. She didn't want this. She desperately wanted to go home. To hold her Jane. She stood firm, however, peeking back at Reginald and praying she wasn't growing green. "I promise you will get your phone call in just a minute..."

Her fingers trembling, she managed to clench her hand into a fist and rap her knuckles against the front door. Her shoulders quivered. Her voice remained prominent in her ear.

"Mister Cyrus, is that you?" A firm voice rattled from within the home. Monday froze.

"No. I need to talk to you." Monday managed, hearing a brief shuffle behind the door. It still didn't creak open.

"I've found God, yes I have paid my taxes, I don't care for any possible book sales, and I am not the place to be if you are lost." The voice continued, Monday's grip on the knob remaining firm.

"I don't care about any of that. Please. I promise it will be brief." There was silence between the two women, Monday's forehead greeting the door with a mild thud. She felt a small shift in the knob before the door opened, revealing a woman slightly taller than Monday. Her eyes were glazed, and for a moment, Monday thought she could have been medicated. Her hair was neatly tied into a bun, her bright blue eyes locking to Monday's figure. The woman was much healthier than what Monday would have thought.

"Delilah Goodman?" Monday questioned, the woman slowly bobbing her head with each second of absorbing Monday's form.

"Monique. Monique. Monique." The woman repeated, over and over again, her hands trembling as she grasped to Monday's sleeves. Monday paled at the woman's repetition, her eyes scorching. "Why must the Lord hate me so...to make me see a vision of you once again..." Before Monday had a chance to respond, her mother pressed a hand to Monday's cheek. A gentle thumb traced along her cheek. "You...you...are not...You're real. You're real." The woman took a step back from Monday, her hand remained firmly along Monday's face. Before Monday could comprehend what happened next, her mother encased her into a warm embrace, trembling against her figure.

"I am so sorry, my little angel." The words came, over and over again. Monday could only tap her hand against her mother's back, anxiety rippling through her entire body.

"It's okay. It's okay." Monday couldn't find any other words to speak. She held onto the woman before her, wondering how in hell her trip turned down this road.

She wasn't supposed to be like this.