𝒜.

location: deadlights

She couldn’t tell help it, the noise that escaped from red lips that tangled between a scoff and a laugh. Even with the distance from her end of the bar could she see the crystal clear clarity of Flecher’s frame jolt from the stool before wedging into the presence of two stragglers, questioning if there was a problem and eying the other’s unwanted company like he was looking for a fight. Is there a problem here? The flashed look of panic from other male trying to make luck happen was answer enough, their presence slowly fading deep into the crowd and far from both Flecher and the blonde he thought he’d have an in with before Allie could cut in. “Okay, Captain Save-a-Hoe, how ‘bout we settle down.” Before someone actually did have a problem with him and decided to take up Fletcher’s attitude with one of their own. She kicked out the stool beside her, motioning for him to seat with the point of her beer glass. “Sit. Drink.” In other words, don’t be embarrassing. “Maybe decide on getting a black eye some other night, yeah?”

open to everyone ( @nightreststarters​ )

It had to be unfortunate, the luck given to whoever had decided to open up shop around the same time the news of a murder breaks out. If the owner was smart ( which, in Allie's opinion, was debatable ), they'd bank on the idea of pairing sorrows with scoops. Make the idea of taking the trip down here worth while, while also being....sensitive, to the news of what's been going on. Body parts in the woods, local girl found by the lake. How much business exactly could a local creamery get after the news of all that? Consider Allie's interests piqued by the time she'd cut the corner off of Main, glancing up to an overhead sign that read Zero Degrees. Cute. A beat later she was viewing more clever names, cute play on words to sell paper cups of ice cream to anyone willing. She had already settled on a sample given out by acne prone teenager before her attention shifted, eyes caught on the face of someone whose head was tilted her way before her gaze fell to their cup. "I'm pretty sure at least 80% of the population has something against mint chocolate chip," And, yes, she was one of them. She looked back up, her own sample cup still in hand. "I'm more of a rocky road kind of a gal, but hey, to each their own, right?"

“I don’t think I’m allowed to agree with that,” though she did laugh, but in retrospect the other was probably a lot closer with her boss. “Their motives? Heard one of them did jail time before too, have to say the saying a wolf may change it’s coat, but not it’s nature is truer than people give it credit.” She liked to believe people were capable of change, but she’s seen many fall back to what they knew after they claimed they’d never do it again. “So this lady said - uh, what’s his name? Peter, I think? Was possessed by one of the ghosts of this town, but honestly I just think she was a little out of it. Besides a missing tongue found in somebody’s mouth, a guy also said the same about a toe. Did that really happen?”

"Oh, I'm sure boss-man won't mind a few delicate words of honesty." Fletcher was a big boy, and if he couldn't dish whatever came out of someone's mouth, then he was far off from the man she knew him to be. Then again, as she flicked a piece of imaginary lint from off her sweater, Allie could conjure up a million crystal clear images of the man wearing a scrunched up scowl fit across his face that would have only proved her otherwise, and so the thought dissipated as quickly as it appeared as town gossip over took the rest of the conversation. Allie bit on her lower lip, trying not to grin as she listened. "Wow, wait until you hear the story about Big Foot." It was all bullshit, of course, and Allie knew she didn't have to say it for it be known. Rumors were rumors, and you'd have be sick to think possession actually worked. Thankfully, whoever this was before her seemed to have the air of someone who had more sense about it. To question before believing. Though, to the mention of missing tongues and toes, the brunette lifted her shoulders into a slow shrug. Like she wasn't sure, like the details were iffy. Playing around with information instead of dismissing it. "Something like that, I think." Allie scrunched her brows. "I personally heard their hands were found on backwards, but, yeah. Maybe."

outside deadlights w/ @nightreststarters

“If I say that it is, will you put the sixth grade magic tricks away?” Her eye weren't even on Sawyer, but rather a pre-composed text followed by a string of angry red-faced emojis to punctuate each word as she typed away. Reasoning? Unimportant. But if she could get out of calling an Uber to haul her ass back across town after a murder, she’ll feign brattiness and hope the guy on the other end was stupid enough to believe her attitude instead having to admit the slight fear in requesting a stranger to take her home. A hit on send had her meeting Sawyer’s eye, landing a gaze on her friend’s face before they dropped to the card. Queen of Hearts. Allie shook her head, phone still in hand. “Mine was an Ace of Spades. Who taught you this trick?”

open \ @nightreststarters \ the daily dose

Here’s your drink!

OPEN STARTER - @nightreststarters​

“I mean Fletch’s place always kinda looks like shit, so,” And though the words flowed out with ease, Allie always one step too ready to jump at the chance to shit-talk a friend of a friend’s place of business in good fun, there wasn’t much bite to them once she realized the person speaking wasn’t talking about Spirits exactly, but rather the town instead. Emphasis on the newbie as a once-over was given. Allie pulled her lips into something tight and closed; a smile, if one squinted hard under the low lights. “And what exactly do you want to know?” Ghost stories or murder? Not much to piece around when everything gets muddled through the rumor mill. “I think I may be a little more interested in hearing what you’ve heard.”

do u take constructive criticism