𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 / 𝔸𝕃𝕄𝕀𝔾ℍ𝕋𝕐

“Wine,” he repeated, watching with curious eyes as she seemed to move with ease to open the beer bottle. It felt like everything about Annabel came easy to her, and the impressive part was that it was obvious there were some things that just didn’t, and yet she still gave off a confident demeanour that Gunner all but worshipped, “Red or white? I haven’t tried wine since I was 10. My mom said it was an acquired taste, probably liked it when I’m older, but. Can’t imagine that being true,” Gunner couldn’t help but flush somewhat when Anna called him out for being so noticeably tense. It was usually something he couldn’t help anyway, but generally, he was better than this, “Sorry,” he said quickly, an automatic knee-jerk reaction, “it’s been… a week,” Once she ushered him inside the same way she’d just maneuvered someone out, Gunner sat slowly in one of the many cushioned chairs surrounding them, an amused grin appearing despite his current attitude, “They really went… the whole nine yards, huh? Bit gimmicky, honestly.”

It had taken years of adjustment for Anna to move with the ease she did now - even with half of her life dedicated to ballet, it was trial and error, trial and error. Figuring what worked and what didn’t - and how to modify things until they did work - it took up the rest of her teenage years. “I’m not picky. Depends on the occasion - I guess I prefer red overall, though. You’d probably like sangria - red wine but not as intense and fruit. Like funky punch. Don’t apologize - work on it,” Anna nudged him with her cane - lightly, maybe to lighten her words or to enforce them - maybe to help him shuffle along, “Has it been? What about - relationships? Family? Bad seafood?” she glided to the other side of the table smack dab in the middle of the tent - taking her seat across from Gunner, “Oh - yeah - not my stylistic choice whatsoever. Feel it’s got an ounce of offense to it - going to have to fight whoever’d decided to decorate the tent. You know - I mostly do readings in the comfort of my own apartment - looks nothing like this. Feels like I’m a side character in a crime show where the detectives find a clue that lead them to me and my outdated shop of mystical whatever-shit.”

Feeling incredibly out of place in the tent, Gunner shuffled his weight from one foot to the other, finding it hard to actually look Annabel in the eye. It was odd, since it wasn’t the first time he’d gone to see her so that she could put his mind at ‘ease’ for the next few days, but something about being in such a public eye made him feel… admittedly silly, “Brought you a beer,” he mumbled once she finally pushed back the cheesy, cliche beaded curtain with a satisfied customer in tow, who exited the tent with a sated grin. Like they were friends and he was coming for a visit on her break, even though they both knew perfectly well what he was there for, “just in case. I don’t know. You don’t really… seem like a cocktail kinda person, honestly. Unless you are, then that’s cool. So are you, um. Busy right now?” @annabcll

She’d never been a fan of the gaudy, stereotypical ‘look’ of a psychic and their business - but it was a carnival, the gimmick sold well; people bought into it in all their excitement. That was what made her ‘business’ so easy - her usual customers weren’t skeptics; they were excited, eager, willing to believe. “I’m not,” Annabel agreed once she had ushered the last customer out with a pat on the back - pulling the beer from his hand, “I’m more of a wine person - but beer is fine, too.” she paused to open the bottle - beak of her cane’s swan head serving as her bottle opener, “I can make time - come in, make yourself comfortable if that’s even ... possible, Christ, you practically radiate tension. Not that I blame you but - shit’s dense.”

To her comment Kaeden just chuckled though the thought of her actually spying on him was one to remain trapped inside his mind for a long time, constantly making him wonder if the brunette would actually stick to those words. Perhaps he was going to found out sooner or later but even then the deputy made a note to himself to keep an eye for her, too. This was not the ideal scenario when it came to people living door to door with each other but it was nothing new for Kae, who always had a thing for not trusting people blindly. Especially, people he didn’t know much about. “That’s a cool story.” But from the way he said it was clear Kaeden didn’t believe it. Besides, there wasn’t only one mailman and this has happened a few times now, so this recent tragedy didn’t make up for all the mixed deliveries. “So, what are you up to this early? Maybe I should be suspicious of you, too, neighbor.” 

The gag was that Anna already owned binoculars; not that she used them for stalking the man - that would’ve been, at the very most, absurd. That did not mean, however, that she hadn’t had a suspicious inkling about the officer; located in the depths of her gut. And despite not being a real psychic - Anna often followed her gut feeling. “Are you skeptical of it? You seem like a real...straightforward sort of guy. No funny business, just facts and logic. Not surprised, ‘course. Just mere observation.” She tapped her good foot against the pavement, weight shifted further onto her cane out of a need for comfort - a small laugh escaping, “Officer Marx - ironic name, by the way - I’m juggling three different jobs, I practically never sleep. I have a house call in a few hours and I like to gather my bearings beforehand. Coffee, physical therapy, mediation. The sorts.”

“Got my ex in-laws to join a pyramid scheme back when I was still fully engaged. Lost them a good thousand. Hilarious.”

Hopping up to take a seat on a bar stool at Green Buzz, Bradley had been about to order a drink before the guy serving gently shook his head, lifting a finger and tapping twice at a poster tacked between the bottles. Surveillance screenshot on it blurry, you could only just make out a black mass lobbing something at a carefully parked Volvo, mess halfway through splattering the windshield. Beneath, the words read ‘DO NOT SERVE THIS GIRL. THREW SPAGHETTI BOLOGNESE ON MANAGER’S VEHICLE. MINCE STUCK IN WINDSCREEN WIPERS FOR TWO WEEKS AND COUNTING’. Bradley let out a scoff, trading a glance sideways at the person besides her. “Wow. Can you believe that? I’m literally being framed.” A lie. “Banned from even ordering a pint of milk. It’s like they want my bones to be brittle. They want me to snap, like a Twiglet. So sadistic. Baby just needs some calcium.”

Glass of wine in midst of being refilled - Anna observed the situation with a tilt of her head, a classic smirk forming on her lips at the poster. Green Buzz hadn’t been her usual haunt - especially for a glass of wine, which she had abundance of back in the comfort of her own apartment - but her editor had firmly demanded that Anna go out. This was both annoying and needed; being cooped up in a apartment-turned-psychic’s-den with nothing but pen, paper, and The Stink ( her cat, named affectionately from the way she found the feral beast ) wasn’t doing wonders - it was doing the opposite of wonders. “I remember seeing that -” Anna began, taking a sip from her now-filled wine glass, “- I was in my car - doing all sorts of things, as you could imagine,” She didn’t drive. “You know - I could’ve sworn I just saw that exact person going into the bathroom with a can of spray cheese!” Straightening herself out and throwing her thumb behind her shoulder in gesture to the bathrooms, eyes widening towards the bartender, “God - can only imagine what one could do with a can of cheese if that’s what they can do with a plate of bolognese. The horrors. Been a good ten minutes since they’ve come out, too.”

For someone as private of a person as Kaeden was getting his mail swapped with a stranger was a pretty big deal, even if the man acted like it wasn’t, showing just mild irritation each time it happened. But it happened frequently, especially with the recent incident. “Murder gear” the deputy joked in his usual dark humor style not many were able to appreciate. Walking up even closer to the woman, he eventually reached out to help her and take the package. “I wonder if only the dummies became mailmen because there’s no other explanation why he’d mix it up. I mean there’s still difference between apartment and house and it’s written.” It was needless to show it to the woman when she was well aware of it, still his index finger landed on the side of the package where the address was written and where there was no indication it was meant to get to any apartment with that number.

Anna blinked, unfazed, before nodding, “Sounds solid. Might have to buy a pair of binoculars to keep an eye on you now, but I’ve been meaning to buy them for my mandatory bird-watching class anyway.” She let go of the package, letting him take it - eyes still trained on him; the look in them indistinguishable. “Well - personally I heard from a little bee - my nosy neighbor - that the mailman recently got a glass eye after a particularly gruesome fight with a seagull. Fucked, right? Never liked the beach, kind of grateful I never go now.” Lashes flickering down towards the address, Anna made a small clicking noise with her tongue, “Could also be a post office mix-up. Ought to go investigate. Could be a scandal just waiting to be unraveled. Like a horribly terrible mystery novel where the only location is a cramped post office. But, plot twist! The final scene is in the parking lot of the postal service. Great final fight location.”

“I swear,” kit started, fiddling around on the piano. “being a single dad in a group of dance moms is like…throwing a piece of raw meat into a pack of badgers. I’m surprised I made it out alive this weekend.” a low chuckle passing his lips. fingers continued to dance around the ivory keys. 

“lucky you,” anna mused, eyes following her students as they gradually left the practice room; girls giggling to each other and glancing back towards kit before exiting - typical behavior that anna had gotten used to ever since he’d started volunteering, “you know, half these kids are graduated from high school and i still get parents emailing me? i delete them, but still - god.”

IT MAY BE CLICHE, IT MAY BE AN EXAGGERATION- BUT IT MUST BE SAID. TODAY WAS (ARGUABLY) THE BEST DAY OF NICOLA’S LIFE. Not only did they manage to find a cafe that serves boba tea, but they also secured a coffee/tea date with one of their favorite authors- Annabell de la Rosa.  Nicola’s excitement was pushing them to overthink every tiny detail. They kept smoothing down their braids, reapplying lip balm and re-reading the messages that the two had exchanged a week before to make sure they had told her the right address. It was to the point where they didn’t even see Annabell approach the table.     (( @annabcll  )) 

Opportunities like this were rare - while not technically a recluse, meeting strangers had never been a favorite hobby of Anna’s. Her main means of interacting with the fans of her novels had been through Twitter - it was easy to hide from the public in the city, but in Livingstone? It was a small enough town that she’d frankly feel bad if she hadn’t gone through with the meeting. They were only one person, after all. “Nicola?” Anna’s cane tapped against the leg of the table, hiding the amusement that turned at the corners of her mouth, “That’s you, right? Not a doppelganger or twin or government-issued clone?”

“Think she’ll come get me?” he asked, frowning as he sunk into his seat. “Please never send me cryptic messages, I’m very paranoid. Will sweat so fucking much,” he remarked, head lulled slightly to the side like he couldn’t handle the weight of it. “I mean, I don’t know. Never really Googled drug interactions with illegal narcotics,” he said with a shrug. “You’d think I’d never have pain again, but here we are. Perhaps I should just stick to water.”

“Why, you want to test it out? Feeling worse than you thought?” she took a sip from her mug - ignoring the burning that swallowed her throat, “That would only encourage me more, but alas, you’re not a client and there is only so much displaced spite in my soul.” Eventually - Anna sat herself down at the table, fingertips drumming across the surface, “Would’ve thought that you would’ve by now - d’you want me to google it? Or we can risk it - wild card, could be fun if not mildly traumatic. You’re on your own for that - water’s in the fridge. I’ve also got celery and leftover takeout if you so desire but I don’t know how long either have been in there.”

@annabcll

Few strands of hair were stuck to his sweaty forehead as he slowed down his pace until instead of running Kaeden walked the last half mile to his house. Out of breath the man notice the woman living next to him and offered her a friendly smile like a good neighbor would do. It was all before the deputy realized what she held in her arms - a package meant to be in his mailbox but had somehow ended up in her hands. “Hey! I believe that’s mine.” He pointed out the obvious, considering his name was probably written on it as well. “Don’t them me that idiot mixed it all again!”

It wasn’t rare for Annabel to receive a package - the reasons varying from late-night Amazon purchases to genuinely useful tools for her work ( with fan mail and thank-you packages smack dab in the middle ) - and it wasn’t rare for the mailman to mix up her mail with her neighbor’s, either. She had been fine with it for the most part - besides the lingerie mix-up that had effectively scarred her for the rest of the month - but that may had had something to do with her nosy nature; Anna didn’t trust the sheriff’s deputy. She didn’t trust most authority - but in a town like Livingstone, just about everybody was suspicious. Even so - she put on her best, polite smile, “I was just about to bring it to your doorstep, actually,” Anna leaned against her cane, the package tucked beneath her other arm, “Not his fault my apartment number’s the same as your house number. This is pretty heavy - do you order rocks online? Collect them, maybe glue some googly eyes onto ‘em, paint lil smiles. Not judging if you do - just curious.”

“Life Alert? Hot,” he joked, head in his hand as he lulled it to the side, supporting the weight during the pounding inside his skull. “Co-Star… That app’s so botched. It’s like reading a goddamn newspaper,” he remarked, yawning while Anna asked for further clarification. “I have a fucked up knee. Sometimes it acts up but I can’t really get medication anymore because I developed a bit of a dependency,” he shrugged. “So, I tried illegal alternatives and here we are.”

“They disabled it, sadly - pressed it too many times and demanded the MILF-iest paramedic pick me up. Still hoping, though.” it was hard to determine whether or not she was joking - “It’s useful for my line of business. I like to pretend I’m the app and send my clients cryptic messages when I feel like they’re doing something wrong.” she would’ve been a terrible therapist. Anna poured a cup of coffee for herself - not bothering to offer any to Elias - because, simply, she was not going to give him coffee. “Are you on anything that’ll like...kill you or some shit, if I give you aspirin? Looks like you’re rocking a fucking horrid headache. Like your head is about to roll off your neck, put a hole in my nice tile floor. I want to keep my security deposit. If not I can, like - knock you out. I have boxing gloves somewhere.”

“Right. Of course. Good thinking, in fact,” Elias replied, saluting her for whatever reason and then running a hand delicately through curls. “Um… Do you need any help?” he asked, the offer slow but deliberate. Adjusting in his position, he shook his head. “No. No paint today. Unfortunately, nothing was open,” he said with a frown. “No big deal. I’m just glad that I had a place to stay the night, so thank you for that.”

“...Thanks.” She saluted him back, for whatever reason - half amused, half tired - an automatic, instinctual eye-roll taking form at his offer, “I’m Gucci - as the teens say, or whatever the fuck. I’ve got a Life Alert hidden in my bra.” Plucking a Columbia University mug from a cabinet - the only thing in the cabinet, unlike the opened cardboard box on her counter, which was filled with many mugs - Anna leaned against the counter as the pot filled with fresh coffee, “Usually wouldn’t be so kind, but my Co-star told me to stop being a selfish bastard. If not paint fumes, then what?”

“Write, mope, get over it. Continue living. Get another cat.”

“I’ve never been much of a TV-watcher but I’ve been consistently horny over Uma Thurman since Pulp Fiction. Take that as you will. Same with Leeloo from The Fifth Element.”