runaway.

      it had to do with self-preservation. that was the only explanation she could thin of, as to why he was so reluctant to admitting his role. in some way, she could understand it — though she severly lacked the same instinct for protection, she could guess that the morbid, treacherous nature of this world they were navigating could make someone, if not scared, at least cautious. she was wary, too: but that never really held her back from treading one step closer to the flame. mitch shrugged, a vague gesture of her hand waving his concerns away. “alright. nevermind, it doesn’t change the fact that you might be the only useful citizen in this shithole”. then, as silence fell, she gave herself the time to analyze him the way she would the subject of an article. she could spot hints of a desire in him — something that said perhaps he found some pleasure in their escapades (and she couldn’t guess it came from her charming company, so it had to be something else). it made her at least somewhat understanding: less callous than she’d be with anyone else wishing for her attention. “yes please”, straightening her back, she turned her attention to the bottles behind him. “do you serve wine here, or is that not fancy enough? should i order some bullshit cocktail with a cherry or —?”

in the space between a man’s doubt and their resolution, that’s where mitch novak thrived best — not anywhere close to the hero she’d dreamed she’d be as a child, she’d instead become skilled in the art of deceit and, to various different degrees, manipulation. though her appreciation for caspian was genuine and went beyond the benefits he could provide (whether strictly professional or purely physical), adapting herself to his needs was an old, overused technique for exploitation, and yet — ah, it only seldom failed her. mitch tilted her head right, a vaguely sugary look on her features, childish pout as she spoke. “aw, come on, cas — don’t sell yourself short. you know you do much more than that”. he’d been the thread connecting the frayed spots of her intuition far too many times: perhaps he was not aware of just how vital he could be. she could count on her instincts and her knack for observation, for dissecting the truth in simple blocks of logic she could pull apart and rearrange like lego bricks — still they wouldn’t make sense without the bridges connecting each different block. he had the key, even though he believed his job amounted to hearing. that made him, at the moment, one of her most precious assets. surely with time she’d find a way to shed him off like unwanted baggage (they’d always get discarded, the ones who gravitated around her: not once sticking around, not even those bound to her by blood) — for now, she had to keep him close. mitch smirked. “let’s just say i got lucky with a friend of a friend, and i got a present in return. allegedly good stuff. what do you say, your place, after your shift…?”

mitch saw it — the sudden, unspoken shift in the mood. his gaze clouded just slightly, doubt, perhaps, crossing his eyes. it brought her leaning over a little closer, unconsciously needing to bridge the distance between her suspicions and his doubts. it meant, also, that she had to step up her game some — perhaps he had his reasons to be cautious, wouldn’t be the first time she’d found herself on the other side of a large, endless pit of something dangerous: wanting nothing more than to dive into it, knowing other people — the more or less functional ones — would be the ones running away from it instead. her allies in this quest were few, and precious: caspian brought far more to the table than the few bridges she was rebuilding in red ridge. perhaps it wasn’t just business that made her wish for his company — the sharing of a loneliness perhaps halving it, somehow. “c’mon, don’t make that face”, mitch smirked, reaching back for her notebook and quickly, furtively sliding it back in its pocket. “i just need you to confirm it, see if it makes any sense — maybe give me some pointers, you know. who to talk to, what to say…” she leaned closer then, chin propped up against her fist, her gaze shifting from focused to suggestive, her tone huskier now than it had been while discussing plans. “figured we could talk about it over drinks, later. you know, i got a present for you”.

the hint of a playful smirk crosses her lips — there’s a bit of fun to be found in these covert affairs, the same kind of fun that one might get from grazing the sharp edge of a blade with their fingertip. a sharp smacking sound of her lips met his comment, head tilted in flirtatious mischief. “aw, so sweet. keep it up any longer and i might just leave a tip”. then her gaze turned serious, scanning her immediate surroundings. this was a conversation better suited for after his shift, yes, but as pleasant as the conversation could be, she would constantly itch for a thread to connect the buzzing thoughts in her head. once she’d make sure there would be no eavesdropping in their proximity, mitch reached into her worn leather bag and dug a pocket-size notebook out. fingers quickly retrieving the bookmark, once she slid it across the bar top it was open and carrying the intricate arrows of a makeshift map. “i got artsy today”. there were names (either code names or abbreviations, people they’d mentioned more than once in their private talks) — arrows connecting their various affairs, providing a roadmap for her investigations. mitch let her elbow rest over the counter, leaning closer, prying look as she observed him and tried to guess his reaction. “i’m not sure about some of them. but i think there’s enough to start asking… more poignant questions, let’s say”. because, clearly, she didn’t trust the police was asking the right ones — maybe she trusted someone like caspian more, in figuring out what was behind the apparently innocent victims of this killer.

Ivan was surprised and glad to hear quite the greeting as he made his way to the bar, it was a pretty full night with a lot of faces he didn’t know. Sitting down he smirked and nodded, “Good to see you Caspian, beer and a shot sounds just right. How are things?” 

—

     “ ah, now isn’t that the million-dollar question? ” alaia’s frame leaned back in the stool, her plump lips sliding into a subtle smirk. “ it all depends on how creative you’re willing to go, ” she teased, evident mirth ringing in her voice. tipping her head back then, chestnut tresses cascading along the length of her spine, she drained the remnants in her glass before placing it atop the bar with an audible clink. “ i’ll have another, if you’re not too busy. ” an impish grin claimed her mouth, the tips of her fingers drumming against the marble counter. as inky pupils lingered upon the male, alaia gave a small hum of feigned contemplation at his proposal. “ that sounds like the ideal solution to me. looks like you’ve got yourself a deal. though, you must know — i’m a real stickler when it comes to watermarks on glasses. ” once again, she was joking, this much evident in her tone and how another smirk played upon her features.

     once the drink was placed before her, delicate fingers plucked the tumbler from its place ; bringing it toward her mouth to take a small sip. welcoming the familiar sting that trailed a path of warmth down the back of her throat, alaia peered across at the male. “ let’s hope they do, ” she uttered in response. “ otherwise we’ll have to get inventive with ways to amuse ourselves. ” a faint smirk captured the corner of her lips, umber-hued eyes dropping to observe the amber liquid swirl in its glass confines as her slender wrist rotated. “ keep supplying the good stuff and i’ll stick around until you throw me out. ” at that, a ghost of amusement flickered behind her gaze as another mouthful was taken from her whiskey.

He watched as Caspian made his drink. He knew his was simple but sometimes people wanted outrageous drinks that he had never even heard of. He wasn’t sure how the hell any bartender could remember those. “Yeah?” He chuckled, “What makes you the most desired partygoer?” He asked, genuinely curious. “You ever wake up the next day and feel it in your voice though? Like it gets hoarse?” That’s what happened to him when he had to shout at a gathering or whatever.

“Anything and everything?” Fiona asked. “That’s a way to entice someone. Or…” Fiona’s smile went away as her eyes went up through the selection of various… spirits. For a little while, she avoided the bartender’s gaze, instead reading all of the various labels as best she could in the relative dark. 

“Yeah, sure,” she said, forgetting already what he said about the drink. Only when he mentioned an ID did her attention return to him. Good thing she already had the ID out. She slid it across the bar top. “We’re perfectly good here. You’re not in trouble with-” her hand spun around the room, as if referencing an, invisible, omnipresent spy. Maybe she was talking about God. Or maybe just his boss.

“What did you expect, to show up to one of the best bars in town and for it to not be fully stocked?” he playfully teased, raising an eyebrow. For the whole duration of Caspian’s employment, he’d never had to say no to someone requesting a specific drink. It did take a little bit of learning to figure out how to make some of the more detailed cocktails than he’d been used to, but once he’d adjusted, it had been smooth sailing since then.

She slams her hand down onto the bar and nods. “Yes! That’s what I was talking about. Get me one of those, I’m feelin’ fancy.” She swirls around in her stool to look at the rest of the place. A place like this really shouldn’t look this dead. You can see how gross it really is. “Everyone realized you’re in here and decided it was the night to have fun where you’re not.” She looks over her shoulder to him and grins. “But they must be having it without me too, because it wasn’t much more exciting for me out there either.”

That’s a loaded question. Doesn’t everybody feel ashamed of themselves now and again? Recently, no, I haven’t, but in the past, sure. It happened a lot when I was growing up, I never felt like I was good enough for... well, anything. But I realized that I was being ridiculous in college and left most of that behind me.