𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊 𝐈𝐒 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃.

She's trying (and mostly failing) not to get caught up on what she believes (or chooses to believe) may be him calling her pretty, and instead, tilts her head in slight confusion. "What, so, being mean? That's your answer? Gravitas is just being a dick?"

a pause, his grin twitching wider. "though, yeah. sometimes being a dick helps."

his gaze cut back to ollie then, stady. "but maybe we stop waiting for g to drop the next thing. maybe we should just move first." he let it hang for a moment before pushing off the wall, brushing past him with a flick of his hand. "i'll call you this week." the words felt strange leaving his mouth, too casual and easy after the shitstorm of their last fallout. after ollie essentially dumping him and link crashing out, swearing they'll never be friends. maybe this was just necessity, the situation dragging them back together whether they liked it or not. and the worst part was that link liked it, even under fucked up circumstances like this... at least he got to be around ollie. and that feeling, that reasoning is probably why they were so bad for each other in the first place. it was like an addiction. and he'd never say it out loud, but link had been looking for an excuse all along. some way to circle back without bruising his pride.

"Yeah," Ollie said, "hey, send that to my burner later, okay? The letter? I'll encrypt it and send you a safe link to it. You shouldn't just have that hanging around on your phone." He didn't trust that something wasn't going to blow up. Maybe the cops decided to pretend to do something again, or… who even knew. Then he gave Link a bright smile and stood up straight giving a cheerful wave as he passed him, knocking their shoulders together. "See you later!" Like he wasn't internally freaking out. Like he wasn't immediately going to go kick Monty's door in and 'I told you so' him so hard. Ollie could keep it together for the ten minutes it took him to get back to his dorm.

"Hey," Milo said, as he glanced over to see who had ended up next to him at the bar, and spotting Link. It was a little crazy to think just a year ago he probably wouldn't have even acknowledged them at all, not to say he liked to acknowledge him at all but there it was. For better or worse. Usually worse. "I was wondering," he began, turning his body in Link's direction to focus on him. "Have you ever found out who might have been involved in exposing us?" Not to be completely messy, but he was curious to test the waters. Just to see how the other felt. "I wonder if it still even matters anymore…"

jovialness simmered into something softer, more genuine, and parker redirected its accompanying grin from the page back to link. "yeah," she then spoke decidedly, offering a nod, "set on it. you know, i can see how people get addicted to these things. the, like, artistic gratification." parker shifted where she sat. "have i ever asked you about how you got started?"

link let out a short breath that almost passed for a laugh, eyes flicking from the page back to her as he sketched mindlessly. "first one wasn't even mine. older kid in the neighbourhood stuck me with a needle and some ink when i was, what, thirteen? fourteen? mom didn't notice, of course." his mouth twisted into something between a grin and a grimace. "got infected, obviously. looked like shit. but i was obsessed anyway." he leans back and sets the sketchpad down, tugging up the edge of his sleeve to show her a faint, crooked mess of lines, faded but still visible if you looked close enough. "did a bunch of these on myself after. stick-and-pokes that looked like they belonged in a psych ward. still carrying them around."

he dropped the sleeve and shrugged. "kids in the neighbourhood started paying me to fuck up their skin, too. couple bucks here, a twenty there. saved up enough to buy a real kit, and once i had that, i kept going. and by the time i got to ogden, i was good enough someone actually gave me a legit chair in a shop." his grin tugged wider then, crooked and easy.

It probably didn't matter, and knowing any of that would probably not help. But… He couldn't help but wonder.

He took his phone back from Link, turning it off and putting it back in his pocket with a sigh. Like 'yeah it's crazy what do we do?' But then Link was looking at him and asking what they should do, and Ollie looked back at them, blinking a few times. "Huh?" he said. "Me? I don't know what the move is," He said, his voice pitching slightly higher in panic. then he took a deep breath, and shook his head, repeating himself. "I don't know what the move is. I just do things." He rarely ever (never) did things with some kind of plan or motive in mind. He just did them. That was where he and Link differed. Though he thought about it for a moment, and shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe we need to take initiative. Do something that isn't waiting for G to tell us what to do. You know? We can't be puppets forever. That, or we just … wait for another two months, graduate, and get as far away from here as we can."

his gaze cut back to ollie then, stady. "but maybe we stop waiting for g to drop the next thing. maybe we should just move first." he let it hang for a moment before pushing off the wall, brushing past him with a flick of his hand. "i'll call you this week." the words felt strange leaving his mouth, too casual and easy after the shitstorm of their last fallout. after ollie essentially dumping him and link crashing out, swearing they'll never be friends. maybe this was just necessity, the situation dragging them back together whether they liked it or not. and the worst part was that link liked it, even under fucked up circumstances like this... at least he got to be around ollie. and that feeling, that reasoning is probably why they were so bad for each other in the first place. it was like an addiction. and he'd never say it out loud, but link had been looking for an excuse all along. some way to circle back without bruising his pride.

"How do you do that?" She whispers to him then. "Like, get people to notice you."

his eyes flicked over her deliberately, a smirk tugging at his mouth. "you could pull it off easy. you've got the face for it. just gotta stop acting like you're waiting for permission."

Heni thinks, face screwed up in concentration for longer than she thought it might, wondering what she might not regret having on her body. "Okay. Don't laugh. I thought about it, like way back, and if were ever to get anything, it'd be a duck. A small one, obviously."

he leaned back in the chair, flipping through the sketchpad to a blank page. "well, whatever the reason is, you don't have to sell me on the why. half my tattoos are inside jokes no one gets anymore or just things i did when i was bored." his pen started moving again, loose, easy strokes shaping a tiny bird with a tilted head. "you want a duck, you get a duck."

he glanced up at her, grin sharpening. "i am gonna make it the best fucking duck anyone's ever seen. otherwise, people might just think you lost a bet."

Edward, hundredfold, strode in infinite directions in the dark. A view that never got tiring. His reflection. Elevated to the nth power, reproduced endlessly inside the House of Mirrors.

There was, undoubtedly, an element of self-obsession to his wonderment–an unwavering appreciation of his own image that was characteristic of mythological characters that would drown or blind themselves after trying to kiss their own reflection. But there was also the psychedelic thrill about getting lost in a maze of glass, surrounded by so many nonexistent versions of one, that you couldn’t even point out who was object and who was image.

Not that any of those things were particular motivators to his volunteering to work at the House of Mirrors. Those were just the things he liked in something he wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about, which was working the closing shift at the carnival. Instead, what had led him there was the promise of extra credits he so desperately needed thanks to his horrendous performance in some computer science courses he was about to bomb (which would, ultimately, lead to his parents finding out that he– well, never mind).

Regardless of the reasons that had brought him there or of how much he enjoyed being able to stare at himself for hours on end, there was work to be done. And so, he walked down the sinuous corridors of the maze, flashlight in hand, to check if there were any stragglers and to collect garbage that might have been left behind. At a turn, however, Eddie spotted something that made him stop. Two figures standing in the dark. Well, to be perfectly honest, about 16 figures. Standing close to one another. Talking.

At first, he imagined it might have been just two teenagers thinking they could get away with staying in the carnival past closing time. Hiding somewhere they thought no one would bother to check. But as he got closer, the shapes started to become more defined. The thin, jagged frame, the brown, curly hair, the cashmere of her sweater, and the faded vintage rock band t-shirt… And suddenly he was surrounded by Sassa and Link. 8 of each. He hadn’t seen them come in. Or maybe he had, but was too distracted with his reading that his brain didn’t compute. Still, this felt like being lured towards a fire–a sense of curiosity walking in tandem with trepidation in his mind. But it didn't hinder his stride.  

He cleared his throat loudly, stealing their attention, using his flashlight to distinguish the mimics from the flesh-and-bone pair – the ones whose eyes closed instinctively when confronted with light. “Am I interrupting something?”

then the beam of light cut through it, and link's eyes snapped toward it... and then to eddie behind it. his expression was caught somewhere between irritation and a slow-spreading grin. "jesus, you're like a horror movie jump scare," he said, his voice low with laced amusement. "couple more seconds and i would have started charging admission." he shifted his weight, glancing around the army of reflections until his own face stared back at him in eight different angles. "god, this place suits you, morrison. it screams your brand of narcissism." he responds, instead of answering the original question — am i interrupting something? any conversation with sassa was something. but then again, so was every conversation with eddie.

@sassa-fiske

at their nudging, she returned the explanation with a lengthy stare. scrutinizing in the fondest way. then, finally, "fine." parker released a dramatic sigh. "no dragons or dice. if i'm being honest, i want something a... little simpler. just a little." prompted by an yet-to-be-voiced thought, she reached up towards her bedside table and pulled a black notebook from its surface. "i was actually sort of thinking..." eyes downcast, she opened it and flipped to one of the latter pages. on it was a simple, neat, but also very crude drawing of a bow and arrow, parallel to one another. "with a little more detail, obviously," she shrugged, tilting the book towards link, "but it's kind of everything. my archery, fantasy, symbol of love. you know, in shakespeare's midsummer there's a line about flying swifter than an arrow from the tartar's bow." figuring she'd rambled enough, parker looked back up at link to gauge a reaction.

he gave her a once-over before looking back down at the bow and arrow. "you sure you're not just trying to trick me into writing sonnets on your skin?" he asked, tone dry, though there was something softer in the words. then he nodded at the notebook, tapping the corner of the page with his finger. "i can make this into something you won't hate in a week. something that actually looks like you, instead of... i don't know, a ren fair prop gone wrong?" he says with a small laugh. he then lifts his eyes back to her, expression sharpening. "you're set on it?"

HIs mouth quirked in appreciation of Link's acknowledgement, becuase it was true. He was trying to understand. He'd been trying to do that the entire time. Why was this happening? Why are you doing this? Why do you want me to do this? Why? Why? Why? Ollie had always been like that though. He used to drive his parents and teachers insane … If only it was all so innocent anymore. "I have it," he said, shrugging his shoulders, "what Diego found. If you want to see it. He sent it to me. Well, I sent it to me but he said I could." Obviously Link could still go talk to him if he wanted to know more. But Ollie was pulling out his phone and heading to the encrypted folder he'd created to save this onto, and handing his phone over to Link. "Besides the contents it really hadn't rung any alarm bells to me, you know? I wish we knew which letter came first. Or when they were written… Yours seems more personal so maybe this one was first. What if the Dean … tried to get closer to Penny because she knew this information. And he was trying to see what she knew about Greer or something." He shook his head a little bit, once again ending with an uncertain sigh and stating, "I don't know."

there was a pause, longer this time. link's mouth pressed into a line, then curved into something like a scoff. "funny thing is, if greer was being this precise, timing it all like clockwork, then she chose who got what for a reason. she didn't leave shit to chance." his jaw worked once. he let the silence stretch, then finally dragged his gaze back to ollie. "so what do we do with this? sit on it and hope diego turns up more? or push it? because if she wanted these sent on those exact days, maybe she was trying to signal something. maybe there's a pattern we're not seeing yet." he let out a bitter laugh under his breath. his shoulders lifted, then dropped, a feigned casualness he didn't really feel. "what's the move?" looking to ollie as if he was the one to trust — and lately, he was the only person link seemed to hold most of his trust in.

He'd been out here before; it was a prime spot for drag racing. Quiet and tucked away from the bustling parts of the city, it felt almost a world away. A slow, lazy grin spread across his face as he rolled his head toward Link— the only warning he gave before the car shot forward.

They flew down the street and the world outside whizzed by in a blur. Despite the anxiety, exhilaration heated his blood, taking its place as he hit sixty, then seventy, then eighty. Nearing one hundred, he hit the brakes, fishtailing into a, expertly done one-eighty with smoking and squealing tires. A loud laugh and a whoop ripped itself from his lungs as he turned back to Link, nodding to the steering wheel and back again. "Think you can do better?"

jesse's look toward the wheel was all invitation, and link did not hesitate. he stepped out with an energy he didn't bother to tone down. "for the record," he added, sliding into the driver's seat, "i'm not exactly seasoned. never had a car, but i have taken a few for a spin." some borrowed, some very borrowed. he gripped the wheel, adjusting like he was settling into a challenge more than a seat, looking over at jesse. "i hope you're prepared to pay for any damages. both car and body." and with that, the car lurches forward almost immediately. the second the car responded to his touch, he pushed. he didn't drive like he was trying to prove something, but like someone who was trying to keep up the high. the tires bit into the road as he took the first turn harder than necessary, clearly not at the same level of expertise that was just shown to him. he wasn't smooth at all — a sharp jer of the wheel here, a sudden acceleration there. it was messy, but deliberate, much like someone who never learned the rules but knew which to break. one hand dropped to the gearshift, steady and fast, and other resting too casually on the wheel.

the car finally slowed, tires spitting gravel as link brought it to a halt with a sharp tug of the wheel. his chest rose once, then stilled, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel like the adrenaline hadn't quite worn off. "god, i need to get my own car." he says, more to himself than anything.

he leaned back against his headboard, arms crossing like he needed to physically brace for her. "valentine," he repeated, tone flat but with amusement. "you make it sound like i got chocolates and a love note." he pauses, and then: "yeah, i got something." his jaw clenched for just a second — barely noticeable unless you were watching him too closely... which was always the case with sassa. "cute little threat. very on-brand." he looked at her again, studied her face the way he always did when trying to gauge what she already knew. "you jealous?" he says playfully, unable to resist. "or just making sure g's playing fair?"

his gaze flicks back to her, and something softer settles into place — familiar and easy. "you always did pick the worst ways to torture yourself," he nods toward her gym bag with a small grin. "so. you heading back? i can walk with you."