Jo Barrow

❀

Izzy nods, figuring that her offer would be there if there was something that Jo needed. While the woman certainly wasn’t ready to be a sponsor or something, she could definitely sit with someone in meetings, if needed. The question though— that was a tough one. “Yes and no,” she starts, looking at her nails a bit enamored all of a sudden. “Like yes, it’s tough when someone is snorting coke right next to me or something but no because my friends definitely like wouldn’t do that. A lot of people that care about me will like change their behavior and I think that makes me feel like weird or something… I’d rather them just act normal,” she shrugs, knowing that not everyone will have the same experience either. Izzy just needed to be around people like all the time, sober or high as a kite. “But you kind of have to figure it out yourself. Depends on the person. Definitely don’t like change career paths or something.”

†

“Eh, career change isn’t an option.” Jo admits. “I just want to make sure I’m not makin’ things harder than they need to be for her. It’ll be plenty hard as is.” Stuffing the pamphlets into her back pocket she gives Izzy a nod. “Appreciate the insight, Izzy. Thanks.” she tell the woman as she heads for the door. It was somewhat comforting to know someone who actually worked the system and seemed to be doing well, despite the temptation that was Olympus. The drugs and the bars were some of the main distractions this place boasted, but here was Izzy, able to have a seemingly nice life and be around people even if those things were no longer a part of her lifestyle. Maybe Angel could do this. 

❀

“Yeah, of course,” she says, looking at the pamphlets in the woman’s hands. Izzy had been a tough nut to crack, herself, having rebelled against every attempt to make her become sober. There’d been begging, there’d been tough love, there’d been people just writing her off and giving up. In the end, she made it here, still a little broken and still a little far from confident in her sobriety (again), but she’d made it. “If you need any help, I’m kind of great at convincing people of doing stuff. Hell, I can take your ‘friend’ to group with me and they can act like my support system or something,” she offers. It’s always intimidating making the first step, from her experience but sometimes just seeing it, it didn’t feel so overwhelming.

†

Jo nodded and shifted her weight onto her other foot, her body unsure if it was more uncomfortable with the conversation or with the lack of sleep and knotted muscles in her back. “It’s all pretty new right now.” she admitted. “But that’s really nice of you to offer. I’ll definitely keep it in mind.” Jo said, and mentally she was telling herself to leave but her feet weren’t moving. Glancing towards the door, she knew she should head towards it, but she couldn’t move yet. Scratching at the back of her head for a moment she wrinkled her nose and then looked back at Izzy. “Can I ask you... is it hard for you to be around people who aren’t sober?” Jo asked, nervous she was crossing a line or being rude, but also more worried about Angel. “I just mean, you know, I want to help but I run a fuckin’ bar.” she said with a little laugh even though it really wasn’t funny.

-

Bowie raises their brows, chuckling and nodding a little. “Okay, fair point,” They say, their smile widening some. It’s something they didn’t even consider. As much as they love both Hex and The Dive, Bowie can’t imagine living over either one of them. Being able to escape the establishments made the joy of returning to them so much stronger, so much sweeter. And again, she has a point about nowhere in town being safe. Still, they don’t think Jo should have to resort to popping a squat on the sidewalk in the middle of the night as a means of escape.

Standing up straight again, Bowie pulls their tote a little higher up on their shoulder. “I’ll tell you if you come home with me,” They offer kindly, folding their arms across their chest. Even if nowhere is safe, they still don’t want to take their chances at being a target in the open. “I also have booze,” They go on, adding that as some sort of leveraging tactic. Of course, Jo is more than welcome to deny. Bowie will plop back down and keep her company until she’s tired of them, if the answer is no.

†

Jo clucks her tongue as if thinking it over, but free booze was always a surefire way to get her attention. “Yeah, okay.” she says with a smile, pushing up from the ground and flicking her cigarette away. Shoving her hands into her pockets, she falls into step beside Bowie as she follows them back to their place. Mentally, she’s picturing a voodoo den with a stripper pole, but that might be too obvious a guess. She knew the phrase ‘come home with me’ could sometimes mean something else, but luckily Jo didn’t think that was a risk here. Bowie was just nice to be around- calming. A little piece of her felt guilty, not wanting the chaos in her own head to bleed over into Bowie’s.... aura? Nah, that shit wasn’t real. But there was something telling about the energy people sometimes put off. “Hope i’m not putting a damper on your night or anything.” she offered with a small shrug. “You don’t have to invite me over if you’re tired or sick of dealing with people.” 

♔

She lit up her blunt and took in a hiss like puff before she chuckled. “Why? Did your dad have something against bikers? I get it, ninety percent of them are complete assholes.” Cat should know, she spent far too much time with them. Some she liked, some she hated, and some she just… well, that was another conversation entirely. She smiled at the woman’s words. “Aw shucks, you make a girl feel special.” Cat shot back before gesturing down the street with a nod of her head. “Come on, walk with me. There’s a park down the street and we can booze and talk like teenagers out past their curfew.” Or however those American shows went. The drug dealer slid a silver flask from her pocket and waved it with a suggestive smile. “I have the booze.”

†

Jo snorted a bit at the thought. “No, he fuckin’ loved ‘em, actually. I think he kinda wished I’d prospected but...” she shrugs her shoulder. That would have kept her in Olympus which at the time had been the last thing she’d wanted. And now... she didn’t want to be shot for a fuckin’ patch. “I own Barry’s. Payin’ someone else for drinks feels like sacrilege.” she explained with a smile. The offer is perhaps random, but Jo is smoking in an alley. Drinking in a park sounded like a step up. “Yeah, alright.” she said, getting to her feet and heading down the street to the park. “You always this prepared for a random, late night park party?” Jo asked with a grin.

❀

Izzy purses her lips at Jo, wondering if this was some ill-attempt at throwing her off, considering the woman happened to love gossip, all kinds. Even the malicious kinds. She knew a lot of the addicts around town and considering it was Olympus, there were plenty, and Jo doesn’t seem to match. “For a friend works,” she shrugs, not really looking to drag anything out of Jo today anyways. “Just remember that they might not take the help,” she adds, knowing that her own stubbornness had deterred her from group and rehab and sobriety. Everyone told her that this was what she was supposed to be doing and it just dug her deeper and deeper into the life they had tried to protect her from— a life in shambles because of drugs. Ethan hadn’t been the only one to convince her to go to rehab, he just happened to be the only one that threatened to not let her come back to Olympus and therefore her family that she’d created. “Honestly, if they make that group, there would never be enough stale cookies and burnt ass coffee so let’s keep that one on the DL,” she jokes, moving a little closer to see the pamphlets that Jo picked up. Pointing to one on the table, Izzy looks at Jo, “I always think this one is like the best one. It shows you pictures of like before and afters. If your ‘friend’ likes to stay hot– meth isn’t it– is kind of the message,” It’s one way of doing it, she figured.

†

Jo rolled her shoulders and gave a small nod. “I know.” she said flatly. A few unwanted memories flitted across her mind, of nights screaming with her father, or of old friends from the city screaming at her as she stared at them with glazed over eyes. With a deep breath in through her nose she pushed those thoughts down. “Yeah, well, just gonna have to take it one day at a time. I’d rather be tryin’ to help them than just leavin’ ‘em to figure it out alone.” she admits, but it feels too close to divulging something personal so she busied herself looking through the pamphlets again. The joke makes her snort quietly. “I mean, I don’t think there’s ever enough stale cookies and burnt coffee, but I’m tough to please.” Jo said, a grin pulling at her mouth as she eyes traveled to the the pamphlet that was pointed out to her. She had no idea, really, how vain Angel was. Not very, but then again she was young. Aging and all the anxiety that came with it might not have caught up to her yet. “Couldn’t hurt to try.” Jo says, picking up the pamphlet and adding it to the small pile she was putting together. “Thanks, Iz. Appreciate the help.” she said, and the words we genuine. Izzy looked good, as per usual, but that had to be proof that this shit worked. It was hard to picture the woman in front of her sitting in a metal folding chair and spilling her guts to strangers, but if it worked then power to her. It was better than the alternative.

“I mean, I really hope not. What ever happened to honest cops?” He knew that Olympus had them, they had to. Not everyone could be bought off and even if they were crooked, it was probably with loyalty to the Primordials and not the Rogues. “I mean, you heard about Reina’s kid right? It’s just wrong.” He was probably going in circles about the same thing but he was shaken up about kids getting hurt. “You really think Olympus could be quiet? I’m not sure it’s ever been a quiet town. Isn’t that why people move here? Cause it’s not quiet?” 

†

Jo leaned back a bit, resting her hips against the counter behind her, drumming her fingers against the wooden edge. “I mean, cops have never been my favorite people. Can’t say I’d like ‘em one way or another. I think I’d just be happy if someone- anyone handled this shit. At this point it feels like everyone is just letting it happen.” Jo says. Someone in the corner motions for another beer and she keeps listening to Lucian even as she pours a fresh drink and delivers it, taking the money off the bar and putting it into the till. “I mean, I was born here so my opinion might not be the same as other peoples’ but, I don’t know... it’s never quiet but it’s usually a bit less in your face.” Jo told him honestly. “Which is all I really want. I just want to mind my own business and not be worried about shit I’m not involved in.” 

♔

“There’s nothing wrong with sitting in your thoughts. Especially if you’ve had a shitty day.” Cat was pretty sure she didn’t have to tell the woman that, but she felt compelled to regardless. She took a breath and leaned against the wall beside Jo, crossing one ankle over the other. She shrugged. “I guess. You could have picked a better view than The Dive though.” What was she up to? She searched her pockets for a second blunt, figuring now was as good a time as any to smoke. “Forgetting, which I guess is the opposite of wallowing.” Cat scoffed and chuckled at her question. “Ay no. I’d be a shitty superhero. Truth and justice can go fuck themselves.”

†

Jo shrugged in a way that looked like agreement, though she wasn’t sure she did. Sitting with your thoughts might be good for some, but often times Jo didn’t know how to turn them off, and usually resorted to climbing into a bottle just to get some quiet within her own mind. At the mention of the view, Jo glanced across the street and wrinkled her nose. “Yeah... probably. I kinda just, stopped here without any real reason. Goin’ in ain’t really an option without makin’ my daddy roll in his grave.” she says with a wry smile. At the woman’s opinions on superheroes Jo gave a small laugh. “Alright. Noted. Not a superhero. Just a pretty girl tryin’ to forget shit. I can respect that.”

.

Kit almost wanted to yell, or punch something inanimate again. The problem had been right in front of them the whole time, staring them in the face, taunting them, and yet they ignored it. They simply turned a blind eye and assumed that everything was fine. They had seen drug addicts live a relatively functional life before, right? Kit himself was halfway there. “You think that’s gonna make her stop? By takin’ her away from the Crooked Bastards?” he spoke with a surprised tone, his brows crooked as he turned to look at Jo. He appreciated her sentiment, although it didn’t quite appear that way by his response. “She’s goin’ to come out of hospital and bounce right back to it. And I’m not sayin’ that ‘cause I think she’s a shitty person, ‘cause I don’t.” if Kit thought so lowly of Angel, then he wouldn’t have been so friendly to her or visited her in the hospital. “I just know how drug addicts work.” dealing with them on a daily basis just happened to be in Kit’s line of work. Anxiously, he continued to pick at the label on the beer bottle, suddenly feeling like he had just criticised Jo for wanting to help. “What you’re doin’ to help her out is a good start though,” Kit was quick to add. “She’s gonna need a good support system when she gets out.”

†

Jo sighed deeply and took another long pull from her beer before shaking her head. “No. I’m not saying take her away from it, just... limit it. Make her a fuckin’ messenger, make her do something else. Y’all are the ones who control the drugs in this town, so keep them out of her fuckin’ hands without forcing her out.” she said, leaning up, putting her feet on the ground and resting her forearms on her knees as she looked over at Kit. “If someone else in town is dealing to her... that’s a way bigger problem for you guys, isn’t it?” she asked with a shrug. Jo puffed her cheeks out for a moment before downing the rest of her beer and then spinning the bottle between her hands, thinking to herself for a moment before speaking. “I know this isn’t gonna be some magic fix. Fuck knows I’m not exactly a model of sobriety over here.” she said, pushing off the couch to grab another beer. “If we can give her a chance, that’s a fuckin’ start, but I can’t be the only moderately good influence here. Do what you gotta do, talk to who you gotta talk to, but help me find a way to keep her hand out of a fuckin’ baggie for a while, without cutting her off from all the people she cares about.” Jo said, cracking the cap off her beer and taking a long sip as she flops back down beside Kit, the exhaustion pulling at her face and her shoulders as she went back to her previous position. Forearms against her knees, eyes darting around the apartment wondering how to junkie-proof the place. She hadn’t managed to keep her father from slowly killing himself, so how the fuck was she going to help Angel?

-

Will’s definitely all for not making these middle of the night, graveyard meetings a habit, as Jo puts it. He’d very, very much prefer being asleep right now, or at least pretending he’s not having trouble sleeping. Awake and staring at the ceiling or not, at least he’d be at home and not…here. But still, the cemetery is the place where she feels safest to meet him, where they’re certain no one will see or suspect them, and Will has to respect that. Her turf, her rules. “Yeah, you don’t have to worry about that one,” Will says as he looks around at the rows and rows of tombstones and mausoleums, running a hand through his hair before turning his attention back to her fully. 

When she begins to apologize, Will softens. He can’t imagine how scared she must be. And she has to be, right? Given their location and the time of their meeting. He understands, and he prefers it this way. The very, very last thing he wants is for Jo to get hurt. The information he’s seeking, it’s easily traceable back to her if they’re not careful. He doesn’t want anyone spotting them and putting two and two together. Honestly, he would meet her under far weirder, far more unorthodox circumstances if it means she feels safe. “No, no, don’t apologize,” Will tells her. He gets it, he really does. But his appreciation for the woman is through the fucking roof. He’s happy to be standing next to someone’s grave when so many witnesses before have, in so many words, told him to fuck off entirely and go fuck himself. This? This is a treat in comparison. 

It’s a bit of a relief, really, hearing Jo say she tries to keep her bar as neutral as possible. It’s reassuring to know not everyone in the town as their affiliations and cult like loyalties. But actually, it’s bittersweet. Jo, in the end, is nothing more than a civilian who’s been caught up in the crossfires. And while under normal circumstances, Will might’ve laughed at the whole I’m either bribing you or fuckin’ you thing, these are not normal circumstances. “Noted,” He nods. “All of it. Off the record. Nothing will be mentioned about you or the bar, and nothing will be linked back to you,” Will tells Jo. “Can you just…tell me everything you told Aurora?”

†

Jo scans his face, looking for any sign of lies or ulterior motives but she doesn’t see any. At least none that are obvious, but her judgement isn’t exactly stellar and her own moral compass is a bit more skewed than what’s considered normal. Jo rakes another hand through her hair and gives a nod. “Yeah, okay.”  she says, taking another drag of her cigarette and shifting a bit, her nerves getting the better of her. For a moment she’s quiet, her brow furrowing as she tries to think back to the conversation at the bar she’d overheard; the one that had seemed just weird enough to make her seek out the woman with the missing child.... like a gossipy, nosy idiot.

“There were two guys in the bar bitching about watching a kid. Nothing groundbreaking, but they weren’t talking like it was one of their kids, you know? I’m pretty sure they said ‘what does it even eat?’ at some point.” Jo explained with a shake of her head. “It was fuckin’ weird. Like if 3 Men and a Baby was made with a bunch of scumbags... ‘cept 2 guys and way less cute.” she said, licking lips and watching as the ash she flicked from her cigarette drifted off into the darkness. “I didn’t catch their names. They pay in cash when they come in which is at least one or two nights a week, if not more.” she explains. Jo takes a last drag of her cigarette before crushing this one under her shoe as well. It crosses her mind to pull out a third but two in a row seems enough for right now, so she just hook her thumbs through the belt loops on her jeans to give them somewhere to be.

“The one guy was younger, white, skinny. Not much taller than me.” Jo said, gesturing a bit to all five feet and five inches of her. “Kinda sandy brown hair or dirty-blonde. Bad skin.” she described and picturing the man in her mind, wondering if he was the kind of guy to steal a kid and set fire to people’s homes... it left her feeling unsettled. “Other guy was decent looking. Hot if you’re drunk. Big guy- like husky but he’s obviously got some muscle to back it up. Scar on his chin but it didn’t look new. Full sleeve on his right arm. If he’s white, he ain’t all white and if he’s black he ain’t all black. That’s best I can narrow down for ya’ on race. I couldn’t really tell ya’ what his ethnicity is, it’d just be me makin’ bad guesses. But his skin is like a medium brown, kinda tan.” she finished, mashing her lips together and then shrugging her shoulders at him. It wasn’t a lot, and none of it meant anything. It was just a feeling, and Jo’s instincts weren’t always spot on.

.

“We’re whatever you need us to be. C’mon.” he nodded in the direction of the kitchen, stepping aside so she could lead the way. On the outside, the Crooked Bastards were a business that worked like a well oiled machine, everyone had their place and knew what their responsibilities were. If you looked in a little further, you could see relationships blooming and bonds forming. Less so platonic but more so familial - perhaps a rather dysfunctional family, but they were considered family all the same. And Kit often extended that gesture to those who looked out for his family, Jo now being one of them. 

Kit huffed an attempt at a laugh although it just came out as a sigh as Jo handed him the bag of peas. He had basically reacted the same way an over hormonal teenager with anger issues would react to being told he had to turn off his Xbox. “Thanks.” he mumbled as he joined Jo on the couch, the top of his beer off in a matter of seconds. They sat in silence for a few seconds and it was nice, just to have a moment to figure out what he wanted to say, or if he wanted to say anything at all.

“Did you know it was that bad?” Kit finally wondered aloud, his fingers mindlessly picking at the label on the beer. “I mean, I knew she took drugs. Everybody does in this town.” he shrugged lightly, it was how Otto’s business was so successful. “I just didn’t know how badly she was lookin’ for that next high, y’know? And there ain’t no way she’s goin’ to manage to stay clean here. What the fuck are we supposed to do?” Kit leaned his head back against the couch, his hand coming up to rub his forehead.

†

Jo sips her beer and props her feet on the scratched and stained coffee table. The break is actually kind of nice, though the tension doesn’t leave her body completely. She knows Kit well enough that she’s not entirely bothered by him being here, but she’s hyper-aware of the burn holes in the carpet, the water stains on the ceiling, the patches of linoleum pulling up at some corners in her kitchen. The beer is making it easier to handle the shame and embarrassment, which is the whole reason she’d grabbed it. The question is one she’s not sure how to answer. Did she know Angel had a problem? Technically, yes, because anyone who’s high most of the time has some kind of problem. Did she know there was something deeper and more sinister? “Nope.” Jo said, her mouth popping around the ‘p’ before she takes another long sip of her beer. A part of her agreed with Kit, and though she didn’t like the idea of talking about Angel like she was a problem to be solved, it was nice to know there were others who were just as worried. “I hired her. Once she’s up and movin’ around, I’m gonna start training her on the bar. So she won’t have to do anything else to make money.” Jo says, looking over at Kit, knowing he understood what she meant.

-

No one’s ever held Angel like this.

Not in the moments when she desperately needed to be held, longed for someone, anyone to hold her. Roger and his kids surely didn’t give a damn about her. They made that abundantly clear, not at first, but as time stretched on. Her mother, the woman she once regarded as her best friend, forgot all about the promises of unity when it was just the two of them- back when they were just a struggling single mother and her daughter against a stigmatizing world. That duo multiplied, and eventually, Angel had to learn how to hold herself. How to be the comfort she desperately wanted but was too stubborn to seek out. But if she had been held, she wonders if she would be anywhere near the fuck up she’s managed to become. 

Angel holds on for dear life, using what little strength she has left to grip Jo. Her bony fingers knots the fabric of the older woman’s shirt in her fists, the tubes twisting around her narrow arms. And physically? It hurts to cry. It’s painful. Her body aches in retaliation, punishment for trying to put it through an untimely death. But that doesn’t deter the sobs wrecking her feeble frame. Jo’s words make it no easier. 

‘Because you deserve better.’

‘There is better shit out there than whatever you’re feeling, and you deserve to find it.’

‘Because I care about you.’

Shoulders slumped, she sits there and lets Jo wipe the tears from her face as she sniffles and hiccups like a child. She does her best to gather herself, to pull herself back together. But these things, they’re no brainers. They’re all things she’d say to a friend who needed to hear it, but it’s so damn hard telling herself any of that. Maybe, it’s because she knows she’s only lying to herself, but hearing it comes from someone else? It’s revolutionary. “Okay,” Angel nods and tries her best to believe her.

†

Jo takes a deep breath, doing her best to keep the tears off Angel’s face, brushing them away with her fingers. The small nod and smaller voice seem to be all her friend can manage right now, so she accepts them with a nod of her own. “Okay. Good.” she says, doing her best to ignore her own fears, and some of her own embarrassment. She’s not the soft, maternal figure. Jo is not equipped for this. She’s woken up on top of her own bar more than once, she’s lost years of her own to nights filled with smoke and pills and powders. Nothing grand brought her back from that, not really. There was nothing noble about her or strong about her, she just doesn’t have the time to go back to that. Her father is gone and the bar is her last hope to have anything at all, to make anything at all. A part of her is shocked that she has any fight left in her, but it must be there. It’s the only thing to explain how she hasn’t wound up in the exact same position Angel finds herself in now.

“Alright, Angel-face.” Jo said, rubbing the tops of the woman’s arms a bit before standing up. She couldn’t stay here, besides she was certain there would be more people coming by to check on Angel, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to see them. “I’m gonna go, but I’ll be back to get you. So... listen to the nurses. Rest up.” Jo instructed, her hands going back into her pockets as she took another deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling with the effort as she looked over Angel. “As soon as you come home and you’re up to it, I’ll start training you on the bar.” she added with a firm nod of her head, solidifying the plan. These were the things Jo herself clung to, and she was willing to share them. A place to retreat to and a place to do something. “Hospital stay and job offer in the same day. What are the odds?” Jo said, using the last bits of strength she had to summon up a smirk for her friend. “Call me if you need me okay?” Jo removed one hand and squeezed Angel’s blanket covered foot as she passed the bottom of the bed on her way to the door.

-

Tote full of cash tucked into their side, Bowie glances back at The Dive, still bumping and so full of life. They love it there, they do, but sometimes they’re even happier when they leave. Slow shifts are awful. And even worse, like the shift tonight, are the ones when drunk fucks don’t respect their boundaries. Yes, Bowie is there to entertain, to flirt, to dance, to seduce, but they sure as hell aren’t there to get grabbed and tugged at like some boys’ play thing. It’s nights like this that makes them want to quit The Dive and focus solely on Hex. “Yeah, was just heading home,” Bowie says as they turn their attention back to Jo. “Not that you’re keepin’ me from doing something, or anything,”  They add quickly, not wanting Jo to think she’s being a burden or anything.

The truth is, Bowie can use the company too. The increase in shifts at The Dive is their solution to stopping the world from spinning, ironically enough since they’re usually spinning from a pole, but even that isn’t really cutting it anymore. “I know what you mean, though,” Bowie sighs, wrapping their arms around their knees. “Shit’s really fucking crazy out here, but this is your idea of making the world stop spinning? Crouching down and smoking out on the street?” They ask lightheartedly, tilting their head with a sort of smile.

†

Jo shrugs and attempts a smile but she’s tired so it’s not a strong curve to her lips, just a small twitch at the corners. “Well, I live above the bar so if I don’t wanna be at home and I don’t wanna be at work, I gotta find someplace else to be.” she explains, taking another drag. “The sitting is just ‘cause I’m lazy.” Jo added. She glanced around the street, not much traffic and the sounds of the Dive comfortably distant. “If no where in this town is safe, then smokin’ on a street corner’s no different than smokin’ anywhere else.”

Jo exhales a plume of smoke through her nose, her mind wandering for a moment, her thoughts snagging on her own words. No where in town was safe. She hadn’t realized she’d felt that way until she said it out loud, and she didn’t like it. “How was work? Any good gossip?” she asks, preferring to focus on anything else.

❀

Izzy isn’t an idiot to think that she was too good for groups anymore. She’d gone astray and found herself far too cocky with her sobriety, consistently putting herself into situations in which she would be strained and tested. Ultimately, she’d end up right back where she’d started, going to meetings with burnt coffee and not so soft snacks. And following every meeting, she’d make a point to strut out of the room like she was in a runway show in Paris. That is, until she comes across Jo, struggling to find anything in the pamphlets, which immediately perks her attention, placing a hand on the table beside her and leaning into it, cocking her head to look at Jo. “Well step one is admitting that you have a problem so I guess you’re well on your way,” Izzy comments with a small smile. “Guess it depends what the problem is— they’ve got a fucking group here for just about everything,” she mentions— and she would know, she’s been to a lot of them, even if they didn’t apply to her.

†

Jo arches and eyebrow then gives Izzy a wry smile, but there’s still exhaustion lining her face. “I got plenty of problems, but not these kind.” she says with a nod towards the pamphlets. “I know a lot of people say they’re lookin’ into this ‘for a friend’, but in this case it happens to be true.” she tells her. Jo doesn’t want to give too much away, because it’s not her business, nor Izzy’s. This is Angel’s shit. Jo just wants to have things around if this was something that would help or something Angel wanted to do. “Unless they got a group here for just livin’ in this fuckin’ town... which honestly wouldn’t shock me.”

“It’s not good. I don’t even know what’s really happening but I know that Olympus is suffering, and that’s not good.” It wasn’t like they had that much foot traffic to begin with. “Yeah, not sure why the cops are just letting it all seem slide.” They had to know by this point, right? “When it doesn’t involve regular people, it feels more safe around here.” He hoped that they’d be able to put a stop to it soon but it wasn’t like he could really do anything himself. It was a group effort and frankly, none of his business unless Otto asked him to do something which didn’t seem that likely. 

†

Jo shook her head, bitterness welling up inside of her. “Half of ‘em are probably in someone’s pocket.” she said in reference to the Olympus PD. She couldn’t say she had a very high opinion of any authority figures in this town, but mostly she was just mad. She’d never had a problem with the MC or the Bastards, but she did have a problem with bullshit spilling over and into her bar. “Maybe we should just run all of ‘em out on a rail and just be some quiet little town.” Jo proposed with a wry grin, knowing full well that Olympus would never be that. Sure, it might eventually quiet down, things might come back to a normal pace but there would always be the undercurrent of something not quite right  with this place. Something dark beneath it’s surface.

-

He never thought he’d be hopping the fence of a graveyard to get some information from a potential witness at three o’clock in the morning, but there’s a first time for everything, right? That’s the attitude Will’s come to maintain as a detective in Olympus, Louisiana. Because the shit that happens here? It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen, both in his life and in his career. He’s had to learn to be up for anything. This included. But he’s not totally out of commission, which is a nice surprise. Will’s able to pull himself up and over the gate with ease, landing on his feet on the inside of the graveyard. He just can’t believe he’s actually doing it. Regardless, he takes a deep breath and goes on his way, along the path Jo instructed him to take. 

Shoving his hands into his pockets, Will tries not to think about the fact he’s wandering around the final resting place of the dead during witching hour. He doesn’t necessarily believe in that sort of thing, but still, he doesn’t want a reason to start. It’s just that his body is suddenly hyperaware. Ears picking up every noise. Mind playing tricks on him. Corners of his eyes seeing imaginary motion. His only real saving grace from total darkness is the moon shining so graciously tonight. But eventually Will sees Jo, a wave of relief coming over him as he redirects his footsteps towards her. “Thank you for meeting me,” He says, loud enough to make his presence known, as he draws closer. 

†

Jo stretches her legs out in front of her, flexing her feet at the ankles to try and relieve some of the tension in her calves from working all day. She sees Will before he speaks and takes a deep drag of her cigarette, only realizing as she brought it to her lips that she’d already smoked it nearly to the filter. She gives a nod to him as he approaches, tossing the old cigarette on the ground and stubbing it out with her heel as she lit up a fresh one. “Let’s not make a habit out of it.” she told him, lighting up and scratching at her forehead for a moment before she looked up at him. Jo’s pissed but not with him, not even with Aurora. She’s mostly kicking herself for opening her mouth, but what’s done was done. Time to face the consequences. 

Sitting is making her antsy, so she pushes herself up to standing, shoving her free hand into her pocket as she takes another look around. “Sorry for makin’ ya’ come out here at this time of night but...” Jo trailed off. What could she say? She didn’t want to be seen talking to a cop? Didn’t want to risk the bar? She was scared? “I try to keep my bar a ‘neutral zone’ as much as I can in the fuckin’ town. You know?” she said, figuring it was an acceptable level of honesty without revealing that she was scared shitless of blowback. “I don’t know how much help I’m gonna be, but whatever I say don’t go on a record. My name isn’t mentioned. My bar isn’t mentioned. If anyone sees you with me tonight I’m either bribing you or fuckin’ you, ok?” Jo asks, her eyes locked on his. This felt like gambling with the rest of what she had, and she’d never been one for luck. 

♔

“Wallowing is just sitting in your thoughts. You don’t have to be sad to do that.” Cat had done it plenty enough to know that a person could wallow and be angry, or scared, or even hopeful. She had felt all of those things at one point or another while lost in her own mind. “I think you’re sitting on a dark sidewalk, smoking a cigarette. Doesn’t exactly scream, “I’m having a good day”. She shrugged and nodded at her rejection of her offer. It wasn’t like she was going to force her, she had plenty of customers already. “Likewise,” She said, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her jacket. “Something like that.” She smirked. “I’m not wallowing though.” That was a lie, but she didn’t need to know that.

†

“Huh.” Jo said. She hadn’t known that, but then again, there was a lot she didn’t know. “Well then I guess I am.” she says with a smirk. “Not a good day, but not my worst day.” Jo admits, tempering the statement more as a reminder to herself. Sure, the anxiety was a rock on her chest but she had been in worse places. This was just fear, and she knew it didn’t last. “Mostly just needed to not be where I was. Sitting here seemed as good a spot as any.” Jo said. “So if you’re not wallowing, what are ya’ up to?” she asked, taking another drag and tapping the ashes beside her. “You gonna be Olympus’s new vigilante?”