c a r n e f i c i n a ;

“I gotta problem with a fully grown woman relyin’ on a dick to have a good time–” Jack was a gentleman, the odd time he wasn’t in ‘work mode.’ “Lets get that plushie before you bend over and take it from anyone.”

“What are you my dad?” Lucille scoffed, popping some more cotton candy into her mouth, this time chewing haughtily. Stopping in her tracks, she held out the rest of her treat to the other. “I’m not your damsel in distress, Hercules. Go find some other girl to fall in love with.”

Jack was biding his time, keeping mum, going along with the charade. The first of his targets hadn’t arrived, hadn’t been seen as far as the eye could tell, and he kept up with the brunette in front of him. For now, he thought. “Well, we’ll see about that.” He countered with a smile, planning on snatching more when she wasn’t looking. “A plushie—wow, is that the only reason you came here?”

“You got a problem with a full-grown woman wanting something cute to show off to her instagram?” She objected, taking another large piece of her cotton candy to lay onto her tongue. “I also came to get fucked in the ass but date bailed. So I’ll settle on a plushie.”

“Wow,” Jack considered, as the stoic expression settled into a smirk, turning to the vendor nearest him, as the cotton candy sat in a row above the worker’s head. “One, please.” He ordered, passing a bill and plucking one from the pre-made stand, handing it to her and pausing, ripping a large chunk off. “Consider that my tip.”

“Tip?” She cocked an eyebrow once more, accepting the cotton candy with convincingly unenthusiastic hands, piercing green hues following the chunk the man had taken. She’d let it go for now. “That’s all you’re getting,” she warned, taking a small amount to fix on her tongue, letting it melt in her mouth. “C’mon, sugar. Let’s go win me a plushie.”

“It was a suggestion, drench yourself in fudge, crown yourself the popcorn Queen and gorge on something, I don’t care.” A sudden snort fell from under his breath. “Nice comeback, you find that in Chicken Soup for the Soul?”

“Don’t snark at me with Little Big O’,” she glowered, narrowing her eyes at the man. A beat before she allowed a small, subtle smirk to form before letting it dissipate. She cocked an eyebrow. “You gonna keep flirting with me or you gonna buy me some cotton candy?”

Jack looked down to the brunette, brows knitting together for a moment, as he smirked. “Not really,” He quipped, a tilt of his head to the side. “You know if you’re crabby, there’s food options around that you can indulge in. You seem a little crabby.”

“I am not crabby,” she shot back defensively, crossing her arms. “What, you think a woman can’t function without something deep-fried drowning in chocolate?” Fact, she could not. “You’re crabby.”

Jack sat, surveying the scene with sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. This town seemed to push everything under the rug, every last morsel of a tar-black soul that they pretended to have. Some of the civilians were just that—lost within the city that would drown them alive. But others, as he watched those ranking high walk pompously, as though they owned the place. They were on his shit list.

But it wasn’t like Jack could put that into play—yet.

Instead, he kept to himself, pocketing his hands, and approaching the nearest food vendor, silently mulling his options for whatever fried heart attack he wanted to gorge on in that moment.

Lucille, admittedly, did not frequent carnivals or fairs or whatever the common people liked to dress it up as. This wasn’t to say she never loved to have fun and indulge, but she had a different approach to that. One that didn’t involve too heavy of a crowd or being tragically sober. She pushed through a group of teenagers that had taken to occupying her path, shooting them a glare before bumping into yet another patron. What she wouldn’t give to find that beer tent. Adjusting her sunglasses, she steadied herself on the man’s frame.

“Jesus--- you wanna watch where you’re going?”

𝓛𝓊𝒸𝒾𝓁𝓁𝑒 𝓑𝓁𝒶𝒸𝓀𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓌.    —

“Oh goddamn it…” Thea groaned with a huge roll of mahogany orbs and pocketing her phone. “Forgot all about the strike.” Last time she’d used one of the car services was before, had heard about their strike and put it out of her mind. “If you’re down to shoot, let’s go there. Otherwise, if you have a different destination, I’m open to options.” 

“After you,” she dictated them towards the exit, hands going to her counterpart’s shoulders in gentle coercion. “I don’t know shit about this town, so you’ll have to do the talking and navigating and all that. Maybe not--- this guy works for my brother. He might know what you’re talkin’ about.”

Normally, Juniper wouldn’t feel such a twist in her gut over someone taking her pack of juice. It was just juice, after all, the super sugary stuff that she’d been drinking since she was in elementary school. Normally, at her age, no one drank the stuff - everyone always went for the healthier options, but hey, why get rid of a good thing, especially when you work off most of the sugar at work ? - so this sort of thing didn’t happen. But the woman in front of her had just sort of taken it, and used a condescending tone, like it wouldn’t bother her. The range of expressions crossed her face in a flash - confusion, then disappointment, then more confusion, finally landing on a mix of disbelief and anger; then, she spoke. “ Actually, ” she parroted, picking up the juice and moving it back to her side of the divider. “ If you need a box, I imagine someone who works here would be more than willing to grab one before you finish checking out. ” She glanced behind her. “ I imagine the one other person behind us wouldn’t mind waiting either, so you don’t take other people’s things that are pretty much all ready their’s. ” A pause. “ Some people kind of see that as stealing, ” she added, hands settled on the little box, just to drive home the point that they were her’s.

Lucille watched in mild amusement as the item was unceremoniously grabbed, a smile threatening to form. A part of her was almost gleeful the other had intervened. Too often had she walked away without a fight. Over juice boxes, no less. It’d be painful for her reputation if she did start an uproar about that. That was why she was counting on an outburst from the other. 

“Stealing?” She objected, that smile pulling through. “My, what daring words. Neither of us have paid for anything, sugar. If I were to simply walk out with my things, now that would be stealing.” She tipped her head. “This?--- This is--- as simple as grabbing an item left by someone else who decided against it. Or couldn’t afford it,” she digressed. Swiping the item back, placing it amongst her things. “Unless you’ve already paid for it, it’s fair game, is it not?”

A low chuckle escapes Dante at her lack of optimism and how it is nothing compared to Barbados. He shrugs as he sits back up with his back against the bench once again. “I’ve never been to Barbados, but I’ve been to Baghdad and I’ve gotta say,” he glances over to the brunette. “this weather it better than the one over there.” Dante takes a sip out of his drink as he watched a family pass by them. 

“You look rather new here,” he spoke bluntly. “I’m Dante Rinaldi, and you are?” the former sailor puts his hand out to shake hers. 

“I prefer LA. I try to avoid tropical weather. My hair frizzes.” Humidity wasn’t one of her favourite things. How some people put up with it was beyond her. “Do I?” Smirking, she cocked an eyebrow in response. “Lucille Blackshaw. Pleasure,” she countered, letting her hand fall into his. A Rinaldi. Promising, she thought to herself. “Is sittin’ on a bench enjoyin’ the weather about the only fun y’all got goin’ on ‘round here?”

A Southern Belle to her core, Josephine Buchanan didn’t like to think of herself as rude. Every situation, good or bad, was met with an air of graciousness and a wide smile.

But.

Josie was coming off of one hell-ish day at work. Plus, despite exhaustion, she was trying to put together dinner for when her other half made it home. So, when an item went missing from her side of conveyor belt, politeness went completely out of the window. “Oh really? Well, there’s plenty more on aisle five where I got it from. So I suggest you go get one for yourself.”

“Fantastic, I’ll be sure to revisit on my next grocery run,” she grinned to the other, flitting her gaze over as she watched as the item scanned. A sweet victory on her part but short-lived. Ever short-lived. “Seein’ as you’re behind me, you wouldn’t mind bein’ a doll and fetchin’ me another one’a these, would ya, sugar?” She challenged, holding up an oversized steak. “I’d be more than willin’ta pay for all your items if you did me this little service.”

It was embarrassing that her current grocery hall was candy. A few bags of bubblegum and lollipops like she was a child with an unhealthy sweet tooth. Sugar seemed like a better alternative than her now former face, even at the risk of a few cavities. Dumping the items on the conveyor belt, she fished around in her bag for her wallet but paused when a bag of gum was plucked away. Her gaze shifted, a brow arching as she looked at he woman. “I’m going to assume this is you being a Good Samaritan and deciding to pay for my items instead of an asshole”

“Precisely,” she countered, pushing the gum closest to the front of her items. Eyeing her up and down, a sweetened smile bared her pearly whites in response. “By all means--- I’ll pay for every single one of your items if you shut that perty mouth of yours and let me do my business, sugar,” she insisted, cocking an eyebrow.

Thea managed a small smile of amusement, taking out her phone. “’round here I rely on Uber or Lyft–not fancy enough to have a car service for myself. Unless you’ve got one in your back pocket.”

“Despite the strike?” She hummed, sweeping her hair out of her face. “Actually,” she smiled. “I have a driver waiting outside. He can take us wherever you want to go.”

“Clown makes me think the whole getup. Big ol’ red nose, curly wig, clown makeup, big shoes, ugly outfit and all. Terrifying.” She physically mocked a shudder as her glass was refilled. “What if you didn’t have insurance? Or would you get it in anticipation for your ‘death’?” What the fuck were capybaras? Reina shamelessly took out her phone to Google them. “Oh–those are cute. Definitely unique. Why them?”

“Oh, one hundred percent. I want Pennywise to beat the shit outta Pennywise. That’s my ultimate fantasy,” she jested despite her straight face. “Insurance is one of those tricky things. It would have to be years and years in the making. A lot of forethought.” Come to think of it, it was incredibly easy for her brother to weasel his way out of his own attempt (if you could call it that) it must’ve taken him a good decade to come up with what he did. “It’s said they get irritable when left alone. I felt that.”

Jack stood behind the woman, watching the movement, as the disgruntled customer moved off to replace the item. “Is that how you make friends in town?” he posed, smirking slightly. It was kind of funny, after all.

“Is that your overbite?” She shot back, facing back to her items as they advanced on the small belt. She caught the look from the cashier before glaring daggers. “No, but that’s typically how I make people go away. It works---” she eyed him up and down. “Most of the time.”

Eli caught the stance, standing behind the woman, as the disgruntled being snapped, cussed, and—Eli let out a snort, his own basket still in hand as he grinned. “Are you as much of a shit as I assume with that bit?” He asked from behind her, tilting his head, as they now waited for the person to go get another.

Lucille nearly startled as the man’s voice picked up behind her. Another cheeky smile threatened to pull at the corners of her mouth, but she suppressed it to the best of her abilities, whipping her hair over her shoulder indignantly.

“Momma didn't raise no lady, sugar,” she shot back, turning to face him. “F’you like that, you should see what I do durin’ the holidays.”