WHAT HAPPENS WHEN THE PARTY'S OVER?

The fruit found its place back in the crowd of produce, full attention dedicated to the good news he shared. “You shoulda led with that!” As if she had given him much of a chance with her peach dilemma. “I’m proud of ya, that’s really quick to get an interview.” A skeptic would say they must be desperate, but against all odds, Kiera believed in Major. He had never been anything but nice to her, and she could tell he was trying. Even if it didn’t always go to plan.

“Yeah, I’d love to help. How can I?”

She was right. It was quick - but Major had always busted his ass about finding the next thing, despite the constant firings. He was lazy, yeah - pretty much a magnet for trouble... but nobody could say he wasn't resilient!

“Don’t like dependin’ too much on Lulu if I can help it. Figure it's about time I, like…” He trailed off, shifting his weight from foot to foot before looking back at her. “Started actin’ like a real man, or whatever.”

“Anyway, I was thinkin’… you ever, like - go to one of those interviews and actually know what to say? ‘Cause I never do.” He waved a hand. "Figure you could, like. Ask me some'a those questions, and I could answer 'em. Practice, or whatever."

Lulu could handle when her brother had people in and out of their trailer whom she didn't particularly like. They'd been operating just fine for years with the mutual understanding of a don't-ask-don't-tell rule when it came to people snuck in and out of their dwelling. While Lulu preferred to have the upper hand on most things in their lives, this was one she was fine with leaving unsaid, mostly as it tended to unequally benefit her (see: Marshall, Knox).

When she did have an issue, though, was when one of these guests found it in her jurisdiction to dictate just what Lulu could and couldn't report about the activities inside her trailer. The peace carefully kept between her and Major was left on a fragile hair as Abilene had all but demanded she keep her mouth shut.

"I dunno what's goin' on between you and that church-lovin', two-faced bitch, but you better tell her to keep away from my bar." Hardly two steps inside, Lulu staked her claim as she threw her bag beside her kicked-off shoes, finger pointed at her brother. "God forbid people gotta work around this town, I don't need no ultimatums bein' thrown at my face while I'm on the clock."

“You talkin’ ‘bout Abilene?” The coincidence made him snort, but not in a happy way. More in a Jesus Christ, of course kinda way. She was the reason he was trying to drink himself to oblivion too; church girl wreaking havoc like the devil. It was almost ironic.

“You think that girl would listen to shit that I gotta say?” He gestured vaguely with his beer, nearly sloshing it. “It'd be like telling you what to do."

He shook his head, expression caught somewhere between confused and mildly offended, before sinking back against the couch. “Ain’t even sure what you’re yellin’ at me for." Major straightened his back a little. "There ain't shit going on between me and her."

Cashing people out was Kiera’s usual role – the part she was good at. Though it was a lot of the same things over and over again, the monotony was almost a comfort. Save excitement for the night life. Putting out produce wasn’t exactly what people would call excitement – but it was forcing Kiera out of her routine.

Was quality control part of the job? From the way she lingered on the piece of fruit in her hand, it was clear that she had interpreted it that way. “Does this look right to you?” She finally caved and asked the figure next to her, no doubt just trying to do their shopping in peace.

Sugar wasn't a fan of the hysteria takin' to Misty Mountain these days. Everybody was freaked out, Mamas lockin' their young ones inside at the first sign of dusk, and God-- everybody thought they were a goddamn detective. She never signed up to live in no Sherlock Holmes fantasyland, and she reckoned if that's what folks wanted, they oughta go over to England.

The last thing Sugar was gonna do was let any of it impact her plans, which included runnin' the Pascal Apothecary booth at the Honeycutt Farmer's Market every fourth Sunday. Mamaw always preferred to do it herself on account a' the business she conducted with a couple folks in town, but Sugar had all but taken over this year. It made her feel mighty important, and it was nice to see a fresh batch a' faces once a month.

Except... maybe they weren't all fresh faces today. "Hey!" Sugar pumped her arm in a wave, takin' her bare feet off the tabletop and standing to her feet. She put a hand up to shield her eyes from the sun, other hand on her hip. "Whaddaya doin' so far from home?" Her eyes flicked down her neighbor's frame inquisitively, "Runnin' away from somethin'?" Sugar asked, dropping her voice with a mischievous glint in her eye.

The scenarios ran through his head at lightning speed: If he ignored her, would there be consequences? If he sneered, and waved her off... Would he be the next body found in the snow? Major didn't know, and he didn't feel like finding out. So, instead of fleeing, he made the reluctant trudge over. It'd be done soon enough, right? "Work," He answered simply - then shook his head around the rest of the answer. Might as well give up the gun before she went prying herself. "Lookin' for work. Just about been fired from every job back in Misty, so..." It was true, and wasn't exactly a secret. Besides, he figured if Sugar knew he was looking, the news might just get around. "I'm tryin' my chances out here. No runnin' involved."

The shepherd mix, Delilah, loped along beside Knox, her tongue lolling out of her mouth happily as her feet crunched into the snow. His own hands were shoved deep in the pockets of his coat, head bowed while his thoughts raced. Considering everything that had happened lately, it probably wasn't a good idea to be walking around so distracted at night, but, well. Knox hadn't been known recently for his good choices.

It was about that time that Delilah's enthusiastic gait came to a sudden halt. Her head lifted, ears forward and alert. Knox stopped a half second later, taking in the dog's stiff body language that screamed THREAT.

Knox was immediately on alert, his fingers gone pale as they tightened around the leash. He should have known better than to be without anything but his useless pocketknife and a compact mirror, but there was that pesky bad choices thing again.

A figure suddenly cut an imposing silhouette against the night and Delilah let out a low rumble in the back of her throat. She also liked to growl at leaves through the window as they blew across the yard, but that was neither here nor there.

The figure shifted, the orangey fluorescent glow illuminated their face and Knox deflated on a breath. "You keep skulking around at night like that and Delilah's gonna think it's open season."

Well, howdy, Misty Mountaineers! Long time, no see, what with Tilly takin' up all your attention lately! Now, I know the time for Christmas Cheer is almost over with, but I figured you might like to show me some of that good 'ol winter spirit before we ring in the New Year... Reblog this to participate, make sure to send some asks out to your fellow players - oh, if you're hankering for extra brownie points? Well, me and Cherie wouldn't say no to a little gift or two!

🎁: for a Christmas gift from my muse !

🎅: for a secret santa gift from my muse !

✒️: for a holiday themed note from my muse !

📺: for a christmas confession !

🥂: what's the drunkest you've ever been on christmas !

🎄: what is a holiday tradition your muse celebrates !

🍪: for a holiday treat from my muse !

🍽️: what is your muse bringing for christmas dinner ?

🌟: do you have any new years resolutions ?

❄️: do you like the holidays better with or without my muse ?

⛄: what's one of your favorite holiday memories with my muse ?

🎀: what's one of your favorite christmas memories ?

⚡: what's one of your worst christmas memories ?

💋: would you kiss my muse on new years ?

🛷: what's the furthest you've ever travelled for the holidays ?

🔥: roast chestnuts, or roast my muse !

Bobby Hugh was the least clumsy when serving at Tastee's diner. He grew up in this space after all. He could bus tables blindfolded if he tried it. He would never try it...the new management would murder him. He was lucky enough they let him stay on staff after his Uncle sold the diner. It was crazy how much his responsibilities in the place grew after it stopped being something he could inherit.

It was late...well...late for Misty Mountain. The sun was beginning to set and most of the tables in the place were empty. Bobby Hugh was refilling the salt and pepper shakers behind the bar, classic busy work at a time like this. He barely noticed the human standing in front of him waiting for assistance. When he looked up, he flashed on his classic customer service smile. "And how can I help you?" He asked, a mix of sarcasm and glee resonating on his last word.

He liked to believe people saw a different Bobby Hugh at Tastee's. One who had his shit together. After all...one of his biggest dreams was to buy this place back one day. Likely story.

He wanted to give Bobby Hugh the benefit of the doubt – the guy was a rambler, after all. The kinda type that liked to talk his way all the way around the point before rolling back up on it… But the idea seemed pretty clear. Drive 'em on up to the next town over, make sure nothing goes too crazy. Make sure Baylor doesn't act like a little bitch boy, even in his hospital bed. Seemed like a bad plan, even to a guy like Major.

"What the hell business do you have with Baylor Dawson, anyway?" Major’s eyebrow lifted up. "'Cuz unless you and Rosie have somethin' to do with why he was in the snow...?"

Her arms folded over her chest, Lulu cursed to herself as the snow started to fall. As little as she believed in tragedy repeating itself, she'd be damned if Major made headlines for falling asleep in the fuckin' snow on his way home from the bar. No, that was the last thing she needed--if not because she'd admittedly lose her mind if he turned up dead, but she couldn't stand the thought of reporters on her welcome mat tomorrow morning.

"You piece'a shit," she mumbled to herself as she found his lengthy figure in the distance, strangely placed in the middle of the sidewalk. "You. Do you know how long I've been lookin' for you? I might as well kill you before Mother Nature swipes you first. Get up, we're walkin' home, and gimme some of that--I need to warm up," she demanded, claiming the liquor as her own.

Maybe he should’ve expected her to come looking for him, what with all the commotion about Baylor and shit. He had remembered how the ache in his own chest when he had heard about Simon’s passing — not that he gave a shit about Adkins… But dying  after some routine drunken night? It just left Major wondering when it would be his turn too. Wasn’t there where it was all headed anyway? 

Major groaned, but he didn’t hesitate in handing the bottle of liquor over to his older sister. She had that tone in her voice, and her hand on her hip — it was wholly parental in a way that had always made him flinch. What other choice did he have but to listen?

 “Don’t wanna walk,” Major’s voice grumbled the words out like a slurry, and his body moved with the same vigor; like a baby cow taking its first steps, lanky and awkward. “D’rather just…” 

His voice trailed off as he struggled to stand. 

She always thought the pageant was a bit of a weird one, truth be told. Never saw the charm in it, though maybe it was just the result of her momma always harping on about the good book and the Lord and whatever other mumbo jumbo tickled her fancy. Bunch'a kids and grown ups alike playing dress up, telling the same old tired story year in, year out. It's probably why she zoned out by the time the three wise men appeared, and ended up wandering somewhere (anywhere) that wasn't there.

“You think it’d be that easy to get on Lieutenant Banks’ bad side?” His sister would probably punch him for using her Government Name, but he figured that what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. “Come on, girl. You’d have to actually succeed to get her to flinch about it - 'else she’d probably just cheer ya on for teachin’ me a lesson.” 

Major had felt sweaty in his coat earlier, beneath all the fuckin’ anxiety shakes — but at Mabel’s insistence, he began to worm his arms through the sleeves. The knee digging into his shoulder kept him steady. “Yeah, yeah,” Major pushed the bottle toward the woman, insisting on her holding it for him while he got situated into his jacket.  “It ain’t that cold.” 

“Major,” she said, her voice quieter this time, as not to draw more attention to them than there probably was. Being seen in public? It was her worst nightmare. And there was nothing that could she could say or do to make people believe that she had some reason to associate with Major Banks. “You think this is the place to talk? Right now, with everyone watchin’?”

She glanced over her shoulder, catching the curious eyes of her peers lingering on the exchange. She’d deal with their whispers later. Right now, all she could focus on was the way Major looked at her - like he wasn’t going anywhere until she gave him a real answer. She was sure he had the time to spare to scare Christian women all day.

“I'll call you, alright? You didn’t need to come out here, but I get it. I’ll call you. Just…” She exhaled, looking up at him with something caught between exasperation and sincerity. “I've been busy with all of this,” she lied, gesturing behind her. "Can't exactly imagine you'd want to hear me practicin' hymns and my lines."

It sounded like a solid lie in her head. She didn't even know if she would call him, she just wanted him away. She didn't know how to think - or what to say to him. Abilene carried two little words that would break their entire world down.

Better to just keep it in for a little while longer, right?

The truth was that it was the last place Major wanted to talk, but he figured that he’d burn that bridge when he marched his way on up to it. What he’d wanted more than anything was her attention… He’d wanted to see the way the excuse looked on her lips. He wanted confirmation that that pit in his stomach that something was wrong wasn’t just nerves, or some shit. Boy, did he fuckin’ get all of it. 

Major let a moment go by. He studied her expression like he might be able to read it, or something. He’d never been too good at reading. 

“You really gonna call, or are you just saying that shit?” Major couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow up at her – or maybe at himself. It was something he’d only heard out of the mouths of the girls’ he’d lied to… Dripping with insecurity, and accusation.

She appeared like some apparition out of the night, bare feet brushing against the icy pavement as though she were immune to the cold. Her heels dangled from her hand, the black soles a stark contrast to the gray slush beneath her. Her handbag swung recklessly at her side, and the glossy smile on her face said she’d had more than her fair share of Marshall's concoction throughout the evening.

She stopped a few paces from him, her dark eyes narrowing as she took in the sight of Major slumped on the edge of the planter. “Well, well,” she said, her unsteady voice cutting through the distant sound of the wide awake town. “I don’t know whether to call this tragic or concering.” Liliana tilted her head as though considering it, the loose curls of her hair spilling over her shoulders. “I think it’s just tragic.”

 “One to fuckin’ talk, Serrano. The fuck do you think you’re doin’, girl?” Major’s speech was only slurred enough to give him away — and maybe it was a good thing. He wasn’t sure he’d have moved over if he hadn’t had to focus so hard on speaking. “You wanna lose both your damn feet?”

He sighed.

“Blah blah blah. I’d tell you to get fuckin’ lost if I didn’t think your toes were gonna turn black,” Major probably wouldn’t — not that he’d ever admit to it, or anything. Liliana pissed him right off, but she sparked something in him too… Amused him in a way that nobody else in town had ever really managed to pull off. Like he loved to hate her, or something — he thought she might feel more or less the same. Couldn’t call ‘em friends, but where would they be if they couldn’t bicker at one another? “So, just sit down and shut up for once, huh?” 

August couldn't say he was particularly surprised that the Festival seemed to be proceeding the same as it had any other year. Most people seemed far too willing to pretend nothing was happening if it wasn't right in front of their face, like ignoring it would make it go away. But there was only so much ignoring that could be done and the twinkling lights and Christmas carols couldn't quite drown out the pervasive whispers, all of them talking circles about the same damn thing. As for August, he couldn't give two flying fucks about Baylor Dawson — he doubted Baylor even knew his name — but that didn't mean there was nothing to be learned about the town's broader situation through the good ol' fashioned rumor mill. He'd more or less perfected the art of eavesdropping by now. It wasn't so hard when more often than not, he tended to be one of those things people liked to ignore in the hopes it would go away. But he knew the best way to be unassuming was to just look like you were so absorbed in something else, you couldn't possibly be paying attention to anything around you. And that was how August ended up at a picnic table not too far off the main thoroughfare, making mental notes of the snippets of conversation he heard go by as he focused very hard on the stark black ink he was stabbing into the sickly yellow skin of a lemon he'd nicked from a booth where someone'd been making wassail on the other side of the Festival's setup. He figured it was only a matter of time before someone actually took notice of him, considering he spent his whole life being either invisible or an eyesore with very little in between, and sure enough, he was about halfway through the intricate snowflake he was freehanding when the familiar chill ran down his spine. It was a cold that had nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with being watched. He didn't react outwardly, instead trying to assess for a second. Alive, he decided. Those kinds of stares always felt heavier. "I can do you too, if you want," he called, a casual acknowledgement that he was just as aware of them as they were of him. He finished the line he was working on before looking up, the quirk of his eyebrow almost a challenge. "I got fresh needles."

He wasn’t sure if he meant it or not, supposed it depended on how serious August was about the whole thing. Major never minded another tattoo, but he wasn’t gonna go insisting; could only imagine what kind of comment Lulu would have about it… Her whole lesson about gangrene after he had collected the first one might never leave his head. 

“Hell, don't tell my Sister I said it, but as long as I'm not your first try on skin then I'll letcha do whatever ya like. Ain't had any new ink in the fuckin' budget for a damn minute."

It always was a man's fault anyway, right?

But, Abilene didn't feel like joining the lady Misty Mountaineers who had gone crazy. She tried to ignore his voice, focusing on her rehearsal - already seeing the looks on her peers faces when Major approached - like he was some sort of monster just by acknowledging Abilene's existence.

Politely, she excused herself from the group, but when her head turned back to Major - if only looks could strike him down then. She didn't want to see him, or talk to him. Abilene could go the next fifty years without hearing the name Major Banks and she would be perfectly content.

"Do you ever think?" She asked, before following it up with a quick, "don't answer that." There was an attempt to calm her breathing, but an attempt was all it was. "No, I do not have a second. I'm doing somethin' sorta important, if you couldn't tell."

She looked ridiculous. About as ridiculous as it could get. She poked a finger at his chest. "We had a rule," she jabbed.

"So make it quick."

The truth was that Major thought a lot - and maybe too much, as hard as it would be to believe. He’d weighed this out before he’d made the trek here from the trailer park. He’d predicted the looks on the other church girls’ faces, and just how angry she would be to see him. He even knew, back when Abilene had first started coming around, that it would probably end just like this.

 “What, they don’t give you girls a break from all this…?" He didn’t know what to call it – wouldn’t know the word to use – so he just waved his cigarette toward the procession. "Ain't you put in enough work with the Big Man today?”

Major wouldn’t ever be able to understand the urge to participate in all the religious chaos. He’d never believed much in a God that would let his Mama lose her mind, and his Daddy lose his limbs to a damn gator… Still, Major’s eyes flickered their way over her costume. They’d all seen her in white a thousand times over, but there was something more delicate about it now. The veil pinned over her hair caught the winter’s sun, and it glowed. 

“You look good, girl.” Major’s smile was lopsided. His words were more gentle than either of them were used to hearing. “You ain’t called me back in a while."