time after time

When: April 18th, 2:39am Where: Red’s Diner Who: @onceangel·

A diner was a diner, no matter where you went, and Fletcher had always found a certain kind of comfort in the greasy fries, the shitty music, the fluorescent lights. He had a booth he thought of as his own, but tonight, he’d opted for the counter, sitting on one of those bright red stools, tapping the heel of his muddy boot along to a song he’d heard a thousand times that he couldn’t remember the name of. Maybe that was because it was late, and when Fletcher was this tired, the world tended to blend together into some sort of primordial mush. Maybe it was because he was just a little bit hangry.

“Sorry,” he said to the blonde behind the counter, sincerity bleeding into his voice, “I’m not trying to be a dick, I promise. But. Any chance you could check on my order? Pastrami on rye, extra mustard. And a slice of apple pie.” Because why the fuck not? He couldn’t sleep, and he was fucking suffering because of it. Might as well make being awake more enjoyable. “Sorry,” he repeated, realizing…he was the only customer, and repeating his order made him seem like a fucking douche, didn’t it? “I’m not– trying to mansplain or anything. I’m just– tired, not thinking straight, I guess. Clearly, I need to go to bed.” He smiled, sheepish and awkward, raking a hand through his sandy hair.

A closer look at the blonde, and he realized – he’d been coming here once a week for six months, seen her in and out of this place, and not once had he stopped to introduce himself. Yet, she’d always given him a smile and a side of sweet potato fries before he could even ask. His mother would be lecturing him to kingdom come if she knew. “Let’s start all of this over,” he said, wiping his hands on his jeans, and sticking his right one out. “I’m Fletcher. And you’re–” he glanced at her name tag, “Daphne. And I’m just going to shut my goddamn mouth and leave you in peace.”

She does about two, or three night shifts every couple weeks. They’re not her favorite; she’s actually a morning person-- weird, I know, but whatever. She usually spends most of the night nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee, and attempting to keep her eyes open. Tonight is no exception. She’d got her hands clasped around the short, white ceramic cup (you’ve seen one diner coffee cup, you’ve seen them all; seriously, there’s got to be some kind of big surplus store for them), and she’s staring off into nothingness. Who knows what’s going on up there? Sometimes it seems like it’s absolutely nothing at all. She’s always had a talent for turning off. 

His voice, from the opposite end of the counter, pulls her out of her stupor. She blinks slightly before preparing to put back on her on her happy face, fully prepared to apologize purposely to the guest-- this is, after all, what they pay her the big bucks for. And by big bucks, I mean less than minimum wage, of course. This is all before she notices that the first word out of his mouth was “sorry” -- she immediately softens, so much so it’s probably noticeable in her facial features. He’s her only customer, she should probably be paying a little more attention. Though, she hasn’t heard the cook ding the little bell to let her know his sandwich is done. Has he? 

She looks backwards towards the window, and notes that no, his order isn’t up yet; not strange for the night shift, the cook’s back there alone, and most likely high as a kite. Daphne could probably go back there, and make it herself faster. She motions through the window for him to get back to work, and get off his phone-- he can swipe through Tinder later. 

“You’re alright, I know it’s been a minute since ya’ ordered.” She’ll offer her own sheepish smile, a little embarrassed she’d been in her own little world for so long. “It’s only gonna be another minute on the sandwich, but I could cut you a slice of pie now if you’re alright with having dessert first.” It’s the best she can offer, though she knows it might not be the most appetizing proposition. 

“Fletcher,” She repeats, committing the name to memory. Of course, she knows exactly who he is. It would be hard not to. But she’s not going to press him on it in the middle of the night. “S’alright,” There’s a hint of a grin forming on her lips, she’s rarely faced with such an apologetic customer; like I said, she’s normally the one doing the apologizing. “Don’t worry about it.” 

After a beat, she’s pulling the pie out from the case, “... -- what’s got you out so late, Fletcher?”

The reality in Wade had always been a bit skewed from the rest. At times, the town felt like it came straight from a weird book, where every person in the small, weird town was written after every character cliché and trope known to man. It felt like Wadians experienced their own slice of life in a town that seemed so distant from every other place in the world. Now, it just felt like their slice of reality had been cursed somehow —- the loss of a great character would do that to anything. 

After the Spring Celebration, DJ had no idea where she wanted to go. Home felt too… much. Her head couldn’t quite wrap itself around the latest happenings in Wade at home, locked up in her bedroom and still, somehow, feeling every look in the book from her parents —- from worry to disappointment. 

Red’s seemed like the last place anyone would want to be at which is exactly why DJ headed to her favorite diner. 

As soon as DJ walked in and was greeted by a familiar — and, strangely welcomed considering how much DJ disliked coming across people she knew before going to college — face, a small smile appeared on her lips.

“That’s one way of putting it,” DJ commented as she hopped on the high seats at the counter, feeling like she’d climbed mount Everest — she really was short. “I don’t remember a Spring Celebration as eventful as this one. Have you seen Red?”

Her slight smile is returned by the blonde, who in turn takes a seat across from the other in the booth. Of course, she’s half sitting, half waiting for one of her co-workers to scold her for not paying attention to the other customers, but she’s not overly concerned. Everyone there that night seemed preoccupied with thoughts of the strange things that were happening in Wade. Daphne could chat all the wanted. Kinda ideal for her. 

Red. He’s blown through not long after the whole ordeal had happened. Went straight to the office, and closed the door. Daphne hadn’t gotten a word in with him. Some of the fellas from the back were able to get him out, and calm him down within about an hour. 

Luckily, he’d agreed to head home. “He’s back home, relaxing.” God knows he wasn’t relaxing. Probably more pacing. More stewing. But at least he was doing it in the privacy of his home, and away from the public eye. Not everyone was as sympathetic about Red’s situation. People even thought he was guilty, and making himself more of a target was the last thing he needed to do at the moment. 

“I’m hoping he stays in for a couple days,” Not that this whole thing was just going to blow over. No one said Daniels was a forgiving guy. “... -- I just don’t want him to become a spectacle... -- more than he already has.” 

“Oh, no, that definitely sucked,” Rhett states. “Everything was going well until the guy got upset and flipped a table. Really killed the mood of the whole party, you know? I don’t know - I feel terrible for him, and I think that’s part of what destroyed it.” He sighs, taking another drag and looking out towards the line of cars parked, “And then that was all anyone wanted to talk about, and suddenly I knew way too much  about a murder that I wasn’t in town for. Like, we definitely should not have all these details. It’s horrible.” 

He stops, looking at the girl for a moment, before taking yet another drag to try and calm himself down. 

“Um. I’m Rhett, by the way? Sorry for just, ranting like that and not even introducing myself,” he’d say it wasn’t how his mom raised him, but that wasn’t exactly true. She’d never really valued manners, if he remembered right. Or maybe he just didn’t care what people thought of him. Either way, that had led him here, “I moved in last week, I’m still trying to make this ‘getting introduced to literally everyone in town’ rounds.” 

She’s struggling not to agree with Rhett. Of course, knowing Red, she feels sympathy for him; she understands exactly what he’s feeling, and just how low this whole situation has gotten him. Still, she can’t excuse his actions; surely there must be other ways to prove the same point. Many people looking forward to the Spring Celebration, and while she’s certainly not one of them, she does feel bad for the soccer mom’s on their hands, and knees picking up shards of their good dishes. 

She nods slightly in agreement, though there’s a twinge of guilt in her stomach. That’s her boss. She feels bad. He’s certainly not wrong about the whole town not needing to know the gritty details of Josie’s murder. “Things have a way of getting out in Wade.” It’s the truth. No one can shut their damn mouths. Still, she doesn’t like to think about the gruesome facts of Josie’s case. That sweet old lady... she stops herself dead in her tracks. It’s not important. 

“Daphne,” She extends her hand towards him for a shake, chuckling slightly at the comment about ranting (she likes to listen, she didn’t mind). Similarly enough, her father instilled her with a sense that manners were of the utmost importance. “Last week?” Bad timing. “Well, on behalf of the town, welcome.” There’s a slight smile; she does feel sorry he’s shown up at a bad time, though there are likely other townspeople who would be more suspicious than her. “Ya’ like it here so far?” 

It would be interesting to hear about Wade from an outside perspective. She’s been here too long herself, her judgement’s probably skewed. 

“you ought to get it checked, really.” robbie was not about to tell her what a piece of junk her truck was, because daphne might be emotionally attached to it, and really, he couldn’t talk with this old bike attracting moss in his garage. still, the point was that she was getting a lift from the cook, which robbie did not recognize. it wasn’t the usual night cook, whatever his name was. (there was a limit to the socialization robbie was willing to do in one day, and with the workers of one place.) “i’ll lift you, if you want. i was heading that way, anyway.”

robbie was absolutely not heading that way, especially since he lived on the other side of the town, and daphne probably knew that. did robbie care? no. he’d probably do anything for daphne, if she asked, especially in the dead of the night. downing his coffee in one go (it burned a bit, which was not an unwelcome sensation after the hellish day he had, a bit like burning all the remaining anger) and got up. “i’ll lift you.” changed his approach, knowing full she wouldn’t want to be a bother. put his jacket on, knowing the night was getting cold and damp.

around fifteen minutes later, they were in front of her house, heat blasting to cut through wade’s spring weather. robbie wouldn’t ask again if she was alright, when would her father visit (so she wouldn’t be so alone, no one her age, no one as sweet as her, should be alone here) or if she was looking for a roommate. he did know about his own tendencies to fuss over daphne’s situation, but it did come from a genuine place in his heart. “alright, last stop,” he turned over a bit, watched her face though most was covered in shadows. “get a good night of sleep, yeah? you look like you need it.” she did not, but daphne was bound to know he was only teasing.

She really ought to get it checked, he’s right. She brings it in for maintenance about as often as she can, but it still breaks down almost bi-monthly. Still, Roger gifted her the old rust bucket, and she probably wouldn’t trade it for anything else. The girl is far too sentimental for her own good. She could likely afford a modest car payment if she really tried, but alas, she’ll probably drive that thing into the ground. 

A ride home with Robbie sounds an awful lot better than a ride home with Randall, who she’s only worked with a handful of times. Not that he’s not a nice guy, but she doesn’t know him, nor does she really know if he needs to know where she lives. Not that she’s typically paranoid, but these days, you’re better safe than... Josie sorry. “That would be great, actually,” She’d have to explain it to Randall, who was (unbeknownst to Daphne) quite excited to show her his collection of death metal CDs. “I just have to grab my coat, and punch out.” She’s quick to turn on her heel, and head towards the back where her coat, and purse are hanging on a hook somewhere. She’s beyond ready to call it a night, it’s been a particularly long shift after... well, after everything. 

It’s nice not to drive. She’s no used to going places her self, spending time on her own, that she’s almost forgotten the feeling of sitting in the passenger’s seat, allowing the driver to take control of the destination. There’s also always a twinge of fear there, fear that likely stems from her mother; it sits in her stomach, and she tries to stifle it. She hears Roger’s voice in her head, you can’t let it hold you back. She won’t. 

Gathering her things, she finds herself smirking at Robbie’s last words, “I could say the same thing to you.” She’s joking as well, though she can see from the tint under his eyes that she’s surely tired. She’s well aware the whole situation with Josie can’t be easy on anyone down at the station. 

Red had wavered back, and forth between closing the restaurant for the remainder of the day in lieu of his... regrettable (someone else’s words, certainly not Red’s) behavior at the Spring Celebration. Surely no good could come of keeping the place open, especially since it was Red’s day to manage the place. Luckily, one of his daughters had kindly agreed to find a babysitter so she could take her father’s place, and keep the doors open. In all honesty, the diner probably couldn’t afford to miss out on a day’s profit... especially since it was clear Red was about to have a plethora of rather unexpected expenses. Death was quite expensive. 

Daphne herself was quite glad she wasn’t a losing a shift that week. She, herself had some bills due, and she certainly didn’t feel like asking her dad to help her out this month... After all, she’d had to ask last month, and she was still feeling guilty about it; Roger was, of course, happy to oblige his only daughter. 

Though it had been rather slow... which wasn’t shocking. Who was going to come here to hang out after that? Surely most of the good people of Wade were intent on staying out of the scuffle; they would never do something as uncouth as pick a side in a situation like this. And if they were, there was probably a better chance they were going to side with Daniels, anyhow. He’d played the victim quite well in the aftermath of everything. 

DJ’s entrance was unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome. The two women didn’t quite know each other that well, but they’d developed something of a cordial friendship over the course of a few different dinner rushes. Daphne wiped a place for the other woman at the counter, offering her a slight smile. 

Slightly exacerbated, “--... Long...-- weird -- day, huh?”

date: april 10th, 2020 time: a half hour after red stormed out location: the spring celebration status: closed to @onceangel·

Rhett had flitted around the room, making his rounds and talking to his friends and colleagues alike. And he was exhausted.  His social battery tended to run out after w few hours of forcing himself to say the wittiest thing imaginable, so he wandered out the back door and pulled out a cigarette, wanting to focus on something else. And nicotine always helped with that. 

The door beside him creaks open to announce another person exiting out the back entrance. He takes another drag and pulls the lit cigarette from his lips and offers up a smile, “Sup?” He asks the stranger, “You lookin’ to escape social situations too?” 

While Daphne isn’t opposed to social situations, big gatherings like this have never been her thing. There are always too many people talking, too many pairs of eyes wandering... too many conversations happening that she had no interest in being involved in. She could fake the whole “social butterfly” thing pretty easily when she needed to, like when she was at work, but she tended to crawl back into her shell when there were this many people around. 

Of course, this event in particular had come spiraling down quicker than she expected. She had told herself she was going to spend at least an hour, maybe two tops rubbing elbows with her fellow Wadians before gracefully bowing out of the whole charade, and going home to sit on the couch in her sweatpants. 

She’d slipped out shortly after they carted Red away to catch her breath.

“Oh, um,” She lets out a slight chuckle at the other’s words. A stranger. That’s odd for Wade; she thinks she’s seen just about everyone in town. “Something like that.” She says with a short nod, watching the other individual exhale a cloud of smoke. “Ya’ tryna say you weren’t... having a grand ol’ time in there?” 

Closed starter for @onceangel·

Though he knew it wasn’t exactly a popular opinion, Daniel liked town gatherings. It was a good chance to see people he wouldn’t otherwise see, and he thought it was important to build a sense of community– especially after what happened. The Spring Celebration was a chance to bring a sense of normalcy back to Wade, perhaps a chance to see the residents band together and overcome the chaos.

But, is anything ever that easy?

Daniel was running late– unusual for him– and by the time he’d gotten there, chaos had descended. All he saw was Red being pulled away from the Mayor, and he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Red, other than a glimpse of him in the back of the diner.

Scanning the crowd, Daniel’s eyes fell on Daphne. If anyone knew what was going on, it was her. The two had spent hours together at Red’s, and had become good friends through it all. Daniel appreciated Daphne’s kind spirit; even if she was somewhat oblivious at times, neglecting tables for minutes at a time, Daphne was always a good listener and friend to talk to.

“Hey,” he called, jogging up to her. “What’s going on? Is Red okay?”

Surprisingly, Daphne isn’t really a fan of the Spring Celebration; usually, she’d enjoy any type of social gathering that gets her out of her house, especially one that doesn’t involve the diner in the slightest, and she does love spring... But the Spring Celebration? Some bad memories their from growing up. New in town at fourteen, Roger dragged her to her first Spring Celebration thinking it would be a great way for the two of them to put themselves out there, and maybe meet some of the townsfolk of Wade. Roger ended up with an girlfriend on-again, off-again girlfriend that Daphne wasn’t exactly a fan of, and Daphne ended up with gum in her hair.

Needless to say, Roger wasn’t able to get the gum out of Daphne’s hair, and she had to go the remainder of the school year with a haircut that made her look eerily like Aaron Carter circa his Aaron’s Party days. Not her best look. Not her best year. So yeah, she didn’t really like the Spring Celebration. Nevertheless, she dropped off some baked good each year as a show of good spirit. An offering to the suburban gods to keep them off her case. Who knows what they’d say about you if you didn’t at least show your face.

Of course, in that moment, she’s wishing she’d stayed home, and avoided seeing the entire scuffle. She’s still holding her glass baking dish as Daniel approaches her; she’s almost frozen in her spot, mouth slightly agape, just trying to comprehend what exactly just happened.

The sound of his voice snaps her out of it, and she blinks slightly, gathering her thoughts. “I-uh,” She’s not sure. That’s the honest answer. She’s seen Red mad a thousand times. She’s been on the receiving end of Red’s anger after making more than her fair share of mistakes at the Diner, but she’s never seen anything like this from the old man. It’s jarring.

“... -- I really don’t know.” She can feel something stirring inside her, but she’s absolutely not going to cry at another Spring Celebration. That would make three. “Ar-are you alright?” Mhm, deflecting, good plan. “Did you see all that?”

chasing away her concern with a raised hand, trying to calm her queasiness, he offered her a small smile. what red said was essentially right, but that was not entirely the cops’ fault. and robbie knew that. “i’m fine, more than fine, don’t worry.” though robbie’s interactions had been more with josie before her death, he did know red a bit. always been cordial to robbie, though he did ask from which part of spain he came from. that …had been expected, but josie had swatted at him and just, smiled sweetly. a real loss, that woman. robbie was sure that everyone in town had a good memory that included her, he couldn’t imagine anyone hating on this frail woman.

the faster they could solve this, the faster wade would return to its normal self.

“i’m sure he didn’t mean it. he was angry.” we all do things when we’re angry, he wanted to add. he couldn’t imagine the grief red was going through, maybe in his vague past he could’ve, if anything had happened to his family. but the anger, the pounding heart and the tension. the desire to hit something, someone. that robbie knew. suddenly, he wished red had been here. maybe they could have … talked. “are you okay, though? you did not get too much trouble from people tonight? i mean, this counter is awfully clean.” it was pretty slow right now, but who knows what had been the afternoon like. he just hoped she did not stress cleaned the entire restaurant.

a sound from the back of the dinner made him look up, even tense a little. only the cook that seemed to come back from his break. the heaviness of the day seemed to drop on his shoulder, and he sat down at the counter. before he knew a cup of coffee was in his hand and he smiled at her. “thanks.” he paid, gave more in tips than the actual cost of his cup.

"As long as you’re fine,” There’s skepticism in her voice, but she’s mostly messing with him. After all, it had been a hard enough day for everyone involved, some humor couldn’t hurt. She’d crack a smile back at him for good measure, but there was part of her that would still worry for his sake. She knew this whole situation was likely bothering him, after all he had known Josie pretty well, and in general she felt his compass pointed due north. His internal, compass, that is; she thought he was a good person. No good person, especially not one who’d dedicated their life to serving, and protecting others, could feel good about Josie’s case.

But things like this could rip good people apart if they let it. She could already see Red unwinding before her eyes, and she didn’t want to see it happen to anyone else. Such a strange alternate reality they’d stepped into. Something like a possibleb homicide in Wade? If you’d asked anyone about a month ago, they’d have called you silly. Now look at everyone. Shaking in their boots, pointing fingers. It would be fascinating if they weren’t living through it.

“Me?” It always catches her off guard; she gets so used to talking about everyone else's needs (side of ranch, a new fork because they dropped theirs on the ground, cold food) that she nearly forgets to formulate her own feelings sometimes. She pauses for a moment to reflect on the day before responding, “People mostly stayed away today,” Which meant no money, but that really didn’t matter, “It was kind of nice.” She was getting kind of sick of people coming in, offering their condolences to her, and then quickly trying to dig in to find some new dirt out about Josie. 

She does perk up a bit more at the counter comment, “It looks good, right? I found some stainless steel cleaner in the back that really took some of the grime off.” Who needs therapy when you have cleaning supplies? 

She notices the tip, and she’s appreciative each time. Not everyone is as kind. “You caught me at the end of my shift this time, you’re usually here a little earlier.” It makes sense it would be a late night for him. She’s sure the sheriff himself is probably sleeping at the police station tonight. “I’m really only here because Randall from the back’s gotta give me a ride home, the Jeep’s battery’s shot again.” 

“That,” Evelyn pointed a finger at Daphne, though not for rudeness on her part. “-I would have to check. Though I don’t really know how without going the self-harm route. But, you know, if you’re going in for a tattoo, you kind of expect to experience pain anyway.” Evelyn only recognized Daphne because she always saw that name tag at Red’s Diner. Otherwise? Evelyn wouldn’t have even noticed her. “How’s the diner going?”

“The diner is...” Well, it’s not going well, but she figures she doesn’t need to broadcast that to absolutely everyone. “Well, it’s ... the diner.” Great description. Super great job of keeping things casual, and not awkward at all. “Haven’t seen you around lately, aren’t you missing your usual?” Or are you nervous like everyone else? At this point, everyone in town had likely heard the rumors about Josie (well, is it still a rumor if it’s true? or does it become something else?), and things had slowed down quite a bit at Red’s. She wouldn’t be surprised. 

Red Johnson was the only elderly white man in Wade with which George could bear to spend time. It really was that straight-forward. In fact, she could barely make it through a single conversation with her own grandfather without wanting to gouge his eyes out over outdated politics. But Red was warm, in the best ways. When George asked if Red’s was hiring three years ago, she was fairly sure that he would say no. It was a smaller restaurant and they already had plenty of people to pour coffee and flip pancakes. But he gave her a shot anyways, understanding that she desperately needed the money to fund her schooling. He always seemed to know what the right thing to do was, and he stood by it.

It was a fucking tragedy to watch him slowly fall apart, everything that was keeping him together unraveling at record speed. George didn’t know much about loss, or what to even do in the face of loss. She also didn’t have the slightest idea of how to comfort a man who had just been told his dead wife was a cannibal. That wasn’t something people were just supposed to know off the top of their heads, especially not in Wade. 

George had spent most of her shift scrubbing away at the same ominous stain that always taunted her from the counter next to the sink. It was so persistent that it must have had been there since the nineties. She was still hopelessly forcing a scrappy pink towel over it when she started speaking to Daphne. “Do you think anyone would notice if–” Before she could ask if it was safe to take a fifteen minute “bathroom break,” Red’s profanity flooded through the room, drawing an awkward silence. 

Daphne finally conquered the quiet. “Oh, it was nothing.” George replied, quick to realize that her arm was stiffly paused in its scrubbing motion. She set the towel down and smoothed out of her apron with the back of her hand. “I hope he’s okay.” She didn’t know why she had the urge to say such a thing–it was very obvious that he wasn’t. “Maybe we should make him some coffee.”

The backdoor swings open, and shut quickly, loudly, certainly. Red’s gone outside to calm himself down. He’s sure been doing that a lot lately. Once upon a time, he would have slammed the office door, locking himself in there so he could get some perspective, think, even fume. But now, he foregoes the office, and heads straight for the dumpsters. Actually, he actively avoids the office at all costs, and everyone knows it’s because it reminds him too much of Josie. Whenever Red was there, Josie was back in the office with her colored reading glasses, going over their emails (Red still doesn’t know how to open emails), or double-checking Red’s produce order to make sure he’d get enough of everything (he was always trying to cut the wrong costs). It was her office. It must have felt wrong to sit down in that chair knowing she’d never sit there again. Daphne didn’t even like to walk past the office herself, even on her way to grab her coat at the end of the night from the employee rack.

People have already begun chomping down on their food once more. It didn’t take long at all; the concern she saw in their features previously has all but faded. Of course, most of them don’t know Red the way George, and Daphne know Red, but it still feels somewhat disrespectful. Isn’t anyone concerned about him? Doesn’t anyone want to go back there, and check on him? Daphne certainly does. But she won’t. And she knows no one else will. It’s really quite hard to see their fearless leader in such a low place. 

“Me too,” Daphne squeaks out. Yes, they both know he’s not. But aren’t you supposed to say that when someone’s upset? I hope he’s okay. It sounds like the thing to say. 

Weakly, Daphne smiles at George. “Half-decaf?” It was a little trick they’d come up with once upon a time with Josie after she’d told some of the staff that Red needed to watch his caffeine consumption. That “ticker” wasn’t going to hold on forever, and she wanted him around as long as he could be. Everyone was always worrying about Red. About his health. About his issues. No one really ever stopped to think about Josie. Had they missed something along the way? Had they done her such a disservice? “We’ll just have to brew a new pot.” She motions towards the almost empty carafe, immediately reaching for the clean coffee filters. 

After a momentary pause (her gears are turning), “... Y’think they’d let us bake him something back there? Not like it's busy out here.” Daphne is not a good baker (nor a good waitress, clearly). But it seems like a nice thing to do.

when: night following the spring celebration, around 1am where: red’s diner who: @onceangel·

tension was high at the station following red’s outburst and robbie tried to keep out of it. he knew fletcher’s stress about this whole case probably skyrocketed out in space. he looked around, not seeing the sheriff. colleagues were whispering, some also wondering what was happening with this whole investigation. some eyes were on him, and he wondered how he became some kind of pariah for helping fletcher on this case. maybe he should have chosen nate, he’d been here the longest.

it had been months, years even, since robbie felt like an outsider. that was not a good feeling.

raising, took his jacket off his chair and went out. there was enough people inside, they wouldn’t miss him. and technically, his day off was starting. at 12:43am, but still. out of the door without a goodbye. those who’d need him, if the occasion arose, would call him on his cell.

the air was cold again, though spring was at their door, waiting for the opportunity to come in and make itself home. robbie missed the warm wind, the way summer made everything golden and bright. it made him think of his childhood with abuela, eating oranges and listening to her secrets. summer was still far, though. hands in his pocket, he made his way to the car, a shiver running down his spine. without really realizing, he stopped in front of the dinner. he wondered if nate already spoke to red. they were close, from what he understood. maybe… maybe robbie should come in. speak with him.

(apologize, perhaps)

only daphne’s sweet smile welcomed him though, and robbie saw that much of the usual late-night patrons also decided to skip their usual visit. “pretty calm, uh.” the counter was clean, practically shining. had she been polishing it since she arrived? robbie liked daphne, her silent ways and soft voice. a balm to most of his comings here, definitely. “red’s not in?” voice low, as if he was telling a secret. it fit with the mood, though he’d really wish the jukebox would play something other than marley’s i shot the sheriff.

While Daphne hadn’t been able to make it to the Spring Celebration (working, she’s always working -- she had stopped by for about fifteen minutes to drop off some cobbler she’d made), word of Red’s actions spread, as all gossip in Wade does, quickly. Ya’ heard about old Red picking Daniels up by the collar? About time someone scared a little sense into that rat. Yikes. Daphne flinched at the thought of ol’ Red threatening anyone; sure, he had a temper, but she’d never know him to get physical with anyone. Of course, this whole situation was weighing on him, and grief does manifest in strange ways... Could she really blame him?

He’d come in after the scuffle, still riled up. Luckily, the cooks in the back really knew how to handle Red at his worst. Someone offered to drive him home. The whole place had been... sort of melancholy after that. Somber. As if the reality of this whole mess was finally settling in. For about a week it hadn’t seemed real to anyone but Red. Now he was making sure everyone knew this was real, and it happened to someone he loved with every ounce of himself. Not a chance he was going down any other way than swinging.

His face is a welcomed surprise. They’ve been dead all night (probably because the good, respectful people of Wade were not going to reward Red’s bad behavior), and she’d been so bored she’d actually taken to cleaning. Listen, it wasn’t that Daphne didn’t like to clean... but she didn’t like to clean. She’d much rather just talk the night away with guests. Now she had an excuse to cease her efforts.

She smiles slightly at the low voice he’s using, if only because he has nothing to worry about; Red’s hopefully in bed, sleeping by now. But who knows? “Nope, no Red tonight,”

“How’re you doing with--... everything?” There’s concern in her voice. She’s concerned for him, hoping he’s not taking anything too personally. Though she understands it would be hard not to. “Y’know he didn’t mean it, right? What he said...” She pauses to gather her thoughts; it’s odd apologizing for someone else. “I don’t think he meant it.”

     When she heard of Josie’s death, it sent a pang through her heart. Sorrow in the form of an ache. She loved Red and Josie. They loved her too. She remembers playing her tunes for them and the elderly couple showing her the faith her parents would never dare – or care to show.

     She is still staying in one of the dreary rooms in Cherry Hill Motel. She doesn’t know where her next haunt will be but she came back to Wade with a list of places and people to pay a visit. Her first destination was a person rather than a specific destination. But before she finds who she is looking for, she stops at Red’s Diner. Even being surrounded by the diner’s walls gives a chill to her bones knowing that four years ago she saw Josie here for one last time and she wasn’t even aware of it. 

     All the disturbing thoughts creep upon her. What would she feel if it was her mother? Would she be able to grieve after years of running from her and her father? What was Red doing without Josie now? When she stepped in, she was heavy with hoping that perhaps she could answer the last question.

     The atmosphere drowns her quickly, eeriness that fills the air in is almost tangible. The songstress only wants to see Red and leave. Then the voice cussing rings in her ears and it leaves her in a sulk, Juniper is not hiding it from the other. “I just wanted to see Red but… Guess today is not the right time.” Something tells her the right time won’t come any soon.

As quickly as the commotion in the back had started, it’s over, and a hush falls back over the entirety of the restaurant. If Daphne had to venture a guess, she’d say Juan (the only other cook that bothered to show up today) has offered Red a cigarette to ease his nerves. He quit about twenty years ago at Josie’s insistence, but every one in a while, you could catch him out puffing on a cancer stick when he was feeling particularly punchy. Always behind Josie’s back of course; once, she’d heard Red say, in his own defense: secrets make good marriages. Daphne’s positive that was the only secret between the two of them.

No one here to scold him for smoking now. Daphne certainly hoped he wouldn’t make a habit out of it; at his age, though, it might not matter so much. But still, everyone wanted Red around for as long as they could have him, especially in the advent of Josie’s death. 

Daphne’s heart sinks seeing the sullen look on the other’s features. While she doesn’t quite know Juniper, she’s sure she’s seen her around; though, it’s been a while. Knowing she was quite close to Josie, there’s a surge of empathy that bubbles up through her throat, and comes out as a simple, “I’m sorry.” It’s quiet. It’s not even remotely the correct response to the Juniper’s last sentiment. But at the same time, it is. 

“He’s, um-- ...” She’s not quite sure how to explain it. He goes in, and out of different planes of emotion. Whoever came up with those “phases of grief” was defintely on to something. Right now Red’s in the “anger” stage, and no one’s sure how long it’s going to last. “He’s not doing well.” It’s the only way she can describe it. 

“I’m sure he’ll be happy to know you’re back in town, though.” There’s a faint hint of a smile; she hopes at least that will give the other a bit of solace. 

People will still come, though. If there’s anything Daphne’s learned, it’s that nothing can keep people away from this place. It’s like some kind of religion, especially to the old men who come, and spend hours chatting at the counter. If they miss a day here, you know there’s something seriously wrong.

Perhaps it’s a good thing that the diner is almost empty, because Red is throwing a fit in the back of the house. Even with the jukebox steadily spewing worn-out tunes, you can hear the owner, and proprietor of the place spewing obscenities. It seems two of his cooks have called out today, leaving him back there trying to take their place. Though, this isn’t the only instance of anger on Red’s part that Daphne’s witness since Josie’s passing. It’s genuinely worrisome. The old man’s not in the best of shape, and all that pressure on his heart? It’ll surely send him to an early grave. 

Maybe that’s what he wants. 

“Fuck!” It rings through the entire restaurant, and Daphne’s sure Red’s gone, and burnt himself or something. She nearly flinches at the sound of it, but tries to regain her composure in short order. 

Looking back down at the other, she offers them a reassuring smile, but it’s surely not much of a comfort to them. “Sorry, what’d ya’ say?” 

“How bad do you think an inner lip tattoo would be?” Evelyn asked, pulling out her bottom lip. She had been considering getting a bizarre illuminati symbol there just for shits and giggles.. “how-wooh-ihh-look?” 

There’s a moment of pause as she considers the positives, and negatives of an inner lip tattoo; she has never had to consider this before. “Overall, I think it would look pretty cool,” Though how much does one typically show others the inside of their lip? Then again, if you had a reason to, guess you would. “But I think it would hurt like hell. Got a high pain tolerance?” 

Coming in dead last with my introduction post because? I cannot time manage, BUT hi, hello! I’m Abby (Admin A), and I’m incredibly excited to be here in this wonky little town called Wade with all of you! Blessed, honored, elated to interact with these incredible characters you guys have come up with! This is my little duck Daphne & I’ll attempt to tell you a bit about her below (without rambling).