officer penni c. brooks

It was a dumb question and answer, and it did little to settle Hiten’s stomach. They looked through their black hair at her, eager to get back to drinking, eager to drink so much that they would stop feeling anything. Grief, cold, dark like a void inside of them wanting to rip everything to shreds. Wanting to claw at every part of their body until there was nothing left of them, maybe then the pain would stop. They observed, shoulders pressed together in front of them, tense and wary, their stomach painfully empty, while their brain was feeling fussy and heavy at the same time. 

They figured she would try something, offer kind words to deaf ears, because she felt responsible, as a cop, as a human being. Hiten felt like they could understand that, yet they didn’t wish to acknowledge it. This was their grief, theirs and Paula’s and Bobby’s, the grief of the people who had been closest to Cassie. They felt terrible for including them in that equation. They were only an uncle, one who had fucked up the only good relationship to another human being they had in their lives, because they had been stupid enough to think that nobody would ever find out how they had switched religion. And she did offer those words, promises, empty. Their rage flared back up. 

“Stop,” they said, voice heavy with venom. They could see the determination in her, the need to prove to them that she did in fact believe what she was saying. But they didn’t want to hear it, and they didn’t want to look at it, so they looked away. “Don’t.” They took a deep breath. “She’s dead, little girls who disappear and aren’t found for a year are not going to be found ever. Don’t give me empty promises.” 

if there were ever a time penni could trapeze herself into a trap of saying the Lord’s name in vain it was now. as her cheeks filled with heat and her lips were carefully pinched shut. “i’m sorry?” the blonde sputtered out before she had so aptly caught herself from rolling into something explosive. a mixture of both genuine guilt and unsettling irritation entangled in her tone as she also knew she would have to keep from providing her support in a physically comforting manner.

“you can’t just —“ but she had to remember that they could just say such vile things. a free pass for the mechanic that she didn’t understand: having shed their skin when it didn’t agree with them, no matter the mountain of achievements they’d leave behind. not that she was all the wiser to why, but a stab of jealousy might always bury itself into her gut when she’d see them just as her stomach might roll over giddily. old habits die hard.

Paula stood near the back, a good few meters behind the crowd of citizens who looked on with horror. She could feel their anguish in the air as it mingled with fear, and desperation. The church was burning with a vengeance, far too gone to be salvaged now, it’s red and gold flames reflected in the teary eyes of those who watched. She herself was filled with a sick sort of glee, watching something burn. Paula had wanted something to burn for so long, and yet, hardly to her surprise, it did little to ease  her pain. 

She was sure the young deputy was talking to herself, but Paula couldn’t help her facetious response as it slipped past her lips. “Someone threw a match in, and the holy water wasn’t enough to stop it.” 

to recognize when her blood had turned ice cold would mean that penni would have to recognize that it did. coming into contact with cassie klein’s mother was the cause, though she would never admit it. her dread of the walking banshee. the memory of a mother wailing and screaming at the top of her lungs, grieving. somehow paula made her feel closer to her own mother. to what it would be like to become one and to lose perhaps the single thing that kept your life together. fuck, if penni didn’t feel guilty for causing her mother that grief, then she was not human.

and then there was the idea that penni must have ruined any shred of evidence that lay in cassie’s bedroom. there was guilt for that too, staring at the brunette with a dry mouth and a hope that her features would go unrecognized. useless, as she struggled to render a response. “i’m sure it was an accident.” it appeared she only said it to calm herself, even while gauging what response she’d earn, while dancing about that today was a memorable day. “uhm, you didn’t see anybody do that though, did you? if you’re able to tell us anything, it’d help a whole handful with our investigation.”

“Unorganized is one way to put it,” Blythe deadpans. Like bulls in a china shop is another. With four-inch stilettos and her half-assed basic fire protection course, she was Fireman Sam in comparison. “But that’s a worry for tomorrow. What matters is the fire’s contained.” Ish. “I’ll get Weber. In the meantime, we need to keep the people right where they are. No snooping, no shrines, no dramatic knee falls.” She tucks a handful of disheveled curls behind an ear, still eyeing Brooks. “I’ll trust you to take care of that.”

An objective, that’s what the rookie needs. While the composure act is almost impressive—a surge of pride, or has she just inhaled too much smoke?—the young officer is starting to babble, gaze reminiscent of a lost duckling. Would, Blythe wonders, Jody have looked at her like that, too?

Which is ridiculous, because her sister would’ve been over a decade older than Brooks and not even blond and she can’t afford to waste any more time on Jody.

Collateral damage. Just like the First Assembly Baptist Church.

Soon it’ll be nothing but dust and charred wood. Pieces of it, anyway. Though Brooks has a point. They won’t get far on their own. Instinctively, Blythe’s fingers drift to where a pocket should be, but Reiss hates women, so her skirt hasn’t got any.

“Before anyone touches the scene, I want everything videoed, sketched, and photographed,” she says. Next to them, a child is sobbing. “This was no accident.”

sometimes penni wonders whether she deserves what trust her colleagues instill in her. regardless of her effort, she will never be the smartest nor strongest on the team. yet, her rib cage floods with something light and airy when blythe’s trust trickles from her lips. something that penni will handle with a gentle grasp and the assumption that it is fragile.

vivid nods betray her eagerness for belonging. “yeah, i can do that! no problem. no snooping, uh falling, or . . . yeah, i’ve got it!” though she would be lying if she had stopped listening after that. certainly, she was prepared to hop straight into action, but a moment more to gain her courage under blythe’s analytical gaze was what she needed rather than listen to the distressing noise of the public.

however, there was the statement that penni could not help loathing as soon as it dipped from the blonde’s mouth. any action the younger woman took, such as throwing her gaze about the area once more and biting her lip, felt too little a response when her heart thumped loudly and palms began sweating. the prior feeling nearly crumbled inside her stomach. “i guess we’ll see?” she didn’t sound as skeptical as she did shocked. “and i’ll direct anybody i see arrive on the scene to you for instructions.”

Blackened skies, and soot covered hands besides the blazing inferno of something holy. Sacrilege. But the ache hadn’t yet settled at the sight his eyes rest on. There was no beating heart pounding at his chest, no clawing at his throat for the sight of this place he’d come to know as home. Pressure would do this to him, smooth those roughened edges that fluttered. His mind doesn’t think of the fires he’d watch burn, swallowing their surroundings without fear of God’s word. Nor does he think of those that set them, the destruction relished. Perhaps not just now, but he can feel it. Pressing down on his shoulders, and thumbing his insides like it’s promising what he knows will come. 

He thinks of Penni standing before him, he thinks of Cassie. He thinks of the town that needs this right now. A place of worship and prayer where the wooden walls that now lie as debris could have offered solace. “We’ll find a way, there’s always strength in these times.” Comfort never had been something Charles had known, in turn its not something he offers. Despite his best efforts in a gentle smile to Penni. “I guess I was in the Lord’s thoughts this morning, but I was too late to do anything when I got here. We’ll salvage what he can, perhaps the town hall will let us use the space. It will be okay Penni. The Lord knows we only get stronger in bouts of weakness.”

should she doubt God, her facade does not crumble and her hands do not trimmer. faith is not a feat as much as it is a performance and she is so close a professional that she believes it herself. what is a feat, is not mirroring his encouraging smile which she fails to achieve. her lips curl up and the upside down gravity in her gut subsides in the face of the uncomfortable heat. she tells herself it is her faith in God, but she is merely willfully ignorant. she knows it is her trust in charles. “okay. as long as you’re alright.”

of course, she sneaks a glance at his clothes for singe marks or evidence of his means to bring her comfort rather than truth. “at least town hall would be closer to dq, huh?” she couldn’t help her wish for ice cream whilst sweating beneath her uniform. “but, you’re right. do you know if anyone was inside? or, saw anything? actually, wait, has someone already talked to you about this?” the blonde pauses to smack her lips, steal a gaze at the growing crowd and officer weber not too far off. at least everything but the fire is descending into order, and no one is hurt. that’s what matters. “i’m happy you didn’t try anything when you got here. church wouldn’t be the same without you. and not to . . but have you seen blythe? wait, you know blythe, right? tall, blonde, intense in a good way?”

Despite everything, Hiten had held nobody responsible for Cassie’s disappearance. Not even themselves, though they had wanted to. They had wished for Karma to have been sole responsible, they had wished for God to have done this out of spite. But why would anyone do this to Paula, to Bobby, to the family that was theirs but wasn’t really theirs. It felt like a cruel joke, given how close they had been to gaining the couple’s trust, but that was just coincidence. Cassie was dead. 

They looked up, watching the young police officer offer their flask back to them. They recognised her of course, pretty young thing, always working hard and smiling, always seeming to carry something that was off, but not letting it show much. The young woman who had been praised and priced when she set out to become an officer. The young woman who had questioned them on the day Cassie disappeared, and multiple times there-after. They could not blame anyone, not even the police department. Not even for think they could’ve been a suspect. It wasn’t personal, they tried not to take it personal. But they could not help the anger raising up when she stood in front of them in normal clothing, and dared to ask them if they were okay. 

Of course they were not. They stood quickly, took the flask from her, noticed how their hand was still shaking as they hid it back in their pocket. She might be off duty, but Wheeler always liked to remind them that they were doing the wrong thing. “What do you think?” they asked angrily. “You know what day it is! Everyone knows what day it is,” they said, but they felt the rage was a quickly burning fire, while the grieving cold was far more persistent. They turned away from her. Almost offered an apology, but did not. 

“monday?” the attempt was a poorly prepared jest. one that she knew was bound to fail as soon as her lips opened. treating pain with comedy was not her forte, and that much was obvious when she reeled for an apology rather than tried to faintly, horrifically smile through it. “sorry, i’m sorry. that was a dumb question and a dumb, er, answer.” she could hear the frustration transparent in their voice. not a form of grief that she had ever experienced nor could understand, she knew, and it was nearly a fact she felt guilty for.

silence grasped her tongue before she could dig any bigger a hole or further irritate them. and the flowers in her palm felt too little a gesture, pressing them to her chest. police work never provided the closure she thought it would, especially for people like the kleins. sitting here staring did just as little and sometimes it felt like wheeler was stuck in a bubble of lethargy, static. but to say something and feel alienated was too big a risk.

Weird shit didn’t usually happen in Wheeler. Cassie’s kidnapping was the starting point, but it felt like since then it just got strange. The air was different, even the way people interacted seemed different. As if everyone was just dying to see what kind of bullshit were the Kleins up to that made them deserve this punishment. She didn’t expect the church to be burnt, a year exactly after Cassie’s disappearance, but she wants to chalk it up to a coincidence. Because it’s easier.

She’s grateful to have been busy at work, though she let the other employees man the front while she stayed in the back of the store to not deal with the sneers- she’s sure people assume it was her. Sure, arson was a totally sexy crime, but it wasn’t one Mads had the time nor energy to commit. Having her roommate be a cop actually came in handy sometimes, since movie night with Penni was her alibi. 

She was glad to be able to remove her apron and go home, her usual summertime outfit on. A loose cropped band tee, fishnet stockings that went up to her waist and distressed denim shorts paired with her combat boots. It wasn’t quite too hot yet, but the breeze felt nice. Stepping inside, her mood brightens from hearing Penni and smelling the mac and cheese. She was the better cook of the two, her pho was out of this world, but she was always grateful for Penni’s mac and cheese. “Um, when it comes to this, yes. I’m ravenous.” She grins, setting her bag down. “How was it today? I’m glad you didn’t get pulled into anything too dangerous.”

honestly, penni knows she is lucky to have been let off work so early. given, she knows that a trip to the grocery store is long overdue and that her day is far from over. she is hopeful that a bowl of macaroni will keep her going once the adrenaline of the morning has worn off. though a subtle hint of mad’s care for her well-being is enough to keep penni in high spirits as cheeks flush and a flustering shrug of her shoulders is displayed.

“it was really just a lot of waiting till the crowd died down and for the fire to extinguish. luckily, there weren’t many calls.” not as though there were ever very many. wheeler had a lot of growing to do before then. “think we called some fire specialists or something to search for anything suspicious. so, reports should be back tomorrow or later. who knows.”

none of this was to say that penni was quite over the fact that the church was sufficiently destroyed. she hardly knew how to speak to God otherwise and a quick pinch of her lips soon evolved into another gentle smile. silent admiration for her roommate swirling about in her head when she’d turned to stir cheese into the noodles. “how was your day?”

C H A R A C T E R     S T U D Y     ⇁     ( 2 / ? )

          do you think we could go back , Mama ?

following a day of fatigue, goody grocery is by no means packed. housewives who have only just now found the time to make grocery runs amid unsettling visions of burning bibles and smoking crosses make up the majority of warm bodies. penni supposes she is one of them, locking her bike up as they file out. dresses of pink and purple. blouses half unbuttoned. dainty hands lugging bags of groceries. perfect hair tucked back behind small ears. mouths that never sputter profanities (at least in public) and sparkling eyes that speak more than they have ever said aloud. she cannot help but stare.

one lady’s cheeks flush when their eyes meet. and penni’s face reddens too, like she has only just realized how she looks. she tells herself she is jealous. that which she is. but should there be any interest in the beauty of the girl or the story in her eyes, it is bottled.

it is like this that she rises from her work. in parts bothered, but mesmerized too. she angles herself towards the doors and the figure exiting next is not a woman. nor a housewife for that matter. the officer blinks once, twice before the automatic doors flicker open. the cold air of the store ruffles the conservative dress she has thrown on. given, she is far more bothered by the way in which the figure keeps his head down. she would never forget the peculiar way ashley builds up into tears. and it seems he has not cut the habit either. or maybe he has and the distance they’ve kept for twelve years is long enough for her to know nothing of her childhood friend.

the possibility does little to muffle her gut. should she call to mind the things she has heard about, neither do those tear the empathy or raw concern from her heart.

she is not certain he has registered her when they nearly part ways without speaking. so, she reaches to breeze a hand over a shoulder that has already passed her. “hey,” she begins, “ashley. hey! is there something the matter? why are you . .” that is a statement she, of course, does not bother to finish. she would rather not bring attention to how she’d noticed a melancholy glint in his eyes.

“Newsflash, junebug. it’s our job to find out.” Blythe’s index finger digs into Brooks’s shoulder. The idea is to nudge her forward, but she might as well be poking a dummy. One more time. Snap. Out. Of. It. “Move.”

Mercifully, in a characteristic last-minute save, she does remember to add a softer note to her voice. It’s the church, after all. Wheeler’s guiding star. Any ounce of common sense is bound to be buried under the impending avalanche of sorrow and Judgment Day theories.

A few are already wailing. As the pair makes their way through the crowd, eyes brimming with woe and terror follow their every step. In the back, by the fire truck, someone is—for real, she can’t make this up—humming the tune to Amazing Grace. The baker’s wife joins in, plump, flour-speckled hands clutched around a rosary, and soon the others echo. 

Fuck’s sake. Getting anything out of them is going to be like quizzing a goat on the periodic table of elements.

Jaw set, Blythe shoots a sideways glance at Brooks. “Alright, what do we have so far? Who was the first responder?”

penni’s shock digs farther in her gut. that is until blythe’s finger digs further. almost like a pinch to pull her from a nightmare: that of a burning cross she cannot swallow. an accident, she’s certain. because where was God if someone purposefully set the church ablaze?

“uhm, yeah. alright.” two breaths out while wide eyes betray her own disdain for the tune she can’t quite recognize. that is till she is looking to blythe for direction. direction that comes in her moving like she was asked. a godsend, the woman. penni knows she’ll never be able to be half the officer she is but she can try.

and, inevitably, it is with renewed purpose that she observes blythe’s determination and somehow swallows the panic swelling in her stomach. there’s no time for that, at least not now. “officer weber, i think. he made sure the crowd wasn’t too close. maybe he’s helping the firemen right now. but, the . . firefighters are a little unorganized.” unorganized is a kinder word than the one that’d first popped into her head. “they’re . . . well, we haven’t had a fire in such a long time that i don’t think we can blame them. they’re volunteers, after all. but, uh, i don’t know how much evidence we’ll be able to recover. probably just caught ablaze because of how dry it’s been lately.”

she knows she is talking a lot. it’s either that or leveling herself to complete silence and she never really could stand the quiet. the roar of the fire might only send her into a deeper spiral if she did shut her mouth.

innocence was something gus had never contended well with. or fragility. and here was penni, inhabiting both at once. something in her wanted to shake the young girl. or slap her. gus couldn’t tell what she wanted more.

but instead, she settled on a play at thoughtfulness, cinching her brow as she pretended to remember.

“there was a girl… she appeared out of nowhere… she smiled at me. and then she dropped a match and vanished, as if she’d never been there in the first place.” gus worked herself up into a fit, lip trembling, eyes wide. “i… think it was cassie.”

oh how sweet lies sounded leaving her lips.

there is a great many things which fly over penni’s head. a great many experiences she has failed to experience. being conned is probably one of those, or at least she had never caught anyone conning her before. nor has she ever expected anyone to lie to her. the pitfalls of an only child, clearly.

and it’s so easy to fall into gus’s trap. it’s a feat she is happy to achieve: total belief in the doctor’s tall tale — to an extent. her eyebrows knit, fingers itch for something to write this testimony down on other than the faulty tissue of her mind. her eyes never waver, till the story is over and her frigid limbs are no longer tense. she doesn’t bother a beat of closure after the punch to her gut, a reminder that she shouldn’t move to meet everyone’s expectations. after all, the story is ridiculous.

“cassie isn’t dead,” she is able to declare, because she has a backbone and she knows in the rest of her bones — or rather prays, that it is the truth. after all, penni can fall for angels and saints and sinners, but not ghosts. at least not one of a little girl who is, statistically speaking, dead. yet, penni is happy to note the display of emotions and the recollection of a vanishing mystery girl. given, witness testimonies are often flawed. and talk of sudden appearances and disappearances worries her that gus might have gone off the deep end.

“hey, hold on. there are plenty of other little girls around wheeler though, right? so, it was just one of them.” her voice lightened, offering a subtle form of comfort. not that a little girl playing with matches should offer anyone that. then, following a bite of her thumbnail, she remembers the gus she’d grown up knowing, “i mean, ghosts aren’t real anyway. surely you don’t believe in them?”

A year ago, give or take, she’d slept with a firefighter. In the hotel room, while she’d dressed, he sprawled out over the bed. He lit a cigarette. Sick with a shame she’d yet to understand, she’d smiled in an effort to convince herself that she liked him and made a funny remark about his being a ‘smoking firefighter.’ 

As if reminded by the word he’d begun to explain that firefighters can tell what stage a fire is in by the color of the smoke. For house fires it started white, then grey, then black. 

Overhead black smoke swirled and she was thinking of him. Thinking of how it was June 15th. This was the day Cassie Klein went missing one year ago and today the sun is obscured by the smoke of a late stage fire. 

She wonders where it is, gaping up at the sky dumbly until she hears it. The church. Maybe the hand that settles on her shoulder and the vaguely maternal tone is motivated more by curiousity than concern. “The church?” Her stomach churns. “It’s – it’s alright,” Marion lies with one more stolen glance at the sky before she tries to herd her off the sidewalk. In the distance sirens wail mournfully. “Come over this way, honey. Who said it was the church?” 

there is a hurried, desperate rub of each of penni’s eyes when she recognizes the hand that grips her shoulder and the familiar voice echoing disbelief. it is a person she is not inclined to shake off, nor one that she’s felt has the time for her anymore now high school has ended.

nonetheless, the blonde pushes her phone into view. an alert clicked open that says it all despite having heard a crackle through the radio on her shoulder. should she gather the courage, she will head in that direction. courage she hardly has as marion leads her away from the dazzled, horrified crowd.

her eyes trace marion’s stolen glance, and the thin line that makes up her lips, watching and attempting focus like she had sitting in ms. marion’s classroom. all before there’s relief exiting penni’s lungs in an encompassing exhale. “this and the radio,” she musters, attempting to keep her words few though she must consciously refrain from bugging her with a question. hardly a nice cover, after the lunches she’d hole up in the english teacher’s company — like penni has ever known when to stop talking.

somehow penni doubts that this long day is one that will not be repeated. after all, if the church is burnt to a crisp that beckons volunteers to help rebuild. and these days will only grow longer on top of her average workday pushing papers and responding to un-permitted dog shits in flowerbeds. when she returns home, it is a blessing to be rid of her uniform which smells of smoke and sweat and cowardice. 

she is happy to don the comfy shorts she had sewed flowers on thanks to a community workshop and her over-sized shirt is adorned with a bible quote which in itself is a remnant of her father. showering will come after the dinner she intends to cook up -- always bland, but she only knows how to make the simplest, home cooking recipes.

all the same, it is no surprise when she is eager hearing the creak of the front door. she cannot stand being alone; doing so eats away at her. having a roommate like mads fixes that and the possibility of her return has penni straightening up, mustering a smile and bringing color back to her cheeks. all just in time for dinner too. “are you hungry?” she calls, “the mac and cheese is almost finished.”

The whole morning had been spent under the pilling smoke that swamped the skies, doing his best attempts to ward off the crowds. Charles had woken late, and arrived to unlock for the day only to find the church engulfed in flames that ate at the wooden panels and suffocated everything in sight with the glorious heat it emitted. 

“Officer Brooks, thankyou for showing.” He’s cautious when he approaches the other, but that’s not unlike the man. Cautious words hesitant to leave his mouth, eyes that never linger too long on another, hands that shake so he shoves them into his pocket. “I wouldn’t worry, we’ll be rebuilt in a week.” Although he’s not certain of his words, he just does his best to comfort the other.

the caretaker is a welcome face among the masses of unfamiliar -- or, perhaps even scarier, too familiar -- faces of her childhood. many people have stepped out in the street or of their homes to watch her world burn. though, she is still gaping when charles offers some semblance of peace, he snaps her back into reality, reminding her that she has purpose. even if that purpose is only to act as an officer, or an additional hand in filling buckets full of water should she muster the courage.

“oh, well, yeah. of course.” her attention shifts to him, like she’s only just remembered how she was first on the scene a year before and here she is again, hopelessly gulping down her panic. or else she’d have corrected him on that ‘officer brooks’ he’d provided. he’s supposed to call her penni. “do . . . we have enough money for that?” she asks, like she is a fixture of the church. she likes to believe she is at least. “and -- hold on. you weren’t in there when it happened, were you?! are you alright?!” 

Time: 17.41, 15th of June, 2020 Location: near Holy Peace Cemetery  OPEN

It had taken almost the full day for Hiten to realise what day it was. To realise its importance. They had woken up like normal, they had grinned when they heard about the fire, they had silently rejoiced when news came to them that the church had went up in flames. It felt almost personal, as if God had heard their prayers, and decided on a little payback. They knew the should not ask God that, but they had. They had asked for some type of revenge. Until they learned what day it was. Until they remembered. 

The fifteenth of June, 2019. 

Cassie had been there one day, and gone the next. No traces, no knowledge of what could’ve happened to her. They had been on their way to the cemetery before they realised what they were doing. They had given up two months after she had disappeared. They knew she was dead. But they also knew she wasn’t there. 

They took out the flask that they had brought from home, and started turning the lid with great difficulty, their hands were shaking. They took a deep breath but the longer it took the more frustrated they grew. “Fuck,” they yelled and threw the flask to the ground. They sat down on their hunches and registered someone coming over, but did not look up. Let them judge them, they always did. Didn’t matter what day it was.

it’s not quite so simple forgetting her first failure on the police force. a year has gone by and despite the fact the case has never been called off, there is no closure in sight. she knows her clumsiness and novelty in the field must have fouled up the evidence in cassie’s room, because what kinds of cases go cold so suddenly? she knows this as a fact just as she knows the weight of the bible in her palms or the guilt caged in her stomach as she shuffles towards the shortcut holy peace cemetery provides.

truly, she’d meant to leave her overwhelming bouquet of irises next to the kleins’ mailbox -- not too far of a walk -- earlier in the morning. however, she is certain that church wasn’t supposed to burst into flames either. at least she can tease a few of the flowers out and lay them on graves of people long forgotten when she cuts through, and at least she has already peeled off her uniform for the day, soaked with sweat. though, she supposes her day hasn’t actually ended when she flinches under the sound of frustration and witnesses them. 

The words rung in her ears a thousand times over before Magdalena realized what was happening. She couldn’t believe it, nor did she want to, but there was no way of avoiding the way her nose felt as she took in a deep breath. The words spoken were only a confirmation of a nightmare that was only beginning. She turned to look at the woman who spoke, only managing a weak “Excuse me,” as the lump already began to form in her throat. 

the panic that laps in penni’s mind is thrown off course. she is nothing if not shocked, as though she has not dealt with horror before. the only thing is that she hadn’t expected the church would be alight. however, she is taken by the woman. a name she can’t seem to recall burning at the back of her mind, because as a good samaritan, wheeler is certainly small enough that she should know everyone’s names. though, she needed a reminder that she is a good samaritan, an officer too. flipping out doesn’t put out a fire, she reminds herself, or resolves tension.

“or, well, maybe it’s not that big of a deal, right? we shouldn’t worry too much. the fire isn’t that bad. is it -- it’s mm, uh . . mary, right? are you alright?”

“exit god, stage left. wheeler, abandon all hope.”

gus didn’t believe in divinity or any kind of holy foreshadowing, but it certainly was amusing watching the rest of this town self cannibalize as they scrambled for reason, for logic, for an explanation. she was happier to watch rome burn than she would ever be trying to put out the fires.

“you’re a cop, barbie,” she said, eyeing the young blonde’s badge. “perhaps… investigating how the church got set ablaze is – and correct me if i’m wrong here – your job?”

a long blink is spared in response to the woman. she certainly knew the local doctor was cynical and perhaps a touch blunt, but should check-ups ever bother penni, she never said anything. even now, when her eyes are pried from the smoke and the firetrucks wailing loudly, she has no reason to utter anything inflammatory. rather, her mouth parts and she stares down at the uniform -- the badge displayed on her breast. 

“i’m sorry?” she sputters instead as though she is too dizzy to notice that the badge is real and not one she glittered and bedazzled as a fifth grader. “yeah, i’m --” it takes just a moment of a deep, burning breath and a straightening of her back to pigeonhole herself in the place gus provides with the assumption that someone might have meant to burn down the church, though her voice sounds no less lost than it did before, “did you -- have you seen anything, doc?”