#empathbled

『•• ✂️ ••』 @empathbled​ whispered: "Why're you cutting up that stuffie, mister?"

A soft yet hesitant exhale escaped the mans lips as he turned his head to the sound of the voice. He hadn't even heard the door open (let alone footsteps approach the door from the hall) and he was a little bit — no, more than that — surprised that someone had the gall to open his door in the first place. Either this child was oblivious as to who he was and what could have been found in here, or the child simply didn't care, and he wasn't sure which one ticked him off more.

  Vincent sat upon the couch in his room, half curled into himself, with his favourite pair of scissors sunk deep into a cheap stuffed rabbit. The fabric was thin and easy to tear with a little force, and he had been in the process of snipping off the arms when the child  came in.

@empathbled ──

There are plenty of women who dress like Fujiko - probably. Stiletto heels and flashy jewelry. Just enough skin visible to be a distraction, the rest of it hidden beneath soft, expensive clothes, and a jacket that clings and leave little to the imagination. There are plenty, perhaps, hundreds of women who dress like her, walk like her with their heads held high.

There are few, however, that can manage to walk in said heels in the rain with such confidence. Voluntarily, at least.

Well 'voluntarily'. As voluntarily as she can be with a police escort towards the scene of a violent crime - her American husband's murder.

She can already smell the blood -

There was nothing remarkable about the bar - just another one in that corner of the city, frequented by the same mix of overworked employees for a happy hour after their shift, neighborhood regulars and the occasional stray that had no idea of the other (better) options around.

The furniture was likely older than Melissa; the television that often stayed on some football or basketball game was a relic on its own right; even the beer taps hadn't been changed for a minute, but maybe that was part of the charm of the small place. Perhaps the absence of change instilled some loyalty in their patrons, a sense of convenience. And among such icons of the past, the barmaid was a bit of an oddity in that dark, often depressing environment.

But Melissa didn't mind - it paid the bills; there were hardly any fights given the older clientele; those who turned into regulars tipped her well for the service and the friendly shoulder (or, more accurately, a listening ear). It was the fate of every bartender - to be aware of deep secrets and shameful confessions from strangers, whether she wanted it or not.

Hearing old Carl complain about his son who never visited would have made it a common night, particularly if the Dodgers were going through a bad time (Melissa never really understood why he supported a team from across the country, but it was strangely charming). The brunette smiled faintly at her customer groaning loudly at another lousy play, eyes raising from the sink where a number of glasses were washed and then dried off, spotting an unfamiliar figure at the entrance.

It wasn't until he came closer to the counter that the girl actually recognized him - the FBI guy. Frowning, Melissa actually turned off the water and dried both hands using the rag nearby, placing hands on both hips with a questioning look once he claimed one of the many empty stools (it was early, things were slow on a Monday).

"Agent Graham, wasn't it?" the barmaid confirmed, although she was pretty sure of his identity. First and foremost, a job like hers required someone being good with names and faces; but it would also be probably impossible to forget the man who interrogated her less than a week ago about his case.

@empathbled

"You're not giving me much of a choice, Will," Karen spits out stopping just as she opens the door, though doesn't reach for the storm door...not yet. A slow breath is taken as a hand runs quickly through her hair before turning around to face the brunette. "You are scaring me....you are fucking scaring me and I-I don't know what to do. You're keeping me in the dark, acting out- ninety percent of the time I don't even know where you are of if you're okay. You told me to get out of here...and I should have listened. Will....you are scaring me. You've got to give me something...anything. More than just a request."

feat. lisa cuddy and will graham

@empathbled

“You might want to have your FBI friends take a look at this later,” Karen comments as she carefully places the final bandaid to his forehead. “I know I was insistent on not letting you do this yourself but um…the more I’m looking at this, the more I’m determining that it was a stupid idea. But you work with legit doctors, right? They can check you out….have them check for a concussion to while they’re at it.”

Hands grab the wrappers then retreats to the garbage. “…is this your first time ever sleep walking? Don’t get me wrong, I’m always happy to come help you, but I’d rather not get a call from somebody telling me my friend was out in the middle of the night wandering like the boogeyman on dope. Seriously Will, you’re lucky this was just a little cut. Maybe you should see a sleep specialist or something.”

@empathbled

@empathbled

She was supposed to learn, right? After the amount of men and women that had targeted her due to her relentless digging, one day she'd come to senses and stop...right? Normal people would. Anyone with an ounce of self worth would but Karen? No.

She told herself that her justice for the truth was too strong. Every person had a story to tell and she wanted those who couldn't use their voice to have their say. And yes, that was the truth, but it wasn't the whole truth. She knew, eventually, this was going to kill her. But at the end of the day...isn't that what she deserved? Kevin would have done something so brilliantly beautiful to impact this world...and she would be damned if her time here was spent cowering in fear. She survived. And it had to mean something....it just had to.

So here she was, confined to a secluded cabin up in Vermont...honestly not too far from her hometown (and the ache of the air had never went away since they crossed the border). It was pretty...beautiful even and had enough space that to a normal person this would be a great getaway from the family. But under these circumstances...paradise felt more like the cell blocks of death row.

She tried to distract herself, which was exactly what she was trying to do as she sat under a tree reading until Will came hurrying down the driveway. Immediately Karen stood, her heart pounding while her stomach tightened. Quickly the blonde did as she was told, hustling towards the cabin and waited for Will to follow in behind her. "What's happening? What did you see? Will? Will you're scaring me. What the hell is going on?"