@cluecrue
There's something about engaging a private detective that makes Mollie feel like she's in one of those old noir films. Except she's very definitely not a femme fatale here to report her missing husband. And there's nothing that feels glamorous about having a missing brother. Mostly it just feels awful.
Reuben, where the fuck are you?
It's a constant refrain in her mind. But every time she thinks it, every time she sends it in his direction, the bond remains silent. Closed. Cut off, like dialling a number that doesn't exist anymore and only getting fuzzy white noise at the other end of the line.
But the bond between them is still there and Mollie is clinging onto that fact with everything she has. ( She's mentally clinging onto the bond with everything she has, too. Just on the off chance it makes any kind of difference. )
She's meeting them at a cafe, because Mollie was not brought up to meet strange guys in non-public locations, and sure, it's not like she's stuck to that rule all her life but now her brother is actually missing. That's enough to inject some paranoia into anyone. It's the sort of thing that happens in stories on the news, in books and movies and TV shows. Not in real life. Not to them.
As if they've ever been normal. Maybe this is the first clue that Mollie should stop trying to kid herself about that.
There --- the little cafe and two brothers sat on a table outside. Mollie walks a little faster down the street, drops into the seat on the other side of the table.
"Hi," she says, a little breathless, grasping her phone tight in her hand, "I'm Mollie. I wanted to talk to you about my brother."
