runaway;

Bottom of the Cup had come to Morgan free, but he was beginning to suspect it was still going to cost him money. He’d hoped that it would be a turnkey kind of business, but the whole place looked like someone had read Edgar Allen Poe too many times and forgotten how to use a duster. He’d spent the past five days scrubbing it from head to toe when he wasn’t going through the contacts list trying to arrange for new tea delivery and wherever it was you bought magic supplies from. He’d always collected his own but suspected that wouldn’t be enough. 

The door creaked and Hortense, the crow he’d nursed back to health which insisted on hanging around him despite his efforts to return it to the wild, croaked back at it in an almost sarcastic tone. In the middle of digging through a drawer that contained what he really hoped were eye of newt, Morgan grimaced. “Uh, we’re currently only giving out fortune tellings. Tea will … be available at a later date.”

Was it bad that she was relieved that the girl wasn’t there seeking some sort of medical treatment? Probably. Or probably not. Either way, her eyes stopped scanning Thalia for something wrong and her body seemed to relax. “Timing is everything, I guess, ‘cuz I’m off in… ten minutes give or take. I am never too tired for a drink or a cup of coffee and a friend. Or a drink in a cup of coffee.”

Valentine giggled softly and helped the other girl to her feet. “Oh it’s no problem. Really.” she smiled, looking the girl over again. “I get lost in my phone all the time, so it’s no problem.” The girl hummed, her eyes widening slightly as she looked down at herself. Brushing some dirt off of her jeans she nodded quickly. “Yes, yes. I’m fine. Are you busy? Can I get you a quick cup of coffee?”

Lusa was convinced that there should be a prize for making it through ridiculously long shifts. Not necessarily long in length, but long in grumpy patients and bizarre cases. She deserved a cup of coffee, or maybe a millennium’s worth of sleep. Unfortunately, her shift wasn’t done until she was out of her scrubs and far, far into the parking lot, running for her truck. Fifteen more minutes… But as tired as she was, as much as she wanted to go home, a familiar face in the ER waiting room always perked her up. 

“Please tell me you’re here to say hi to someone or use the bathroom or something, and you’re  not here for yourself…”

Everything felt weird. She had only been gone a few months but in that time disaster had struck. Cutting her much needed vacation shorter than she had expected. Slowly getting out of the car her chocolate eyes searching the familiar streets for anything that seemed amiss. People still walked and talked, unaware of all the dangers around them. Sighing softly to herself she decided to take a walk before making her way back home. 

So captivated by the seemingly unchanged world around her she almost didn’t notice as she ran full force into someone. Valentine’s small frame falling backwards. She swore softly to herself before looking at who she ran into. “Shit…I’m so sorry.” She apologized, getting up to offer them a hand.

“I usually get take out. Saving your tax dollars, and just spending my own.” The coffee machine stopped whirring, and Henrik poured two freshly brewed cups of coffee out of the pot. “Here.” He hands one to the woman before sipping his own, “Ahhh, that’s the good stuff. Coffee beans from Nicaragua. I can’t live without it.” Satisfied, he smiles. Henrik gets out two plates and knives from their respective cupboards and shifts the croissants and various assortments of jams and honey onto the kitchen island. He places cream cheese on the table from the fridge. He grabs two bar stools from one end of the island and brings them over for them to sit down. “We sit down and dig in, I’m fucking starving.” Hernik sits down and  cuts open a croissant and butters the soft insides before stuffing it with cream cheese.“So, what’s your deal?" 

“I should warn you. I’ve got the equipment to make a good meal, but not the skill set. ” Henrik walks through the hallway, the living room,  the dining room, past another hallway, and alas into the kitchen. “In short, I’ve set the fire alarm off a couple times.” But one thing Henrik knew how to work inside out was the coffee machine, a small buzz of happiness radiates through his face as he flicks the switch on. His lifeline, his sustenance. “What are you in the mood for, we’ve got –” Henrik opens up his pantry and pulls out jams, honey, croissants, butter, cereal, and muffins, all in neat packaging with the label ‘Harding’s Homemade’ proudly lettered onto it. It wasn’t just a local East End brand that had found it’s way into every home, it was the brand that made the Hardings all they are today. He opens up the fridge, almost empty, “– and in addition to all of that we have, bread, eggs, milk. I need to go grocery shopping don’t judge me.”

“Sorry.” He says in a hushed whisper. A look of embarrassment washed across Henrik’s face, his intentions have been caught out. “Would you forgive me if I told you it was an old habit?” Henrik says, his pitch of voice heightening towards the end as he tries to get away with his behavior. In truth, Henrik had never had anything longlasting when it came to love so he compensated in other ways, and he compensated heavily. “Anyways,” He clears this throat, “– do you fancy some breakfast?”

“I think with that voice, I’d let you tell the entire world all my dirty secrets. Oh, most certainly; here you are, my little secret keeper.”

He woke with a start but fell back into his bed once a hangover headache hit. Henrik deemed this years founder’s day to be a bore, just like the rest, but the murder of Blackwell turned it into a spectacle. Nevertheless, he drank for one reason or another. “Fucks sake.” He groans to himself, before sitting upright to find a woman asleep on the other side of the bed. “Uh, hi.” Henrik jumps out of bed, half-naked, to fetch some water “Morning?”

Violetta merely shrugged her shoulders, “Whether you were watching or not, it doesn’t matter to me.” She admitted, bringing her flask back up to her lips to take more of the liquor and swallowing with ease. Her eyes fell back on the woman, watching as she brought her own drink up to her lips, “Is it a tradition for you to drink heavily on days like this?” She asked. “Or has the recent body in the streets have everyone rattled enough to drink away?”

“If you can keep a secret, then I may just feel inclined to share this.”

“Enjoying a free show is in anyone’s nature.” Violetta said with a shrug of her shoulders, the corners of her lips twitching back into that smirk she had before. “You seemed to be enjoying it - yourself.” She pointed out before gesturing to the drink, “And with that, I’m sure it’s a hundred times more entertaining to watch these idiots destroy themselves.” 

She had been watching the people of this town - observing how they interacted with one another with a flask lightly held with her fingers. She watched as a woman got a little too drunk and tripped in her heels, a child running so fast that their mother had to rush through the crowd to catch up with them and two aggressive fellows shout so much in one another’s faces that one of their fists collided with the other’s nose. Violetta scoffed, the corners of her lips twitching upwards in amusement before bringing her drink up to her lips again.

Her eyes locked with a stranger’s then and she rose her brows at them, “Don’t look at me - I wasn’t meddling in that at all.” 

     “Judge me all you like, but someone had to spike the damn punch. Chances are you’ll even thank me later, when you’re not moping about while dancing alone or brooding in the corner; trust me on that one. No one wants to be sober come midnight.” 

“Here.” Frankie offered after finally plucking up the courage to buy herself a shot another with another for her company. “This workaholic has taken some time off work so… An excuse to celebrate!” She picked up her own drink now, scrunching up her nose in mild embarrassment, “Please don’t shoot me down. I literally just spent twenty minutes trying to decide which drink won’t kill me at one sip.”

  “ –– Oh, flavored popcorn for sure. Butter popcorn is the way to my heart, not gonna lie,” Harper spoke and laughed softly. Maybe if we get out of here alive I’ll make sure to get you some for free. Harper looked over at the other female, chuckling softly. “I’m all here for free popcorn, though so please do,” Harper spoke and grinned widely. It felt nice to talk about something a little different for once. To talk about something that could possibly happen. There’s the problem, though - there’s not a lot of people who care about me. “I’m sure that you have people who care about you. Even if you don’t think so, there are. Trust me.”