real world hurts

"You are correct, Slash is the guy with the hat," Anna answered. "I mean, a stage name is so cool, right? It adds so much personality to the rock and roll character."

"Family business," Kit said with a nod. "An amphiteater, so like... Open air community theater?" She remembered amphiteaters from mentions in history books, but it wasn't like she had ever been to one. Though she had seen a few flyers around for performances every once in a while, and of course, Minnie had mentioned them; she guessed that was something else Redwood townies were proud of.

"I mean... yeah, but you know, it is also kinda silly, isn't it?" she said with a scrunch of her nose. "Like I get that it's a way to do without a boring name. But being a grown man and being called Flea is... It's kind of dumb. It's like me wanting to be called, I dunno... Socks Molloy." Yeah, that was a dumb example. But she didn't think it was any dumber than the real life ones.

Anna was taken aback by the frown and scoff. She assumed they were having a nice conversation. Did Anna misread another social situation? "Hmm, now that you mention it, she never told me her real name," she commented. "I hear everyone call her that. Maybe it's her stage name?"

"Huh, that makes sense. Where do you work?" Kit asked her. She smiled a little when the girl offered her some of her potato chips. Without a second's hesitation, she quickly grabbed a few and quickly chewed it. Indeed, it was a curiously layered taste for simple potato chips.

"Yeah, I mean, if she plays rock music, one would guess that kind of naming convention is, like... fun, or something. Like Flea," she said, wondering if she remembered correctly and that was a real rockstar name. "Or... Slash, that was that guy with the hat, right?"

While chewing, Anna nodded her head. "Yeah, my best friend Misty is performing tonight," she said. "I met Bailey on Halloween, so we're basically acquaintances." Anna reminisced when Shock guided her through a panic attack. "Shock is such a sweetheart too," Anna continued. "I also met her at the Halloween party."

Kit raised her eyebrows and nodded, as if she knew who Misty and Bailey were. "Oh, so you know everyone, then," she said, eyes fixed on the potato chips Anna was munching on. Though she immediately frowned and scoffed quietly. "'Shock'? Is that her, uh, artistic name?" Someone was quite the edgelord, Kit thought.

"Well of course. The difference is the labels. You see all those different logos?" he deadpanned, gesturing to the bottles as if that was the most obvious thing ever before he finally shook his head. "Ok ok, I'm pulling your leg. The difference is how long they're aged and what kind of barrels they're aged in. The longer the aging, the stronger the whiskey. Pro tip--top shelf is called that for a reason. The best ones are on the top shelf. But yeah, those also are the most expensive, so maybe you might wanna try a lower shelf?"

Kit almost started paying attention - when the man's comment revealed itself to be just teasing. Her face changed into an annoyed grimace. "Dude, c'mon. I'm not stupid..." She told herself she wasn't offended, just bothered.

Truth be told, she had no idea whisky was made in barrels. Her brow wrinkled briefly before she opened her eyes wide and nodded. "Ah, okay. Older means stronger." Did she want to get really buzzed? Or just attempt to enjoy a drink for the taste? "Uh... What would you recommend? That, y'know, doesn't cost an arm and a leg."

@thekitisback

Arthur knew he wasn’t being the most polite, but desperation had a way of eroding manners. His throat felt tight, scraped raw from cold nights and unsaid words, and every breath carried that faint bitter taste of humiliation. With his family’s door slammed behind him—quite literally—he doubted he’d be welcome back anytime this lifetime. The loaf of bread they had shoved into his hands on his way out, he hadn’t eaten out of sheer, stupid pride. Some last attempt at dignity, he supposed. Now that it had grown soft with mold and his stomach gnawed at itself, he regretted not taking their first and last sign of kindness.

“Yeah… the thing is, there’s a difference between little money and no money, I fear—” Arthur managed, trying for levity, but it came out thin, like a cracked piece of glass pretending to be whole. He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting everywhere but the person in front of him. “I wasn’t… really given any money when my adoptive parent kicked me out—”

He winced, shoulders curling inward. “Ah—sorry. I’m not trying to gain your sympathy. I know it’s my fault.” His voice dropped to a threadbare whisper, words wobbling on their way out. He looked downward, posture folding in on itself like a kicked golden retriever that still wanted to believe someone might be kind. His fingers twisted nervously in the hem of his worn jacket.

“I’m sorry…” He added again, softer this time, as though apologizing for the space he occupied, for the sound of his own breathing, for daring to need anything at all.

Kit stared at the young man for a moment, silently assessing him and every single thing he was doing. She was well versed by now in scams done by people pretending to be out-on-their-luck, poor unfortunate souls. Hell, she had tried that stuff once or twice, out of desperation. A very dangerous gamble. One never knew who would decide to give you a helping hand --and in exchange of what, precisely.

"Hm. Well... I'm sorry," she said tentatively. His apologies and tendency to make himself smaller sort of annoyed her. If he really was in an emergency, he would have to focus on solving his problems --not on how sad he was. Still, she sighed and supposed she could do a fellow drifter a gesture of goodwill. Kit opened her backpack (carefully, gripping the strap so as to make sure he didn't try anything) and pulled out an apple and a granola bar. "Here, you can have this."

She had been in his position. And she had to admit, she sometimes wished she had been shown some kindness back then. "Okay, what's your plan? Do you got any plans?"

"Ah, I don't mind the noise," Kit said quickly. Well --it wasn't that she didn't mind it, as much as she had become really into the idea of this place to answer anything else. The noise issue was something she'd deal with later. "Forest Street, I think I know where it is." If she wasn't mistaken, the music store was actually in her daily route to work. "Sure, yes, please, I'd like to check it out if that's okay."

"Hey, Abby," Kit smiled, and quickly glanced over her shoulder. "Well, I haven't encountered any nosy neighbors, but I did see a pair of eyes peering through windows next door." She knew it wasn't anything particularly worrying, but Kit had to admit, she did not like being watched so surreptitiously, especially if they failed at her not noticing.

"Anyway," she sighed, immediately raising a shopping bag for Abby to see. "I got top shelf supermarket wine, which, y'know, means it's just okay; and some top shelf chocolate, too." The chocolate was actually pretty good, especially in her opinion, who preferred dark chocolate to milk. She had been having some rather annoyingly painful cramps, and while she had taken some aspirin, she had read somewhere (though who knew if it was trustworthy?) that a little bit of alcohol could help relax her muscles. That, and some good company, and Kit thought she could probably manage.

She was already in her pajamas, preferring loungewear around the house to every day clothes. Setting the bag on the counter, she looked over at Kit. "Did you want me to open this now? Or should we wait until after dinner? Speaking of dinner... I was just going to order pizza, unless you had something else in mind."

"Thanks," Kit said, handing Abby the bag, and pulled her backpack off her shoulders. "I brought my toothbrush and my pajamas; would it be okay for me to change in the bathroom?" This was a slumber party, after all, and Abby herself seemed to already have made herself comfortable.

"Uh, however you want. We can wait for dinner, if you'd like, so we don't finish it too soon." Then again, Kit wasn't familiar with proper wine-drinking etiquette. Not that she believed Abby would care much. "Pizza sounds great," Kit nodded, and smiled. "Wine and pizza, very fancy." She was more of a beer type of gal, but Abby kind of struck her more as the type to prefer finer drinks.

"Okay, I can wait till you order the pizza, but I really want to know all about what happened on Halloween." While not needing the crutch anymore, she still had to walk with an orthopedic boot so as to take care of her ankle for a few days more. "I spent it hiding from the storm at a fast-food joint, and the news don't really tell me enough. Are these weather events common, here in Redwood?"

While Kit wouldn't consider herself particularly lucky, it was undeniable that, after her ankle incident on Halloween, this flyer felt like some way for the universe, or God, or whatever, to compensate. She kept reading the words, imagining herself at an actually nice house for once, instead of a tiny motel room. As comfortable as Neverland was --and she still couldn't quite believe how pleasant it was for such a low fee --a part of Kit yearned for a proper kitchen, and a living room, and all the domestic trivialities of an average house.

But, of course, reality sunk in. All these amenities (a hot tub?) most likely amounted to a considerable price. And Kit was comfortable at Neverland, no doubt. And with her pay at Buy-N-Large being what it was, even if she could afford this room for rent --that would definitely eat a lot away at her budget. Not that she was saving it for any special occasions, really, but she liked having some money on the side in case of emergencies. Like, for example, needing a crutch for her sprained ankle.

And yet Kit still ripped the flyer off and stuffed it into her pocket. There was no harm in just calling, right? That was she would find out the intended price, and maybe try to haggle and lower it a bit... Or, at the very least, manage to make herself stop wondering what it could have been.

"Hello?" she called, once she had dialed the number during her lunch break. "Hi, uh... I'm calling about the room for rent. Is it still available?"

@happieststarters

It seemed that Arthur couldn’t have chosen a worse night to arrive in town than that Halloween evening. The streets were slick with rain, the air thick with fog that rolled in from the nearby marshes, and the few lamps that still burned flickered like tired eyes in the darkness. He had no place to stay, no friends to call on, and as the storm gathered its strength, thunder cracking like the laughter of unseen spirits, he realized how truly alone he was.

Luck, however, has a strange sense of humor. As he wandered through the crooked iron gates of the town cemetery, seeking any sort of refuge, he spotted a faint light glowing from a small stone chapel at the far end. The door creaked open at his touch, and though the air inside was cold and heavy with the scent of damp earth and old flowers, it was shelter all the same.

He curled up on one of the pews, his soaked coat pulled tight around him, listening to the rain lash against the stained glass. Somewhere outside, the wind whispered through the gravestones, carrying with it the low hum of voices that might have been nothing more than the storm—or something else entirely. Exhausted, Arthur drifted off to sleep among the resting dead.

When morning came, the storm had passed. The sky was a pale, washed-out gray, and the sun peered weakly through the mist. Arthur blinked awake, stiff and sore, realizing where he was. Out of a quiet sense of respect—or perhaps guilt—he muttered a small prayer to the souls around him before stepping back out into the waking town.

By midmorning, he found himself on the main street, the cobblestones still glistening from the night’s rain. People moved about their day—some chatting quietly, others hurrying past with baskets or tools in hand. Arthur stopped the first person who met his gaze, someone bundled in a heavy coat and scarf, their face half-hidden by the lingering fog.

“Excuse me,” he said, his voice tentative, “would you happen to know if anyone’s looking for a roommate? I’m in need of a place to stay, and I’m not sure I can afford the fancy hotel up in Redwood…”

"Huh?" Kit said, her hand gripping the piece of paper she now had in her pocket. "Oh, uh... No, I don't." She didn't necessarily mean to be rude, but then again, she felt it was a rather strange question to ask someone that early, in the middle of the street.

Kit pulled her scarf a little lower, so her voice wouldn't be muffled. She decided she would try a little harder to help this guy, who seemed to be perfectly lost. "No place to stay? Been there," she said, though it would be hard to say whether that was out of sympathy. "Hey, if you mean the Neverland Hotel --that big one downtown --they actually got some really affordable prices for the smaller rooms. I've been staying there for a month or so, by now. Never had any problems." A month already? Jesus. How time flies when you're having fun...

She had just finished cleaning the living room of her apartment -the last one she'd had- when there was a knock at her apartment door. Rushing to open it, she smiled widely. "Hey! Glad you found the place okay. And that my neighbors didn't give you a hard time. They can be annoyingly nosy sometimes."

"Hey, Abby," Kit smiled, and quickly glanced over her shoulder. "Well, I haven't encountered any nosy neighbors, but I did see a pair of eyes peering through windows next door." She knew it wasn't anything particularly worrying, but Kit had to admit, she did not like being watched so surreptitiously, especially if they failed at her not noticing.

"Anyway," she sighed, immediately raising a shopping bag for Abby to see. "I got top shelf supermarket wine, which, y'know, means it's just okay; and some top shelf chocolate, too." The chocolate was actually pretty good, especially in her opinion, who preferred dark chocolate to milk. She had been having some rather annoyingly painful cramps, and while she had taken some aspirin, she had read somewhere (though who knew if it was trustworthy?) that a little bit of alcohol could help relax her muscles. That, and some good company, and Kit thought she could probably manage.

Honestly, she wasn't expecting Kit to do anything about it. She had originally just been voicing a statement about how she was feeling. Still, when a jacket was offered, Abby just couldn't say no. "Thank you," she gave a polite, innocent smile. "I didn't know that was possible," Abby teased. "I'll bring hand warmers next time."

"In that case," Kit said, raising a finger and pretending to chide her. "You should know better than to go around in late summer without a proper light jacket." She laughed at herself, knowing full well that she sounded like some sort of overbearing mother.

True, Kit might usually not lend anyone anything without being asked to, out of her own volition, so quickly. But she liked Abby, liked how friendly and straightup nice she was. She swore there was something in the Redwood Hollow water, that made so many people just somehow nicer... Then again, she guessed she had not met that many locals yet.

"Do you know if the town does, like, anything for the fall season?" A couple of the other small towns Kit had been to were big on making their own sort of harvest rituals, claiming they were these old-timey traditions. Redwood seemed like the kind of place that would do that.

Kit chuckled. "Don't tell me you're actually cold already." True, it was a rather cloudy day, and the temperature had dropped quite a bit since the rain from last night... But still, if Abby got so cold already, she had a long fall ahead of her, and an even longer winter.

She looked at Abby for a moment, and then back straight ahead. She considered it for a moment longer, before deciding to be chivalrous for once. "Alright, alright, you can have my jacket," she sighed, taking it off and handing it to her. "You're breaking my heart, you know, with your shivers."