shipwreck

skeleton: Shipwreck character name: Walter Perez-Morales age & birthdate: 30, May 30, 1991 gender & pronouns: male, he/him birthplace: Durango, Mexico Occupation: Journalist fc: Sean Teale

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“You should,” Nereida retorted with a glare. Getting in a fight in the middle of a café wasn’t the way to stay under the radar, but her tolerance for humans was at an all time low these days. She wasn’t friendly, not even to her own kind, but lately she was practically vicious. It reminded her of the days leading up to her removal from her position, only without any blood. She was on a rampage, hungry with the need to destroy everything her path, and she didn’t realize how far she went until almost nothing was left. She knew she had to rein it in. A man was missing, and the first person they would accuse was the one threatening to kill anyone who got within feet of her. She forced herself to take a deep breath before taking a step back from the man. “It’s a small town. You’ve probably seen me before,” she replied, training her tone to sound more bored than angry. “I work at the library if that narrows it down. Did you actually need something from me or were you just being nosy?”

At that, Walter instantly regretted apologizing, and he wondered what her problem was.  Honestly, what was everyone’s problem?  He could always say ‘excuse me’ while he was back home, and move on.  Here it was like everyone seemed to have a chip on their shoulder.  Then again, he was the one still talking to her, and unable to stop.  “Then you could also say sorry for your attitude?  Maybe I was standing close, but it’s not like I did anything to you.”  He could breathe a bit better now that she was stepping back from him.  He tilted his head, nodding in agreement.  Walter did see a lot of the same people around.  “So then, you work with my cousin, Steph?” he said in a casual tone.  He figured that was a neutral thing to say.  “And no, I don’t really need anything, you’re right, I was just being nosy.”

In the aftermath of the Valentine’s banquet, Gemma was on high alert. The same could be said of how she had been before the banquet, to be perfectly honest - but hearing Victoria’s little speech about how the town was a haven to its people and not to mermaids only cemented the fact that she’d been right to be as careful as she had been thus far. If anything, she needed to step it up - if mermaids were not welcome in Port Vale, she was certain that her own kind would not be either. Fortunately, she had prepped appropriately before setting foot in town in October, and the months since had been spent carefully studying anything that seemed it could be useful to know in order to maintain her cover - when she wasn’t busy with looking into the darkness, trying to learn about the illness, or anything else that counted among the reasons she was in Port Vale in the first place, of course. 

At this point, the best things she could do at this particular moment were carry about her business as usual, act as if she wasn’t deeply troubled by Victoria’s little stunt, and continue engaging with the town as if she actually cared about it and the people who called it home. She had shown up at work as usual, of course, even more annoyed by the mermaid merchandise than usual but doing a good job of alternating between displaying casual disinterest or casual interest, depending on the customers in the shop and whether they were rude or friendly.

The shop was mostly empty today, so there weren’t any other customers to focus on when Walter came in. She wondered what the guy was doing here - she didn’t know much about him, but wouldn’t have pegged him for someone interested in wasting time at a mermaid museum of all places. The question he had made sense in that regard - but she still hadn’t expected it. An article about the museum and Port Vale’s lore sounded like bad news, but by this point she’d gotten quite good at tamping down on any fear she felt and replacing it with something more appropriate for the conversation at hand, at least on a surface level. 

“What kind of article?” she asked, feigning mild curiosity. “You can ask what you want, if it’s quick - I don’t speak for the museum though. So unless you’re wondering about the buy two get one free sale on T-shirts, there might not be much I can help with.” She didn’t want to answer any questions at all, but she didn’t want to seem too unwilling to talk either - better to frame it as simply not having the answers to whatever questions he had.

Walter was actually a bit surprised he’d gotten this far already.  A lot of the residents here seemed a bit hesitant to have him poke and pry, to say the very least.  And she seemed exactly the type to tell him to fuck off.  He prepared himself for his pitch once again.  “I’m working on a story about the citizens of Port Vale and their belief in mermaids, and what they believe in, and why they do.”  Walter looked over at a t-shirt behind her, cringing at the pun, then turning his attention back.  He had to admit, her vibe did not really match the atmosphere of the kitschy shop.  She seemed very serious.  Maybe that meant she was serious about her work?  Or that she didn’t want to be here.  Walter nodded, pretty much knowing when he came in here that he wasn’t really going to get the answers he wanted.  But he gave it a shot, pulling out his pen and paper from his bag.  “Would it be fair to say that sales from people in the town are few and far between, that your main focus is on selling to tourists?”  Walter asked another.  “When it’s off-season, like now, is it usually as dead as it seems to be now?”

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“No, actually.  Sometimes I ask other questions,” Stella replied with a small shrug. She wondered what sort of questions were standard at all hotels. Should she add some more to her regular routine? The ask put her on the defensive because she wanted to do the best possible job and win universal approval.

“Oh, lots of things. I don’t usually have one reason for why I do anything, but Port Vale itself sounded interesting with a ton of information to uncover. I haven’t visited every small town to prove it, but it’s my understanding that most don’t try to incorporate mermaids into their architecture, town history, and economic viability. Do you know of many?” Stella hasn’t been to a lot of small towns, but she imagined most people didn’t have the opportunity to visit all of them.

Now about that squirrel. “I’m relatively certain that squirrels don’t actually hibernate, but I would need to reference some sources to confirm that. If the squirrel’s out, then I imagine it’s hungry…” If she was a squirrel wandering around in the cold, Stella would love if someone tried to take care of her. However, she wasn’t quite sure how squirrel brains worked yet.

“Sure, makes sense,” he allowed.  It wasn’t like he didn’t understand wanting to ask people questions.  “Not trying to discourage you,” Walter added.  “By all means, anything to make your shift more interesting, right?”  Then he wondered if that was also the wrong thing to say, considering Stella seemed to enjoy sitting there. “There is a lot of information to uncover,” Walter repeated her words, nodding.  “Town history, no.  Economic viability, no.  Architecture, yes.  In Mexico, there’s several cities with mermaid statues, and so when I was younger I thought that was a fairly normal thing.  When I moved to Texas, eh, not so much.  So, you find the whole mermaid thing fun?” Walter frowned.  “Wait.  Do they not?  I admit, I don’t know that much about squirrels.  If that’s the case, why doesn’t it have squirrel friends?”

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Walter backed down quickly, which was a relief because Renzie wasn’t big on confrontations and besides - if this got back to Auntie, she wouldn’t be pleased.  He sighed.  “You’re from Houston, right?  It can be a culture shock for big city people, who’re used to, y’know.  Everyone ‘fast-paced!’ and high tech infrastructure and ‘oooh ahh!’ everyday, but.  Port Vale is, um.  Very tight-knit.”

He could hear the deliberation in Walter’s voice now, and Renzie refused to feel bad.  He wasn’t going to let a cousin - an Anand family member - put his foot in his mouth with other Porties, so Walter might as well start practicing diplomacy with Renzie.  

“Uh-huh.  Well, surprise, dude.  I could tell you a lot about believing in mermaids, if you really wanted to know.  Or are you just looking for like, the kooky people who are all eccentric and like…”  Renzie scraped his mind trying to recall old documentaries.  “Have entire rooms filled with mermaid knick knacks?  It’s not like that in Port Vale.  We all believe in mermaids in some degree but - off the record - it’s mostly tourism.  Believe the hype, make the profit.”

Walter might not think he was doing anything wrong, but he the more he talked, the more Renzie knew he didn’t get it.  “I’ve seen big city reporters and journalists come through Port Vale, thinking they can do their own hot new take.   And the results are usually pretty…”  Renzie searched for a word.  “…trite if I’m being kind.  Derisive if I’m being negative.  Porties end up either looking like idiots or scammers. You’re not the first, is all I’m saying. Be kind for your family’s sake, if nothing else.”  

Renzie smiled, then.  “Good publicity for us either way.  Just leave a good review of the Mermaid Inn or Auntie will never forgive you.”

Somehow, talking about relationships was easier; and Renzie felt bad about that because he was in such a new relationship, and happy about it.  So he softened considerably as Walter asked something Renzie found quite…vulnerable.  It was touching, really.  

“I came out of a…actually a really bad relationship from five years back.  I didn’t even see it until my ex came back into town - recently - and fucked me up all over again, um.  But I had Emilia - and Steph, who literally always hated my ex, ha ha.  They both helped me out, and that’s been it.  So I don’t really have a lot of experience with relationships, between my old one and Emmy.  But, if you don’t mind me saying,  sounded like for you, it was more like…comfort?  Companionship?  I mean, loneliness can be rough, it’s understandable.  I’m sorry, Walter, but.  You’re young!  And handsome.”  Renzie grinned.  

“If you want it, it’ll happen with the right person, and it’ll feel right.  That’s what happened for me with Em.”

He didn’t need Renzie to spell out the double meaning behind his words.  Walter could pick up on the small dig, the ‘back off from people I know and care about’ signal.  He didn’t really care about Renzie’s feelings, and it wasn’t like he was going around telling everyone that he thought the way their town did things was weird.  But he did care about his Tia’s opinion, and staying polite with his relatives.  He was already on thin ice with his mother; he didn’t need her to hear that he’d upset her sister to tip the scales completely.  And so, he bit his tongue and let his cousin win. ”Uh, I definitely don’t want fake and touristy.  This may be hard to believe, but I’m not actively trying to get myself laughed out the door with an article like that in hand.  I will say, there is a lot of tourism thrown around, and I’ve had my work cut out for me sifting through what is genuine belief and what isn’t, so if you do believe and want to sit for an interview, by all means I’d love to.”  Walter had very much done his research before coming here, and knew the sort of stories Renzie was referring to.  He wasn’t here for a piece on capitalism, and he wasn’t on a timeframe like some of the other journalists, who didn’t have time to decipher what was real or not.  Walter, on the other hand, had all the time in the world as long as his money didn’t run out.  He smiled at the last statement.  “I promise, if I mention the Inn at all, it will be all good things.”  It wasn’t like he had bad things to say about it anyway. He wasn’t sure why he would ask such a genuine question during a conversation that wasn’t very nice, and especially when the topic of love hadn’t really entered his mind in a long time.  He wasn’t prepared for Renzie to be honest with him, and so he was silent with slight surprise while his cousin talked, taking in every word.  And then it turned back towards him, a topic he was always uncomfortable with.  “Companionship for the sake of it,” he agreed.  But he rejected the idea that he was lonely immediately.  No, Walter didn’t really have friends, he kept his immediate family at arm’s length, and his constant companion was writing, but that was how it had always been, and he felt fine.  Walter laughed.  “Thank you.  You’re not so bad yourself, man.  I don’t know, it hasn’t even come close since Bianca.  At this point, maybe I’d be fine getting old without anyone and just playing sudoku in my chair every day.”  Walter took a drink.  “Hey, I am happy to hear you’ve found someone who for you who isn’t going to fuck you up,” he said seriously.

Status: Open Location: The Mermaid Inn

She had found herself meandering towards the Inn again, stack of flyers in one hand and iced coffee in the other. The bulletin board outside advertised all sorts of town attractions. The last flyer she had put up there had all the little phone number tabs torn off, it was time to replace it. Lucienne had already stopped at a few other town establishments to hang up flyers, but the Inn was guarenteed to have good tourist foot traffic. It was the only place in town outsiders could stay when they visited, which meant it was an excellent breeding ground for drumming up business for her tours. 

As she walked she looked fondly down at the flyers in her hand. They were a new design, Isaiah had helped her pick out the new colors. Lucienne grinned as she thought back to the other evening that they had spent together, giggling over how absurd they could make their advertisements look. They had probably wasted a good amount of time making designs that she would never use, but Lucienne always valued the moments in which she could make her son laugh. 

She was too wrapped up in her memory to notice the person walking towards her, setting herself on a collision course with them. Lucienne only looked up in time to widen her eyes in alarm as she walked straight into the other person, her coffee bursting open and spilling over both of them. She tripped, dropping her flyers and skinning her palms on the pavement. Hissing, she turned to look back at the other person, ready to chew them out. At least until she saw them covered in coffee with a flyer stuck to the front of their shirt. There was a pause, and then Lucienne burst out laughing. 

“Oh God…” She trailed off, giggles overtaking her. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing.”  Grinning, she stood up and made a move to peel the flyer off their shirt. 

Today, Walter was in his own world.  He’d posted his usual Twitter status detailing his feelings and opinions and wasn’t expecting it to be quote-tweeted by some guy he didn’t know and added with an opinion that was so incorrect he didn’t even know where to start, and so figuring out what he was going to say to this internet troll and keeping his eyes glued to his phone was at the top of his priority list.  Often times, he was able to use his peripheral vision and stay on his phone while he was walking down the street.  That is, if nothing unusual came out from nowhere.  So one moment, he was hitting send on the tweet, satisfied with his wording, the next, Walter found himself almost falling over from the impact of another person, and then, the feeling of a very liquid on his front.  “Ahhh,” he looked down at his shirt, and instantly felt like running back and ask his Tia if she could remove the stain.  God only knew how many shirts he had ruined via coffee, but this one was kind a good one. Walter looked up at the person—a woman he may have seen around, hard to say—and saw her reach her hand to peel the piece of paper that had clung to him.  He felt a flash of anger, which slowed into a bit of annoyance at the woman laughing at him.  Schadenfreude, he guessed, and tried not to show his frustration at the situation at her, with a little difficulty.  “What—agh, I guess it’s fine.  Christ though, I thought those had sealed lids.”  Walter’s mind came back to him as the shock wore off a bit, and now he was sort of freezing.  Who was this woman, anyway?  With the iced coffee in the winter time?  Though maybe he should be happy it wasn’t hot.  Walter reached for his phone, and—found it wasn’t there.  “Um.  Have you seen my phone anywhere?”  He started patting his pockets.  It was possible he flung it without thinking, a thought he wasn’t very excited about.

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Things have been overwhelmingly lot and underwhelmingly boring at the same time lately. Victoria’s warning that she wanted information soon rang in her ears since the night of the banquet and Steph has been actively avoiding the woman since (she was kind of avoiding her until now, but she needed a plan before she could get in front of Victoria Wolfgang).

And on top of that, Moray disappearing…

She wondered how the people who recently arrived felt about it, especially considering a lot of them signed up to keep an eye on the lighthouse and Steph did that too, but that was because she didn’t know where to even begin to search for Moray. This place was his everything, she could help like this. Keeping it alive and the light on.

That being said, it was exceptionally boring job and doing it in the middle of the night really did not help, so the fact that she didn’t pass out that night was only due to coffee, games on her phone and the sheer determination that she couldn’t just pass out and leave the light unattended.

She was not expecting to show up anyone until the very last minute, though, so she was suprised when she saw Walter show up, way too early for his shift, if you asked Steph (even 30 minutes helped, when it came to sleeping). “Morning. I’m doing fine, though last cup of coffee was around… uhhh… I think maybe 2 am, so I really hope you’re asking because you have something for me. What are you doing here, anyway?” Here right now, this early, and here signing up to watch the light, really. He was just passing through, it was an interesting decision to help out like this.

Walter nodded and held up one of the two cappuccinos from the café he grabbed for Steph as a sign of peace.  The café was one of his usual haunts, as Walter preferred people making it for him than him doing it himself.  He couldn’t steam milk in the lighthouse coffee maker, or really, any coffee maker.  “I didn’t get any sweetener in it, though, I don’t know if that’s a deal breaker.  You might be wanting to go to bed as soon as you clock off anyway.”  He didn’t know his cousin well enough to know if caffeine affected her.

He caught the tone of his cousin’s question, that it probably had a deeper meaning than what he was doing a half hour early.  Walter hoped she was just curious and not annoyed already.  He shrugged.  “I thought it would be interesting to find out some more about what’s going on in this town.  I guess I saw an opportunity and physically couldn’t refuse it.”  He wasn’t going to bullshit his cousin about wanting to help the community.  That might work on people that didn’t know him, but not Steph.  “What about you?  Are you here only because you wanted to volunteer?”  Walter leaned on a piece of equipment.   “And to finish answering your question, I don’t usually make it a habit to show up early to my shift.  I was wondering if I could talk to you.”

Location: The Starbeach Cafe Status: Open

Nereida never thought she would be nostalgic for a time when she lived on land, but these days she missed how it was eight months ago when barely anyone from the ocean was here. When she was nothing but a simple outcast parading around as a human librarian. Now, Port Vale was overrun with mermaids, sirens, and now selkies escaping Assyria, and the humans were learning the truth.

She was already suspicious of Vicotria, but after her big speech at the banquet, she was sure the human was onto them. Her words were too pointed for someone who merely thought the town’s mermaid theme was a gimmick. She stressed the fact that Port Vale is a haven to the locals, not the mermaids, and Nereida didn’t know how else to interpret that other than they weren’t welcome here anymore.

So, when they requested volunteers to help with the lighthouse, Nereida didn’t sign up. She wanted to do her best to be as invisible as she used to be, but she was pretty sure she was well past that point. Everywhere she went, it felt like there were eyes on her, and maybe that was just her own paranoia, but she wouldn’t trust anything right now. 

She had just picked up a coffee to go before work when she felt a presence hovering behind her, and, again it could be the paranoia, but she wouldn’t play the idiot and just let someone get away with following her. “You know if you wanted my attention, you could just say something instead of breathing down my neck,” she said, whipping around to eye-up the person. 

Walter barely knew what was going on in this town.  He’d only been here for a few weeks, after all.  And yet, Victoria sought him out to keep an eye on a few people.  Why?  Why were these people so suspicious that he needed to look in on them?  If it were something illegal, shouldn’t that be the police’s job?  Needless to say, he didn’t really want to do the dirty work for someone for free without a good reason.  And if he was excluded from that reason, then there was nothing keeping him to this verbal contract. As he was picking up his usual triple-shot espresso to head to his morning shift at the lighthouse, he saw a woman standing in front of him that looked like one of the folks he was supposed to be trailing.  Nereida Malik?  Walter was just deciding if it was actually her or someone else when she whipped around.  He gazed back at her, never backing down from a challenge.  “I apologize for standing so close,” he said.  “I was just trying to figure out if I’ve seen you before.  Now you’re standing in my personal bubble.”

Walter had never had a problem with going to bed extremely late, and waking up before the sun had risen.  Maybe it was his caffeine addiction, maybe it was some undiagnosed insomnia.  Either way, it worked for him so that he could work more hours of the day. He’d been getting up at 5:00 am every morning to get ready for his shift at the lighthouse; a shift which had so far turned up nothing, except that the waves were becoming almost hypnotic from staring at them for too long, and that keeping a giant lightbulb running was even less thrilling than one would think.  Walter decided to take matters into his own hands, and so getting up a few minutes earlier, he made his way towards the lighthouse, getting there about a half hour before his shift was supposed to start. His cousin Steph was friendly, she always had been, but what he’d really wanted to talk to her about was information for his article.  Walter knew once he had her interview, he could finally put this article to rest.  He could see there was so much more going on in the town, like this disappearing mayor’s brother, for instance.  But he didn’t think it was worth extending his trip.  And his cousin was how he knew about Port Vale, and mermaid-believers, in the first place.  The only issue was, she never seemed to be alone. Walter found his cousin at the top, luckily the only one awake.  “Are you doing all right, Steph?  When’s the last cup of coffee you’ve had?”

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Were Walter a Portie, either by birth or tenure, Renzie might’ve laughed off the sardonicism with an off-hand ‘don’t I know it’ comment, happy to critique their beloved town.  But Walter still was an outsider of Port Vale, and so his comment came off as judgmental.. And even as a cousin, Renzie felt his defensiveness over Port Vale go from a simmer to a bubble.  

“¿Por qué no los dos?” Renzie riffed, still trying to give Walter the benefit of the doubt as he gave a slightly tighter smile.  “Port Vale’s council is capable of more than one thing. Small towns doesn’t mean small minds, Wally.”

Walter’s article premise made Renzie more up in arms.  Normally, he might’ve been curious, hopeful that Walter’s spin wasn’t to make fun of the pathetic stupidity of a mermaid-obsessed town (that happened to profit off its obsession).  But the stakes were much, much higher now that Renzie knew sea people were real; and what’s more they were frightened and wary of humans, eager to believe the worst.  

“Oh,” Renzie said.  “Well.  I’m ‘the people here, bro.  I’m your ‘they’.  So what do you mean, ‘sociological’ exactly?  Sorry, I guess I’m not educated enough to really understand.”

He softened considerably though, a sucker for romance stories even if they ended sadly.  “Aw, I’m sorry to hear that, bud. Unless you’re not sorry, then good riddance.  Whatever works in your scenario.”

He supposed Renzie was the wrong person to mention this kind of thing to.  He was half-joking, but from his cousin’s expression, Walter figured he’d better drop it before he got kicked out of the house.  He narrowed his eyes at the nickname and at what he felt like what a bit of condescension.  “Sure,” he allowed.  “Never mind, forget I said anything.” “I know that you’re here too,” he said, trying to choose his words carefully.  “I just figured that you weren’t included in the group I'm needing to interview.”  Walter didn’t know if he was being self-deprecating, or if he was making fun of him.  He paused, then continued.  “I mean sociological, as in, studying a population.  And by that I mean”--anticipating Renzie’s reaction--”That I just want to talk to the people who believe in mermaids, to find out why they do.”  He wasn’t entirely sure what the problem was.  To him, it was no different than interviewing someone about a hobby, or about a cause that was important.  “I’m not trying to tear down your town.” Just trying to get my foot in the door of a newspaper again.  Walter didn’t really know Renzie, or he would have said that last part out loud. He never really thought about whether he was sorry or not.  “It was a mutual thing,” he said, the only fact he could lay down.  Walter sat on this information out in the open, then he spoke up.  “Have you ever been with someone who was conveniently there, and so you’re together without thinking about whether you actually like them or not?”  He could decipher that was far from the case with Emilia.

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she wanted to say that it did matter if he was writing about mermaids, but lumi also knew that if she kept arguing this, walter would get suspicious. she was human lumi who did not believe in mermaids, she had to remember that. “i am willing to tell you what i know, but i have never been here before,” she emphasized neutrally. “many in town, even if they believe in mermaids, share the opinion that the museum’s sole ambition is to make money. as you talk with people here, i am sure that you will come across this belief many times.” it was not like lumi had spoken to a lot of people, many of those whom she had met had been from the sea. but she had been told this fact by somebody at work, so she felt comfortable repeating it to walter.

lumi had to appreciate how direct walter was. “people have too many feelings, it would be a full time job trying to care about them all,” she shrugged. lumi did note his words about how he sometimes wanted to share his opinion with his readers, she wondered in which specific circumstances, but it seemed to personal to ask a stranger. she blinked at his question. they really had skipped most of the formalities, she realised now, and lumi had enjoyed it. at least walter phrased his question in a way that meant she did not have to lie. “i take care of the animals at the marine research center,” she replied. “i am sure my work seems insignificant in comparison to yours, but i do enjoy my work a lot.” it was true. of course, she had not been in port vale long, but she could not remember a day where she did not want to work. sometimes she’d like to avoid talking to her co-workers, sure, but she never wanted to stay away from the animals. “the seals are my favourite, i understand them better than any person i’ve met,” lumi admitted despite herself. 

He tried not to act too satisfied at Lumi still agreeing to tell him about the lore, as he didn’t want to scare her off and have her run in the other direction.  Walter knew she was uncomfortable about the topic, for whatever reason.  Maybe something that happened with her mother?  But that wasn't really something he needed to get to the bottom of.  No, he didn’t plan to come here to make his date relive trauma.  “Makes sense to me.  If you’re for-profit, and you know what the tourists want, it seems like a no-brainer to put a business that appeals to those tourists.”  Walter played the devil’s advocate a little too well, sometimes.  “Do you know if the money goes back into the town,  or is the owner happy to take it out of the town and put their proceeds in a bank account somewhere?” ”And you don’t think you have as many feelings as everyone else?”  Here was something he agreed with.  “Or you’re better at keeping them from coming to the surface?”  That was probably too deep of a question, and Walter attempted to backpedal.  “I-there is something to be said for taking on a situation with logic instead of emotion.”  He nodded at her explanation of her work, but frowned at her assessment.  “I think that no job is insignificant, if you love what you do, or if it pays the bills.  I love what I do, but I don’t expect everyone to feel the same way about journalism.”  Walter had never really seen seals before, except for the occasional trip to the Houston zoo.  A zoo that, in the summertime, felt almost like he was swimming in the air along with the sea animals because of the humidity.  “Are seals particularly smart?”  He knew they did tricks sometimes, but he imagined their research center didn’t much care for the seals showing off.

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Stella smiled and nodded, understanding that this was a standard human answer. She could understand not wanting to disclose all of the details, although she really liked the idea of getting to know what all of the details were. “What have you liked most about Port Vale so far? It’s okay if you don’t know; I just like to ask, you know?” She wasn’t sure if Walter knew, but it felt better to be a little bit tentative in her speech.

“That’s a really good question. I imagine squirrels really like food, and there’s food here, so that’s a good first part. As for getting the jacket on the squirrel, well, I guess I’ll just have to wear really thick gloves.” For protection from teeth! Squirrels looked like the kind of land animals that would bite if you got them upset with you. Biting wasn’t the worst thing in the world, though, so she figured that she could handle this.

“Is this something you ask every guest that comes in?”  There were a lot of things Walter didn’t like about Port Vale, like the cold weather, but that wasn’t what Stella asked.  He gave this question some thought.  “I like that I’ve been able to keep busy,” he decided.  “There’s a lot of things to do around here.”  People to talk to, opportunities to learn about the town being thrown at him.  “What drew you to Port Vale?”  He asked her, figuring that like a lot of the people he’d talked to, she wasn’t originally from here. “Sure, sure, that makes sense.” It did not make sense.  “But can I ask you why go to all the trouble?  The squirrel is supposed to be hibernating anyway.  Wouldn’t feeding it and giving it warm things keep it from doing that?”

"In my very limited experience in this department, women like when you talk to them like they're people. Have conversations, spend some time together. I didn't do that last part, but I heard it helps. "Also, I don't really know if this adds to the conversation at all, I'm pretty sure it doesn't, but I'm bisexual."

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“Well, you know politics.  I suppose as long as Porties benefit, it should be okay, right.  The Blackmores and the Wolfgangs - they both care for our town, in their own ways…”

Renzie nodded about Victoria’s title, then squinted at Walter’s question.  “Why wouldn’t she be?”

And then Walter mentioned ‘article’ and Renzie’s small-town suspicion grew.  He turned, focusing more on Walter than the rest of the banquet.  “What article, what’re you writing about, dude?”  Of course he wanted to trust his cousin’s cousin, but at the same time Renzie didn’t know Walter, despite Letitia’s gushing and the dude living in his house, eating his cereal.  Renzie tended to be protective of Port Vale, like most small-town folk.

“She knows it too,” Renzie said proudly.  “Ah…not long.  We were - well she’s lived here for a while, and her and Steph are inseparable, so.   We were friends before.  You got anyone special back home?”

Walter nodded.  Living in a town, he knew, was a lot different than being an observer, so the topic of the Blackmores and the Wolfgangs were probably a dull headache for Renzie at this point. “Because I thought the city council was more focused on public health and safety and all that,” Walter answered.  “Passing ordinances and annual taxes and things.  I suppose different towns have different priorities.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I figured you would have heard about it in some way or another.”  The nature of small towns.  He willfully ignored the suspicion on his cousin’s face as he explained.  “The topic of my article is about the community of people here who believe in mermaids, or I suppose any supernatural being, and why they believe in them, and why there’s a larger portion of people here who do.  It’s mostly a sociological-type paper, with the addition of whatever interviews I can get,” he finished explaining.

He smiled, listening to Renzie.  Being friends, her being roommates with Steph...would really suck if things didn’t work out.  But something in his cousin’s tone and expression when he talked about Emilia, told Walter breaking up wasn’t in the cards.  “A few years ago I did,” he offered.  “We’re split up now.  I don’t know, I suppose I’m always too busy to try settling down again.”

Walter was still reeling from the conversation he’d had with the city council president.  She seemed to be under the impression that he was going to be doing free work for her, which in his mind was a very strange request from the city council, and while it did set off some alarms in his head that something in this town was not right, he needed to focus on one thing at a time.

He’d been told outright that he wasn’t going to find what he was looking for in the museum.  But he needed to get all the information he could.  And so, after finding no one at the front desk he made his way into the gift shop, where he did finally find someone who worked here.  Walter had done this many times before that it became a muscle memory at this point,  “Excuse me, my name is Walter Perez.  I’m wondering if I could ask you some questions about the museum, and maybe about lore in Port Vale as a whole?  I’m collecting information for an article I’m writing.”

"Well, I was married a few years ago, and we didn't part ways on the best terms. She was angry that I didn't set aside enough time for her, and I was angry that she didn't see how important my career was to me. We were at odds a lot more than we weren't, and we mutually decided to cut ties. I suppose I broke her heart."

"Doing my taxes, keeping up with skincare, and making sure what I'm putting out into the world, my writing, is perfect and reflects exactly what I want it to say."