𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒,

“i have been….” it seems like a loaded question. one that he’s not entirely sure he has the answer to, so instead, he finds himself nodding vacantly. “as well as one can be given the circumstances.” although if the odour of cigarettes hadn’t revealed the truth, the heavy bags under his eyes do more to hint that the statement is a lie. kit fumbles in his coat pocket momentarily - more out of distraction than need - fingers brushing off his phone in the hunt for his keys. “and you?” he asks in return, moving a few steps forward to unlock the front door. “do you… think valentine’s capable of it?” 

“ because you did it. ” such a sentence makes it’s way out of his mouth before he has the time to truly think over her question. and despite the collected conviction in his words, his temper doesn’t rise. in fact, he finds himself stumbling backwards through his words. “ i mean, you know christian. ” and by the way he smacks his lips, even that doesn’t cut it for him. it is an explanation that eludes him in words, or at least words that he does not want to express to her should she  either scream at him or hold him. both are terrifying possibilities, though as he stands there he wishes to express so much of the last few days that he sinks his hands into his pockets to somehow push them down. “ not that i’d – i wouldn’t want you to go to jail. ”

“This is why we always listen to me, darling.” He muses dryly, watching as she swigs the liquor. The buzz was something he often craved in his bones, a rush, a hit, whatever he could grab. The need was absent now, adrenaline enough just from the sight of the cuffs and the back of a cop car. Who knew vindication was as deadly a drug? He fills the silence, terrible humor surfacing. “ – think they’ll cancel classes?”

phone tucked away safely in his back pocket, t is as equally hesitant, though not apologetic. besides, apologies do not come easily for him. all the same, he cannot be hard on winifred for long. not when she asks a question that warms his heart no matter how despondent she sounds. it hurts to think she’s playing a long-winded trick on him and a question that might’ve brought a smile not long ago constitutes a furrow of his brow when skepticism takes its place. “ okay. ” he blinks at her, tossing the butt of his cigarette into the trashcan nearby. with a pinch of his lips does he play along, “ you’ve been . . busy? ” 

“Until they carted her off.” Is his reply, staring down at the bottle and trying to decipher how he feels of it all, how he can allow himself to feel in front of her, others. He offers her the bottle, neck of it held aloft between fingers. “I figured now if any point was enough to indulge. Don’t try to get me too sloppy though, no having your wild way with me. i’ve got to check on Wolf in a bit.” A few sips would do jack shit considering his high tolerance, but it was the rather the sentiment of it. He’d drink to her demise, any day.

in the day that had passed since valentine’s arrest, kit’s become a ghost of sorts himself. setting out early in the morning and spending the least amount of time in the house as possible. he should be working on his dissertation but instead, he finds himself holed up in the library pouring over the details he must have missed in the case. something he should have really done months ago. only stopping in the early evening to buy another packet of cigarettes and a bottle of shiraz before returning to escalus… suddenly very aware that he reeks of both when he bumps into the person on the path leading up to the house. 

“i don’t suppose i can tempt you to a nightcap?” kit asks meekly, using what little energy he has left to tilt the bottle from side to side — more desperate for the company than he’ll admit aloud. 

     her apartment feels like something to be avoided at this time. first lysander, now valentine. it’s difficult to discern what to believe, what to think of it all. so she tries not to. she’s running so much more than she ever has, but it’s only because all her usual forms of distraction trap her in the place she’s trying to stay away from. she’s walking back towards escalus, only because she can’t run forever, when she runs into kit. she looks down at the bottle in his hands, then up towards the path to escalus. 

He’d snatched the bottle from a faculty area, almost smirking to himself that the professors had been hoarding the good stuff. The pop is muted even to his own ears, and he finds himself sitting just outside of escalus house, turning it over in his hands. It is only when he hears steps does he glance up, smile as phony as the laugh. “It took a few hours, but I took you up on the offer to join you in a drink. Am I too late?”

the trip outside that tal is taking is only supposed to allow him a minute to catch a breath of fresh air and to smoke a cigarette, but he ends up answering the phone on his way out. he is fumbling with his lighter when he turns to notice wini exiting the building with his phone pressed against his ear. and he is still doing so when he immediately turns back around. a futile effort, he knows. they’d already met each other’s eyes. t leans to put out the cigarette he’s only just lit. though not eager on starting a conversation, he expects she’ll steal at least a word or two.

“ ma, i’m gonna call you back. love you. ”

“no,” he shakes his head, arms crossing over his chest as he lifts his chin as if to gesture to go on, “if we stopped arguing for five seconds we’d what ?” he presses — and perhaps his attempt to let things to had been futile, perhaps he was always grasping onto the anger in his chest so tightly because it was the only thing he had to grab onto. still, being angry with winifred didn’t make him feel any better. in fact, the look on her face only made him feel worse. “we’d realize we have more in common than we thought ?” he asks mockingly, “spare me the lecture, winifred.”

he crinkles his nose, shaking his head in response to her apology. “you didn’t do this to my eye,” he says, shrugging his shoulders in response, “don’t be sorry. it’s not your fault.” he wants to say — why the hell are you friends with him ? why the hell do you believe anything he says ? he wants to shake her by the shoulders, but he doesn’t. he doesn’t need to put her in the middle of it, when she’d done nothing wrong. except for befriend the wrong sort, he supposed. but could she be blamed for that ? he snorts at the justification — the thought of talbot having a rough go at things, after all of this, seems ironic. and though he doesn’t mean to be short or snarky with her, he can’t help it. “oh, is he ?” he asks, raising a brow, and he hates the sound of his mocking tone in his own ears, yet that doesn’t seem to stop him. “that poor boy.” 

“it was his lucky day,” he smiles, a little awkwardly — he didn’t want to put winifred in the middle of something she didn’t need to be involved with, although he had been forcing people to take sides since the beginning of all of this, “i let him off the hook.” although he hadn’t returned a punch that day — he certainly hadn’t kept his cool, either. but there was something so sacrilegious about fighting like that in oberon’s office, knowing, or at least thinking he knew, what a peaceful person oberon ashcroft was. those, these days, he saw so little of the man, he wasn’t sure how much he really knew of him at all. “hey,” he says, his voice soft this time as he reaches up to tuck away a loose strand of her hair. the action feels more intimate than he’d meant for it to, and he quickly returns his hand to his side. “i’m sorry. i know he’s your best friend,” he frowns at the word — he’d been friends with talbot once, too, but now the thought of it made his skin crawl — “it wasn’t his fault. i incited it.” 

t’s gaze lands on his own bracelet, arms leaning into the table. it’s better than looking down at her. that is something he does not wish to do from the height he stands. it’s funny she thinks herself unable to hide this from him when there’s a locket of secrets in his chest that he hides from her. among them doubts of ever finishing his schooling, or at least as a philosophy major, and visits with his father. wini knows he has a propensity for dramatization. he reckons especially so when he cannot tear his eyes from his jewelry. it is a relief for himself when he doesn’t claw the bracelet off.

“ i-i don’t need sleep! ” his voice rises again, offended by the statement. if he needed sleep more than justice, then that’s what he’d be doing. “ yes, yes, yes, of course i think you could do . . that. ” he confirms, licking his chapped lips when he sends a desperate glance backwards, searching for others who seem they might be holding daggers. nonetheless, he knows he could never have the wherewithal to hold her accountable for her actions — just past ignoring her completely. “ what i need, is, is the truth. and if i’m not going to get it from you, i’ll get it from someone else. ” he sounds like he’s throwing a hissy fit, which he is, but he lingers one, two seconds more than he should until he steals away with the look of a young boy who’s been told to share his toys.

Her comments are enough to give him pause, never quite agreeable enough to be truly chastised by the words but he did understand them. “You’re right. I am in a rather privileged scenario academia wise. Though I suppose the whole murdered baby cousin thing evens out some of the emotional toll in the grand scheme of things.” He does a small circle, taking in the sights with a rather keen eye. “Money makes the world go round, Winnie. I guess I never realized how much that could apply to higher education too. Much easier to stand these things when smashed.”

– GEORGINA FEELS LIGHT AND FREDA IS SMILING AT HER, so the energy is contagious, moving to the beat as she gently drapes her arms over the other girl’s shoulders. she’s glad to be in relaxed company. “ so, let’s give them a show, then ! ” georgina beams, “ let’s just HAVE FUN, i don’t want any of this stupid bullshit to ruin our night, okay ? ” she leans in close, bopping freda on the nose with her fingertip, “ and YOU look absolutely gorgeous ! they can’t set out champagne and expect us not to drink it, after all. ” 

if he could be relieved of all feelings, then he’d count himself lucky. the lot of them made his head ache and his conscience stir with confusion. wasn’t much different a feeling than how wini playing dumb or how meeting with his father biweekly made him feel. he should be better at reading her emotions right now; it wasn’t like he didn’t know when she was lying. but once paranoia stole his mind, he could hardly focus on her, much less read her — even when he’d pushed his sunglasses into his hair.

“ you killed her. ” he had the decency to lower his voice, but the conviction weaved throughout his words packed as much a punch as it would have had he declared it to the world around them. the crazed glaze in his eyes explained how he could believe such a thing when she had been with him that night: baking, laughing, watching movies. the last time events were ever normal, life ever simple. the stare fixated on her is brief and certain, before he reaches to cradle his head again. “ you helped christian do it, and — and his girlfriend! do you think i’m an idiot? ” talbot hasn’t patience, never has. he reads into silence as admittance, even as he takes a moment for himself, to rise to his feet and shake his head. all the while blissfully unaware of how quickly his mind’s eye could turn what he’d known as the truth to something entirely separate; perhaps because he’s eager to push his best friend further away.

     his accusation feels like a slap in the face, and for a moment, she sits, stunned. she doesn’t know if she should be relieved at how wrong he was; part of her could laugh at the absurdity of the idea. but she can see in his face how much he believes it, how he’s likely spun a version of the story where she is an accomplice. it’s a crushing realization. to know that the person you thought knew you doesn’t. “are you kidding?” her tone is low, almost unable to utter the words. she knows he isn’t, but she’ll allow him one opportunity to take it back. she can’t even meet his gaze when he stands.