Redcreek Was A Small Town, Which Meant Running Into Him Was Practically Inevitable, She Just Didn’t

“you are bleeding." vikram is too stunned to offer anything other than the truth right now. getting very cleaned up is taking precedence over beside manner. "it's okay. it's not that bad." for now at least. it's too early to tell if she’s concussed or just in shock. he's got a hand hovering over her shoulder just in case, ready to catch her should she feel lightheaded. "don't move, okay?" he pats at the area, an occasional apology murmured under his breath at any sign of discomfort. the friction of his handkerchief against her wound is probably not the best feeling, but he’s trying to be gentle. “how are you uh, feeling?”

who : anyone where : outside the bar when : 2:05am

" oh my god , am i bleeding ? i think i'm bleeding. " avery winces as she touches her nose , the wound bleeding slightly. at least nothing was broken. avery was at the bar when a fight broke up and she was much too close to the action. was she trying to join the fight ? no one can say , avery would sue.

even with the defensive action of raising his hands up, the silence that ricardo offers only serves to fuel the fire raging within kennedy. it brings them right back to that halloween night—the walk to redstone just hours after hearing the news. the body. the cold chill in the air. ricardo, glossing over the moment kennedy tried to stand up for themselves, brushing it off like it didn’t matter. like they didn’t matter. that memory claws at them now as he takes time to process. think. whatever the hell he does when he doesn't want to hear her nagging anymore. they stand there for a moment, dumbfounded, resisting the urge to snap their fingers at him to hurry it along. "respectfully? i don't have the time to watch you disassociate, right now."

ricardo's helpful reminder of where they stand in the register's hierarchy doesn't go unheard. they scoff at it, jaw clenching in useless defiance. “then act like it” they spit, stepping closer until they're right in front of his desk. they plant their hand flat onto his desk, pinning the article they brought in beneath their palm. “work with me.” the words teeter between a demand and a plea, frustration lacing each syllable. “you could have called me,” kennedy presses, their voice lowering, but no less tight. “i would’ve picked up. we could have pushed it. we could have worked together." that was the root of their issue with this. their biggest strife with ricardo.

harsh expectations? kennedy was used to those. thrived under them even. it was his dismissal of her ability that enraged her. made it difficult not to take his decision to run the story personally when it was paired with diminishing comments like 'wine and gossip' along with a refusal to relay where he got the intel. someone had to have given this information to ricardo. out of everyone in the register... why him? what the hell did he have that they didn't? "don't be petty with me, ricardo." they warn, the mention of their book striking a fresh new chord. "you have no right to tell me what this is bigger than. this isn't your town." they straighten then, squaring their shoulders. "you don't want to tell me where you got this intel? fine. i'll figure it out myself." if ricardo wants to keep secrets between them, kennedy will do what they do best. they will dig.

kennedy's words are true - that's the worst thing . kennedy is the smartest person in this shithole town and they don't even realise it . his eyes are careful as they watch her finger raise . he hasn't seen anyone this mad at him in a long time ( forgetting taylan , that was just for fun ) . ricardo holds up his hands , a long sigh leaving him . he opens his mouth , but finds it slide closed again . kennedy's words ring in his ears . FUCKED US . FUCKED ME . for a moment , he lets the silence wash over them . his breathing is out of tune with his heartbeat . why didn't he share it ? why didn't he text them or effie ? why does he make a bad situation worse ? he doesn't have answers for her . " may i remind you that i'm your BOSS ? " ricardo says instead , but his voice isn't as heated as he'd normally have it . he almost feels like a child scolded and can't help look down at the newspaper scrunched on his desk with some uncomfortableness now . " there was 15 minutes until print . i didn't have time to have a wine and gossip with you and effie . " he presses his mouth closed , eyes zeroiing back in on the image of bronte and daniela mid-argument . " i don't owe you an explanation . i did what was best for right now ." he tears his gaze from the newspaper , jaw locking . " daniela is missing . people are dying . this is bigger than just you wanting your next failed attempt at a new york times best seller . "

"WELL SHIT ─  i  don't  know.  let  me  get  a  good  look  at  you."  it's  not  the  smartest  move  to  remove  her  sunglasses  with  the  hangover  she  was  currently  battling,  but  joey  will  do  anything  for  a  bit.  a  bloodshot  and  squinted  gaze  lands  on  carlos,  taking  a  moment  to  analyze  him  before  offering  a  slow  nod.  "oh  yeah.  you're  fucked,  kid.  got  a  big  ol'  target  on  that  pretty  forehead  of  yours.  you  better  watch  yourself  out  there  .  .  .   would  hate  to  be  down  an  act."  with  that,  she  places  her  sunglasses  over  matted  curls,  now  fixing  her  eyes  on  the  lake  before  them.  “you  know  what?  i  think  you  might  be  on  to  something.  whoever  is  responsible  for  this  has  got  to  be  a  real  nasty  son  of  a  bitch.”  and  ugly.  down  to  their  very  fuckin'  core.  “ so . . . is  this  everything  you  hoped  for  when  moving  to  this  shitty  little  town?"

𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲.　deer lake, late afternoon on the day of kirby's death. 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵.　anyone! ( capping at five replies. )

〔　🐿️　〕　　...　　“  𝗱𝗮𝗺𝗻,  𝘄𝗵𝘆  𝗶𝘀  𝗶𝘁  𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀  𝘁𝗵𝗲  𝗵𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗶𝗲𝘀  𝘄𝗵𝗼  𝗱𝗶𝗲?  ”  carlos  remarks,  a  plume  of  smoke  from  their  cigarette  and  the  cold  air  escaping  their  lips  with  every  word.  he didn't know the girl well, if at all, really, but it's all anyone could talk about today and if he didn't bring it up, it would be a little weird. it  isn't  that  he  doesn't  care  —  of  course,  the  whole  situation  is  unsettling  and  there's  a  inkling  perturbation  that  swirls  within  them  at  the  notion  of  a  killer  on  the  loose in such a small town,  but  it  seems  easier  to  pretend  that  this  is  all  one  big  joke  than  have  to  face  the  reality  of  it. it's all he can do.  “  is  this  guy  fucking  ugly  or  something?  are  they  trying  to  reverse  pretty  privilege?  should  i  have  to  watch  out?  ”

DEV PATEL as GAWAIN THE GREEN KNIGHT (2021)

nadia's reaction is met with a full body laugh as kennedy lazily tries escape her push to no actual success. "nadia, you couldn't pay me to download tinder in this town. it would be a disaster! we practically know everyone and like, me personally? i don't think i would be able to look at someone in the eyes again if i found out they had 'searching for my tinderella' on their bio." even the hypothetical is enough to run a shiver up their spine. a smile adorns kennedy's features at nadia's promise to carry them home because, despite the younger woman's habit of carrying herself like she doesn't have a care in the world, there is something about her that makes kennedy believe that they would be safe with her. nadia be the killer reveal now! "i'm going to hold you to that." they say, lowering their chin slightly to add a splash of a warning there. kennedy regards the bartender's suspicion with a innocent smile. they're not drunk, sir, just buzzed off nadia's electricity. "are you kidding? cheers to being the two hottest bitches in this joint!" DUH

NADIA ABSOLUTELY GRIMACES at the person in the horse outfit . " they're the ass - end of the horse , too . even worse . " she shakes her head , reaching out to gently shove kennedy , embracing the TEASING nature of it all . " no date for you , either , though , huh ? since when did we become such luddites ? " nadia knows , actually . it's been a LONG - ASS time . " hey , if you're allowed to force me out here tonight , i'm equally allowed to get you a shot . " it's an easy twist of the arm , kennedy caving after the obligatory faux-outrage . it's a necessary but known dance . " i'd carry you anywhere, babe . " she replies easily . " but tequila it is . " she flashes two fingers up to the bartender who eyes both of them suspiciously before pouring the shots in question . naomi takes her , already splashing some of it out of the shot glass and onto her hand . OH WELL . " cheers to . . . what ? "

vikram’s mind hasn't stopped racing since the news of alaina price's body. there was too much to do. preparation to make, unwanted visitors to turn away, worried townspeople to ease. it wasn't just a death. it was a murder. a horrendously obvious act of violence that vikram somehow had cover up for the wake. but how do you make tragedy look presentable? a familiar voice echos down the hallway, pulling vikram from his pacing around the office to look up and meet pleading eyes. “oh! of course.” he’s quick to take the cup of coffee from greers hand, frantically looking around for a safe place to place it as if he didn't own the place and settling for an empty coffin left on its side that he has yet to bring to the main room storage room. it was next on his to-dos he swears! “wait— let me help.” he reaches for the smaller hand, fingers carefully prying open the clamped grip that threatens to tear dark locks out of greer's head. new target acquired, vikram can feel blair’s sticky fingers grab hold of his index and middle, keeping him locked by greer’s side. a chuckle escapes him then, as he leans slightly towards blair. “hi.” a whispered greeting, paired with a nervous smile as he playfully waves their tiny first. he turns to greer next, meeting the younger man's warm brown with tired, sleep-deprived black. “good morning, greer. it's really good to see you.” and he means it. "would you like some breakfast? i was about to whip myself up something." vikram doesn't have the stomach to eat yet but if greer and blair joined him then he would be more inclined to try.

𝗳𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗱      :   greer    &    vikram    (  @brntout ) !

𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗿:   6:43am.

𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻:  funeral home.

* ❪ ⛓️ ❫ ﹕ 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲'𝘀   𝗻𝗼   𝗽𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴   𝗴𝘂𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗯𝗼𝗼𝗸   𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁   𝗱𝗶𝗰𝘁𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀   which   of   the   rare   locations   the   world   has   to   offer   is   classified   as   inappropriate   for   children,   especially   those   in   redcreek   that   stay   stagnant.   save   for   the   trickle   of   new   industries   that   try   to   make   a   mark   in   the   rural   town.   unfortunately   for   the   one   of   them   today's   plus   one   isn't   nour,   despite   her   still   persistent   &   blunt   nature.  this morning's    guest   is   his   ten   month   old   niece.   chubby   hands   are   reaching   out   toward   greer's   face   as   they   walk   through   heavy   doors,   splintered   wood   creaking   underneath   them   as   he   tries   to   avoid   getting   his   eyes   poked   out.    ❛  i   know   baby. ❜     blair's   got   one   of   his   curls   now as she bounces in her chest carrier,   tugging   with   the   strength   that   most   toddlers   acquire:  the   brute   force   of   a   hundred  fucking  lions.   greer's   stifling   the   cuss   word   that   threatens   to   cross   his   tongue   by   simply   biting   it   &   letting   out   a   wince.    ❛  vik,   you   mind   takin'    this  while i get mauled for a sec ?  ❜    he   calls   out,   hoping   the   man   will   save   the   boiling   coffee   that   threatens   to   overspill   with   blair's   movements   &   singe   his   hand   to   bone.  an   added   bonus  ?   it   serves   as   this   morning's   gift   for  the   absolute   hell   he's   undoubtedly already   enduring   with   the   news.   greer   can   only   guess   the   diversity   of   company   that'll   be   searching   the   home   &   cemetery   an   equal   opportunity   to   sniff   out   the   investigation;   journalists,   wannabe   crime   sleuths,   police,   even   spunky   tourists   who   take   murder   scenes   as   fun   museum   tours.

“you are just so…” frustrating. annoying. disrespectful. hurtful. “…typical.” the detachment in his gaze sends a wave of déjà vu over them. a memory flies by them, an afternoon where they cried to their mother on the way home from school, distraught over some playground injustice made against them. ‘that’s awful, sweetie. how did you do on your math test?’ it was then that kenny came to the realization that their existence is only ever recognized when they do something exceptional. it’s why they’re always, reading and writing. why they make time to work out no matter how exhausted they are, why they never left the house without looking presentable — they were an accessory, something to be bragged about. they played into it, but acceptance did not equal contentment and the more they molded themselves the more they felt a rumble within—a simmering anger that had taken root in their chest and now lodged itself at the base of their throat, itching to break free. if they were to finally snap, would people be inclined to listen or laugh at them? they think ricardo would fall under the latter.. it was stupid to think the two would see eye to eye. no, it’s embarrassing and kennedy should have known better.  after all these years, could there still be a corner of their heart that yearns for someone—anyone—to just understand them? stupid, stupid, stupid! 

they told their head back with a sigh, deep with an exhaustion stemming from years back. this time it’s their turn to look up at the sky and for a brief moment, they are distracted by a thought… when was the last time they saw stars? have nights at red creek always been devoid of them or is it just the one time they look that they decide not to show themselves? is this the price one has to pay for defying them? the mention of effie brings them back to earth, the sting of yet another jab at their ego anchoring them. ricardo doesn’t need to remind kennedy they are not the only writer worth a damn in this town — they are already painfully aware of it, thank you! but he does, and it feels intentional, like he's baiting them.  they don’t know what their expression is, right now. if they look like they want to laugh or cry or both. it doesn’t matter. they shrug the blazer off their shoulders, gathering it in their hand and pushing the fabric toward his chest—not shoving, because the last thing they want is for him to add ‘aggressive’ on top of his ever-growing determination to belittle them. “i said, five.” they spit back. "i’ll have something at your desk by five.” they were going to write this piece and they were going to do it well. if the story does happen to take off then they will be damned if they allow ricardo to be anything more than a footnote in its success. if ricardo has nothing else to say, they will turn on their heel and continue to make their way to red stone. with or without him

this is what ricardo is good at - ruining things . he was born to destroy . why else would he have been left at such a young age ? he's never quite been able to understand how to connect or converse or enjoy , much less love . he shakes the thoughts away , ignoring the feeling within him that reminds him : THIS IS WHAT YOU ALWAYS DO . this is all you're good for . kennedy's annoyance only vaguely amuses him . his brain is sinking back into its own comfort of a black hole . he finds himself barely paying attention as they speak , instead focused on his steps , and on REDCREEK . what is he doing here ? what on earth did he expect to happen ? sometimes he is that little boy all oven again , reaching up his arms to nobody , an empty kitchen .

he takes a long moment to readjust , realising they've stopped talking but seem to seethe on the spot . he blinks at them , genuinely puzzled for a moment before deciding that it probably wasn't anything CRUCIAL anyways . " sure , sounds great . " ricardo dismisses , with a small wave of his hand . he thinks of the countless times he's received blocks of angry , tirades of text . his ability to gloss over them is par to none . i'm not reading all of that , he'll often think to himself , with an eyeroll . it seems he can do the same when people talk too incessantly to him for too long about things he simply doesn't care about . " so . 6am , yes ? or is effie less . . . emotional about this than you are ? " ricardo chooses his words with faux - carefulness . he understands emotions are running high , hence why kennedy may have decided to start ranting - but ricardo doesn't have time or care factor for that . he just needs the best writer on this . he thought it was kennedy , but now he's beginning to feel he was more than wrong .

"a pony?" that makes them chuckle, amused by nadia's imagination. they shift their gaze past her, scanning the crowd, determination etched on her features. "there has got to be someone in here dressed as a little — there." they tilt their chin behind nadia where one can barely see the head of a horse poking out from a wall of people. "okay, no pony. close enough? i could still go wrangle him for you?" they offer. a poker face not something they usually struggle to maintain but the scenario is so ridiculous that kennedy can't help but break her attempt to look serious with a smile. "good! then you're welcome. happy to be of service." finally someone appreciates their bossy attitude! "shots? nadia... are you trying to get me into trouble tonight?" cus she just might, kennedy thinks. "as long as it's not vodka. unless your gearing to carry me home tonight."

" whatever i want ? what if i want a pony ? " nadia replies , twisting one of her eyebrows up in amusement . she allows kennedy to lead the way , trusting they know the SAFEST way out , with minimum groping by strangers . " firstly , tequila is never basic . " nadia says , with a small shake of her head . " secondly , i'm glad for the dragging . " nadia says honestly . she'll never turn down a party , per se , but of late she's been more than glad to have her routine of sleeping at a reasonable time . she's almost turned anti-social , which is not something that should be synonymous with her . " two tequila sodas then . here i was thinking i could charm you into doing a shot with me . . . "

“obsession?” she can’t help but laugh as that, though it lacks humor. "that is so dramatic, ricardo. i was just asking you a question." the silence that now envelopes them is not as comfortable. there's no solidarity no mutual understanding of how to navigate a story. what little patience they had for ricardo's antics is quickly depleting the more he speaks. "jesus, we get it. you're in a different tax bracket! do you really have to remind everyone of that every chance you get?" they are suddenly regretting the decision to accept the blazer. if he is intent on treating them like a child about it then they would rather freeze to death. kennedy meets ricardo's gaze as he scoffs at their plan, brows twitching into a frown. then they sigh, as if truly disappointed. “i must have mistaken you for someone with initiative,” they respond, fixing her gaze ahead of them once more, a newfound determination finding it's way to their bones. “fine — don’t help me gather intel. ill do it myself.” they don’t need him. they don’t need anybody. it was foolish of her to think the common goal or whipping up some notoriety was enough for them to work together. kennedy does remember him vaguely saying something like that to them and at the time, they bit their tongue. figured it was just him adding some good old corporate fear to the work culture. besides, what the hell could they possibly uncover in red creek? but now, their journalistic instinct tells them that there might just be a story to be told tonight and they aren’t interested in letting anyone’s ego get in the way of that.

they pick up their pace slightly, enough to step in front of him and put both of their strides to a pause. “i’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding between us, sir.” their voice shifts into a more professional tone but make no mistake — there is a definite bite in there. “i am sorry if i gave you the impression that i'm some lackey who's value rests on writing fluff stories for the piece of shit station you decided to burrow yourself into." it’s clear he doesn't know anything about them. the articles they’ve written, the stories they’ve uncovered, the damn book they wrote. and it's even clearer now that he simply doesn't care . "so let's re-evaluate each other's professional expectations, should we? how about you stop acting like i'm some inconvenience to have at your side and i'll stop mistaking your interest in the news as a willingness to help?" as per my last email, fuck you. 

HE SCOWLS AT THE LINE OF QUESTIONING . what may be harmless to others , royally pisses ricardo off . he doesn't like small talk . he doesn't like incessant questioning . this is the worst thing that reporters do and something he now only has HIMSELF to thank for picking the register to buy . inadvertently he's surrounded himself with nosy freaks . " what's the obsession with whether i watch movies or not ? are you planning an exposé on ricardo garcia's watching habits ? " it's not a snap , but it's close . his eyebrows set and his expression shutters off . he allows silence to wash over them as they continue walking , but he notes the way kennedy hugs the blazer slightly closer to their body . " don't spill anything on that . it's worth more than a year of your pay check . " he can't help add .

he silently agrees that the killer may be one for dramatics . a part of him wants to drive deeper and ask kennedy about their thoughts on what it means . why halloween . why that street . why that time . did they know people would be out ? was it accidental or planned ? but ricardo doesn't quite enjoy inciting conversation and a stronger part of him is worried that kennedy will take it as an invite to pester him with more questions in return . instead, he hums in agreement at their sentiment . ricardo glances at kennedy , with a scoff . " divide and conquer ? no thanks . i'm not your coworker . you ought to remember that . " he shakes his head . " i don't divide and conquer and i definitely don't take orders from my own staff . " he lifts a hand up , waving it . " what did i say on my first day here again ? something about ' you get me something interesting and you get to keep your jobs , otherwise , don't bother me ? ' tonight's hardly a call for us to sing kumbaya and collaborate . " ricardo feels restless then . itchy . he remembers why he doesn't like talking to people and especially shouldn't talk to his own workers . he doesn't need friends . he doesn't need anyone . he is uncomfortable because he knows , deep down , that's exactly what he needs . but a man raised a wolf will always only bare his teeth . it is in his nature . " no . " ricardo says flatly . " go find some sad loser to drink with you . " he's sure there's more than plenty still wandering around .

 impatience oozes off him like expensive cologne. patchouli, sandalwood, and financial privilege all wrapped up in a smug, pearly-white grin. they’ve only known each other for a handful of months but kennedy deduces this might be where their professional differences lie. ricardo is a master at gliding his vibe meter between ball busting and indifference,. they got the impression that to him, results matter more than details ( or means? ) . kennedy on the other hand? is meticulous, incessant in their need to look at every angle, to leaving no stone unturned in pursuit for a good story the truth.  but they can play the game. have been around enough white collar honchos to learn the fine art of capitalizing. they lean in, lowering their voice to what could almost be a whisper but it's too sharp to fully make the cut. “it makes sense, doesn’t it? with her disappearance still fresh on everyone’s mind, it’s only natural for people to wonder if she has finally been found.” kennedy won’t confirm nor deny if they had a part in planting or spreading that seed but know if they had — they would have covered their tracks. “i say we throw that on there if the body isn’t identified by the time the paper hits.”  it doesn’t have to be right. they can word it so it sounds like they’re simply reporting on what the masses are fearing. if anything, it’ll add to the mystery of daniela’s disappearance if the body isn’t hers. a grim thought, freshly picked from a dark corner of kennedy's psyche that always seems to gnaw at them in times like this. the part best kept in the confines of her own subconscious.

 the silence that surrounds them is heavy, two pairs of eyes linked to each other in momentary… understanding? who knows. whatever it is, it breaks the moment he speaks up again and kennedy has to resist the urge to roll their eyes when he asks if they’ve collected statements. instead, settle on a sugary smile, picture perfect as the good little reporter they are. “yes, sir.” feed into the hysteria — now there is something the two can agree with. “unless you’re an incel dressing up as a rich asshole in a suit.” kennedy replies with a shrug of her shoulder, making a point to leave the ‘unbelievably hot’ portion of his get up out. they know better than to confirm or deny such an egocentric statement. besides, if he’s gonna make his employees walk alone in their fake blood-soaked prom dress on the night a body was literally discovered then it doesn’t matter how attractive he is — kennedy will label him a woman hater regardless. so they start walking, ultimately giving him the option to follow or not, though fully expecting him to. “well, boss. you have to expand your movie taste if you don’t know who i am dressed as.” or is it that he really doesn’t care? “what’s your favorite film?” they're expecting him either to list some raunchy film directed by a weird indie director or the wolf of wall street. 

he moves his index finger as kennedy talks , signalling she get to the point quicker . he's hearing a lot of BUMPS in the road and ricardo doesn't care for them . he doesn't care HOW they get the story , he just needs to know that they WILL . and in true fashion , they finally deliver those magical words . something on your desk by five . ricardo's face ghosts with an almost genuinely pleased smile . while it's clear that kennedy doesn't care for ricardo , and ricardo is like brutus in that he cares for nobody in return . . . he's appreciative that he can come close to TRUSTING them to always deliver . at the mention of the estrada's , ricardo feels himself do a double - take . for some reason , he hadn't even considered that . " is that what they're saying ? " his voice is harsh . " that it's daniela estrada ? " ricardo feels a sharpness overcome him , something akin to a lightning strike before a storm . he allows silence to wash over them . a RARITY , before he continues . " have you gotten statements from people who were around ? the more hysteric , the better . " he doesn't need to tell them how to do their job , but a change in topic is welcome . HE ROLLS HIS EYES . " please . an incel could never dress this nice . " he flattens his hands , smoothing them over his dolce , tailor fit blazer . " i'm dressed as a rich , yet unbelievably hot , asshole in a suit . " ricardo replies , voice flat yet smooth as always . his eyes graze past kennedy . " i'd ask what you are but i don't care and i'm sure it breaches some workplace relation with me being your boss . "