Paper Dolls (IC)

Reginald Bullock | Location: Bullock Household| Interactions: Raymond Bullock, Kendell Bullock & Unknown | Flashback: 15 years ago


"Let me go!"

"Are you bloody damn near insane?!"

"I don't care! I-I can't take it anymore!"

Struggling. Grunts. Screams. A vase falling and shattering to pieces.

The shouting extended far beyond his room. He could pick up the scraping of fine leather loafers against hardwood, the sobs and cries anchored down by a despair so deeply implanted that only death could remove it. He stood there, forehead glued to the door as his breathing shuttered and rippled against his lungs like rough cotton. It stung. His lungs and diaphragm still burned from the assault, and the reminder yanked his gaze over to the pillow discarded onto the floor. Dented, crumpled, disheveled on both sides from a desperate grip.

Chest heaving with sobs and vision blurred with tears, the little boy marched over to the pillow and started stomping all over it. His ankles shook from the force behind it, though it wasn't much coming from his small body. He gave it his all and more. He didn't stop until his strength gave way and the fear from before wrapped around his throat like a grown man's fist. "I hate you!" he screamed. Over and over. Straight into the chilled and stagnant air of his prison room.

A tap at the window. Followed by several more, soft and insistent with a recognizable pattern.

The boy stopped, taking a moment to flex his hands into fists and tremble with unbound hatred. He wanted them to burn. To rot underground. He didn't know what happened to the human body after death, but he at least knew that they wouldn't be capable of harming or imprisoning him ever again.

Sucking in a sharp breath, he went over to his window and saw a murky silhouette outside. It was heavily shadowed by the moonlight's backdrop, but their figure was impossible to confuse with anyone else. Only this person knew of his room, let alone his existence. Slowly, carefully, he unlocked and lifted the window sill before his chin came to rest on it with a plop. His bloodshot gaze strayed up to the individual before him.

"I can hear them yelling," they said. A hand landed atop the boy's head, thumb carefully stroking the edges of a fresh cut on his temple. The child sniffled. "Your mother did this?"

"Y-yeah," the boy whispered. His eyelids were heavy with exhaustion, but ever so alert and paranoid. "It was hard to breathe."

A brief pause.

Then it extended beyond that. The comfort didn't stop, but they had no more words left for the boy. Which was okay.

Reggie could feel the apology in his touch.

---

Location: Black Rose Pub| Interactions: Leon & Ginny


"Here is your drink then sir. I mean no harm."

Reggie slipped back into the present without even blinking and grunted in bitter relief as the bartender finally served him a beer. "Thank bloody God," he grumbled before taking a short swig, testing the temperature. His lips pinched. It wasn't perfect, but he figured it was better than the crap-ass beer he had to settle for at the Outlet stops on his way to Tophet.

"The Bullocks run this place as much so as my ancestor still haunts the mayor's building. So, in a sense, they do own the place," the bartender said, which pulled the ghost of a smirk across Reggie's lips. Well now, wasn't this situation turning out ever so convenient.

"Be quick on getting me that number. I've got family business to settle with them." Reggie wasn't exactly a man of tact and any intentions of hiding his identity were clouded over by his desire to meet the Bullocks as soon as possible. Of course, he could tell that the woman sitting nearby had differing opinions on the matter. Edershem...the name rung a bell. That was about it. But judging by the bartender's reaction, this woman's name meant something important, so Reggie stowed her face and identity away in his memory bank. Ginny Edershem.

...And then said woman proceeded to flip her shit. She shakily declared the bartender's name--Leon--before tossing money onto the bar and setting out for a hasty retreat. Huh...well that escalated quickly. Regardless, Reggie just watched the show unfold while stocking away more and more information into his head. Every little detail. Facial expressions. Reactions happening at which triggers. The exact amount of money given. The clothes they wore. Their looks, their words. Everything.

Reggie raised his mug in a lazy toast. "Cheers to Tophet, the town of bloody drama and bullshitery."

He tossed back a generous gulp.
 
Kahlila "Kal" Frambrosia Johnson | Location: Residence Inn Lobby | Interactions: Grant

Kal shrugged, all still in good nature. "That's alright with me. Hell, if you're rusty, then teaching my old slow-learning ass will give you more than enough time to whip those techniques back into shape, right? It's a win win!" That was only a half-lie. Kal might've been...physically limited in some aspects, but she was far from a slow learner. Her brain would likely soak everything in while her body struggled to play catch-up; which was fine because, in a way, it molded her half-lie into a seeming truth. It was a matter of time management. She snapped out of her thoughts when Grant insisted on going with her to confront her birth parents.

She sucked her lips into her mouth, the wheels in her head turning. Chuckling, she folded her hands together on the table before continuing, "I appreciate the offer, Grant my man! But seriously, I'll be okay." Lies. "Not like I'm gonna make a big deal about it or expect that much drama; it'll be a chill affair with some hugs all around, you know? It'll be beautiful." All lies. "So you don't have to worry about any shit on my end."

Something bitter caked the back of her tongue, but she swallowed it down with a smile as warm as the morning sun. She liked Grant--she liked the dude a lot; bogging him down with unnecessary shit on her end would be the ultimate act of blasphemy. She brought the fun and love and friendship to the table, nothing else. "I know I've got a friend in you, Grant, and that confirmation has made my morning. Hell, the whole damn week. Now then!" She drummed the table with her fingers, excitement suddenly rolling off her like waves. "You ready to rock and roll," her smile widened, "friend?"
 
Garfield | Interactions: Monday

"I believe in forms of being brought back from the dead. Just not the holy kinds."

Gar's brow arched high, surprised by the woman's answer. It was such to say that he was pleased; most passerby ran away from him at this point or laughed off his questions, but she seemed to have taken them seriously. On top of that, her bitter disposition was not lost to him, not by a longshot. An interesting woman indeed. For a brief moment, sanity slipped onto Gar's visage and he grinned at her. "Beliefs change in due time. Uncle's dirt can sway anyone."

And just like that, the clarity vanished and his voice hitched in the same erratic pattern from before. "Monday! Not no mundane or sundae or Sunday of this week or last! The cat scorns you like a lover, don't she? Can't help it, though. Can't dang gone help it for nothing. No amount of pennies can help you! Gotta help yourself, don't ya?" He sipped from his empty tea cup, humming in content as the imaginary taste soothed his tongue. He loved the taste of jasmine tea in the morning. However, he cracked one eye open when she asked for his name in return and a bemused smile played at his scruffy lips. He stowed the cup away inside his coat and stood up slowly. Delilah adjusted to the shift in weight accordingly, before growing bored with the position and scurrying onto the top of his head. "All those here call me Garfield! Yep, Garfield of Hell's Dirt! Ring the bells and chime this world's downfall if I don't be it!"

He reached up to pull off his beanie, Delilah climbing down to his other shoulder, and dipped into an exaggerated bow.
 
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Leon Jethro Cyrus

Leon's head tossed itself back up at the mention of his name from Ginny's lips. His features softened considerably and his breath caught in his throat. He almost did not want to believe it was his old childhood friend, and perhaps that is why he was distracting himself with the man who claimed to be a Bullock. If this is Reginald Bullock I am going to down my first ever mug of beer. Leon exhaled slowly, every breath feeling like daggers slashing down his throat.

"Ginny." He called out gently, making sure the register was locked before moving past the bar, money in hand, and approaching the young woman. He did not dare to reach out to her, but merely asked in a soft voice. "If it is you, I wish to speak to you. Please. Do not leave. Not after all this time. I need to know you are okay. I need...I need to process this. Do not leave me yet. Please. Knowing you are here, I have waited fifteen years for some sort of sign or answer about this chaos. I do not need to wait another day knowing you are alive." Leon swallowed as his head swung back to the bar. Luckily it was none too busy where they could be a problem, but he needed to make sure. Slowly he placed the money back into her hand, a lump building in his throat. "Your drink is on the house if you stay a little while longer."

He stepped back slowly, eyes flickering up and down. He never envisioned what the children would have looked like grown, they were always children to him. Children who never got to grow up because someone decided their ends. Played a wicked and cruel game with them. Ended them in fear and hurt. "Y-you...you look good Ginny." he nearly choked, surprised to hear the emotion in his voice. He hadn't felt such things for a very, very long time.
 
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GRANT​

Laughing, Grant nodded at her words, "That's a good point. Though at this rate, I'm so out of shape, you'll probably have no trouble taking me down." Whether or not Kal was a slow learner, Grant meant what he'd said - it had been some time since he'd even considered fighting. In reality, even when he hit the bag, the things it drummed up were less than pleasant, and some days, it was easier just avoiding it. Yet her enthusiasm was encouraging, and in truth, he knew he could use a refresher... considering where he was.

When she went on, denying that she needed the company, Grant's brow lifted in curiosity. Maybe she was serious, but there was a part of him that had his doubts. After fifteen years... coming back to a family that had all but had to force themselves to move on?

"Okay... How about this." He started, softly, "I'll walk you there... just... just to be sure you still remember the way, and everything. And then, if you change your mind about need morale support, I'll be around." With a smirk, he rose to his feet, giving a stretch as he plucked up the remnants of his coffee, "And yeah, I'm ready. Ready as I'll ever be, anyway..."
GINNY​

A part of her had wondered if maybe, just maybe she was wrong. That he wasn't who she thought he was and it was all just a coincidence. That she'd somehow misheard him, or something in what he'd said had been misconstrued. A part of her almost wanted to be wrong. Because wrong was easier. Ties were messy and hard. Ties meant explanations and pity and people prying into places that she didn't want to go to, herself. She'd done a good enough job, burying the past, and all she wanted was a little peace and quiet...

No. That wasn't true. What she wanted was to forget. They all did, no doubt. To block out the memories forever, and never go back there. Not just Diablo, either, but all of it. The last fifteen years of her life had been a nightmare and a half, and all Ginny wanted was to bury it in the grave the town had made for her.

But the truth of the matter was, she was back. Whether she wanted to be there or not, she couldn't ignore the people from her past, anymore than she could ignore it, herself. Tears burned at her eyes and she blinked at them, but to little avail. She hated tears... she'd taught herself not to cry, years ago, and until now, she'd done a bang up job... But Leon, he wasn't going to make it easy...

She stopped when he called out to her, and as much a she wanted to brush the man off, open the door and run, she knew she wouldn't. The minute he opened his mouth, she knew she wasn't going anywhere.

Turning back to him, giving her eyes an angry swipe with the back of her hand, she looked sideways, "You don't look so bad yourself, Leon..." She mused, finding a small comfort in feigning humor. It couldn't last forever, though, and eventually, she had to answer him. Really answer him, "...I'll stay."
 
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Kahlila "Kal" Frambrosia Johnson | Location: Leaving Residence Inn | Interactions: Grant

Okay...fine. Kal fully accepted that Grant didn't plan on budging anytime soon. She could respect the devotion, no matter how inconvenient it was at the moment. Beneath the discomfort, more fondness for him blossomed and her features softened in compliance. She would just have to keep a tight lock on her emotions, which wouldn't be anything outside of the norm. She stood up with him, snagging her last strip of bacon and quickly scarfing it down with a long gulp of orange juice. "You got a deal, Grant my man," she said, "In return, we're taking my ride, cuz I'm not exactly about that long-distance walking life." She chuckled while nodding towards the Inn's front entrance.

"Let's bounce then! You'll be my personal GPS and point the way to your fam's place. Oh!" Suddenly struck with a realization, she briefly stopped to hold a finger up, grinning cheesily at Grant. "Just a quick heads up. You're gonna wind up being my karaoke partner during the whole ride. Better get them pipes polished and ready, yeah?"

Kal only paused once to trade small talk and flatter the employee manning the front desk before stepping outside. The weather had warmed a tad, the natural morning chill not as biting as before she entered the Inn. It was fascinating how an uncaring and almighty force like time worked. Lived. Existed beyond the bounds that no human or mortal mind could hope to fathom.

Trippy.

Humming jovially, Kal affectionately patted the roof of her Kia Soul. "Theeere's my baby," she cooed before hopping in. She cranked up the engine and beamed at Grant, waiting for him to get in. "You a fan of R&B? Throwbacks? Oh! Maybe you got a bomb ass request I can tune in to?"
 
GRANT​

She agreed, and the odd sense of relief Grant felt expellee in a sigh. It wasn't that he didn't think she couldn't handle seeing her family on her own... It was just the likelihood of it going perfectly smooth, coupled by the sense of his own nerves over meeting his family made doubt ultimately easier to entertain than trust... But he didn't say as much. She was optimistic, and that was wonderful, and he genuinely hoped it went well. But if it didn't, well... He'd have her back.

Following her from the Residence, he paused when they reached the car and a look of astonishment crossed his face. Sucking in his lips for a moment, he looked from car to driver, "Am I gonna fit in this thing? It's like a shoebox..."

Shaking his head, he nevertheless made for the passengers side and squeezing over six feet of person into the tight space, he adjusted the seat as much as possible, and sank back in psuedo-comfort, "Well... I'm in, anyway."

At her question, he chuckled. The truth was, if it was written after the 1970s, the chance of him even having heard the song was so completely unlikely. But he wasn't going to break car rules when she'd been so decent.

"You have 'I've Just Seen a Face'? By the Beatles?"
 
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Dinah Shapiro

"Oh, good!" Dinah beamed at her old friend, her chest threatening to tremble as it twisted into knots. A dull pain emitted through her torso and she realized it was dread slowly settling into the pit of her stomach. "You know a hand around the place wouldn't be a bad idea. I always know I can use a hand when it comes to work and such." She swallowed hesitantly, slowly bobbing her head. "It's okay Holly. I truly do not blame you. Life happens and we adjust. In reality it is my fault for not checking in on you sooner. But I am glad to see you are okay. You know you can always come to me if that changes, yes?" Her head tilted before a short exhale escaped her.

"Oh. Yes. The murder walk. So far so good. I've mapped out the tour fairly well, I've just been receiving some backlash from the families. You know...much rather keep it quiet. But I figure people should know. Those kids don't deserve to be forgotten." Dinah felt a lump grow in her throat and she desperately wished to ease it. She inhaled multiple times, trying a smile once more in order to give the facade that her job did not cause her any pain.

"I don't know how much of a rockstar I look like. Although most of them don't look all that good nowadays..." She mused teasingly, confusion flooding through her as she admitted that isaiah Killigan of all people checked in on her. She chuckled softly. "Oh, Izzy checks in on you then? I forgot he liked the Saint-Clairs, the poor grouch. Just tell me when he pops in and I'll scare the ever living crap out of him." Dinah winked, her demeanor suddenly flooding with solemness. "I know this week is rough. Just let me know if I can be of anyway a comfort. I have cartons of ice cream I've been meaning to finish. You should save me from the caloric disaster and share it with me."
 
Monday Goodman

"Beliefs change you know?" Jane chuckled, a near cackle as she pressed her fingers to Monday's forehead, slick with sweat. "I know you and I don't exactly agree about most things. But...there is one thing we can agree about..."

"Drinking is a bad idea. Got it." Monday had mumbled, shivering as Jane wrapped a singular blanket around her shoulders. She pulled her into her torso, her finger's gently tracing across Monday's hair. "Look. I don't do it when you are around, and I know we don't get to see each other much because, you know." Monday's body temporarily hunched over, bile decorating her throat. "Oh God...the headache is killing me Jane."

"Aren't you glad you called me in your stupor? I swear, you used to hate the taste of beer. I don't understand why you are drinking now..." Monday's teeth hovered dangerously close to her tongue, as if to silence herself for good about the subject manner. Monday did not wish to tell the reason she drank, for it was not of her own accord. Monday had just learned to quit resisting when it came to the man she shared a home with, and just allowed for the take over to occur. Besides. It killed the pain for a little while.

"Mmm. Because I am stupid. Thank you for saving me...My little knight in shining armor ~"

"Mmm. Mm. It is always a pleasure, my whiskey tainted damsel. Can you promise me something?"

"No. Trust me. I can't stop what happens." Monday breathed harshly, the oxygen cutting against her throat like knives. "I want to though. God...just thinking of the taste of alcohol makes me want to throw up."

"Then why do you do it?"

"If you are about to compare me to my mother I am going to stubbornly crawl and wobble out..." Monday whimpered, her head pounding. "Just trust me on this one. I don't have control. I haven't for a while."

"Do I need to stay with you?"

"I would give the world for you to stay. Please. Stay."

Monday snapped out of her thoughts, the scent of Jane's freshly washed blankets staining her perception of reality. "Been helping myself for a good time, kind sir." Her head tilted at how bizarre this man truly seemed. She thought it horrified her, but in this moment of time, she found herself truly intrigued by this man's behavior and words. She did not believe him to be truly insane, for there were moments were sanity seemed to creep back into his demeanor. She had a feeling he knew what he was doing, whether that be getting affection for his ferret, or getting something else entirely. It didn't seem to be money, because he returned it in due time. The last time Monday gave to someone, they asked for more and more. In response, well, it is safe to say her size gave her an advantage punching wise.

Her demeanor brightened almost instantly, like a child who had met their hero. She grinned in spite of herself, plucking at her shirt to reveal the orange, grumpy cat with who she shared a hatred with. "Nice to meet you Garfield. Best damn name I've heard of in this valley of hell. Pleasure." She bowed her head in return, a smile gracing her tired lips at the animal. "Good sir, I thank you for directing me to the Goodman house. Um, is there anything I can do to repay you? Besides the name game." She winked at him, letting her worry go. She assumed this man was harmless. She knew assumptions could be wrong, and in spite of herself, her shoulders slumped in relief.
 
Leon Jethro Cyrus

Leon couldn't identify the burning emotion swirling in his chest as she vowed to stay. If just for a little whole. He did not realize how much hurt festered in his system, how much it bubbled and scorched in his heart. He exhaled slowly, gesturing her back towards the counter. "Please feel free to get comfortable. Drinks are on me today, okay?" Slowly he made his way back behind the counter, shutting the small door behind him before leaning over and resting his knuckles against the sleek wood. He tapped his fingers absentmindedly, attempting to collect his thoughts.

I...I don't know how any of this is possible. How she is even alive before me. Did Diablo not kill the children, or is my leg being pulled? There never were any bodies. No sign of death or...just the little blood spatters here and there. The abandoned house. No kids. No bodies. Nothing. There was nothing. Yet...why is she here now? None of this makes much sense and I fear that something terrible is upon me. No. Perhaps not just me. I fear the worst.

He smiled gently at the woman. "I do not wish to pry, but it is very good to see you are alive and well. I...How...how long have you been back in Tophet?" His eyes trailed over to the ginger. "I might as well be asking you the same question if you are who I think you are." He mumbled, his body tensing. I can't imagine there are two missing kids in my bar. This...I might need a drink myself.
 
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Kahlila "Kal" Frambrosia Johnson | Location: Leaving Residence Inn | Interactions: Grant

"The sexiest damn shoe box you've ever seen," Kal corrected with a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. Damn--Grant the man really was tall, now that she paid attention to it. The poor boy was a little squished up against the glove compartment. "But yeah, my bad! Think you can scoot the seat back a bit, but that's about it. It'll be a short ride though, so hang in there!" She gave him a supportive pat on the shoulder.

"You have 'I've Just Seen a Face'? By the Beatles?"

A long pause.

Kal stared at Grant, her expression insanely unreadable. All in one swift motion, she cranked up the engine while retracting something from under her seat. A leather case. Opening it, she pulled a CD free of its slot and held it up for Grant to see. It red Help!, The Beatles' 1965 album. "Grant my man? I think this is gonna be one hell of a beautiful friendship." Kal loved The Beatles; her adoration extended beyond just their music, though. Whenever their lyrics weren't reducing her brain into a pile of fascinated mush, they inspired her work like nobody's business. The band was notorious for introducing the personal and introspective aspects of songwriting into the music industry, which contributed to their rising popularity. Well, along with their androgynous looks and several other things, but that was besides the point.

Kal popped the CD in and started pulling out of the lot. As they cruised along, she skimmed the playlist until Grant's request came up and started rumbling pleasantly through the speakers. A look of absolutely contentment washed over her features. "Bomb ass choice, G. So where do your folks live?"


Reginald Bullock | Location: Black Rose Pub | Interactions: Leon & Ginny

...For fuck's sake.

Reggie just wanted the fucking number--was that too much to ask?! "I thought this was a pub, not a bloody soap opera," he grumbled while finishing off his mug. Damn, he would definitely need one more, at the very least. Besides, something told him that he would need his system to warm up a bit with tolerance once he called the Bullocks. Fucking assholes.

Upon hearing Leon's question, Reggie rolled his eyes before sliding the empty mug his way. "You got time to ask questions, you oughtta have enough to refill. Yes, you nosy fuck--I may or may not be one of them. Just got here this morning after dealing with a psychotic karaoke bitch who wouldn't let me out of her fucking hamster mobile until I bent to her will. Damned devil. Bloody satisfied? Yeah? Good--then get me the number." The red head didn't have the time to entertain Leon and Ginny's sob fest. Nor did he care to convince them if either of them were skeptical of his claim.

He cut a semi-disgusted glance Ginny's way. "...You're definitely one of them. You might be all grown up, but I remember your face." Reggie never forgot anything, not a single detail. In that moment, the man could close his eyes and in the next moment, he would be a little boy again. Trapped. Bitter. Accepting his fate as children unraveled around him. He fucking hated his brain sometimes.
 
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Holly's expression briefly faltered at the suggestion to hire help around the shop. She'd never admit that running it on her own was a bit of a trial... Not when that meant someone else there, taking his place. Not when it meant such a huge change. A painful change.

Luckily the subject shifted, and looking up, she smiled dryly, "Of course they don't like it, Di... They can't pretend it never happened if it's turned into the town spectacle. But thanks all the same... For not letting them disappear completely." A sigh escaped, and she rubbed her arm, anxiously. It was already longer than she normally conversed with anyone.

"Pretty sure my dad's paying him to check on me. We don't talk anymore... Not since... Well, you know. So he hired Isaiah to be his little spy. It's fine though. He's not really the worst company in the world, when he keeps his mouth shut." Chuckling softly, she shrugged, "He'll probably stop by sometime today, unless something dramatic happens..."

She didn't wanna talk about it, but ultimately, she knew that it was coming. And really, she supposed she couldn't blame him. She'd disappeared and for all the town knew, she'd been dead for the last fifteen years...

If only she'd gotten that lucky... Maybe then whoever was messing with her would leave her the hell alone.

"Just got back." She mused wryly, "Not exactly my first choice, but things changed..."

Her eyes flickered to the irritating red head and rather suddenly, her knuckles balled into fists, "Might wanna get this ass a drink, Leon... Before he opens his fat mouth again and I gotta shut it for him..."

Shifting the seat back as far as it would go, Grant laughed a little at her exclamation.

"Most of the people I hung around with over the last few years were in their 70s and 80s. I got used to listening to their music. I hear anything from this generation and feel like I need a cane to shake."

As she popped in the CD, he sank back as comfortably as he could, "It's 19 Maple Drive. Right across from that little flower shop... With the blue windchimes." Blinking, he smiled, "They come back... The details, doesn't they..."
 
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Reginald Bullock | Location: Black Rose Pub | Interactions: Leon & Ginny

"Might wanna get this ass a drink, Leon... Before he opens his fat mouth again and I gotta shut it for him..."

Reggie blinked, registering the venom leaking from Ginny's tone. Slowly, he pushed his mug aside and pivoted in his seat to face the woman entirely. Expression flat and bitter, he propped an elbow on the counter and leaned forward. "Newsflash, my fellow kidnappee, I'm gonna keep running my bloody mouth no matter what you do. So, how about you focus on your little soap opera, get off my ass, and let me enjoy my next beer in peace. Yeah? Good." Not waiting for a reply, he leaned back into his seat once more and held out a hand towards Leon.

"Any day I'm getting that fucking number?" he grumbled.
 
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Dinah Shapiro

She smiled thinly, rubbing her hand up and down her arm roughly in an attempt to cure the cold of an early morning swim. A trickle of salt water speckled down her spine and her mouth briefly propped open in a pained 'oh'. She laughed then, shaking her head only to have more cold droplets cascade to her shoulders. She froze. "Er, yeah...I don't think the people who are angry with me realize how, er, well, how many people I lost when Diablo came. I...I lost so many friends in the course of a year...less. Less than a year. Not to mention that papa was always worried I was gonna vanish too...Hell, hopped to Israel before I even had time to complain." She swallowed. "So, well, er, when I did come back I was surprised to see so many people had forgotten...hell, the...the Corsons pretended Morty didn't even exist. His mother. His mother pretended not to know who I was when I came back you know." Dinah didn't want to think how far off the deep end the Corsons had gone after Mortimer vanished. It was beyond anything that Dinah could have imagined, but she knew that there was no possibility...She could never understand what it was like to lose a child. She did know what it was like to lose a friend. It...it felt like someone had pierced her heart with a bullet.

"Yeah. I...I am sorry about your loss Holly. I know it's rough and...you know, I am forever grateful for having a good relationship with my Avi. You should try and reconnect. I know the Saint-Clairs...wonderful people you know." Dinah winked before having to stifle a chuckle. "Oh, oh my God. Isaiah comes and visits you? Heh. Lucky girl I suppose. You know he ain't that bad. He isn't all about the money, so I assume that means he does care about you in some...weird little way of his. Just know he wouldn't do a job unless he doesn't consider it a waste of his personal time." Dinah swallowed. "Isaiah usually should have the press out by now. Dam...you know, that little hooligan he practically adopted for that job...should be running shifts soon. He should be free to swing in any time ~ Which means I can dazzle him with my beauty of a screeching harpy."

Leon Jethro Cyrus

Leon blinked at the red head's confession. So he was Reginald Bullock. That...it upset Leon more than he cared to stay. "Number and drink. I can do that..." Leon slowly took the mug from Reginald, turning from him to refill it. His tone of voice(not to mention his bizarre accent) set Leon on edge. Leon was not one to be easily upset or startled, but this had his entire body tense. Slowly he slid the refilled mug to Reginald before ducking underneath the counter to scramble for a pen and a piece and paper. He propped the utensils onto the counter before tapping the pen against his chin in thought.

"I am glad to see you. I am...I am relieved for your wellbeing." Leon muttered, directing his gaze to both Ginny and Reginald to let him know that he meant it. Frustration began to bubble up as Reginald spoke more and more cruelly to Ginny and he scribbled down two numbers. One on the front and one on the back. The first one said 'if you ever need a hand or two.' and the second said 'Family connections.' He smiled as he switched the proper numbers and slid it over to him. He proceeded to place a hand upon Ginny's shoulder, squeezing lightly.

"Maybe we can take a walk at some point..." He muttered, knowing full well the demeanor she bestowed. I do not want a Bullock to be hit in my establishment. Or anyone.
 
"Hmm..." Smiling faintly, Holly shook her head again, "You'd think they'd want to remember, for all they do to make it about themselves." She hated talking about it. The way the parents had behaved... Not all of them, mind... But enough. It was disturbing. Beyond disturbing. And enough to set her teeth on edge.

"Ha... No thanks." She added when Dinah mentioned reconnecting, "There's nothing short of a small miracle that'll make that happen. I just can't... Not after..." Her sister's disappearance had been difficult enough, without her father's penchant for making it all somehow Holly's fault. It was too hard... Going back to that house. Knowing what pain it held...

Grateful for the change in subject, Holly smiled again, "Well, feel free to stick around... I'm not doing a whole lot, and I guess... I guess the company would be nice for a change."

Ginny rose as Reggie opened his mouth again, a familiar fire coursing through her at his words. He was a stranger, as far as she cared, and whatever they had in common, he had no right to act like he knew a damn thing about her or what she went through.

He was confrontational, and everything it brought to mind made her insides twist tighter into knots, her stomach clenched with the unwanted memories that flooded in. She could feel the blade in her hand, still... The warmth of blood...

Leon's smooth voice interjected, and breathing out sharply, she looked to the bar tender with a frown, "How's right now? Cause I swear, Leon... One more comment from Chuckie over here and I'm gonna lose my damn mind."
 
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Reginald Bullock | Location: Black Rose Pub | Interactions: Leon & Ginny

Reggie saw all the signs. Rising from her seat, muscle tense, jaw clenched, eyes absolutely burning with wrath and a thirst to ruin his face. Oh yeah, he knew that intoxicating aura of anger when he felt it, and all it did was widen the smile on his lips. "That's right, bitch. Hit me, go ahead. I bloody dare you," he seethed, also rising from his seat. However, whatever plans he had of taking a beating were interrupted by Leon's offer to go out for a walk. He rolled his eyes, heaving a long sigh as he plopped back into his stool.

Damn party pooper, this Leon guy. At this rate, Reggie would have to resort to Plan B...which he'd rather not do. Getting clocked in the jaw or sliced with a broken beer bottle seemed more bearable but, of course, he knew what risks he was taking as soon as he had dipped his toes into the conversation.

Well, at least he had the number. That was a start. He was somewhat thrown off to see a second number, but decided to memorize both of them anyways. Reggie highly doubt he would call anyone for help, but no one could predict how downright shitty life could get. And Reggie wasn't invincible. Far from it. He stowed the paper away while grumbling towards Leon, "Took you long enough...And fuck off with your 'well wishes' and 'relief'. I don't need nor want that shit. You've already given me what I want."

As a last minute effort, he waved dismissively at Ginny. "Alright. Guide that violent wench out of here. She's got crazy written all over."
 
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She wanted to walk away. The way he was talking to her was irritating, yeah, but at the end of the day she could be more mature than that. She had caved before, but she was out of that life... And there was no reason she had to let him get to her.

Except he already had, and each word out of his mouth sent a wave of heat washing over her, her heart pounding harder in her chest, threatening to crack her ribcage.

Leon had been nice. So nice. Too nice, and hearing the trumped up carrot head's abuse of her childhood friend...each prod felt like a cattleprod to her spine.

Violent... Wench

"Okay. That's it!" Rising swiftly, the bar stool clattering behind her, Ginny let go. Just for a second or two, relinquishing control to the monstrous animal that had been born from her life of hell and moving swiftly, she tackled the redhead from his seat.
 
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Leon Jethro Cyrus

Leon's shoulders tensed with each passing word of the crude red head. He had been used to being spoken to as such, but the anger that appeared to flow from Ginny's being sent him further down a spiral of concern and dread. "You are welcome for the number." Underneath Leon's breath, he mumbled. "Red-furred jackass."

"Alright. Guide that violent wench out of here. She's got crazy written all over." In that moment, Leon almost desired to strike the man himself, surprised that impatience began to bubble at his skin. Speaking to him in a cruel manner was one thing, speaking to another victim of kidnapping(as well as being Leon's old friend) sent a different type of anger underneath his flesh.

"Okay. That's it!" Ginny beat Leon to the punch(quite literally) tackling Reginald to the ground. Leon froze(most voluntarily, having been used to bar confrontations) and slowly, he began to count in his head. I will give her thirty seconds. One...Two... Leon moved behind the bar, making sure to lock the register and keep whatever tips he had made in his pockets.

Fourteen...fifteen...Oh I think I lost count. Thirteen...

Leon smirked lightly to himself, sliding along the counter and onto the other side where he began to grasp Ginny by her shirt.

Twenty nine...and thirty.

Leon cautiously pried Ginny off of Reginald, which much to his surprise, took an immense amount of strength to pluck the angered woman up. Slowly he held Ginny up, holding her back as cautiously as he could from Reginald. "Ginny...it's okay...relax...I am going to take you outside on that walk now okay? Just breathe..." He turned to Reginald, apology lackluster in his eyes. "My apologies Mister Bullock. Drinks for the rest of the day are on me." Just don't be surprised if it's root beer next time. Leon's arms grew sore and he realized that his heart was pounding in his chest. "Come on Ginny...fresh air. Now please."
 
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Reginald Bullock | Location: Black Rose Pub | Interactions: Leon & Ginny

Reggie thought he would see it coming. He really did.

But fuck--that woman pounced like a demonic tigress!

He had underestimated just how much animosity and power that little body could hold, and all of it worked together to hit him like a freight train from Hell. He hit the floor with a solid thud, the wind rushing from his lungs. "Fuck!" was all he could get out before the woman was raining down hits on him. The most he did was throw his arms up to protect his face and lean away from the hits, all while fighting back a smirk. Such a damn hot head; in a twisted sort of way, it was nice to find a fellow temper maniac, though they were of completely different species.

But still, Reggie wasn't to act like that shit hurt because best believe his poor body was aching. Through the chaos and beating, he caught a flicker of Leon moving from behind the counter and after a long ass time (in his opinion), the vixen bitch was hauled off of him. Reggie scrambled back onto his stool, cradling a bruise on his cheek. "What in the actual FUCK!" he screamed, more than loud enough for customers in the pub to hear. A select few were openly watching the display, but he knew every single pair of ears in the establishment were listening.

Good.

Lips peeling apart to reveal a snarl, he shot the retreating pair a middle finger. "You've done bloody fucked up, bitch! I'm Reginald Bullock, you hear me?! Bullock! Better hope I don't have my pops come after your ass and get that little bodyguard of yours fired! WATCH YOUR ARSES!" For extra measure, he kicked a stool over before plopping back down into his own...

He smirked.

All according to plan. Leon Cyrus. Ginny Edershem... He took a light sip from his beer.
 
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Collab Post: Lord, Grant Them Strength | Interactions: Grant & Maria @Elle Joyner | Location: Grant's House​

Kal snorted as they cruised through town, casting Grant a side glance. "Nothing wrong with that at all, Grant my man. Sometimes life is so dependent on time moving forward, that we sometimes forget gems of the past." She shrugged. "Plus, I bet you could rock the cane walk like a mother fucking boss."

"It's 19 Maple Drive. Right across from that little flower shop... With the blue windchimes," Grant said. "They come back... The details, don't they..."

Kal nodded in agreement. "Hell yeah, man. It's flat out trippy! Had the same like, deja-vu hit me when I first rolled through here--it's kinda amazing how the brain works like that and shit." She paused a moment, eyes trained to the road. "Anything else about this place stir up memories for ya?" she asked.

"I'm trying not to let it…" He admitted with a small, weary shrug, "I'm afraid if I think too hard on it, I might start remembering other things, too." Clearing his throat, he looked out the window, watching the world glide by in streaks of color, "But yeah… there's a lot that comes back. That park there? I kissed Dinah Shapiro on the monkey bars when I was nine. Thought her dad was gonna kill me…"

Kal absentmindedly turned down the volume of the music, just a tad, so she could listen to him properly. The memory made a grin tug at her lips. "Well ain't that cute as hell," she cooed while shooting him a teasing grin, "You know, I saw this ice cream shop on my way back in. Hugh's Ice Cream Parlor? Was my favorite back in the day." Her smile faltered a moment. Not really her favorite place anymore. Either way, she bat the thoughts away and continued, "Hey man, I'm sure any dad would've flipped shit seeing a boy kiss their little girl. Nothing personal against you."

A terrible attempt at reassurance, but it was better than nothing.

Laughing, he nodded, "Yeah… I'm pretty sure it wasn't personal, but it was still terrifying. Never seen a man turn that shade of red before. Mom talked to me after about how it was something special and I needed to be less careless with girl's hearts… Nine year old Casanova died pretty quick." Pausing, he nodded, "I remember Hugh's. He'd give you extra scoops and call it a happy accident…"

Kal laughed again, softer than before as her mind strayed. "Yeah. Happy accident."

She didn't have much else to say after that but, luckily, she found a way to fill the silence as they finally reached the address. She took of the house, pointing ahead at it. "Think we're here, Grant my man." As she pulled into the driveway and killed the engine, she flopped back into her seat and looked at Grant. "You, uh...you ready? Or do you need a minute?"

"Feel like I need a century." Swallowing, he set his fingers on the door handle, "But no point dragging it out, right? Would… would you come with me? You don't have to, if it's awkward. I'm just afraid without motivation I'll just stand there and never get up the nerve to knock…"

"Come on man," Kal said in disbelief, leaning over to give him a supportive punch to the shoulder, "Don't go around insulting me like that! Hell yeah, of course I'm come inside with you. Let's do this shit, yeah?" Without further prompting, she stepped out of the car and followed Grant to the front door, sticking close and shooting him a supportive smile the entire way there.

Hands in her pockets, she gestured to the door before muttering, "Go ahead. You got this, Grant."

Outside the door, Grant could feel his heart, pounding hard against his ribs. He raised his hand a good three… Four times… And paused each time, breathing in deeply. When he finally did knock, his fingers remained clenched, his hands shaking slightly as he stepped back to wait. And wait… and wait...

"Maybe they're not--"

With a click, the door opened, and Grant nearly fell back off the stoop, as a dark haired woman looked out at the pair, "Can I help you?"

"M...Maria?" Grant breathed, and for a moment the woman studied him, before a gasp stole air from her lungs.

"Dios mio! Mijo!?" Stepping back, the woman held a hand to her heart, tears stinging her eyes, "Oliver…?"

"H...hey. Um. This… this is Kal. Is… is mom up?"

Looking to Kal, Maria frowned in thought, before shaking her head, "Oh, Oliver… I'm so sorry. You've just missed her. Wh… how are you…"

"It's a long story, Maria. Trust me… probably better you don't know it all. Wh..where is she?"

"Dr. Lewis…" Maria said, hesitantly.

"Wait… What?? But that… she…"

"Mijo… I'm sorry. It… it came back."

Without meaning to, Grant reached out for Kal's arm, catching himself, steadying himself, "W...what… what's the prognosis."

"It isn't good, Oliver. Worse than last time."

Releasing her arm, he sank down onto the step and Maria looked to Kal apologetically, "Why don't you and your friend come inside. I… I'm sure we have a lot to discuss…"

Kal was all about keeping an open-mind, but this turn of events wasn't exactly on her list of expectations. Either way, she was quick to hold Grant up when he staggered and even quicker to help him up from the steps. She nodded towards Maria. "Thank you kindly, ma'am. Come on, Grant my man."

As she guided him inside, she couldn't help but let curiosity get the best of her, and her gaze swept the interior of the home. "Nice place you got here, by the way," she tossed out, her hold on Grant firm. She did sway a bit, but recovered in the blink of an eye, tightening her calve muscles until her balance returned.

It wasn't the level of surrealism Grant wanted, entering his childhood home again, and as he moved for the living room, he felt a weight pressing on his chest, his eyes hot. But he fought the emotion, looking back at Maria, who murmured a polite, airy 'thank you' to Kal.

"We can't stay long…" Grant started, wearily, "But I'd… I'd like to come back. When will she be home?"

"This evening. Her appointments are usually a few hours… And she takes the train. Can I get you anything?"

"N..no… We should probably get Kal to her house…"

Kal's brow furrowed before waving him off. "Naw man, don't worry about me. You've got your own shit to handle, obviously. You're looking faint. Get something in your system. I'm chilling right here until you're good." She made a show to sit up straight, eyes locked onto Grant with a hint of defiance. The last thing she wanted was for the man to push himself.

"I will make tea… And sandwiches. Don't… don't move!" Maria called as she headed for the kitchen, as sense in her haste that she feared he might disappear.

Dropping into a chair, Grant let his head fall into his hands, "...Not what I was expecting…"

"Yeah. That...kinda hit you like a left hook, huh?" Tentatively, Kal draped an arm around his shoulder, giving a supportive pat. She remembered his last reaction to physical contact and was prepared to move back in case he flinched or showed discomfort. But, either way, she at least had to try and comfort him. "It'll be alright, Grant my man. Just...one day at a time."

"I think I'd have preferred getting kicked out…" He muttered, sinking back, not entirely opposed to the comfort of her arm, "This… This is definitely not ideal. Thanks for sticking around, Kal. I'm sorry it turned out to be such a bummer."

"I don't know about that," Kal chuckled, "And don't mention it man. That's what homies are for, ain't it? I'd be like...the anti-homie if I split on you like that." Heaving a sigh, she dropped her arm, fingers clasped almost childishly in her lap as she scoured her mind for something helpful to say. After a moment, she asked, "Hey uh, you read any stuff by Anne Bradstreet? There's this one quote I really like from her, keeps me going through the hard shit and all that."

"Never had a homie before…" He mused with a small, weak smile, before shaking his head, "I haven't… What is it?"

"Well now you do. We're a forever sort of deal, hope you don't mind it." Cracking a wide grin, Kal continued, "If we had no winter, the spring wouldn't be so pleasant. If we didn't sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity wouldn't be so welcome." She personally loved that quote, both for its simplicity and the impact it had on her.

"You know, Kal...I really can't say I mind the idea of you sticking around…" He murmured, reaching out to give her hand a squeeze.

"Here we are…" Maria returned with a small plastic tray, laden with sandwiches, mugs and a teapot, "Should… should I call your father? He's away, but his emergency line…?"

Nodding wearily, he reached for a mug, pouring water into it and holding it out to Kal before filling the other for himself, "Thank you… yeah. I'd like him to know."

"Right… I will do that, then." And she was off again, as Grant sat back with a sigh.

"Hell of a winter, though, Kal…"

Accepting the mug gratefully, Kal took a short sip, not really sure what to expect. It was a tad embarrassing, but her experience with drinking tea was next to nothing. Either way, she was pleasantly surprised by the taste. Damn, she should drink tea more often.

"Hell of a winter is right," Kal said, squeezing his hand back, "But keep your chin up. You're gonna get through this, especially with your fam and a homie at your back. Plus, you kinda have to tilt your chin up if you wanna drink that tea right."

With a sheepish smile, he chuckled, "And your pinky, if you wanna be proper about it. Thanks, Kal. Honestly, don't think I could do this without you. Might be a fighter, but I've never been the strongest…"

"Damn, you right!" Kal took up his suggestion and stuck out her pinky, taking another sip from her tea. "Thank ya thank ya, almost forgot my damn manners. And don't mention it, man. Seriously. And hey, you're one of hell of a fighter. We both went through the hardest fight there ever was years ago. Look who came out as reigning champions."

Laughing, Grant used his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, "Kal… you're a gem. Honestly. Whatever happens through all this… I'm definitely glad you sat down at my table."

Suddenly sheepish, Kal scratched the back of her head, eyes glued to her lap. "Man...don't go and make me feel awkward now. I'm just helping out a friend, nothing special about that. And I couldn't just let you sit there on your lonesome and stuff." Slowly, she lowered her hand, expression pensive as she mulled over her thoughts.

She trusted Grant. She had only just met the man, but she trusted him. So maybe...just maybe?

"Hey, uh...mind if I ask you a favor? Nothing big, I swear."

Looking over at her, not a trace of hesitation in his eyes, Grant nodded, "Absolutely anything, Kal. I'm your homie, too… though it sounds cooler when you say it."

"Naw. Sounds totally natural to me." Jokingly, she shook her head and mouthed a "no", before chuckling, "But seriously though...uh...Listen. I don't like bumming the atmosphere or other people out, you know? I like optimism and shit. Point is...I don't really have peeps to go to if I need to, like, just vent or something."

Kal squirmed a little, each consecutive word escaping her making her skin crawl more and more. Admitting this was beyond foreign for her and frankly uncomfortable, but she truly wished to have a companion she could be open with. "Point is...mind if you could be that person for me? I don't wanna, like, pressure you into that or whatever. And I swear I ain't gonna come to you about a bunch of dumb shit. Every once in like a month, tops."

"You need an outlet, you got it, Kal. I'll get you hooked up with a punching bag… And you can tell me every dang thought you need to. And if you don't wanna talk? That's fine, too. I'm told I'm a very good 'chill and binge MacGuyver' friend…"

"Mac-who? Err, nevermind. I'll take that as a good thing." Kal visibly deflated, releasing a breath she had no idea she was even holding. The immediate confirmation on Grant's part was quite the relief; in hindsight, she had no reason to be nervous, but she couldn't help her own emotions. Sometimes.

"So, uh...maybe I'll come talk to you soon-ish? Or whatever. I guess it depends on how my visit will go after this and shit." Her hands drummed busily against her thighs.

"You… you don't know who MacGuyver is? Oh, Kal. Oh… This isn't good." Shaking his head, he set his mug down, "We're gonna have to change that. But yeah… you can call my cell, anytime you need me. For now, I'm gonna stay at the Inn. Just… less hectic there. We should get going… I'll just let Maria know… yeah?"

"Aw, hell," Kal said, her demeanor perking up once more, "Something in my gut telling me I'm about to get thoroughly educated. On like, a celebrity or movie or...whatever it is. And I feel like, I'll probably keep it parked at the Inn too. So we'll be close by!" She seemed particularly pleased at the realization, more than happy to have Grant a short walk away and within the same building.

She nodded. "As long as you're sure, Grant the man. Tell Maria her tea was bomb as fuck for me?"

Nodding he rose and with a laugh, looked back at Kal, "I'll probably phrase it a little differently… So she doesn't hit me with a spatula." He disappeared into the kitchen and didn't return for a few minutes. When he came back out, he had a plate, wrapped in tinfoil, "Cookies. You ready to go?"

"Ahhh hell," Kal exclaimed as she shot to her feet, giving Grant a high five. "You know what's up, my man!" However, she remembered that Maria was still nearby and sucked her lips into her mouth. Oops. "Uh, I mean. Woo-hoo? Yep. That's what I meant. Anyways, ready to roll." With that, she shoved her hands into her pockets and stepped out with Grant, though she couldn't ignore the knots forming in her stomach.

Laughing, he nodded, and headed with her for the door, holding it open for her before following her outside again, "At least we know no matter what happens, and no matter how bad stuff gets, we've got a place for ice cream… and cookies. We are set on the snacks."

"Ugh! You up in here filtering Nirvana into my ear holes, Grant the man." Yes, Kal did indeed say that with a straight face. "Can we start working on a movie list too? I'll make sure to put MacGuy dude on there too."

She continued rambling the entire way to the car, far too excited and nervous for her own good. Soon, they were back inside her Soul Kia, The Beatles blasting through the speakers, and pulling out of the driveway.
 
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