FOR : Ricardo! @inadeqcies . LOCATION : Ricardo's Rich Boy Home . TIMESTAMP : 7:35pm .

damon seems to lose some tension in their shoulders when they realize its hana. it emulates in the heavy sigh they give, hands dropping to their sides like a ton of bricks. " fuck ... hi, han. still got myself all worked up — you'd probably knock me on my ass anyway. " they're surprised they weren't knocked more on their ass, but luckily with the fight being broken up, well, wasn't a lot of time for that. one thing is for sure their head is pounding and the outside, loud chattering and whispers definitely isn't helping them.

at the offer, damon sounds a heavy groan. " god, yes, get me outta here. what i was trying to do in the first place. but, you know, you saw how that went. " shoulders deflate as they sink down the doorway of the bathroom. definitely isn't considering anyone else stuck behind them or trying to get in. centers in on hana for a moment, finding it the best way to keep grasp of their focus. " i think i've had enough law - breaks to steal the first aide kit. i think if you get me to the street that'd be more than enough. walk of shame myself home. unless you wanna make sure i don't jump anyone else. "

☾ one moment, she's downing waters at the bar in an attempt to not walk home plastered with an apparent killer on the loose. her eyes remain on the phone, texts becoming more legible but less frequent with every passing second. the next, an alarmingly bad fight breaks out in the middle of the bar crowd. nosy as ever, hana managed to clamber to a vantage point (kneeling on her barstool), only to spot damon breaking away from the fight. she gapes for a moment as her brain tries to catch up to the scene in front of her.

she tries to trail after the other, coming to a halt at the bathroom door — it would maybe cross a line to follow someone into the bathroom uninvited, even if they were friends. so hana waits. maybe a bit too close, because here comes damon directly into her shoulder. ❝ whoooa, calm down. ❞ she says, mirroring the way their hands go up in surrender.

❝ if you were trying to fight me, i'd take lots of offense. just so you know. ❞ she tries to joke, but she does pout a bit when she looks up at them. ❝ wow. talk about ouch. that must've been— intense. do ya want me to steal a first - aid kit from behind the bar ? or like, get you outta here. whichever. ❞

" bourbon. " and with her outburst, effie tries her damndest to reign it in. end of the day : the register wasn't under her thumb and name. frankly, she wasn't sure if was something she'd ever thought of. sure, it would run better that way. thinks a paper boy off the street might have more tact than ricardo, but at the end of the day ... she'd probably reject it. pass it off to kennedy who, frankly, could benefit more than it. maybe they'd be able to communicate better together, too.

she does almost stomp to the kitchen, anger simmering from her voice and presenting only in her body. " look. your register, your choice. however ... " hands raise to run down her cheeks and rest against her own chin. " playing games doesn't get you anything but tangled into a nasty little web, ricardo. so, you don't even know who sent those to you? somebody and you. those are great fucking sources. forget about wikipedia. " and maybe that's what is bringing in the sting of betrayal. trusting an anonymous source with a pretty little photo than his own employees. she waits until she has her drink to continue and damn near downs it in one go.

" you couldn't even tell me? kennedy? dammit, think a little! it's nice to see you running your mouth on paper instead of just air, but ... the hell am i suppose to do with this? " vaguely gestures out into the air, leaning her elbows against the counter. maybe she's ... worried, in her own way. if ricardo believes this, real or not, what else is going to believe? will he go down a wild goosechase and not come back? trip over his own feet, post the wrong sort of hot gossip? " look. i'm just asking for a bit of trust, ricardo. i know damn well i won't get any more of your respect, but at least your trust. games aren't meant to be played alone. "

" oh for fucks sake - " he cuts himself off because this is really getting ridiculous now . is there anywhere he won't be accosted ? silently , he reminds himself to get himself a maid or something , so they can get yelled at in his place perhaps . as soon as ricardo sees effie , he knows its game over . kennedy and effie were two of the main people he was vaguely concerned about . he almost cares . he almost wishes he was better . ricardo is a puzzle filled with almosts .

EFFIE MOVES WITH MORE ANIMATION THAN HE'S SEEN BEFORE . she's usually calm and collected . the ice to kennedy's fire . it's a testament to how clearly she thinks he's fucked up . " the photo isn't fake . " he says . " as for sources . well . they're mainly me at the moment , and i trust me . " he shrugs , a purposeful picture of BLASÉ . " everyone's so fucking interested in the story . nobody seems to give a shit about the more important thing : somebody gave this to me . right on my desk . they WANTED it on the register , effie . you of all people should be seeing the bigger picture here . this is a game , and i'm playing the part handed to me . someone knows something and wants to let everyone else know it, too . ABOUT DANIELA . ABOUT BRONTE . " he folds his arms over his chest , eyeing her . he can't lie : she looks really hot . " do you want a wine or bourbon while you yell at me ? you can continue in the kitchen . "

FOR : open, come on in ! LOCATION : redstone bathroom ( or just coming out of it for accessibility ) TIMESTAMP : 2:43am

" great fucking job, damon. hilarious, really ! why not start a fight on the night someone's fucking murdered. genius ! " loud nonsense from a split - opened mouth. they're not speaking to anyone in particular, but their own reflection in the dirty mirror. they're not sure how bad they look, but they're definitely going to feel it in the morning. head, swimming. knuckles, aching. " gonna have a blackeye ... christ. " they smack their own face just to feel the sting. spring themselves from the disorientation of adrenaline and mixture of alcohol.

this is their cue to stop mulling and find a place to sit until the crowd settles down. slip away with an opening. otherwise, who could say they wouldn't start another fight? with their unsteady movements ... a threat of this already appears. shoulders knock into someone and they're immediately scrambling back like a wild animal. " shit — " their hands move in a sporadic manner of surrender. palms up, moving around in a circle in front of them. " sorry. i'm sorry — not trying to start anything else. swear it. "

Okay maybe mama did raise a fool

FOR : open, come take a seat! LOCATION : sitting at a bench, just away from the party's warehouse TIMESTAMP : aprox 1:04am.

" talk about ... a mess, huh ? " effie says to the person lingering next to her stoop. since the warehouse began to clear and the music cutting with the announcement to evacuate ... she's had a cigarette between her fingers. another lost soul to join the bloody past of red creek. she's been here long enough, around for many a halloween, to know what the boogeyman mask represented. some were mindful, some were distasteful. the common denominator : all were aware. and that awareness ... was coming back to the forefront. and the hype about the town's potential ghost reviving beginning to surface into rattling rumors. it all comes full circle, doesn't it ?

the journalist's soul in her is alit in secret. the classic questions a buzz. how she'd write it, if she should even fathom to ask their friends or be more tasteful. questions and questions, ideas and ideas. however, she knows she'll let the hype die before typing away at her encrypted laptop. a fiend for knowledge, yes, but never crass. too many journalists out there were monsters after all. she'd never stoop so low as to disrespect someone like the others. effie's expression to the other isn't as panicked as it should be. remorseful, yes. scared, no. a sigh sounds from her lips with another puff of smoke. she offers a wry smile. " think its safe to walk alone ? not enough details out yet to know if it's, you know, smart to. "

" did something happen ... " she remembers the split of her dress in an instant. thin, sutured with a quick pin stolen from the bar. " oh, that. ugh, got it caught on someone's spikey belt. i think. " an exasperated sigh. " and you say you can't get anything past me ... look at you. " on the contrary, effie hasn't drank yet. she tries to stray away from the habit. finds being the role of the sober friend at the party to be more fulfilling. though, really, who is she to pass up the offer? the atmosphere here is different than the office, kennedy seems to feel lighter. she'll take it. another show of her good intent in picking at her pieces ; the small criticism. if effie thinks differently of kennedy she'd never voice it unless it becomes a necessity. it hasn't yet.

" my poison is usually a warm blanket and wine at home. i'm kind of a fish out of water here. " she grasps kennedy's hands in a steadying gesture, coaxes her to sway with the beat just a bit. " think ... i'll go with the classic whiskey sour though. classy. " she grasps kennedy's hands in a steadying gesture, coaxes her to sway with the beat just a bit. " but i think ... i'll go with the simple whiskey sour though. real classy. " and that's her personal cue to pull their sway towards the bar. " gotta say, didn't think this was your scene. though i guess i sold you too short as a new york girl, huh ? "

“did something happen today?” they ask, never missing an opportunity to be nosy. kennedy isn't sure why they invited efiie out to dance. they never made much of a habit to hang out with another journalist back in new york. maybe they were growing soft. a realization they will no doubt nurse along with a headache tomorrow morning at the rate they are going. that’s a problem for later though. right now? everything is good. the music is good, the ambiance is good, kennedy is feeling good, effie is looking good. it’s all good! effie’s observation earns chuckle from kennedy. “i can’t get anything past you, can i? okay — i might have a bit of a head start on you.” they admit, looking down at their hands for a moment before flashing her a rare, mischievous grin. “so let’s get you caught up! what’s your poison?” 

(  laz alonso  .  cis male  .  he/him  )  .    ⸻  abel d'angelo  ,  a  fifty year old  ,  has  survived  another  day  in  red  creek  where  they  have lived  for thirty-four years  .  the  catalyst  is  known  for  being  passionate  and  argumentative  and  is  often  associated  with  old leather jackets stained with years of wear and grime ; an old motorcycle's association stitched into the back ; despite its age it looks well loved and never free from heavy shoulders / large hearts doesn't always mean soft ; something that beats so strongly has to have grit to it, it has to be able to bear burdens and that's exactly what you're known for / looking behind you is never going to get you anywhere, the only place to go is forward ; keep your eyes forward or lose them to the blinding lights of the past.  .  in  a  small  town  where  they  work  as  co-owner of redstone bar word  travels  fast  .  it’s  hard  to  keep  a  secret  ,  and  it  looks  like  the  boogeyman  knows  that [ LOUD SCREECH OF TIRES ]

full name: abel joseph d'angelo. nickname(s): angel, abe. age: fifty. zodiac sun sign: taurus. birth date: may 2nd. gender & orientation: cis man, he + him & demisexual. place of birth: detroit, michigan. occupation: co-owner of redstone bar, rider with the steel wings motorcycle gang club. familial ties: spouse of 28 years ( wc tba ), two children ( wcs tba ), younger sibling ( wc tba ). height: 6'0".

CHARACTER INSPOS : jax teller ( sons of anarchy ), luke cage ( marvel ), corvo attano ( dishonored ), herc hansen ( pacific rim ).

FAST FACTS ⸻

was born in detriot, michigan, but due to abel's uncle needing to retire from ownership of the redstone bar, the family moved into red creek when abel was 16 years old. it was a relatively easy adjustment for abel, since they found themselves drawn to adventuring. as a teen abel was a bit rowdy, getting into trouble for all of the right reasons. apart of wrestling in his high school years really made him the wrong kid to let you see shoving someone into a locker or determining someone as "lesser".

often hung around redstone prior to being 18, working under the table and helping his dad with random tasks. overall, they were pretty friendly growing up in a social setting. during his time working for his father and living in red creek, eventually he briefly dated choi dasom for a total of 2 months before breaking it off. it wasn't long after their breakup that dasom went missing, making abel and his new relationship with his current spouse a bit of a rumor factory. it eventually died out once he asserted himself as uninvolved, but the thought still may remain in old red creek's residents minds. it didn't help he was a known close friend of casimir's, the charismatic musician later murdered. abel seemed to take this extremely personal and almost shut himself off from getting that close to anyone else for the entirety of the string of disappearances and murders.

an active community member who tries his damndest to be involved despite his reclusive behavior. like his father before him, he's a man of community. such is why redstone is open place to be with comedy nights still upheld, the live band, and frequent pitstops for motorcycle gangs.

sometime in the last 10 years, abel's interest in motorcycles lead him to becoming a tertiary member of a motorcyclist group called the steel wings. occasionally he will ride with them and be gone for a span of 2 months, hence his decision to acquire a co-owner for redstone bar which became zakaria singh. nonetheless, there are times he can't stand to be within the walls he once stood beside long gone friends. however, there are times you'll catch him bartending and chatting in order to keep his face and stay involved with his patrons. he likes to know what is going on and remain his own bouncer in times where shit gets too messy.

a family man above all else. despite disagreements and roadbumps with his fast marriage to [TBA], all roads lead back to family. when it comes to decisions, there is always a thought about his spouse and children present. despite everything he is a warmhearted man and this extends to those who stick around him or become regulars.

hobbies include: mechanic tinkering, boxing, morning jogs, motorcycling, life-long standup comedy enjoyer.

POTENTIAL FOR MORE TBA.

lets get one thing straight: damon hasn't been in a fight since the yesteryears. younger, freshly out of high school damon ... boy did they have a mouth. as much as they could swindle something to go their way, get a discount at a local business they could also say the wrong shit at the wrong time. nowadays, they don't really bother with the adrenaline of saying the wrong thing. however, they'd been put in the wrong place at the wrong fucking time. tension in the room, tension on the streets. the cord was bound to snap eventually. unfortunately, it's on the pop idol taking a damn vacation. " the fuck is wrong with me? the fuck is wrong with you?! " spat after the punch to the cheek — that's gonna bruise later, great — hands frantic to get some sort of leverage. their hands twist into the shirt, but find there's nothing they could do to get the underhand. great, now i have to pretend to be some scrappy street kid, they think. arms flail and lift to press wrists into the elbows, attempt to weaken the grasp and get hajun into a grapple. " aaaaaaallll these fuckin' people in here, and you're pushing around? wrong fucking place, wrong guy. " at this point they're attempting to shove him towards the bar. legs knocking, knees uncomfortably bend. doesn't help that hajun's got the height on damon nonetheless the build. " least you could do is apologize, but you look like you wanna keep this going, huh? " needling ... proooobbbbably not their finest look.

who thought drinking so much was a good idea? him apparently. he's never lost his footing several times and with the amount of intoxication, closeness, and the lack of being able to breathe... it feels like he's being crushed. the loud chatter fades out into screams of fans and the constant grinding of bodies feels like hands grabbing, pawing at him. he hears vague sounds of his name ( or, at least, he thinks ) and the sounds bleeding all into one. it merges into obnoxious, screeching voices trying to get his attention or inappropriate grabbing. the lack of conscience doesn't help at all in this situation, actually feeling helpless and hopeless in this situation. the breath is getting trapped in his lungs and he's getting light - headed, so much that when he finally goes to leave, no one will move the fuck out of the way. move, move, move! apologies could come later but what mattered was him and him alone, even if he does unconsciously shove shove someone. better than getting crushed in his bar.

except that wasn't a good idea and being crushed to death actually sounded a lot better because then the next thing he knew, he's getting socked right in the jaw. the voice sounded far, but it was hard to register when this man was right in front of him. " what the hell— " living in visions or not, that brought him out of his stupor for sure. that's right, he's not performing or getting off a flight with ravaging fans waiting by with paparazzi, he's just in the bar... no where else. however, his ears ring loudly, feeling the aching pain settling in, and he knows there's going to be a blossoming bruise to appear later— and as far as he sees it, he's not the problem. he may be completely unaware of his actions prior but well, he's aware now. " what the fuck is wrong with you?! " clammy hands reach forward to grab at his shirt and pulls to land his own solid punch right into damon's cheek.

right, kieran worked at the hospital in the confines of the mortuary. fitting. a worn in boot. but to paint this conversation into scenery it'd be something of its own autopsy. steady hand of a scalpel, careful examination, but something is just ... missing. a rib, maybe a vital organ. something is missing. its in the kieran answers clear and decisively paired with little twitches of his mouth. subtleties, but constructive. the art filing causations and inconsistencies into the report. ( see, damon is also watching them ; honoring that felinic look of theirs but they're not to point it out unlike kieran. ) corner of his lips twitches, the corner of theirs rise in a smirk. " and you hang at cemeteries when you're drunk. yeah, i'll keep that tidbit in mind. c'mon you seemed like you had some fun, maybe i should've stuck around for the hangover. " it's a jest, but he wonders vaguely what plot of dirt if any kieran sunk at.

space doesn't grow, but remains the same with damon leaning into kieran's atmosphere. they wouldn't mark it up as feeling melancholic, but something is dreary about it. comparable to walking into a locked room where you're not suppose to be — the drift of your fingers over a dusted old journal. kieran speaks of how mysterious damon is as if he's a book. maybe they are the book in that locked room. kieran the seeker, the fingers knocking off dust. yeah, that's more accurate. eyes scan his face noticeably only flickering in a break to a scuttling piece of newspaper. they settle right back on him after that second. " knowing people. knowing what they're feeling. and are you an open book, kieran talbot? it's only fair to be. if you're trying to read any of my text. " another deflection, but it comes with an air of honesty. heavy, damn near suffocating. if this was some sort of game, another pin in his corkboard ... maybe damon would start caring about the trials and tribulations coming into good ol' dead creek.

what's terrifying more than any potential knife in kieran's or damon's, they do carry a butterfly knife pocket is that— he's right. getting to know damon was a maze of his own design ; dead ends at nearly every corner, multiple forks and circles. calculated in a way that, yeah, they can understand the suspicion towards them. they could have just answered 'no' and left it, but they ushered kieran to take a left turn instead of towards the maze's exit. hums when he leans closer, head canting slightly up to make up for the difference in height. would never admit it put him on some sort of edge how he could leer over them. what sort of edge, too, would remain unspoken. " you know. i'd almost love to see you try, kier. opening me up like those lil' cadavers. " challenges because that is what's natural. nonfictitious. " gives me something to look over my shoulder for. " it's a smooth drawl, a low whisper of upping whatever ante. " cause, hey, maybe you're the one whose really holding the knife. yeah ... yeah, that'd be a twist, right? get to know me in a way that's satisfying enough to all your little questions and whatever else, fucking theories, and then. " lifts two fingers and juts them forward. almost jabs them into kieran's side. almost. they hang in the air just like whatever tension is building. " sink! goes the butcher's knife. "

arm falls from the buildings bricks and opts to cross both of them over his chest. they couldn't keep the serious tone up for long, finding it a bit ... stifling. therefore, it breaks. smile split across their lip and gaze cast towards the ground as their head shakes. shoulders shake, laughter bubbling from the chest. " jesus, kieran. you're really something fucking else, hah? " slow trail of their eyes to that face, laze of the split smile still there. " could've just said i'm spooky. save the melodramatics. lighten up, talbot boy. asking that type of question to all your contacts ... that damn question might be the last. and that's just sad for your type. "

ꜜ ﹙ ⚰️  ﹚ ﹕ there   was   always   a   weight   to   the   questions   kieran   asked⸻   settling   thick   in   the   air   between   him   and   damon,   distorting   everything   around   them.   it   wasn't   really   just   about   the   words   themselves,   but   the   intent   behind   them.   a   curiosity.   a   peculiar   interest   he   wasn't   exactly   sure   what   to   do   with.   maybe   it   had   something   to   do   with   that   bold   letter   tattooed   on   damon's   collarbone.   or   maybe   it   was   the   way   kieran   could   just   stare   into   those   cat   eyes   and   let   the   seconds   go   by.   but   asking   someone   if   they   had   killed   another   person   wasn't   something   he   could   ever   take   back   ﹕   it   lingered,   like   filth.   truth,   however,   never   arrived   without   a   cost.   it   dragged   things   up   from   the   depths,   debris   and   wreckage   tangled   in   its   nets.   you   could   never   find   it   clean,   and   you   surely   could   never   pursue   it   without   getting   dirty.   kieran   didn’t   believe   damon   killed   alaina   price—   not   really.   but   he   still   wanted   to   get   to   know   him.   and   there   were   many   truths   you   could   learn   about   someone   from   the   way   they   answered   a   question   they   didn't   have   time   to   prepare   for.

“   i   already   know   what   she   was   killed   with.   thierry   gore   and   i   conducted   her   autopsy.   ” said   matter-of-fact,   head   canted   slightly   as   he   studied   damon,   listening   to   their   words,   tracking   the   subtle   shifts   in   his   expression   and   posture,   gaze   piercing   but   not   exactly   cruel.   and   there   he   heard   the   first   truth⸻    damon   del   valle   was   facetious,   deflected   with   mockery,   dodging   what   should   be   an   easy   (   albeit   a   little   insulting   )   yes-or-no   question   with   inquiries   of   his   own.   it   almost   made   kieran   smile,   could   see   why   finch   would   get   along   with   damon   in   this   very   moment     ﹕     both   cut   from   the   same   flippant   cloth.   but   he   kept   a   straight   face,   low   sigh   slipping   past   his   lips.    “    you   got   me   wasted   ...   and   next   thing   i   know,   i   was   walking   down   the   road   to   the   cemetery   with   the   worst   headache   i've   ever   had.   don't   think   i'll   be   the   guy   to   clear   your   name   if   anyone   else   accuses   you,   damon.   ”    a   quiet   chuckle,   pondering   about   the   question   and   the   criteria,   all   whilst   he   realized   the   second   truth   about   damon   del   valle from this exchange⸻    they   liked   to   muddy   the   water,   to   keeps   people   guessing,   to   keep   themself   feeling   untouchable.   and   kieran   had   done   the   same,   and   it   was   fine   for   most   things,   but   not   this.   not   in   a   murder   investigation.   and   certainly   not   against   kieran's   stubborn   interest in wayward minds.    “    i   like   knowing   people,   damon.   i   want   to   know   what   they're   thinking   about.   how   they're   feeling.   their   deepest   darkest   secrets.   and   you'll   be   surprised   to   know   just   how   transparent   most   people   are.   all   the   ways   they   give   themselves   away.   in   the   way   they   speak,   in   how   they   carry   themselves.   and   seeing   those   things   is   how   i   take   people   off   my   suspect   list.    ”    his   words   came   slow   and   deliberate,   a   faint   curl   tugging   at   the   corner   of   his   mouth,   not   quite   a   smile,   more   like   a   reflex   he   hadn't   decided   to   suppress.   “   but   not   you.   you're   real   good   at   makin'   people   feel   close   to   you   while   giving   nothing.   talking   and   talking   and   talking   and   still   say   nothing   at   all.   and   that's   a   little   terrifying   when   you're   trying   to   find   a   killer.    ”     he   let   the   silence   stretch,   but   only   for   a   moment,   didn't   want   to   give   damon   too   much   room   to   deflect,   to   sidestep   the   weight   of   what   was   hanging   between   them.   and   kieran   leaned   his   body   toward   damon   slightly as he   whispered     ﹕      “   but   i   pay   close   attention.   don't   worry,   i'll   figure   you   out.   ”     

( samuel larsen . masc nonbinary . they / he ) . ⸻ damon del valle , a thirty year old , has survived another day in red creek where they have lived for their entire life . the charlatan is known for being charismatic and factitious and is often associated with always  having  a  smile  on  your  face  ,  but  it  doesn't  seem  to  be  good  natured  /  always  seems  to   have   something   tucked  behind  that   smile   that's   mischievous  ,   knowing  everyone   doesn't  actually  meaning  knowing  who  they  are  and   the  same  goes  for  you  …  maybe  everybody  knows   your  name  ,   but  who  are  you  really  ,  charisma   gets   you  far   and   you  know  it  and  thinks  it  saves  your  face . in a small town where they work as a tattoo artist at devil’s ink word travels fast . it’s hard to keep a secret , and it looks like the boogeyman knows that  [ THIS PAGE APPEARS TO HAVE BEEN BURNT ] .

full name: damon del valle. nickname(s): n/a, but you can try. age: thirty. zodiac sun sign: scorpio. birth date: october 27th. gender & orientation: masc nonbinary, they + he & bisexual. place of birth: red creek, michigan. occupation(s): tattoo artist at devil's ink , various other sidegigs. familial ties: single mother, only child and it shows. height: 6'0".

CHARACTER INSPOS : sand ( only friends ), zack taylor ( power rangers 2017 ), todd chavez ( bojack horseman ), nick miller ( new girl ), joel ( santa clarita diet ), kon el ( dc )

FAST FACTS ⸻

damon is a longterm resident of red creek and it shows and anyone who was in their graduating class remembers them for his antics. classical rowdy teenager into disaster of an adult, but they're not a terrible personal believe it or not! extremely approachable, can chat anybody up at a bar ... they seem to be everybody's friend. however, nobody seems to really know who they are at their core.

close with their mother and still frequents her two - bedroom home. above all else, their mom is their world. growing up it was just the two of them and despite his wild behavior ... he does his best to keep from disappointing her or letting her figure out what he does in his freetime.

a tattoo artist, but that isn't his only job. damon has been seen working at auto shops, running ubers and doordash, volunteer work. it seems they're always doing something for quick cash. most people just assume they're money - driven, but there's always a reason for everything isn't there?

has a variety of tattoos and piercings, too many to count actually. started getting them in their senior year of highschool and it became a right of passage for their main passion of tattooing. at the end of the day, they're a creative soul and find tattooing to be the easiest way to express their creativity and share it with others. their creativity also shows through eccentric style and their knack for putting on makeup.