FOR : Selin ! @inlustre . LOCATION : Steps Outside Damon's Apartment . TIMESTAMP : 5:40pm .

" that right? how many times i gotta tell you redstone ain't the type of place to make requests? " hard-edged, but not exactly mean in spirit. even peppers in a low, deep in the chest laugh as he says it. regardless, yes, there's a chilled red wine labelled with renee kelly. a man gets asked enough times he just might bend. repeating himself got a bit old anyway. fingers snag one of the crystal wine glasses and its poured without a word, slid over in the same way. " come on, renee. you really think i should be drinking on the clock? " his own timeclock at that. he's paused his habit, ironically enough. had to keep a clear fucking head as of late, apparently. still, abel can bend a little. pours himself two fingers of whiskey, glances around the bar and then leans against the deep cherry wood. " you never change. tellin' me all the shit going around hasn't effect you yet? "

○    NOW DELIVERING TO . . .    ⏤ @c0nnectdots !

" abel , how many times do i have to tell you that we need to massively improve redstone's wine listing ? " she closes the drink menu with a beleaguered sigh but offers him a bright , renee kelly - esque smile . " tell me you have a nice chilled red hiding away back there for me . " renee will have her one sensible glass , then go home at a sensible hour , because that's what she does : renee kelly is a sensible woman . her eyes glint though , when she looks at abel . " you're not going to make me drink alone , are you ? "

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. "

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. ❞

Just do what I say, Atwood.

THE O.C. | 4x01: “The Avengers”

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. "

" yeah, no, i'm not giving you the satisfaction of some enthusiasm. " what they do give is a shred of amusement ; trickled in there with the lilt of their voice. nadia singh, someone they'd avoided like the fucking plague — a fault not of her own but, well, she should know why. recent years the distance has shrunk, whittled down into something closer to acceptance. mak leans back against the bench with their arms folding across their chest. confusion comes across their face with the concealed concerned. knows her enough it's there, but she's not going to offer it on a silver fucking platter. though at least mak doesn't desire it. it works out in its own way. unfortunately, they both seem to work out in the same space. " hi, nadia, i am absolutely fine. " they're not sure if a haze of thoughts counted as not fine, but they weren't going to go into detail with that. " just lost in thought. the er can be a real fucking drag sometimes, you know? worked an all night and, well ... " waves their hand around. proverbially swatting away the dribble. " so it goes. " they look around at the vacant sidewalk, save a few walkers before they're looking back to nadia. " what're you up to besides bothering me? can never really know with you. "

" the greetings really gone down hill around here . " nadia agrees . she shouldn't be surprised by mak's response . nobody is more defensive and ready to offer brittle words than he is . nadia still has to do the double take sometimes : is it finch , or is it mak ? how can two people look the same yet be so different ? she wonders if anyone ever wonders the same about her and zak . she doubts it . one stayed . one left . there is nothing more to the story . " if i say hello mak nice enough , will you say hello nadia , you're looking beautiful today in your most enthusiastic tone ? " she asks , even though they both already know the answer . nadia offers him a half - smile , a small shrug . " i just wanted to make sure you were ok or whatever . " adding or whatever makes it seem less genuine , less real , less SENTIMENTAL . it's nadia's bread and butter .

as much as ricardo's stunt had send effie into a tizzy ... it has sparked a fire under the register's ass. maybe, in a way, it was what was needed. a new spark that wasn't a body or new missing person— but a spark is all it took to birth a blaze. who else would post an anonymous shot in the dark tip? what the fuck else would he approve to be printed onto the web? the passion of recording may have been rekindled, but the weight of fool's gold could send them all into the pits of hell. in this she isn't immune to the bustle ; greeting a few interns, reviewing a concept piece, scratching about her own ideas ( one, specifically, centered around the elusive wanted man ). a little busy bee. buzzing , buzzing all around until it collides with a windshield— out of the corner of her eye she sees the man before his approach. recognizes him in an instant. local fucking celebrities, the talbots. had the town so deep in their pockets, it's astonishing how they're not sinking into the pits themselves. at least, on paper. politicians, even the small kind, love to put on a show. luckily, effie is of that same blood. not a celebrity, but a woman that could paint herself a portrait to please any painter. forget dragging herself to hell when she could paint it in a fantasy. " nathan talbot. " immediate reply in her heel-turn. meets his stride halfway with the raise of a brow towards a coffee.

" busy, interesting. sure, you could say that. " a hand rests to her hip as she studies him. a nasty habit of hers. looking for the fault ; a misprint. people were their own stories with missing pages and different details ommitted depending on its reader. " well, i've been busy. you've seen the front page, heard the buzz. i know you keep yourself well informed. " she hums, " but not enough to know charolette's also busy. " a slight pinch, but she offers it as a jest. pairs it with a light-hearted chuckle. a pinkish red tint for this particular portrait. despite her own columns about this family, she tends to return a good show. wants to dig some of nathan's fool's gold from his pockets. find the cracks. see what exactly he likes to paint. " but you're in luck, someone else here could use that coffee. " the hand resting on her hip raises to grab the second coffee in his hand. what it is, doesn't matter. this action is both to make a point and quench the crave for caffeine. takes a quick sip of it before she continues her brush strokes. " humor me. play a little pretend interview. " the hand with what's now her coffee gestures around, eyes following with the motion. " what's your thoughts on all this? i can't help myself but to ask the man 'in charge', after all. call me greedy. " another sip and a smirk just behind the brim. " gotta have more to say than just asking how i'm doing, or am i wrong? "

𝖫𝖮𝖢𝖠𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭　:　the register, 12:30pm 𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖳𝖴𝖲　:　closed for effie floyd @c0nnectdots

despite  the  news  that's  been  plaguing  the  town  for  days  now,  one  thing  prevails  in  nathan's  mind:  keeping  up  a  facade.  of  course,  it  isn't  like  he's  being  forced  into  this  charade,  in  fact  his  intentions  are  halfway  to  genuine,  but  playing  pretend  when  everything  else  is  falling  apart  around  him  is  easier  than  having  to  face  the  wreck.  so  here  he  is,  standing  by  the  front  desk  of  the  register  with  two  cups  of  afternoon  coffee,  one  to  give  to  his  beloved  wife  whom  he  is  allegedly  wholly  committed  to  —  except  charlotte  isn't  there,  because  apparently  she  just  left  for  lunch,  so  now  he  looks  like  an  idiot  standing  by  the  entrance  with  two  quickly  cooling  coffees  and  a  mildly  bruised  ego  over  his  failed  attempt  at  being  a  good  husband.  that's  when  he  sees  effie  in  the  corner  of  his  eye,  and  turns  on  his  heel.  “  miss  effie  floyd,  ”  he  calls  out smoothly,  sauntering  over  with  a  picture-perfect  grin  plastered  on  his  face.  “  must  be  a  busy  day  today,  ”  he  remarks,  gesturing  around  him  as  various  employees  walk  in  and  out  and  around  the  bulding.  “  how've  you  been?  there's  been  . . .  quite  a  number  of  interesting  stories  as  of  late.  ”

FOR : ricardo! @inadeqcies . LOCATION : ricardo's rich boy home . TIMESTAMP : 7:35pm .

as if the register wasn't already its own personal shitshow, this might just be its final downfall. questions, questions, questions. plagued with questions. effie on the streets, her business line, her email. it didn't matter if the owner's email was listed anybody who was curious enough would bombard any reporter related to the post. maybe it wasn't the release of the information that pissed effie off, maybe it was just ricardo. no, no, more accurately it was the fact she was cut from the information. woke up the next morning to a post surrounding bronte and daniela and not a single inkling of ricardo's intentions. the release was haphazard at best, a clear indication of a rushed dump. if effie weren't so distressed, she might even be impressed with its half assed effort. it's better than anything she'd imagine ricardo capable of.

instead of the office effie tracks down his personal abode. wasn't hard to look at the records and figure out the address. this is personal, so she's going to make it personal in his own home. three continuous knocks against the door until it's opened. there's a complaint on ricardo's lips as he opens the door. it goes in one ear and right out the other as she shoves in, hands thrown up.

" i didn't know you had it in you! really, i didn't. " a certain passion ignites in her voice, " but what never fails to show is your absolute arrogance, ricardo. you know how many people are trying to get an insiders scoop from me? some extra juicy bits? giving me some bogus gossip column shit? i can't even say a word because ... oh, i don't know anything! care to lift the veil for me? such as where the hell this daytime drama incident came from? and if you even crosscheck your source? "

" 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?”