Mr. Bernard

I'm only a janitor.

[bernardnewhart-blog]

Tis The Season For A Reunion || Woody and Bernard

[bernardnewhart-blog]

pridewoodrow‌:

It made sense. 

The coincidence of the whole situation was a little hard for him to grasp, though. How did this man from New York and his work associate/roommate happen to be living in the same town as him who just so happened to know someone who had caught word that Laura was trying to reach him. 

He guessed it was the same odds that Jessie would show up in town. Just as this town sent them all in to increasingly worse nightmare versions of their reality. Woody was slowly learning that he couldn’t question shit like this too intensely otherwise he would lose his mind trying to understand this town for what it was. 

“Yeah, I mean,” he chuckled, rubbing a hand under his jaw and up over his cheek, “I can see where you’d think of me.”

His chest tightened as question after question began to pile up now that Newhart had gone and confirmed for him that this was his Laura. Well, not his Laura. She had never been his, really. The Laura that he knew, that had changed his life basically, and was the reason he was sitting there. Why had she taken his last name? Probably to have a better chance at getting a hold of him. Why was she trying to contact him? To yell at him most likely. To get some kind of closure by telling him how awful he had made her life. 

He didn’t want to hear that, not when he already knew but…he did want to know if she was alright. 

“I’m sorry, though, I don’t have any family left. I don’t know anyone by that name” he said. “Maybe I could help, though, did she say why she wanted to talk?” 

This man was good. Almost too good. Bernard felt as though he was significantly outmatched here. Like he needed to ask the Sheriff to hold on a minute while he called Miss Bianca to come tag him out and watch as she got the job done. It figured that Bernard couldn’t even do something so simple as telling someone something without blowing their cover. All he wanted to do in that moment was lay it all out there in order to get the Sheriff to understand.

But that was the easy way out, and that wasn’t what the RAS did. The RAS didn’t do things because they were easy, they did them because they wanted to help people who couldn’t help themselves. Bernard was just going to have to suck it up and play the game that the Sheriff had set out in front of them. 

Bernard felt bad for him, anyhow. Feeling like he couldn’t share anything, like he had to hid whoever this Laura was from everyone. “I don’t have any family left,” he had said, and Bernard couldn’t imagine. And if Laura, whoever she may be or not be, was someone close to the Sheriff then Bernard was going to see to it that he got all the information Sheriff Pride was trying to ask discreetly.

“Um, well, I-I believe she just...she wanted to know wh-where and how you were, or er whoever sh-she was trying to contact, was do-doing,” Bernard said with a shrug. “N-nothing specific. Just that she uh, that she wan-wanted to speak with you.” 

[delmarisa]

(Shell)fishy Business / open

[bernardnewhart-blog]

delmarisa‌:

“That’s an interesting name, I’ve never heard it before. It’s not to meet you, Bernard!” Marisa chirped, following after him. 

Oh, she liked him. He was very kind. That meant they were most certainly going to be friends, yep! He didn’t have a chooooice, Marisa was claiming him as her first human.

“You’re nice Mr. Bernard, I think I’m going to like living in the same town as you.”

He didn’t quite know if that was a compliment or not but all he could think was that if he was the first Bernard this woman had ever met he hoped he didn’t skew her views of Bernard’s everywhere. 

“Oh, uh, well, th-thank...thank you,” he said, turning his head to smile at her with appreciation. That was a very nice thing to say considering they had just met. 

“I hope you like it h-here,” Bernard continued. “Uh, did you move for work or-or for um...or because of fam-family? Or...any reason in-in particular?” 

[bernardnewhart-blog]

Tis The Season For A Reunion || Woody and Bernard

[bernardnewhart-blog]

pridewoodrow‌:

There was a few seconds where Woody was still living in the world he had created here in Swynlake. Where all he had here was a house, a broken heart trying to mend itself back together, a badge, and a Deputy who made his life harder than need be. For a few seconds, as Newhart spoke about his roommate and colleague, Woody was still okay living in his ignorance of the situation. 

All that changed when he said the name Laura accompanied with his last name.

Suddenly it was like he was having one of his nightmares. The one where he would be sitting in this office and then smoke would crawl in from under the door and he could hear the terrified shouts from outside but he couldn’t get the door open and-.

He cleared his throat, shifting slightly in his seat as his eyebrows furrowed together slightly. There was no large change in his body language or facial expression, only a hint of confusion played out. Woody was good at hiding his emotions, he had to be when he was sitting across from a criminal confessing to their crimes that would make anyone’s stomach flip, when he was standing at a crime scene that no one should have to witness. 

It could have been a coincidence. It could have been anyone with the name Laura and his last name. Surely there were plenty of Pride’s out there in the world, and Laura was a popular girls name. It could have been anyone. 

“No. No, I don’t think so,” he said, accompanied by a little shrug. “Why?” 

That wasn’t the answer he had been looking for. 

At all. 

That was disappointing. Both due to his own curiosity about Sheriff Pride’s relationship to the girl and his want to do well on this mission. Bernard knew the man had to be lying, but as he looked for the tells Miss Bianca had taught him to search for, he couldn’t identify any. 

Either Bernard needed a lot more practice (true anyways,) or Sheriff Pride had the poker face everyone dreamed to achieve in their life. Which, if he were being honest, for someone in his position of power that was quite scary to think about. 

But, as it was, the mission was to simply deliver a message. He couldn’t reveal who they were in order to point his finger and say, “Ha! Gotchya! I know you’re lying!” The rest would be have to be determined by the Sheriff himself. So if he said he didn’t know Laura Pride then he didn’t know Laura Pride and Bernard would report that back to the RAS who would take it from there. 

“Okay,” Bernard said simply. “We-, or er, Miss Bianca’s c-client said that this-this Laura Pride was trying to...she was trying t-to reach a Woodrow Pride. From uh, from Texas. Th-they said when she tried to um, tried to contact him a-at his last kn-known location that he...wasn’t there.” 

He smiled then gestured towards the Sheriff with one hand, “S-so you can see where we...why we thought of you.” 

[bernardnewhart-blog]

Tis The Season For A Reunion || Woody and Bernard

[bernardnewhart-blog]

pridewoodrow‌:

Newhart seemed to be in better shape since the last time he’d spoken with him. Hopefully that was due to the progress made on the Clearwater case. Or because of the holiday season. Woody could see the appeal, but to him December was just another month. Only filled with more lights, colder winds, and a harder schedule to work out as people put in for time off. 

He didn’t really know what this meeting could be about, he’d wracked his brain on his trip over from his office but came up with nothing. A thank you, maybe? Though he doubted it. It wasn’t as if he and Lightyear had done anything of monumental standards, and he didn’t need the thanks. He’d prefer if people didn’t thank him at all, or think on him. If he did his job right then that meant people wouldn’t even being paying attention to him as they would have no reason to, good or bad. 

“Of course,” Woody agreed, he waved Newhart forwards to follow him. “We can talk back in my office.” 

He turned back, looking at Shera to ask her if she would mind opening the door again, but the clicking sound of the locks cut him off. Woody smiled and nodded his thank you as he pulled the door open and ushered Newhart through. 

The walk through the main office to Woody’s own was short, and then they were inside he shut the door behind them. When the background noises stopped due to the barrier he sighed and walked around to sit down behind his desk, motioning to the chairs in the front for Newhart to take a seat. 

“What can I do for you, Mr. Newhart?” he asked, folding his arms on the desk top. 

Woosh, wasn’t that a relief. He’d agreed! Not he just...had to do the hard part. Great. 

No, he told himself, no, he could do this. He was just talking to the man, after all, giving him some information. Nothing wild. He wasn’t trying to get into the computer system or take some file or pick a fight with anyone. All he had to do was tell him that this Laura Pride was looking for him, give him the information to contact her, and then walk out without spilling the beans. 

He could do this. 

Bernard followed Sheriff Pride through the station, smiling when he made eye contact with the other officers in the building. He received nods and smiles in return. 

They entered the man’s office, Bernard taking a second to look around to try and identify any personal photos or something that might show Laura’s presence in the man’s life. Only there was nothing. No personal touches at all around the office which was...well Bernard would say it; It was weird. Then again, he was an orphan, wasn’t he. But hadn’t he been dating someone? Hadn’t someone gifted him an ugly paper weight at one point in his life? 

He shrugged off his coat, placing it over the back of one of the chairs, and sat down in it to face Sheriff Pride. Then, there it was. The starter question that would give him the opening he needed to just rip the band aid off. Okay! 

“Well, you see..,” Bernard huffed, his nerves making him do it, and pushed up his glasses even though they were in place. Nervous habit. “You...you know Ms. Bianca of-of course. W-we work for...or, um, she knows a-a-a lot of people th-through work. And, uh, well one of those...one of her clients called us recently. Th-they live in America, in...in California. And they told us that they know of someone looking...looking for...well, looking for y-you, actually. Do y-you know a uh, a-a Laura Pride?” 

[delmarisa]

(Shell)fishy Business / open

[bernardnewhart-blog]

delmarisa‌:

Marisa hummed at the nice man and pouted as she tilted her head from side to side, considering her answer. She didn’t want to interrupt his day, but…

She also didn’t know how to get anywhere in this town.

“I- I’ve passed that streetlight, the bent one, three times all from different angles. I am hopelessly lost and would only get more lost.” Navigating was much easier in the water, dammit.

“You’d be my hero, Mr…? I’m Marisa!”

Bernard chuckled airily, and nodded. He knew what she meant because even though this town was small and even though he had navigated through New York for years, he had also had a hard time trying to figure out right from left here. 

“Newhart,” Bernard said, pulling his hand from his jacket pocket to offer to her. “Or, er, Bernard. Bernard Newhart. But Ber-Bernard is, uh, is fine. It’s n-nice to meet y-you, Marisa.” 

He smiled, and then motioned towards the way of the O’Hares, “It’s j-just this way.”

[bernardnewhart-blog]

Tis The Season For A Reunion || Woody and Bernard

[bernardnewhart-blog]

pridewoodrow‌:

The thing about being Sheriff was that he was never going to be able to break. He could crack, allowing them to spider further across the surface until there was nothing smooth left and there was no way to fix it back to the way it was. He didn’t care what people said about him, but he was not going to give them any ammo to shoot back at him. He stepped carefully, he thought before he spoke for the public to hear, and he tried his best to not be someone people were scared to have in a seat of power. Some guy out of the US? And Texas no less? Who could trust him? Surely he didn’t know what he was doing as the Sheriff of a town with magicks and magical happenings. 

People were people, though. No matter if they could fly, no matter if they could pull sadness out from some poor kids frown in order to get them to smile again, and no matter if they could turn into an animal, or several different kinds. People would always be people, and Woody knew people. He always had. He’d had a slip in his confidence on that factor a few years ago, but it had been repaired in due time. Swynlake had given that back to him. 

He went into work that day not knowing would be waiting for him, and that was probably for the best as he wouldn’t have come in should he have. Ignorance is bliss, as they say. 

It had been well into his shift when the little light on his phone signaled that Shera had dialed him. He set down the file he had been reading, someone’s holiday decorations had been reported as stolen, and picked up the receiver before punching the button.

“Hello, what can I do for you?” he asked, keeping his tone light. 

“Woody, there’s someone here asking to speak to you. Mr. Newheart,” she said. “From the Clearwater case?” 

“Yeah,” he said. The neighbor. The roommate to the aunt. “Is it about the case?”

“I don’t know, he wouldn’t tell me what it was about, just that he wanted to speak to you,” she said, and she could hear the concern in her voice.  

“Alright, well,” he looked at the clock, then down at the file, “I’ll be there in a second. Thank you.”

“No problem,” she replied and hung up. Woody placed the receiver back while he stood. He quickly made his way out of his office and across the station until he reached the front lobby. He cast a look Shera’s way and giving her a slight nod and then smiled upon seeing Newhart again. 

“Hi, Mr. Newhart,” he greeted, “you wanted to speak with me?” 

Bernard looked around the little waiting area while the receptionist spoke on the phone. He assumed it was the Sheriff and not some other officer coming to kick him out on the curb but Bernard liked to worry for no other reason than to worry, so he worried that he wasn’t going to be able to see the Sheriff which would make this whole mission of his a failure before he even began. 

All that was put to rest though as the Sheriff came waltzing out from behind the doors with his long legs and shaggy hair and large smile. Bernard wondered, suddenly, why someone so kind looking and so young was in this job. Not that he didn’t think Sheriff Pride was qualified but more like he was curious as to how he got here. He was American, Bernard knew that from the last time they spoke over Peach’s murder when he’d come to his and Bianca’s apartment to talk. 

How’d he get here? Why’d he get into law enforcement? Why’d he take this job? Where did Laura fit into all of this? Her last name was the same, Pride, so Bernard had only assumed that they were related somehow. But, because Bernard had been thorough here as it was his first lone mission, he’d checked into Sheriff’s Pride past. Orphan at age 10, moved around the state of Texas, went into the Police Academy, was Sheriff of a small town in Texas previously, and then moved here. No record of a sibling, cousin, or long lost half sibling to speak of. He had been an only child and the only Pride left. 

Until Laura Pride popped up on documentation in 2016 in the state of California. There wouldn’t have been any correlation had she not been looking for Woodrow Pride. And that’s where the RAS came in, trying to tie the two loose ends together into a nice bow. Good thing Bernard had been a gift wrapper at the local mall for five years in a row every holiday season, he could tie a pretty mean bow if he did say so himself.

He stood when Sheriff Pride approached him, smiling in return as he stood at eye level with him. 

“Y-yes,” Bernard nodded, “do you uh, do-do you mind if we spoke al-al-alone? It’s...kind of personal.” 

[delmarisa]

(Shell)fishy Business / open

[bernardnewhart-blog]

delmarisa‌:

Marisa wondered for a second if this nice man had any friends. Why was he so awkward about talking? Marisa was very bad at English but that didn’t stop her from being confident and sure!

Well, not everyone can be a siren princess and have the unwarranted, offensive amount of confidence that came with it!

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes! Except I’m new here, my plane just landed yesterday. I need directions, and-” Marisa pouted as a breeze came, reminding her she was actually quite cold. “-and miniature sun to keep me warm, apparently.”

She was so funny, she couldn’t help but giggle at her own joke!

Bernard smiled and nodded, thinking that would be the end of that and she could go on her way while he would go on his. She would get her shellfish on her own time and he would get a little more of a spring in his step knowing that he helped someone. 

Except, nope, no, she needed a little more of a helping hand. But that was okay, he didn’t mind at all. His whole job now was to help people, no matter how small the task. 

He let out a small little laugh too at her statement and looked around to acknowledge her statement. 

“S-sorry, can uh, only help you out with one of th-those,” he said with a smile. “I can, show y-you where the um, store is, though. Or-, sorry, w-would you rather directions in-instead?” 

[bernardnewhart-blog]

Tis The Season For A Reunion || Woody and Bernard

@pridewoodrow

Bernard was cleaning in the office when his phone rang in his trouser pocket which led to him looking up, blinking at the empty room in front of him waiting for his brain to register that, yep that was his phone. He scrambled for a moment, propping the broom in his hands up against the wall so he could yank his phone from his pocket and unlock it in time to answer.

“H-H-Hello?” he asked into the receiver, “Er, this is...N-Newheart.”

“Hello, Mr. Bernard,” someone, he wasn’t really sure who, but they had an accent that almost sounded American to him, as if they were calling from-, “I’m calling to to inform you of a file being sent your way. The details of the case will be attached.”

“Uh,” was all Bernard was able to get out at that, turning around to watch his computer screen light up. He heard the woman on the other end chuckle.

“Happy Holidays, Mr. Bernard,” she told him. “We do hope this one will end happy for everyone involved.” 

With that she hung up leaving Bernard feeling like he was very much in the dark. Firstly, why the hell had they contacted him? Him? And not Miss Bianca? Maybe it was something lowly, like a change in the company’s logo that meant they’d had to print off new business cards or they were sending them new equipment that Bernard could pick up from the post office tomorrow. Something they didn’t need to bother Miss Bianca with. 

He walked around to his desk, sitting down to squint at the computer’s screen and grab at the mouse to click open the file they’d been sent. It wasn’t so much a mission file as it was a person’s. A girl’s. Name: Laura Pride, Age: 17, Magical Abilities: Fire manipulation (further details unspecified), Last Known Location: Tustin, California, United States of America. Attached were pictures of the girl. Mostly they were of her working or walking along the street with a dog, they reminded him a lot of paparazzi photos that cycled around online. The rest of the file was mainly reports of her within the foster system, only with a different last name, and then newspaper articles about her disappearance and a odd house fire, until the last one landed him on an article about a diner burning down. 

Bernard moved along when he was through reading her file to the instructions. His eyes widened in surprise as he read further into what they wanted from him. The girl, Laura, was apparently trying to find someone. Someone that she had gone as far as to almost get herself into some serious trouble for in trying to track down. 

And that someone just so happened to be the Sheriff of Swynlake. As the RAS stated it was, “unclear as to why,” she was trying to find him, but they had made the connection that his previous residency had been in the same town that the diner had burnt down in where she had been spotted before relocating to California. The Society was thorough, Bernard knew this but still had to acknowledge every time, and it was almost scary sometimes how in depth they went into things. 

From what he understood he was supposed to inform the Sheriff of the girl looking for him while still keeping their cover. Easy, right? Right. Totally. Completely. He had this. Just go in, tell the Sheriff who was who, and then leave. 

He walked into the station, asked the woman at the front desk if the Sheriff could spare him a minute, and then sat in the designated waiting area, tapping his toes against the tile and trying to look at ease. 

[delmarisa]

(Shell)fishy Business / open

Marisa held a copy of the little Swynlake guide brochure that Town Hall provided, and poured over it as she walked the streets in hardly top notch winter gear. Her pea coat was much more suited for a chilly Colombian or Avaloran coast winter, and not a frosty, bitter English winter.

(she’d find a clothing store in the brochure at some point today) But first priority was tracking down the best seafood. Nay! The best shellfish around! Clams, mussels, oysters, she was salivating just thinking about popping the shells open and digging them out, chewing them raw.

Mmmm yum yum yum!

Except, many of the words in the brochure seemed like fake words; or just English words she didn’t know yet, or know how to read, yet, so her mission was stalling.

“Lo siento, estomago, estoy buscando.” she apologized to her stomach and smoothed the wrinkles out of her pea coat, stuffing her brochure inside her pocket.

“Hola amigo!” She cheerfully greeted the first person she saw next. “Sorry for bothering you, but I am new here and very, eh, I am confused. I need a good winter coat and…and shellfish! The shellfish are most important. Where are shellfish?”

[bernardnewhart-blog]

Bernard looked up from his phone, eyebrows raising as his eyes focused on her instead of the screen. He, unlike a lot of people these days, was too worried about walking while he read something or replied to a text or...was doing anything in general on his phone. There was always the lingering worry that he would run into something or someone so he couldn’t even focus what was on his phone anyways, so there was really no point if he needed to get something done. 

It was why he was standing off to the side on the sidewalk despite it being cold outside. It didn’t bother him so much as he was someone who had lived in the North, who was familiar with the cold enough to know how to bundle up for it, and someone who was going to over prepare for a quick trek down the street anyways. 

He took a second to look over his right shoulder, then his left, just to make sure he was the one she was addressing, and when he returned back to her he jostled himself a little, his mouth opening as he tried to work out a reply.

“Shellfish,” he repeated, “I-I-I think....uh, the uh g-grocery store is just down th-the street. Does that...Is th-that what y-you need?”

[bernardnewhart-blog]

Sore Must Be The Storm || The Rescuers

[bernardnewhart-blog]

miissbiianca‌:

Of course, he had reason. Everything he was saying was very true, in fact - Bianca could never have kept Peach under constant surveillance, and she couldn’t have hidden her away from the world either, locked her up in her apartment and thrown away the key. Well. She could have, but she knew that Peach would have hated her for it - would, still. Because she was out there. Because Bianca was going to find her.

After she’d told the sheriff, maybe.

And the Director.

She knew which once she was dreading the most.

Having the sheriff out there looking was going to make it more difficult for Bianca to look herself; no one would be expecting the aunt to pull on her hiking boots and stay searching into the middle of the night, would they? Perhaps they would, or they would certainly like to think she would, but they wouldn’t be expecting Bianca’s demeanour, maybe. The knowledge. Like she had looked for a missing person before.

(Looked, and had never found. Her track record wasn’t especially good.)

But it would be even more suspicious if she said nothing, and if the Director thought he was keeping things from her - Bianca needed to keep her cover, their cover, and her job too. She couldn’t afford to lose her head like this. She looked at the tabletop for a long time, and then she nodded, looking up at Bernard again. “I’ll go this evening.” She said. She raised her hand to her eyes again, fingers rubbing at her forehead. “Once I’ve told the Director. He’ll need to know too.”

Bernard waited for her to reply and got more anxious as the time ticked by. It probably wasn’t even that long of a pause between him finishing his sentence and her replying but to him it felt like way too long as he went through all the things she could have said to him. 

Like what if she yelled? Got angry with him for daring to say that? Or what if she said how bad of an idea that was? Or what if she kept blaming herself? What if she didn’t say anything at all? What happened if she just got up from the table and walked away from the conversation? 

Thankfully, though, she did none of those things. As his brain worked more on the pessimistic side of the spectrum most days it was always a relief when his worst thoughts of reality turned out to be wrong. Not that he ever thought Bianca would respond in such a way, it was just how his mind worked, always worrying for no reason.

He nodded sadly, again, as she mentioned the Director because he knew that was going to be a rough call for both sides. And he didn’t know what he could do to make that conversation easier. 

“Okay,” he agreed softly, relieved he had said his peace and thankful that she had listened at all. “Do...do you want me to g-go with you?”

[bernardnewhart-blog]

Sore Must Be The Storm || The Rescuers

[bernardnewhart-blog]

miissbiianca‌:

She had never heard Bernard say her name like that. Bianca had heard him say her name a thousand times in their time together, in Swynlake, but never like that – placating. Disappointed. Softly, like he thought she might crumble under the weight of it. It set a part of her on edge; she wasn’t going to like what came after it, she was sure. Dark eyes lingered on him regardless, waiting.

She had also never expected him to argue; it was cruel of her to think it, but it was the truth. She had expected him to agree, to ask where to begin, because Bianca always took charge, that was just their way. She had a plan, she put it into action, he played his part. He always did a good job of it too, for the record. Bianca appreciated everything he did.

Her jaw twitched, aching with how hard she was gritting her teeth. He wanted her to give up. He wanted her to stop.

Any other day, and she would have agreed to him. Had their roles been reversed, or had she been on the outside of the situation, she would have said the exact same thing. But it sounded - it sounded ridiculous. It sounded ridiculous, to give in, to go to the Sheriff’s department, of all people–

“It’s not – it’s not just guilt, Bernard. It’s not just– It is my fault, at least in part, it is, and if I don’t find her I’ve failed. I’ve let her get hurt, and I’ve failed my mission too.”

She sat back as well, then, putting her own hand to her eyes. Failed, she was a failure. She had lost the first ward put into her care, and everyone was going to know it. All the other agents. She had a reputation. She felt sick with it, because she was going to ruin her reputation, yes, but because she was worried about that. Because it was another voice in her head, shouting just as loud as the one telling her she should have cared for Peach better, she should have looked after her, like she was meant to–

“You really think it’s for the best?” She asked slowly, taking her hand away from her eyes. She looked over Bernard’s shoulder now though, gaze fixed on the middle distance. “Putting in a report with the Sheriff?”

Bernard was a little intimidated to say the least. This was Bianca, after all, the person who had given him this opportunity in the first place. There had been a sense that if he were to ever disagree, if he said or did the wrong thing, that she would send him packing. She was a patient woman, as Bernard had found out very quickly on that first day when she had helped him pack and they’d set out for the air port, the whole time giving Bernard a crash course into the RAS while also dealing with Bernard’s fear of flying. 

But, after a year together, he hoped that he wasn’t just the man who happened to be in the room when no one else had raised their hand for her mission, or the man who stumbled around behind her. He knew he wasn’t her equal, that he never would be, he just wanted to be someone she could trust enough to hear him when he spoke, despite the stutter. 

“It’s not,” he said firmly, holding his footing here because he wasn’t going to let her fall down this hole. It wasn’t his job to stand by and watch, as both her friend and partner, he was supposed to be there if ever she were to fall. “Just because you weren’t w-with her every second of...of every day doesn’t mean you did this. I-I know this isn’t...this is awful. Worse, than...than awful, but-...what else were you going to do? Not letting her outside wa-was never going to work, and following her around all day is just...unrealistic.” 

He sighed. The sinking feeling in his stomach had not resolved, as he suspected it wouldn’t until Peach was back across the hall. Bernard nodded then, confirming that he thought including the Sheriff’s Department was a smart idea. The more people looking for her, that were aware she was missing, the better. Yes, it also posed a threat, but he would rather everyone be on the look out than keeping it a secret. 

“Yes. I-I do,” Bernard told her. “At least...consider it? I think...I think they could help finding her. The m-more people looking for her th-the better, right? M-maybe going public will...maybe someone we don’t know will have seen something.” 

[bernardnewhart-blog]

bopeep-xo‌:

starter || open

“It may still be November, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get an early start on putting up decorations. Besides, all the stores are playing Christmas music now!” Bo defended her actions with a light laugh as she shifted a box of Christmas baubles from one arm to the other.

Originally posted by arianagrandre

The first year Bernard had been in Swynlake it had caught him off guard in realizing that they didn’t celebrate Thanksgiving since the past few years of his life he’d been witness to the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade traffic, living in the city. This year, with all the craziness that had been going on these past few months, he had forgotten about the whole thing. Christmas, too, really. 

He glanced up at the woman, then looked over his left, then right, shoulder to make sure she was, in fact, speaking to him. Bernard smiled at her, glancing up, listening as the speaker over head was playing an instrumental version of Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree. 

“You- you’re fine,” he said. “Better...better to b-be early th-then late. Are you...?” He gestured to the ornaments. “Do you al-already have a uh,...tree?”  

[bernardnewhart-blog]

Sore Must Be The Storm || The Rescuers

[bernardnewhart-blog]

miissbiianca‌:

Bianca trusted Bernard, she really did - she trusted him with her life, something that she couldn’t say for many people. He had proved time and time again that he was capable, that she had made the right choice, what seemed like a lifetime ago.

But Bianca couldn’t let him shoulder all of this. At least, not forever. Maybe for the next five minutes.

She looked up at him as he sat, her eyes dark, her lips pressed into a thin line. She was sure she looked a lot older than her thirty-one years in that moment, worn out and worried and in a situation she had absolutely no plan for. She was out of her depth, and she was exhausted from trying to keep her head above water.

She reached out, her hand squeezing his forearm for just a moment before she settled it on the table again. A quiet thank you, for being there for her - she had a feeling that if it came to it, he’d take her side. Not that it was about sides, and not that hers was the right one, nowhere close, but knowing she wasn’t truly alone in all of this, that someone would support her even though she had failed, so spectacularly. It was good to know.

“We keep looking.” Bianca murmured, reaching for the bag she had abandoned to produce a tissue, dabbing at her eyes. She wasn’t the sort to cry, but it had been a long evening, and it was going to be an even longer night. “We have to keep looking. She’s out there. I let her go out there, and I have to bring her back. She can’t be far. We keep looking.”

Bernard watched her, his eyes following the movement of her hand until she squeezed his arm, and thought she understood. He thought that his words, even stuttered and jittery as they were, had gotten through to her. 

But then she spoke and he could tell that it went over her head. He sighed again, falling a little as he did so. That was not the answer that he had been wanting. That’s not the answer she needed to be saying, either. And although it pained him greatly, because there was a little girl out there somewhere who needed to be here instead, he wasn’t going to let Bianca run herself into the ground over this. It wouldn’t do anyone any good. Especially not Peach. 

“Bianca,” he said, quietly, because he knew she wasn’t going to like what he was going to say but...but he had to say it. If anyone had to say it, it had to be him. “We can’t. I’m-I’m not saying we have to-to stop or-or give up but....you can’t. Not by ourselves anyways. It’s been over twenty four hours and...”

Bernard sat back in his chair, pulling his glasses off with hone hand as the other scrubbed over his eyes in an effort to rub away some of the tired stress that was causing them to cloud over before replacing his glasses. He looked back up at her.

“This is not your fault,” he told her pointedly, punctuating it with his fingers jabbing the table top. “And...you can’t...let your guilt or-or heart ache impede your judgement. There’s a lot of ground to cover, and I think...I think it’s time we report her as missing. At least then the-the whole town will be on the look out and we-we’ll have the Sheriff’s department to...to help look, too.” 

[bernardnewhart-blog]

Sore Must Be The Storm || The Rescuers

[bernardnewhart-blog]

miissbiianca‌:

Bianca had hoped for something. Even if they didn’t have Peach, sitting on the sofa and talking Bernard’s ear off about something-or-other, she’d hoped that they might find something. Some clue to say where she was, because Bianca had never minded needing to go to the rescue - it was practically in her job title.

She looked at Bernard as he stepped forward, and she lingered there for a moment, stood in front of him, before she moved to the kitchen table. Her handbag fell unceremoniously to the floor by the table-leg as she sat down, elbows propped up on the tabletop, her head in her hands. Just for a moment, though - she shifted her hands back, fingers smoothing down her hair before she sat up, and shook her head.

Bianca opened her mouth to speak, and then promptly closed it again, finding that she wasn’t sure what to say. There wasn’t anything he could do. Well - he could find Peach, but they had tried that already, and nothing had come of it. So otherwise there was nothing he could do for her. She had failed. Bianca had failed Peach, she had failed the Director, she had failed everyone who had ever had any kind of faith of her, Miss Bianca and her near-perfect record.

Her answer smile was sad, a sham of a smile. “Nothing,” She answered, giving another small shake of her head. “Nothing, I - I don’t know what to do.” It was such a strange, unfamiliar sensation for her; to be out of control. To be unsure of herself. To have failed. “I don’t know what to do next.”

Bernard tracked Bianca’s movements with his eyes, turning to as she walked passed him to sit at the table. He looked at her, took in her smile that didn’t fit right and the sound of failure that should never been on her voice, and there are a million terrible metaphors about how awful it was to see her like this but none of them would ever really properly encapsulate the way Bernard actually felt. 

There was a moment where it got to him, where he too was ready to just take her word for it and head back to his room in order to give her the space she probably needed to feel all the terrible, horrible, emotions that were in her system right now. It’s what he was supposed to do right? As the junior agent here he should have respected her wishes and done what he was told. 

But as he looked at her, feeling a terrible pain between his ribs for her, he also knew he couldn’t leave her sitting at the table alone. Even if it wasn’t was he was supposed to do, even if she would get angry at him or dismiss him, he didn’t want to leave her alone to feel like this. 

“Okay,” he said, moving forwards then to join her at the table by sitting in the seat across from her. Bernard leaned forwards to catch her eyes, pulling them up to look at him properly. “Okay. So we figure something out. Together.”

He sighed, tilting his head in concern, “I know I can’t possibly kn-know what you’re feeling right now, and I know this situation is...God it’s awful, but...but I’m here, okay? I-I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not going to let you give up so easily so just...You can stop that right now, because there’s gotta be something we can do.”

[bernardnewhart-blog]

Sore Must Be The Storm || The Rescuers

[bernardnewhart-blog]

miissbiianca‌:

Peach was missing, and Bianca had no idea where she had gone.

Because she normally did, you know. Or she tried her best, to have tabs on her “niece” as often as she could. At first because it was her job, because keeping tabs on her was the only reason that Peach had been turned into her care, but later because she worried about her. She had gotten to know Peach; she had come to think of her, perhaps not as family, but certainly something close.

And this was not the time for those secret agent stereotypes - not getting close to the objective of the mission, and all of that. Bianca didn’t believe in that, not at all. Keeping yourself detached, at a distance - how could you do a good job if your heart wasn’t in it?

Regardless; she was worried about Peach as an agent, and as an aunt, and so as soon as she had realised that she was missing, truly missing, no one having seen her, no one covering for her, Bianca had called for Bernard, and had set them both to looking.

She searched all of the most obvious places first, places where her friends were, places she frequented. Then she started searching everywhere, trailing around town with her scarf pulled around her neck to keep out the autumn chill and hide the way she worried at her bottom lip, analysing every dark corner and back alleyway until it became official: Peach was nowhere to be found.

Bianca had tried texting her, tried calling her, nothing. That was maybe what worried her the most - Peach never hesitated to answer her. She always had her phone, and it was always on.

Bianca kept her own phone in hand as she returned to the apartment, looking at Peach’s front door before she turned and entered her own instead. When she saw Bernard, her heart sank. “Nothing?”

The door opened and Bernard knew, he just knew that she would look at him, sigh in relief, and then walk in while the door closed behind her saying that she had just come from Peach’s apartment across the way after leaving her to sleep or something. Or, alternatively, he knew that Peach would be right on her tail, passing into the apartment with the story of her phone falling into water or falling down a storm drain and it would end with a deep dramatic sigh and the word tragic. 

Only she walked in and all but confirmed that she hadn’t found Peach either, that she hadn’t heard from her. His shoulder fell and the cold pit at the bottom of his stomach tightened. Bernard shook his head. No, he had nothing. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said, stepping forwards a few steps, his initial thought to comfort with a hand on her shoulder or-, well he didn’t really know what but he stopped himself. Bernard looked around, as if he could find an answer as to what to do next just sitting around the apartment, like it would pop up on the couch for him to go pick up and offer to her. 

There was nothing they could do without any leads, without any way to trace her. She had literally disappeared, like a magician when the curtain was pulled back. Gone without a trace. At least with Orville they’d had some idea of who had taken him which led them to a wear. They knew nothing for Peach. If she had gone on her own, if someone had taken her. There were too many what ifs, too much time had passed, and he was panicking. 

He could only imagine how Bianca felt. 

Bernard turned back to her, tilting his head a little as he softened, “Are you...I mean, I-I know you’re not alright but...? What can I do for you?” 

[pridewoodrow-deactivated2023071]

The Neighbor || Bernard and Woody

[bernardnewhart-blog]

pridewoodrow‌:

The surprise in Newhart, who he assumed was Newhart anyways, was telling. He pressed a smile to his mouth when the door opened, just a friendly motion rather than an actual smile because who was going to genuinely smile in a situation like this. Woody dipped his head at the hello, not feeling the need to return it out loud. 

Newhart pulled the door back and Woody stepped in after him, his eyes already moving across the apartment, a mirror image of the one he had just been standing in. Only with different decorum. It was neat, clean. In other words it looked more like it had adults living in it instead of a teenager, which he had been expecting. It was a quick survey of the room, something he had done enough to be able to not have it be noticed by most people. He didn’t expect Newhart to notice since to Woody both he and Gabor were just civilians. 

Woody turned back around to watch Newhart close the door and hold out his hand. He took it, noting the grip and what he perceived as a nervous stutter. 

The thing was, though, that normally people were felt off made his stomach tighten. Everyone always talked about that gut feeling, and for him it was very real. Sometimes it was the only thing he could rely on with this job. And, looking at Bernard, he didn’t get that feeling. But this town was always full of unexpected surprises. 

“Yes, sir,” he nodded, pulling his hand back. “Thank you for meeting with me. I’m just here to ask a few questions. We’re going around asking everyone Ms. Clearwater knew, as you know, so. Just answer to the best of your ability.” 

He motioned towards the kitchen table, taking a step backwards and pivoting to be facing sideways, niether towards or away from Newhart. “Do you mind if we sit down?”

“Of-, yeah, of course,” Bernard nodded. He knew how this worked because believe it or not Bernard had been apart of a police investigation before. Back in the day, because it had been over a year now he had been in this job which was longer than almost all of his odd jobs he had been working in before the RAS picked him up for janitorial duties so he could refer to that time as back in the day, he worked at a restaurant as a bus boy. 

In said restaurant they also had a bar. that sold alcohol. Obviously. Where they were located had the law that their sales, as a restaurant, should have food be more than alcohol. The restaurant he was working at had a problem with that because their sales were mostly devoted towards the alcohol instead of food due to the food being subpar. So, when things were looking dire, the owner told everyone they were going to be closed on the Fourth of July that year. 

Next thing Bernard knew someone from work called him to get his but down there, not to work, but to “watch the fire works, man!” And boy, was there a fire at work, man. The place was burning to the ground. Everyone, including the police by Bernard’s judgement based on the line of questions they asked him, knew the owner did it to collect the insurance. But they couldn’t prove it and in the end they got away with it.

He hoped whatever happened to Peach, if something bad happened, wouldn’t end like that. He hoped he could help, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to since he hadn’t seen her close to her disappearance. Bernard hadn’t even known where she was or who she was with when she was last seen. 

He sat down at the table, settling into the chair, and then looked up at the Sheriff, waiting for the first question. 

[bernardnewhart-blog]

Sore Must Be The Storm || The Rescuers

@miissbiianca

Peach was missing. 

Peach was missing and no one knew where she was. This was all the information Bernard had been given before he was taking half of to scour half of Swynlake for any sign of her. At no point did he think Bianca was overreacting simply because it was Bianca. She always kept a level head when terrible things happened, it’s kind of what had eased his worry gene, seeing someone so capable in the face of pure chaos. Oh, sure, he still internalized and worried himself sick over things on a daily basis but he was much better about keeping it to himself. Couldn’t be causing a scene when someone coughed on him when he was trying to be keeping a low profile in public.

Anyways, not the point. The point was that Peach Clearwater wasn’t in her apartment, she wasn’t around town, and most importantly she hadn’t been picking up her phone. That’s what scared him the most because that girl always had her phone. It was just what everyone did these days, young, old. He wasn’t as attune to it as the younger generation was but now that he actually had several reasons to have it on him at all times he was getting use to it. 

Searching the town for Peach was awful. It made his stomach twist into in knots because his mind liked to remind him of worse case scenario. And the more time that passed without seeing her, without getting a text from Bianca saying that she had found her, the more time his brain had to supply him with these thoughts. 

Eventually he had to return to his and Bianca’s apartment, tired and defeated. He couldn’t so much as acknowledge the door across the hall, not if he was going to keep it together. He knew Bianca wasn’t home when he opened the door, it’s too empty. Too quiet. He paced back and forth in the living area as he waits for her to return, wondering if she got caught up in something on her half of town, if he should go looking for her now, if-.

But then the door opened and Bernard stopped to watch her walk in, thinking, hoping, maybe it was Bianca with good news.