NOUR EL FAROUK 32 - MAIL COURIER @ STILLWATER POST
SIGNED, SEALED, DELIVERED aes : big curly hair, infectious smile, brown eyes, denim skirts, record collection
AT A GLANCE — tw racism, bullying, anxiety, sexual harassment » The American dream was supposed to mean something. It was supposed to feel like the movies, where people burst into song just because they were that happy. Nour's first day of school was a rude awakening, where she experienced racism and bullying for the first time in her life. It was quiet and subtle, like it never really happened, which she's not sure is better than everyone seeing her pain. Coming to America brought about bounds of loneliness Nour was unable to comprehend, trying to find purpose throughout her life in spaces that never allowed her to simply be. While being a postal worker isn't the dream she thought she'd be living, it is the only job providing her security and room to figure out her place in life.
🖋 CHARACTER INSPIRATION: Makino Tsukushi (Boys Over Flowers), Pam Beesly (The Office), Meg March (Little Women), Jane Villanueva (Jane the Virgin), Lexi Howard (Euphoria), Anne Perkins (Parks and Recreation) and more.
It felt like a blessing for the Farouks when Nour received her acceptance letter to the foreign exchange student program in America. They have been collectively praying for her opportunity to see the world and for Allah to give their precious Nour a chance to live the American dream. The Farouks constantly consumed American movies and shows, always throwing hypotheticals of what it must be like to be a movie star. They all yearned for the same dream together for as long as Nour could remember, so how could she not be grateful to uproot everything she knew for their collective dream?
She tried not to think about too many things on her long flight. Nour was already vibrating with nervous adrenaline; it was difficult to find peace until the last few hours of the ride, knocking out completely. When she woke up, it felt like someone had pressed the reset button on her life. A sudden wave of panic rushed over her, realizing she could never go back, but what was she to do? Call home and beg her parents to welcome her back with open arms? Nour was determined to not let anyone down, despite her reservations. After all, it was only day one. It was unfair to already expect doom upon arrival. Still... she couldn't help but count her blessings.
Thankfully, meeting her American family went without any hiccups. She greeted them with the biggest smile, happy to finally live with another girl her age and not her nosey younger brother. Her American family seemed wealthy and kind. The father was a banker, the mother was a teacher, and their only daughter was a cheerleader. It was like a movie, and her parents back home couldn't help but laugh when she told them. She was happy to report they had provided a room, already decorated and ready for her to live in. Although difficult to sleep through, the first night gave Nour high hopes. Perhaps, living their American dream may not be so terrifying.
The cushion of exploring Stillwater during her first few days gave Nour a lot of comfort. They took her to the mall and had dinner in beautiful, expensive places— their kindness, unknowingly, started to melt away her worries nearly every hour. At first, apprehensive, Nour began feeling excitement for her first day in school. She made it a point not to lean on the daughter, despite her lending a hand generously if she needed it. Nour knew she had a life of her own and did not want to intrude if she could help it. After all, she had been riding high for the past few days; what could go wrong?
Nour knew she believed things were going well too soon the second she stepped foot in a school of mostly white faces. It never occurred to her how jarring it'd be to be stared at constantly, but it was certainly a wake-up call. Back home, Nour was a nobody. She wasn't particularly special or stood out in any way, but the experience was completely different here. She tried to get used to the stares the best she could, but the second something started to feel 'normal,' something else would happen. The whispers started, and soon, the bullying. Nour wasn't sure if it was because the daughter was popular that no one outright bullied her, but she couldn't escape her peers 'accidentally' shoving her or knocking her books to the ground. The bullying and isolation tactics were slow and cruel, almost nonexistent to those who didn't really see. And for Nour, who was quintessentially a nobody, felt like her teenage years in Stillwater were nothing but a knife slowly twisting inside her, bleeding her dry.
Nour never told a soul of all the events that happened at school. Not her American family or her loved ones back home. She always had new clothes, shelter, and a place to eat every night with a caring family. She kept counting and counting, always making sure her blessings outweighed everything else, especially after hearing her family gaining social status thanks to her experience in America. "My daughter is in America!" "She's going to a fancy school and will do amazing things. You'll see!" The support from her family back home was enough for her to keep pushing through, and Nour eventually made it to graduation. Despite the opportunity to return home and visit, Nour knew she had to stay and find work. She knew her mother would immediately be able to tell if something was wrong when she saw her and was not ready to meet the one person who could see her truth. And so, Nour stayed.
It didn't take long for Nour to find work after graduation. She applied for nursing school, knowing it paid well and allowed her to stay in the U.S. Being a nurse wasn't Nour's dream by any means, but it gave her stability and made her parents proud. Still, it seemed like whenever she tried to put her family first, life would twist that knife inside her a little bit harder. It was Nour's first time experiencing sexual harassment by another, a particular doctor at Stillwater General who found passive ways to be inappropriate when no one was looking. Still, she tried to keep pushing through for a little longer until he attempted to force himself on her. Nour had quit on the spot without thinking and never looked back.
The pressure of finding a workplace that would help maintain her residency in Stillwater was getting heavier the longer she was unemployed. She didn't want to give up, even if it seemed like she should. It took her almost a month, but eventually, Nour found a miracle posted on a window at Stillwater Post. "Couriers wanted!" was all she read and applied immediately. Nour didn't need to be around too many people; she believed it would be better given everything she's been through. She always tried to look at the brighter side; while it wasn't as glamorous as being a nurse, she didn't need to deal with others and was fine being alone. Even if it got lonelier and lonelier as the years went by, Nour could send money back home and make as many international calls as she wanted. Even if she was far ahead from when she first arrived in Stillwater, Nour couldn't help but feel she was still counting her blessings.
Surprised by the woman's rather bold and brazen statement, Phoenix could feel her eyes instinctively widen as the compliment left her lips. Truthfully, it was nice to know that she had made such an impression. After spending so many years thinking she'd never amount to anything, here she was living in her dream state, being someone who hadn't managed to fade into the background in a town full of somebodies and nobodies.
"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about, but I'm flattered nonetheless. My name's Phoenix. I've lived in Stillwater a little less than a year now. Are you from around here?"
Crap. It was always hard to accept a newsflash due to her ramblings. Nour tended to word vomit when she got nervous, but it was hard to figure out exactly why she did it now. Was it really because of Phoenix or her utter embarrassment of meeting with the gravel beneath her only moments before? It has to be both, Nour resolved, heaving in a deep breath. Struck with embarrassment, her gaze gets a bit shifty, finding it difficult to look at her for too long. "Yes and no," she nods. "I guess, in comparison, you could say I am. I've been here for..." she hums, trying to add the years together quickly. "Over fifteen years. Something like that." While Nour wasn't a stranger to telling people how long she'd lived in Stillwater, it didn't make it easier. It always stung to remember just how long it's been since she's seen her family and the last time she's seen her entire family in person. "Nour," she adds, smiling.
Joselia didn't have a lot of women in her life. Other than her mother, who... wasn't so much in her life anymore, Jo found herself unintentionally steering clear of femmes and feminine energy. She had a way with men, whether they were her father or her brothers or guys in the MC-- they were easy, Joselia knew what they wanted... but women required a greater deal of self-reflection, an activity that Joselia purposely avoided. Still, it was lonely. She'd connected with Phoenix, who had been a godsend (if she believed in that kind of shit), and her friendship had begun to chip away at Joselia's notion that she wasn't any good at talking to women beyond one-night stands.
Meeting Nour felt like the next piece of the puzzle. Where Phoenix and Joselia fell into step easily thanks to shared experience, Nour was different entirely... which is why Joselia was shocked to see Nour floating through her door. "Well, welcome!" Joselia said, pushing off of the counter and standing to drape an arm around Nour's neck. Her smile grew at the apparent discomfort on her friend's face, and Joselia took the opportunity to lead her to the sitting room in the back. It was still just as gaudy as the front, with sketches and pin-up girls and whatever weird fucking 'vintage' decor the guys brought in littering the walls, but it was currently unoccupied. "It's not so bad," she promised, taking a seat cross-legged on the black leather seattee and motioning for Nour to do the same.
"I mean, you'll get used to it." She dropped her voice and leaned in, smirking as she confessed, "The guys have to make it seem super badass to make up for the fact that they sit around doodling all day. Fragile masculinity's a bitch."
Nour couldn't deny that she felt a bit intimidated by Joselia. She was so young and seemed so sure of herself with an identity to be envied. Although she had a distaste for the art form, she found those within this community(?) to have this certain air she found difficult to obtain. It was confident and daring. She felt this entering the shop, but when Joselia pulled her into the back, she felt it even more. Even though Nour was starting to see her as a reflection of all of her shortcomings, she was determined to keep it from getting in between them. It seemed dramatic, but Nour found it difficult to keep her insecurities at bay. These days, all it wanted to do was keep her from swimming.
She laughs, envisioning men with tattoos, doodling in a notebook. "Well, when you put it like that... this is just like daycare, isn't it?" she grins. Nour then brings the white paper bag she was holding in view, holding it out for her to take. "Hopefully, you're a fan of pie. It's from Ruby's."
Another drag from his cigarette and a beat of silence later, Nick purses his lips, smoke expelling. "Be honest, are you into all this?" Though not usually a cynic, he found himself feeling exceptionally morose for some reason. Couldn't shake the lingering feeling that something bad was going to happen. It was strange to be in front of a crowd of people, and not behind the bar. It was frequently his social shield; he loved his ability to hide, there. Be was so well-known there, often overlooked — a fixture. But now, when everyone was looking at everyone, even under the guise of a game, he felt paranoid, and uneasy, and tense. Hence, stalking around outdoors, all but scowling, and now likely ruining someone else's fun.
"Nah, sorry, forget I said that," Nick shook his head, like he could shake his thoughts away like an etch-a-sketch. "Everyone always suspects the help. Like we've all got ulterior motives or something. What's up with that?" He flashes a grin in earnest, all teeth but no sincerity, and hopes his counterpart can forgive his transgression. "Alright, let's practice your accusation speech."
She's taken aback by his question but takes a moment to really think about it. She's not sure why she has to take a second to decide whether or not she is enjoying all of this 'role play,' but it doesn't take long for her to decide that she does. Even though she was suffering from the repercussions of being the murderer, Nour took a liking not having to be in her own shoes for a day. Still, it was hard to deny keeping her own personal feelings under the guise of it playing a part. She was trying not to think so much about it now.
Amused by his quick thinking and backtracking of breaking out of character, Nour can only find herself smiling in response. She's unsure what to say at first, deciding after a few moments to keep up with the act for a bit. "Well, it feels cheap now to piggyback on that sentiment... but I'm failing to come up with a better excuse. If we're not pointing the finger at the help...," she pauses, gesturing between the two of them. "By the way, I may be connected to the family, but I didn't start out that way... I know my roots," she whispers, laying her hand beside her mouth for dramatics. "My money is still on the aristocrat." Nour wants to say more but stops herself. If she speaks anymore about people being desperate for money, it'd be hard to defend herself— or Clara, that is. She then breaks into a soft grin, relaxing her shoulders. "And I do enjoy it, more or less. I'm Nour, by the way," she adds, extending her hand.
Not much. Dee took that with a tired nod and a needful drag, jaw a little tighter. Wasn't any kinda surprise, right. "Appreciate the honesty." He meant that, really; Even though Nour was just doing delivery, like she'd said, she'd know better than he would how unlikely a real answer was. Kinder to admit the facts of the thing than spin too-hopeful bullshit. "Yeah, it's - it all went through a whole lotta hands, I guess..." Still. He'd just had to ask.
At least he wasn't alone, waiting on whatever the postmaster probably wouldn't turn up. Cheeks hollowing, he took that smoke in, let it slip away slow as Nour talked work. Maybe he just kept catching Nour on bad days, but... that uneasy edge made it hard to picture her surviving most of the jobs that came to mind. Like Elly's, with all those people to deal with, tourists, quick to get pissed and bitch over nothing. Waiting tables, running a till at Crawford's, pouring drinks - same reason. The post office, all that walking, alone - seemed a good fit, with what she'd shown so far. Peaceful. No rush. Hardly any assholes to put up with, he'd think. And a mental game, sure, she seemed like she'd be into that sorta thing. "Cool. Well, hope they stay good to you. Nothing like a shitty boss to fuck up a solid gig." He'd had his share. Nour'd have it worse. "What'd you do before?" Just a couple years, she'd said - she seemed about him and Eloise's age, thereabouts. Left a lot of time to be doing something else. Dreaming of something else, like Elly always was...
As much as Nour was desperate to pretend that she met Dee under different circumstances, the weight of her guilt was simply too much for her to consider otherwise. She felt awful. He was clearly confused, and the desire to be liked by him begged to tell the truth. A part of her regretted meeting him in such a vulnerable way and wished he was just a little bit more awful.
"Before... uh, nothing. I've been here for a bit longer than a couple of years... we're actually coming up on year nine." She's a bit shy when she says it, but it's really because saying the years out like that was sort of a wake-up call. Nour realizes the length of time she's spent being a mail courier, and it leaves a sour taste in her mouth. Had she really been here for that long? Was she really going to make it to year ten? "I was in nursing school before this," she nods, looking off to the side. "It... uh," she gulps, immediately uncomfortable even mentioning her time there. "It wasn't really meant for me." She meets his gaze again, her grip on her lunch bag getting tighter.
When & Where: "Outside of The Rabbit Hole" ...midday!
🤩 @hopefms
It wasn't always a priority for Nour to set aside money for new clothes. If anything, it was (at least) the fourth thing on her list of financial priorities. Her main focus was always to send money back home, so when she came to realize there was some cash left over for that new coat she was eying at The Rabbit Hole, Nour knew she couldn't pass it up. It wasn't like her to pass the signs she looked for in life. She loved clothes, she loved fashion— even if that extra cash could've gone to something more productive, it'd be hard to convince her otherwise.
All Nour could think about was styling that coat. She figured it'd look so great with both jeans and a maxi skirt, smiling to herself at the vision. However, just as she was about to enter the shop, she noticed someone a few feet away. There wasn't anything necessarily interesting about what she was doing— but Nour couldn't shake her curiosity. When she finally turned to show her face, her face dropped. Hope Harris? The Hope Harris? In Stillwater? Her excitement got ahead of her, moving towards the redhead before her conscience reminded her of what manners were. "...Hi, I'm sorry to bother you, but... are you Hope Harris?" she greets shyly.
"I managed to convince him to come along." Eloise was outright glowing, thrilled at the idea of introducing her friend to the great love that she'd only been able to tell Nour about. Their friendship wasn't new now, though it had fallen in the time after Dee had shipped off to Vietnam; Elly was pretty certain she'd mentioned Nour in her letters, though wasn't sure if Dee would remember. They'd become fast friends, and Elly was practically buzzing with excitement at the idea of finally being able to introduce two of the most important people in her life. "We all know I love a good myster, even if I think I might be better at reading them than solving them. Anyway, yes, he's here, I just need to find him.."
She'd slipped away to the restroom, lost track of him, but he shouldn't be too hard to track down; the party might be bigger and more bustling than she'd originally envisioned, but she kew she'd easily be able to pinpoint his face in the crowd. Just as expected, he was not far off and Eloise's smile brightened as she held up a hand to wave him over. "I mentioned you a few times, in my letters. Mostly just referring to you as a new friend, but I think I mentioned your name a few times."
All these people. Dee'd grown up knowing most of them, at least a little; if not by name, by story, by some sort of association. So and so's brother. Such and such's ex. It wasn't like any of that was a surprise, just - it was a whole lotta faces he hadn't seen since he'd got shipped overseas, and a lot of small-talking and catching up he could've done without, all while he got stared at in the way once-familiar faces tended to stare at him, now.
(When he wasn't onstage, anyhow. That was - it was feeling different, since the first couple times. That feverish sort of uncertainty had broken, leaving something bright and loud that just... carried him off.)
And Elly was just - not good. Insisting otherwise, but. Come on. He wasn't gonna nag her, though, not at this thing she'd been all excited for. But when she ducked out to the lady's room, he hovered for all of a half-second before veering off to find a door and some fresh air on the other side of it. Elly would probably take a minute; he'd be back before she was. Easy. Totally.
Except he hadn't been. Dee cussed himself out under his breath as he caught sight of that wave, snaking his way through the crowd. "Hey, baby. Sorry, just went for a smoke. Didn't mean to miss you." He looped his good arm around Elly's shoulders, like that'd brace her up against however much of the night she wanted to stick around for. Then he looked to the company she'd turned up; go figure. Least she wasn't left all alone. "Nour, how's - things?" Yeah, he was all out of casual lines. "You know each other?" Sure seemed that way. Small town, right.
I just need to find him. Nour smiled, but she was sure Elly was too wrapped up in finding Dee to figure that her eyes said otherwise. As she started looking amongst the crowd, Nour began panicking. Every fiber in her being was begging her to escape. She started to reason that Elly would understand if she told her she wasn't feeling well. That they always had 'next time.' As far as she knew, Nour was as excited to meet Dee as much as Elly wanted them to meet. She had to be happy. But she wasn't— and she knew she'd feel this way, one way or another, but she never imagined it'd be this soon. It was a silly thought, of course. Nour had known Dee for a few months now, but she supposed it was her own delusion that protected her from what was real. And now, it was coming to bite her in the ass.
She spotted him almost the same time Elly did. She immediately looks away, hoping he wouldn't spot her right away. Nour turns off to the side as he makes his way closer, fixing her hair and outfit nervously. She heaves a deep breath as they start speaking, turning slowly with a pressed grin. Their eyes meet and Nour responds by raising her brows in an effort to seem surprised. She was a good liar, but that only proved to be true in letters and over the phone when she'd talk to her parents. She didn't really know if that was also true in person. "Oh!" she pulls back, pointing at him. Her heart starts beating fast, but she ignores it. Or, at least, she tries. "Dee? —Wait, you're that Dee?" Every line made her stomach churn, her smile falling every time she didn't have to speak. @eloisemeadows
Yeah, no, not really. Man - sounded like Nour'd had a long damn day already, the kind that left you drifting, coasting through conversations. Dee knew the type, for sure. "So long as it got done, hey?" Shelves, fridges, lunch bags. They all needed stocking.
He half-shrugged as she asked after Janine, and... that. "Ah, I don't - it's just..." What was it, exactly? Explaining this whole thing a second time around wasn't any easier. "Some shit to do with the mail," he decided on, feeling stupidly obvious. Dee started digging his smokes out, fingers itching for something, anything to do. "I don't know if anybody can do much of anything about that, like... letters get lost, right. It happens." Especially when they had so far to go. Then again, if Elly's letters had stopped showing after he got shipped to Japan, with the change of address, change of country, then that'd make some kinda sense. But her mail had followed him from basic to 'Nam and all over there, through a warzone, without any trouble. And - Christ, none of the explanations he'd been trying to fit into the middle of this mess really sat right.
Wasn't Nour's problem, anyway. Sliding a cigarette from his pack, Dee clicked that old lighter. "This where you work, then?" Obvious, again; why else would they have her lunch behind the desk? But small talk was just that: small. He'd stopped looking at her, even - seeing as it didn't seem to do her anything but discomfort, alright - to let his eyes wander, idly, across the PO boxes and pictures on the walls. "Seems like an alright sorta deal. If the weather and the dogs are decent..." Small, small talk.
Nour wasn't sure why she asked him that. She was painfully aware that the more she stuck around, the more guilt she felt, and the more guilt she felt, the harder it'd be to hide the truth. She didn't always feel that way, but meeting Dee changed everything. At first, it started with an episode of overthinking. She realized what was so great about him the day after meeting him. She had wondered if Elly's words of him were true, but it didn't take more than a few minutes for Nour to agree. Sure, one could say she was rushing to place him on some pedestal, but Nour would argue that it was hard to find people, let alone a man, to even have a fraction of his kindness. The idea weighed on her so heavily that she felt terrible now for her flighty reputation. She wanted to help him in any way she could (within reason, of course), but the moment he spoke of mail, Nour felt that same chill go up her spine.
Still, it didn't click right away. Of course, it was a mail issue. They were in the kingdom of letters and parcels. Nour would have nightmares and dreams about this place. That much didn't surprise her. It was when he continued that Nour began putting things together. Her last letter must've left only a few days before Dee's arrival. The timing was all off. She breathed —finally, but it didn't help. She found it difficult to relax, haunted by the letters. Nour hoped that now that Dee was here and there were no more letters to be sent, what she had done would just disappear. It would go away and she'd never have to face the music. But now, the whole damn band was in her face.
"—Right," she nods, apologetic. There's a beat. "The most we can do is make a few calls, but you're right... There's not much we can do." Another beat. "The postmaster might know more, though. I guess there's some truth to just being the one that delivers them." She rubs the back of her neck, persistent in the belief that Dee could feel the awkward tension between them. She could even hear it in his words and the way he shifted his gaze just as much as her. Trying to make her more comfortable, no doubt. "For a couple of years now, yeah," she nods. "If you're not too bothered by either of those things, it's more of a mental game, with the memorizing and the time you have to yourself. It can be nice if it suits you."
open starter, at the joint tattoo + piercing, just before 11 p.m. @swstarters
Weekdays were always slow, and after the four-hour back piece she'd completed this afternoon, Joselia was grateful for a breather. Cigarette dangling between her lips, she propped her boots up on the desk and doodled in the flash book. Her dad had always reckoned Joselia was some kind of artist, what with her 'bohemian soul', but she was twenty-one before she discovered her love for visual art. A late bloomer, or maybe she just never had time for artistic pursuits in between Daddy's ups and downs.
When the front door jingled open, Joselia peered up from her sketchbook and surveyed the customer. She leaned forward, lips curling upwards. "Please tell me you've got something nasty that needs to be covered up," she teased. "What is it-- an ex's name? A mom heart?"
Nour never thought she'd ever come face to face with a tattoo shop. The sentiment was a bit dramatic, but she couldn't help but feel so out of place just standing in front of it. She had been eying it from across the street for a while, a treat in hand for her new friend, Joselia. It was a passing invitation, mentioning that she should "stop by and say hello" when they talked about each other's workplaces. Nour couldn't help but want to invest herself by actually following through with wanting to see someone again, even if her anxious mind was telling her, 'That's just what people say.' Joselia was kind and friendly when she met her, so even if she didn't mean it and was only looking for someone to work on... Nour still wanted to seem genuine. She was younger and so much different than her, but that was the fun part— scary but fun.
After walking through the doors with her treat, it suddenly occurred to her that she hadn't told her she wasn't actually a customer— or planned to be one. The realization made her sink, but she smiled anyway and shook her head in response. "Actually, I came to just stop by and say hi," she grinned. "I was in the neighborhood and always wondered what this place looked like inside." She looks around, visibly uncomfortable. She tried to hide it, but her slight fear of needles started to kick in. "It's... kind of scary," she whispers the last bit, the corner of her lips turning upwards with knitted brows.
While she could certainly empathize with the other woman, Phoenix knew that she would have died of embarrassment had the same thing happened to her. There was nothing like causing a scene in front of others. The brunette's only saving grace was that it had happened before entering the home.
"I, uh. Yeah, I do." Raking her fingers through her hair, Phoenix found herself smiling shyly. While she hadn't been expecting the question, nor the comment, it was nice to know she'd made an impression on somebody unexpected. "I'm there most days. When I'm not working at Grooves."
Embarrassed, Nour shakes her head in a hurried effort to explain herself. "Oh... I might've eaten there once, but I've definitely seen you at Grooves. I love it there. I go there monthly, I'm sure... but yeah, I guess I just remember because you've got a unique look, and people like you tend to be memorable..." she rambles, quickly realizing her words were not making the best first impression. The woman before her was... well... good-looking, and that sort of effect always caused Nour's thought process to run off course. Not to mention her clumsy fall, which she was still reeling from. She wanted to tell her she had a good memory, but it seemed like such a dishonest cop-out. Still, she couldn't help but tack onto her ramblings. "—Sorry, I mean... I just meant that I've got a good memory and remember things about people... sometimes." Did I say that already?
"I agree. It's definitely fun to play the part, even if on my end that means playing the part badly. I avoided drama and theatrical arts at all costs during schol." No, Eloise had always been the type to prefer to stay out of the spotlight, though something like this was different: it tied right into her interests....and the mystery novels beginning to stack to a precarious height on her nightstand and the party was too bustling for eyes to be solely on her.
Speaking of: "I know, I've been so busy with Dee getting back home. It all hapepned so quickly." Extraordinarily quickly, considering Elly hadn't even known that he was coming home at all. That was still a mystery itself that she'd have to unravel, but she was in no hurry to push for answers; they'd come in time (or woudn't). "But being busy isn't an excuse for falling off the face of the planet, so consider this a formal apology. I should be back in orbit soon, and would definitely love to have one of our coffee dates soon. Also, speaking of things I'd love," Eloise's smile ticked up further, and she peeked around the room briefly, "Dee is here, somewhere, and I'd love for you to meet him."
Nour can feel her smile falling thin, lips pressed together in an effort to make her smile seem genuine when she brings him up. It wasn't as though Elly never brought up Dee. In fact, it was one of the many topics they circled around regularly. It was her guilt that made her different as it continued to churn in her gut in painful twists. She feels a stomach ache begin to take precedence when she mentions that he was here— Oh, Allah Yakhtehk. Me... right now. Nour shakes her head, laying her hand across her stomach. "Oh— wow, is he?" she looks around, brows knitted as she feigns, searching the crowd for who Dee 'might' be. "Yeah, I'd... I'd love to," she nods, trying to convince herself that before she fell for Elly and created the mess she made, she was a friend first. ...She was... right? "—Where is he?" she asks timidly, almost hoping that a different Dee would appear.
Nick recognized the woman in that way that he recognized everyone — somewhat, and merely as a product of his job. He wondered if she felt similarly about him, and felt some momentary guilt over not being able to place her name.
"Hmm," he hummed around his cigarette, giving a little nod. He withdrew it, expelled his smoke, then responded. "Maybe Lester Bernd finally wanted to retire, give up on spending his entire life catering to the whims of others." Recognizing he sounded a bit too serious, a bit too close to home, he pivoted with a laugh to her other accusation. "Money is always the fatal motive, isn't it? There's a lot of things I'd do for it." Nick took a moment to check his little note card. Noah. He hadn't paid much attention to his friend tonight, but wouldn't put it past him to totally be the killer and not say a word. "I dunno, my money's on the kid. Seems like a no brainer. Hello, inheritance."
Nour grins, humored by Lester referring to himself in the third person. "Fair," she nods, finding his sentiments to match her own— and her, as in herself and not Clara Beaumont. When he goes on, Nour smiles a bit more, trying her best not to allude to the fact that Clara has those exact motives. Still, wasn't it easy to accuse a woman of murder? Especially as a woman whose emotions were 'incapable of being contained?' It was probably best to keep pointing fingers in other places. While Nour wasn't competitive, she didn't want to make the guessing game that easy. She found it amusing to play the antagonist, but to say she found it comfortable would be an outright lie. The whispers, the looks— guests wondering if it was Clara made her feel unsettled. She wasn't Clara... but she was still Nour. The same Nour that experienced the same thing herself for far less.
"Harvey?" she questions, brows arching with interest. She recalls her own card, tucked away in her skirt pocket. Clara was dating him; she had to play the part. "Quite the accusation. Though, I suppose it's a fair one. It sort of seems wrong to blame the help. Like we're scapegoats or something." Nour made it a point to include herself in that sentiment. However, considering Clara's affiliation with Harvey, she wasn't sure how well that would carry. Nour wasn't even sure if she even met Harvey yet. It was hard to mingle in such a big crowd like this. It almost made her want to shrivel into a corner and lay low until it was all over.
Seemed like Nour needed a moment, for some reason or other. So Dee let her have it. His small talk was rusty as hell, anyway. Those burnt-crooked fingers settled into their familiar tremor, sunk in his jacket pocket. Was it that, strumming across the back of his nerves? Or just how her stare kept skipping around, over him, away? Both, maybe. Probably.
"Hey," Dee echoed, when she got there. He glanced over his shoulder at that old clerk, who was doing a real pointed job of delivering what looked like someone's lunch; she set the bag down by the till, gave it a pat-pat, eyed Nour, then Dee, and started off to find the postmaster. Supposedly. "Yeah, I mean - small town." Not that small, but... one post office kinda small, at least. He gave the coincidence a lopsided shrug. Might've mentioned that she didn't have anything to be sorry about, but. Apologies she didn't need to make were already very much a part of the picture he had of Nour, so far. She looked just about cemented in place, so after a moment of his own, hesitating, he took that lunch bag and crossed the floor. Just putting the pieces together. Trying to be helpful, or whatever. "Guess you got those groceries after all, huh?" He held out the bag, with the best smile he could work up for a near-stranger, on short notice. A near-stranger he'd last seen sick with panic in a parking lot.
The 'situation' pertaining to Elly and Dee no longer felt like a 'situation.' It was like the snowball effect, masking itself as little surprises that soon manifested itself as hard ice, rolling down a twelve-story hill, getting bigger until it crushed her. Nour knew the situation she had gotten herself into (and, admittingly, created) would eventually blow up in her face... so she couldn't help but find that this whole 'small town situation' was just karma finding its way back home. Acceptance was nothing but a neighbor.
Nour found comfort in small talk. She was used to it, tallying her 'Hi's' and 'Hellos' on an everyday to-do list. She always talked about the weather or discounts at Crawfords that seemed to excite middle-aged women on her route. Though, before Dee, Nour couldn't manage a single thought. She drew a blank, unable to form a real word until he handed her that lunch bag. She can't fight her smile when he mentions groceries, letting out a chuckle in response. Could she laugh? Was that allowed? "Yeah," she nods, realizing just how tough it was to look him in the eye. She does, however, even if it was only for a moment. "Well— no, not really. My roommate went the next day instead." She's unsure whether or not she owed him an explanation. She didn't, but... she did, in a way. Even just thinking about lying felt like she was handing herself a shovel for that hole she was digging herself. Better not address it, she decides. "Is uh.. Janine helping you out, okay?" she offers instead, half whispering in case she was within listening distance.
closed starter ✼ @nourfk
where ✼ bus station
when ✼ around 8:30pm
What started as an intriguing Halloween soiree turned into some kind of nightmare fuel. How could anyone imagine there was a killer on the loose? Especially one who had the audacity to off the mayor himself. All Louis could think about was the uproar in the mansion, everyone frantically speaking amongst each other and the blinding red and blue lights of police cars arriving at the scene. Before he knew it, he was being questioned only being let go into the wee hours of the morning with a business card, free dinner and a headache. So much for using up the prize.
Louis hoped to God there wasn't going to be another victim in its wake. It had to be an isolated incident, right? News of the tragedy spread like wildfire within the next few hours, with the city issuing a curfew and people bustling about in paranoia and suspicion. Shaking his head, he then checks his wristwatch, brows raising at the time — just past 8:30pm. He wonders if anyone was going to follow this curfew, given many businesses would suffer from closing early. And as he turns the street, he recognizes Nour waiting at the bus stop, looking quite unbothered.
"I thought you would've been home by now... Should you even be..." he trails, looking around, not so much as a soul in sight. "...out here alone?" He was one to talk.
It never occurred to Nour that the events that took place on Halloween would ever have to do with her. She has let go of her paranoia since it was birthed during her high school years in Stillwater, deciding to let herself get swallowed by invisibility in hopes of chasing what she was like in her formidable years. Though, at this point, it was hard to determine what she was exactly like back then. Was she a rambunctious child? A little one, free from the ideals placed upon her? Still, in the present day, it helped her get by— it helped her climb out of that hell hole. And so, despite the city-wide curfew and her peers remaining adamant about not being the next victim, Nour thoroughly believed that it didn't matter what she did. She was a master at blending in, at not taking up space— how would this killer ever pick her out of a crowd? Her naive approach, in comparison to everyone else, was all she could cling to. After all, she couldn't let some unhinged psychopath get in the way of her living the life she's worked so hard to create— even if it wasn't the life she wanted.
The new courier at Stillwater Post definitely didn't have the same sentiments— leaving the rest of her route 'undelivered' as soon as the sun started to set. A few other couriers had advised Nour that the neighborhood that was left would understand the delay due to the curfew, but what was another three hours tacked onto her shift? Nour needed the money —she always needed money— and the rest of her peers couldn't understand that. She was an immigrant, and life could not stop. It is also why she found herself at the bus stop at an irregular hour, accompanied by a homeless woman who happened to take space a few feet from the bus stop. It wasn't a comfortable situation, but her company was also a woman, and she found comfort in that.
Hearing footsteps approach her, Nour stiffened and didn't dare to look. It is only when he nears and opens his mouth to speak that she does, relaxing to find a familiar face. She smiles with relief, unaware just how tight she held onto the strap of her bag. "Not alone," she offers, nodding to the woman taking a nap on the bus bench. She slept soundly, shifting on top of the newspaper separating her from the cold bench beneath her. "The bus should be here soon anyway," she checks her watch, looking down the empty street. She turns to face him, crossing her arms against her chest. "I'm more surprised to see you taking the bus. You don't have a car?" she quips, persistent to move from the top of a killer being on the loose. If they didn't talk about it, it wasn't happening.
