#bxbailey

[teddyche]

closed   :   @bxbailey location  :  the neon moon saloon

𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.  bex bailey,  31.  teddy wasn’t sure what bex stood for,  but whatever it was,  he was sure it was fantastic.  from what he’d gathered from their week of back-and-forths and a relatively sparse profile,  she had grown up in iron river and worked as some sort of assistant.

and she was good-looking.  so there was that.

in typical teddy fashion,  he had arrived at the neon moon saloon fifteen minutes early and made a mad dash for the pac-man machine  --  a few rounds with inky,  pinky,  blinky,  and clyde ought to quell the much-anticipated first date jitters.  two years ago,  teddy thought he would never go on another first date again.  now,  he’d been on at least fifty and still went into each one feeling like a giddy schoolboy,  a cocktail of nerves and excitement churning in his abdomen.

the clock strikes eight but he’s fully entranced,  hunched over the coin-op as he navigates the maze with laser focus,  gobbling each dot one by one.  he clears another level and does a little victory jig,  even utters a barely audible whoop ! for good measure.  from behind him,  the sound of an amused chuckle lurches him back to reality.  teddy whirls around to find his date posted against a claw machine,  sizing him up with what he could only hope was approval.  “ hi !  ”  a sheepish grin coaxes across his lips as he steps into her orbit,  moving to press a quick kiss to her cheek.  “  er  . . .  how long have you been standing there ?  ”

[hudsweeney]

closed   :   @bxbailey location   :   outside tuck sweeney’s house,  11 pm

𝐧𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞,  georgia fall giving way to georgia winter in the usual whiplash-inducing manner.  while the change in temperature was hardly worth noting on this side of the mason-dixon,  hud could pick december in heartsdale out of a lineup.  each year was the same.  once the casseroles were picked clean and everyone had eaten enough turkey to remember why they didn’t have it the other 364 days of the year,  up went the decorations.  they seemed to materialize overnight,  garlands and twinkle lights and the current bane of hud’s existence  -- inflatable santas.

because with the holiday season came holiday pranks,  a christmas tradition all of its own.  and who better to bring said pranksters to justice than heartsdale’s very own pi for hire ?  long story short,  someone had been stealing inflatable santas from peoples’ yards and arranging them in compromising positions outside town hall.  his sister-in-law’s face when he dropped by unannounced with plans for a santa sting almost made the night ahead worth it.

almost.

his focus is waning,  directed towards the glare of his phone as he debates the merits of a bluetooth-compatible nanny cam for the mutt.  the passenger door opens and the light pops on and hud jumps out of his skin,  a response driven more by shame than surprise.  quickly closing the tab,  he fixes bex bailey with his most reproachful look.  it was a carbon copy of the one he’d been on the receiving end of many times before.  “  bad form to crash a stakeout.  i thought i told you to go home for the day.  ”  he practically has to yell to be heard over the crinkle of the betty’s to-go bag she’d brought along.  “  there had better be coffee in there.  ”