#capitclkarma

[repentulant]

🗝️ dedicated to kazimir cannon / @capitclkarma . 📍 redstone bar .

spending   the   evening   at   redstone   bar   was   meant   to   provide   a   distraction   from   the   darkness   that   looms   over   the   town.   another   death   seems   to   confirm   what   everyone   feared;   someone   is   after   the   people   of   redcreek.   it   also   confirms   another   thing;   if   she   dwells   on   the   fact   too   long,   she'll   begin   to   see   the   fragility   of   her   own   lifelife.   hana's   intentions   had   been   clear   —   step   one,   knock   back   a   cosmo.   PASS.   step   two,   find   someone   to   talk   their   ear   off.   PASS.   step   three,   go   home.   FAIL.   she   seems   to   be   stuck   on   that   step,   peeking   out   of   front   window.   it's   actually   dark   outside   now,   not   just   in   the   town   mourning   way.   what   was   meant   to   be   an   escape   from   it   all   has   resulted   in   hana   running   through   every   slasher   -   flick   possibility   now   that   the   sun   has   gone   down.   there's   no   way   she   could   make   it   home   alone   now. a   name   surfaces   in   her   mind.   kazimir—   endlessly   frustrating   &   entirely   safe,   as   far   as   hana   is   concerned.   she   presses   dial   on   his   contact,   puffing   out   her   cheeks   as   she   waits   for   the   call   to   connect.    ❝   kaz   ?   it's   hana.   ❞    [   ugh.   like   caller   id   doesn't   exist.   ]    ❝   look—    i'm   sorry   to   bother   you   if   you're   like,   busy   or   something.    but   i'm   at   the   bar   &   totally   freaking   out   about   going   home—    do   you   think   you   could   come   get   me   ?   ❞

[worstpart]

[     CLOSED     ]     kazimir cannon,  @capitclkarma [     LOCATION     ]     sheriff's department

          "deputy."     despite their best efforts otherwise,  zakir's toes the line of being patronizing,  the single word dripping enough condescension to fill a river with it.  they're taking a risk cornering kazimir just outside the department when he's leaving for what must be very important and official business.     "you remember me,  yeah?  zakir.  private investigator."     they extend a hand to him in a show of pleasantry.     "i'll keep this short for both our sakes.  get me clearance into the crime scene."     a demand,  not a request.  no point beating around the bush and making this more difficult than it has to be.     "you help me,  i help you."

[horrorphase]

ꜜ ﹙ 💳  ﹚ ﹕ the problem with being a tourist, a stranger in a town so desperate to look tight-knit despite all the murdering each other, was that francis didn't know who to come to when he needed something. people seemed wary of anyone a little out of place⸻ but he was desperate at this point, didn't have a dealer here, at least not yet, so he did what anyone might do when adrift ﹕ leaning back against the wall outside dolly's, hands stuffed into his pockets as he studied anyone passing by. he was looking for anyone who fit the part. someone younger, someone who looked like they smoked grass— maybe out of habit, maybe to take the edge off a life that pressed too hard. someone who looked stressed as fuck. it was a gamble, sure, but everything in this town felt like one. the diner food, the weather, people's sanity. and when his gaze fell upon a stranger nearby, looking particularly stressed out, francis didn't hesitate to approach⸻ pleasantries not exactly his thing, had one question so sharp and insistent that he didn't bother with that smalltown how do you do. “ hey man, ” he started, voice low and rough at the edges, not exactly trying to bring attention to the conversation, but with a smile too warm to possibly be genuine nonetheless. “ don't suppose you know where a guy could get some weed around here, do you ? i mean, c'mon, surely you know. you look like you could use a fat blunt right now. ” tongue clicked, looking at the other man as like he could read him. but francis was just projecting. then almost as an afterthought, francis added, “ not looking for anything harder. just weed. ” he drew a cross over his heart, smile tugging into something that might have been a smirk, though it felt more like a grimace. as if saying that out loud made a difference, as if drawing a line in the sand could hold back the tide. @capitclkarma