[IC] Farrow's Gift

[Marlowe]

Interacting with: @Fisticuffs

The deep russet hue of the crimson sun shone from behind the buildings, casting long, dark shadows upon the gravel of the streets. Even though Darkwell was a small city, people usually never stuck around after dusk; people lazily drifted home, their hair disheveled or their eyes weary from a tiresome day of work. When night fell, Darkwell's roads would be empty, and the only ones wandering about after dusk were usually the drunks or the loners. That, or they were college students rushing home after their night classes, or night owls scampering across roads in order to get to their shifts on time.

It was after sundown that MacCready’s Irish Pub became Garrett's second home. While there were a few people there other than him, it was delightfully quiet that evening. There weren't any rowdy customers that laughed or bellowed their stories at their friends. Instead, the hum of conversation hovered about the pub like a light cloud. It was a good thing, to say the least. Headaches still plagued him every so often after he got sick, and he wasn't in the mood to deal with people who yelled when they talked. He was more interested in the yellow-amber color of the drink he had placed atop the oaken bar table that he occupied. The cup of rum was the second that he drank so far, and already, the nagging headache at the back of his skull was beginning to get drowned out. A few more servings of drink, and the whole issue should be solved within the next hour.

"Thomas. Get me another one," Garrett muttered after draining the glass, pushing forward the container with a lazy finger. Even the glint of the light shining off of the rounded edge of the glass bothered his eyesight slightly. Maybe he should stop playing so many video games until he felt better? He didn't know. He took too many days off of work already, and when he was bedridden with fever, he couldn't even so much as open his eyes. Laying about and doing absolutely nothing was boring; if he had to spend another few days resting, he would rather throw himself out a window.

The left ceiling light was flickering again. It buzzed shortly every time it went off, its annoying tune drilling into her skull with each passing moment. She watched her cup of tea in front of her, the steam rising and brushing against her already flushed face.

Wren Faulkner had thought she was going to die. The past few days had been a living hell, and every single waking moment, she begged for the illness to take her. She had been immobilized by fever, and every time she did move, she would have to drag herself to the toilet to vomit all of the fluids that remained in her stomach. A certain type of paleness had tainted her body, save for her face-- even now, a feverish hue covered her cheeks, even as it was dying away. It was only today that she could bring herself to drag her body out of the bed and actually go somewhere. Hibiscus tea was one of her favorite items on Darkwell City Diner's menu, and hell, she was going to have it.

... Well, there it was. Looking down at it, she could see the tea leaves drifting at the bottom of the cup. Yet, she couldn't even bring herself to so much as take a sip of it. Her body craved something different, something that wasn't watery and thin. Sniffling, she instead nibbled on the biscuits that came along with the warm drink. The flakiness and butteriness of the pastry melted in her mouth, making her sore and empty stomach rumble slightly. At least I can keep something down.

It was something she was really appreciative for. For the past week, everything that entered her stomach would be tossed back up. Her body feeling sore from retching, it was no wonder that her appetite was currently nonexistant. Wren put another piece of biscuit into her mouth, chewing slowly as she wrapped her gray cardigan tighter around her shoulders. It kept her warm from the autumn chill that was creeping into Darkwell, though there was something about the air that seemed different than other years.

[Elle Santiago]

Interacting with: @Ambra

Jewels shone on the ocean's surface, every wave making the sea glitter in orange diamonds. Clouds drifted by almost lazily, the whole sight accompanied by the sounds of seagulls cawing as they flew around aimlessly. Caitlyn's short black hair was ruffled by the chilly evening breeze, dark brown eyes almost golden as it stared at the beautiful setting sun. The glint disappeared in her eyes as her hands lifted the camera in front of her face and peered through its viewfinder. Fingers found the trigger and she pushed, eliciting a quiet click as the image was captured. She pulled it away from her face and stared at the display. Her lips tugged downwards in dissatisfaction as she saw that the image didn't hold the calmness that the view in front of her showed.

A bark cut off Caitlyn's musing, her head tilting down to see the fast wagging tail and lolling tongue of her dog, Benjamin. He barked again, bounced and spun around, chasing his tail before looking up with that slight tilt in his head that just looked positively adorable. "Fine, fine." Caitlyn's lips pulled up in amusement as she bent down, rubbing Benjamin's head, before pulling herself up and tugging the leash gently to prompt her dog to walk.

Her thoughts drifted, something that was uncomfortably common this last few days. It was probably because of that damned fever that almost took her into an early grave. To this day, she didn't know what triggered it. She didn't come into contact with anyone sick before that and she knew it was contagious, considering she got Jude infected. It still filled her with guilt, remembering her friend just weaken in sickness and that Caitlyn didn't have the strength to help as the fever took its toll. Both of their dogs just whined in despair, more so in Benjamin's case, doing their best to comfort their human friends with a healthy (or unhealthy) dose of hand licking.

Another bark distracted her, followed by the persistent tugging of the leash in her hand as she watched Benjamin excitedly took off in the direction of the diner. "I'm coming, I'm coming." She murmured, increasing her pace. Caitlyn didn't feel like cooking tonight, mostly because home right now reminded her of too many unfortunate things. For example, she could turn into a cat now. For some reason. That was indescribable. It was only a fortunate thing that she only turned into a cat in the confines of her home without Jude being present and not while in public spaces. Either way, being at home meant the threat of changing and Caitlyn didn't feel like eating dog food again.

In their slightly brisk pace, it only took her and her small dog ten minutes before they arrived at the diner. Caitlyn knelt in front of Benjamin, stroking his fur before opening her bag, producing two bowls -- one containing dog food and the other, water. "Bark if you see suspicious people, 'kay?" She advised with an amused smile before entering the diner. She went to the bar, surprisingly empty considering the time of day but it could just be because she missed the rush or the rush was just about to arrive.

Despite knowing the menu at heart, Caitlyn perused through its selections and immediately felt her mouth water as she read tuna sandwich. She straightened uncomfortably in her seat before snapping the menu shut and readied herself to order. A co-worker took sight of her and they immediately conversed, ranging from 'how are you' to 'there's this one customer and you just won't believe what they did'. Just as Caitlyn was about to order, her co-worker just cooed, tapping her arm.

"Benj is just so cute. Look at him!"

Caitlyn looked and saw that her dog was looking through the window, paws on the clear surface as he stood on his hind legs, tail wagging happily as he barked. What was interesting was that he wasn't looking at her but at the patron sitting next to the window staring at a cup of tea. Her eyes narrowed as she recognized not only the woman, but of her general demeanor. It was like how she imagined herself to look like while sick. What was worrying was that Wren made a pretty sweet hot chocolate and without her, hot chocolate wouldn't just be the same.

"Hey Dule." Caitlyn called to her co-worker. "Today's chicken noodle soup, right?"

"Yep. Want that?"

"Two, actually. One for me and for Wren over there." She jabbed her thumb in said woman's direction. "I think she's going to need it."

"It'll be in five."

"Got it. Oh, and I'll get the tray."

While waiting for the food to arrive, she went to the washroom to wash her hands. The food actually didn't take long to arrive and Caitlyn, with one arm occupied in holding the tray of food, walked towards Wren's table and knocked lightly on its surface.

Caitlyn greeted Wren with a smile, sliding the bowl of soup on the table and proceeding to sit across her. "I hope Benjamin wasn't annoying you. Sometimes, he thinks him being adorable excuses him from intruding on people's spaces."

[Fisticuffs]

Interacting with: @Ambra

MacCready’s was an Irish bar with a Scottish name, owned by a Russian, and managed by an American. The bar was a dive, essentially, but by the simple matter of keeping it clean, it was considered ironically shitty. It was either the shittiest good bar ever, or the best shitty bar ever. Between the graffiti scratched into the tables and chairs and barstools, the visibly smoky air, and the painfully pretentious music that Thomas liked to play, MacCready’s was...unique. Only two things kept the regulars coming back. The relatively cheap booze (especially when compared to the bars near the college) and the Darkwell Tribune-voted best bartender in Darkwell, two years running.

Or, so he liked to think.

It was probably the cheap booze.

It was quiet tonight. It was quiet most nights, really, but tonight was especially slow. If he didn’t have the news running on the tv above the bar, he might’ve wondered why. The sound was turned off, and music was playing, but he could read the subtitles.

”Tonight, a third victim was found seemingly-mauled. The woman, whose name has not been released, has been checked into a hospital. Police on the scene refused to comment on her condition. This follows two deaths, and conflicting reports of what the attackers might’ve looked like.”

People are scared…

Thomas winced, turning away from the screen. He heard Garrett, one of his regulars, order another glass of rum. He nodded, distractedly, occasionally glancing at the TV screen as he filled the glass. He only snapped out of his reprieve when he handed the drink to him.

”You alright, man?” Thomas asked, raising an eyebrow. He knew his regulars. He knew that Garrett didn’t look well. ”You look like hammered shit. No offense.” He knew that he’d looked about as bad, if not worse, not too long ago. Worst fever he’d had in ages. Enough to make him miss work, which didn't happen very often. He stayed in his apartment, ate saltine crackers, and watched movies. For the first time in a while, he didn't worry about the bar. It would've been nice if it hadn't been for the dangerously high fever.

[Tominas]

Shawn Barrett

DAYS AFTER THE PARTY: Negative Something
LOCATION: Darkwell City Diner
INTERACTING WITH: Wren@Elle Santiago, Cait@Ambra

---

---

Shawn took in a deep breath, steam curling around his head as hot water rushed around him. He felt his entire body relax at once, the heat working out the aches and pains of his daily routine. God, nothing in the world felt better than a hard workout and a good shower. Still, despite feeling like a goddamn stallion of a man, a few things kept keeping him from truly being at ease. One hand rubbed idly at an old scar on his shoulder as he turned the facts over in his head, again and again.

The recent deaths didn’t make sense. Rural dogs went feral sometimes, but the wounds in the most recent case looked like they were done with steak knives taped together and wrapped around a chainsaw. They were too deep, too jagged, and quite frankly too messy. When a dog attacks someone, it doesn’t look like their insides were put inside a fucking blender. The bodies were torn to shreds. Not eaten, just scattered. Spaghetti with a chunky sauce. Despite himself, memories of I.E.D.’s came to mind... But those were bad thoughts, and there sure as hell hadn’t been a detonation. No ash, no smell aside from the rotten sweetness of old blood, old meat.

Perhaps more strangely, there was the letter to consider. It wasn’t extraordinary in and of itself, as far as the police department could tell, but the man who had died held it clutched in his fist, even after whatever had killed him had done its work. A few of the officers had mentioned that it WAS the hundredth anniversary of the founding of the town soon, but none of them knew about the party. Most likely a private shindig. Still, with the timing of these “accidents” and the way things were going, people were getting superstitious. The latest victim had survived, but she sure as hell wasn’t in any condition to talk, and wouldn’t be for a while. Shawn knew in the rational part of his brain that full moons and hundred year-curses were all fake, but the primitive lizard part of him had its own ideas. Frankly, he had been a cop for eight years, and after a while you learn when to trust your hunches. Ever since he had come to town, something was just off.

The detective shook his head, letting the water run over his face before killing the pressure. He toweled off, pulling on a button-up and some jeans while taking care that he wasn’t completely coated in cat hair. It was a losing battle, but he had to put an effort into it. Still, it was good to have something a little more comfortable. Those uniforms got stifling after a while. He didn’t have to work tonight, thank God, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to cook. Locking the door behind him, he ran his fingers through his hair and lit a cigarette, rolling the smoke around in his mouth for a moment before slowly exhaling, watching his breath trail into the brisk night air. He had tried to quit before, but with work like it had been lately… Fuck it, who could blame him?

Making his way downtown, Shawn thought about the letter. A party in the Darkwell City Diner, celebrating the hundredth anniversary… Maybe the staff would know about it? Still, he noticed a dog sitting outside the diner. He was an adorable animal, Shawn had seen him on a few occasions. As far as the detective knew, the pup belonged to a student at Darkwell, some young girl who worked here sometimes.

Glancing around to make sure no one was watching him, Barrett knelt down, scratching the little guy behind his ears. “Hey there, fella. It’s been a bit, I was worried your big sis had taken you off somewhere.” A small smile split his cheeks for a moment, his attention focused on the pooch. “But hey, I’m gonna go grab a bite for myself. If you’re still around when I head out, I’ll give you a little something.” He stood up, taking another look around before entering the diner. He had been visible through the windows, but hopefully no one had been paying too much attention.

Walking inside, he took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of the diner soak his bones. Something smelled delicious. Wednesday… soup? Chicken, if he knew the schedule by now. Near as he could tell, it wasn’t too crowded, only one person was sitting at the bar. Likely a good thing, though he wasn’t sure why. He had been here a hundred times, was the definition of a regular. But something wasn’t right, and he couldn’t shake an ominous feeling down his spine. Maybe it was the way one of the lights was flickering, but he couldn’t help but think that either work was getting to him again or something was coming. Hopefully the first.

Taking his usual seat up at the bar, he opened a menu and flipped through it without really reading at all. He knew the damn thing frontways, backwards, and sideways at this point. In the first few months of living here, he had quickly established where the best places to snag something edible were, and the Diner easily made the high middle ground of the list. At this point, he played with the menu out of habit more than anything else. Dule was over talking to Cait, he thought her name was, and he wasn’t in a rush. Soon enough, the woman made her way over to his seat, and the ritual began.

“Miss Dule.”

“Mister Barrett.”

“Is there anything hot?”

“Well, we can find something or another. Probably. Coffee and water?”

“Coffee and water.” And with that, she started off towards the kitchen. He honestly couldn’t say what she would bring, and he didn’t care so long as it was switched up from time to time. She got a good tip, he got a decent meal, and time kept marching by. “Excuse me, Miss Dule?”

She turned back, a slight frown of surprise on her expressive features. “Yes, Mr. Barrett?” He usually didn’t say too much after the initial overture.

The officer’s gaze was focused on the waitress, but he was all too aware of everyone else in the restaurant as the words left his mouth. His voice was serious and his face hardly changed as he spoke, but that wasn’t different from usual. However, his eyes were just a touch harder than usual, a cold light reflecting their icy blue. Significantly different from his usual interactions with the woman, but he needed answers. Most likely, no one knew too much about the letter, and it probably didn’t matter. But if it did, then he would be one step closer to finding out what the hell had been attacking people around here. “What do you know about a party being held here on the 27th? Anniversary of the town’s founding, all that jazz? Maybe it’s from where I'm new in town, but I recently received this letter and have no idea who sent it.”

[Peridot]

Felix Fenway

Interacting with: Garrett @Ambra & Thomas @Fisticuffs

The warmth of the bar was a stark and pleasant contrast to the coolness outside. Even taking into account Oregon's natural chilliness, and autumn creeping in amidst the last days of summer, Felix thought it was unusually cold. In fact, a lot of unusual things seemed to be happened in Darkwell recently, but he tried to find some kind of reason behind it all. A normal reason, that is. The weather? Something to do with global warming. The illness? Flu season. People going missing and being found torn apart? Uh... bears?

Already, Felix knew he was grasping at straws. A few days ago an injured animal had been brought into the Vet's office - it turned out to be a young wolf, but was so torn up and badly hurt that they couldn't discern it from a regular dog. Being secretary, Felix didn't see the surgery, or the aftermath of inspecting it's corpse when it died... but upon seeing it brought in, he knew right away a bear hadn't done this. He'd seen bear maulings before, and they'd never been so bloody, so brutal. Whatever was responsible for these attacks on animals and humans alike was something that clearly wanted to cause pain, and relished in it. Bears and Wolves didn't do that.

Shuddering lightly as the last of the cold air was chased away, Felix allowed the door to swing shut behind him as he approached the bar. He was likely considered a regular at this point, what with the amount of time he frequented the place, either with friends or without. It was cosy, in a messed up, scruffy sort of way. A nice contrast to the pristine home he was stuck in. As for today, however, Felix came for something a bit stronger than cosiness. He was recovering from a particularly nasty bout of the flu, and one could see the remnants of his illness in his face. He looked particularly haggard; after having not really eaten much in the past few days, Felix's already thin face looked partially hollow around his cheeks. Paired with stubble unusually long for him, shadows beneath his eyes and a pallid complexion, he certainly didn't look the picture of health. Nor had he for the past few days, but he hadn't let that stop his daily routine. Lectures had been attended (Not that he paid much attention beyond messy, indecipherable shorthand notes, and trying to stay awake for the full hour), and he hadn't risked going in sick for his job. He was getting close to having saved up enough money for an extended trip away from home, and the sooner that happened, the better.

Sitting down heavily on a bar stool, Felix offered up a tired grin to Thomas.

"Irish coffee please - easy on the coffee, heavy on the irish." Alcohol plus caffeine plus hot drink would hopefully perk his spirits up... throw some tylenol in and he'd even be able to function properly with his banging headache. Glancing up, the TV caught his attention, and Felix's grin dimmed somewhat.

"Another person? At least she's alive... poor woman." The thought wasn't exactly a happy one though... yet another attack didn't bode well. Did the Police honestly believe that this was the work of a person? Felix had seen the extent of wounds, and if a bear couldn't do it, he couldn't see how a human could either. Unless they were Freddy Krueger, in which case, the world really was going to shit.

Deciding that watching the news about further carnage and death wasn't going to do him much good, Felix cast his gaze back to Thomas, and another regular: Garrett. He looked much grumpier than usual, and the bartender didn't look too hot either.

"You guys catch the flu as well, huh? You look like how I feel." Felix's grin returned, paired with a somewhat hoarse chuckle. Once again, the feeling that something didn't sit right hit him. But surely there was nothing odd about people being ill, right?

[Etranger]

Theresa Aldern

@Ambra @Fisticuffs @Peridot

Much like anyone else in Darkwell, Theresa had heard plenty of news about the vicious attacks and strange happenings in the city. Before the fever struck, Theresa would have probably been content to hide under her bed in anticipation of a vicious attack on her person. Now she was eager to look into it personally, within reason. She was hardly looking for trouble, but she certainly continued to stride down the streets without paying heed to the potential dangers. It was probably blind confidence talking, but she felt that if she could shoot lethal chunks of ice at whatever stepped onto her path, she could handle a few rabid dogs. Of course, she was also starting to consider the possibility that whatever they were dealing with was not some base canine. At this early stage, it was impossible to say for sure what was true or not, but given she suddenly awoke to magic powers recently, who was to say the ever so recent attacks weren't the work of something equally magical?

Right now though, Theresa only had fun and drink on the mind. MacCready's had become her haunt of choice. There were plenty of bars and pubs and clubs that someone could lose themselves in around the city, but Theresa had chosen this one partly on a whim and partly because the drinks really were cheap here. On the way in, she heard someone make mention of the flu going around. That was something she was going to have to keep in mind. She made her way to the counter and said, "Thomas, I need a Tequila, please." Tequila had become her drink of choice. She had a feeling it might have been because of the exotic sounding name. She was still a big nerd at heart, no matter how she had changed recently.

Wasting little time, Theresa decided to inject herself into any ongoing conversation between the sourpuss Garrett and the much less bilesome Felix. "So I heard you mention the flu. I had it too, you know. It's the damndest thing how all this stuff happens at once, isn't it?" She said while gesturing vaguely at the ongoing news report about the most recent attack. On the surface, it seemed like an innocent jab at how bad things seem to come in spades, but she meant more by it. She wasn't sure yet, but she was starting to wonder if this wasn't all connected. More than anything, she wanted to see if any of her conversational partners had more to say on recent events. She couldn't be sure if somebody else had been touched by magic themselves.

[Marlowe]

Interacting with: @Fisticuffs, @Peridot, @Etranger

For a few moments, the man found himself looking at the television. Were they still talking about the attacks? That was all they spoke about on the news nowadays. Fearmongering forced people to avoid the streets at night all together, and many citizens cast concerned looks at one another as they spoke about the person who was ripped to shreds down the block, or the body that they found at the docks. It was all bullshit to him, to be honest-- if there was a killer among them, then they would be caught eventually. There was no need to be constantly talking about the remains that were found or the pools of blood that swamped the alleyways. His nose wrinkled slightly, and his gaze flickered to Thomas, who had commented on his appearance.

"Fever's been fuckin' me for days," Garrett muttered simply before returning his gaze to the rum. The glass was full, and the small bits of ice swirled in a spiral in the midst of the yellow-ish liquid. Through his silence, he heard two more people sit beside him-- a man that he knew by Felix and a female that called herself Theresa. They made their rounds about the pub as well, though probably not as often as he did.

Theresa mentioned the news report again, relating it to the sudden outburst of illness that plagued the population. His temper flared, but he mostly kept it under control for now. "Don't be stupid," he grumbled, shooting Felix and Theresa a harsh glare.

Interacting with: @Elle Santiago

Something snapped her from her thoughts, although she wasn't sure what it was at first. Wren's gaze swept over the diner in search of the high-pitched noise, only to realize that the sound was coming from outside. Her head turned towards the window pane, seeing a small dog with its paws on the glass. It was barking at her, and while the sound irritated her headache even more, she couldn't help but feel like its cuteness over-rode that factor. A smile wormed its way over her lips, and a light giggle was about to escape her throat when someone approached her. Wren looked upwards, her eyes blinking in surprise at the generous gift of soup. The steam hit her face, and the smell was more than appetizing. "No worries. Your dog is cute, and he made me laugh, so it's a win-win for me," her weary smile widened slightly as she dipped a spoon into the soup.

"This bug has been killing me for almost a week. A few nights ago, I had this fever that I thought would end me," Wren told Caitlyn, slowly sipping at the warm soup. She caught sight of the man that sat at the long table, but she didn't say anything to him. He seemed a little busy, so Wren kept her attention on Caitlyn as she slurped a long noodle.

[Silent Whispers]

Vernon Miller

Location; Apartment → Darkwell City's Diner
Interactions; Kevin{NPC} → Miss Dule{NPC}

---

Vernon was sick and it definitely showed well within his presence. He would take two steps forward and would cough or sneeze, whichever one was much preferred at the time. Vernon thought that it was just some kind of weird allergies that was affecting him but seemingly, he wasn't the only one sick during this time of the season. Of course, he thought that it was really weird that multiple people were sick right now but it was the Fall and sickness usually spread around this time of the year. He was still in bed, strongly debating to himself whether he wanted to head to his night class, or not. Vernon sighed as he rolled over on his back now, eyes glared up towards the ceiling above him now.

He was really in no stable condition to go anywhere for real but he managed to get out of his bed and stand on his own two feet. Vernon groaned with a little bit of agony, walking towards his bathroom that's in his apartment and started to run the shower water. Even though he was in a state of slight pain, he still bathe himself and got himself together before nightfall. With yet another groan escaping over his parted lips, he went into the living area, where his roommate currently resided and now their gazes meeting one another.

"Dude. You should really be resting." His roommate, Kevin, mentioned towards Vernon, who waved his hand towards him out of ignorance. "I have to get out and get some fresh air or else I am going to suffocate in here." Vernon responded towards Kevin, who was shrugging his shoulders at Vernon's response while coming up with on of his own. "Whatever, bro. Just trying to look out for you." Vernon stopped well within his tracks while his eyes were drawn to his Mustang keys, which gave Vernon an idea after what Kevin had just said.

"Want to look out for me?" Vernon asked while tossing the keys towards Kevin, a slow smile starting to form among his lips. "Drive me to the diner, please so that I can get myself some chicken noodle soup or something. I hope that's still today's special." When the keys landed beside Kevin, he immediately picked up the keys and eyed them briefly before looking up towards Vernon now, his lips parted and his words stammered before he finally spoke again. "Dude, are you sure? You said that you'd never let me drive it but I am certainly not complaining." Kevin responded as he stood up now, eyes locked on Vernon, who nodded his head towards Kevin's previously. "If I wasn't sure, I wouldn't have tossed you the keys. Now, come on."

Vernon and Kevin walked out of their apartment and went over to the parking lot, where Vernon's Mustang vehicle was parked. Vernon got inside of the passenger seat and Kevin got into the driver's, immediately cranking up the engine and buckling his seat belt but made sure that Vernon was also buckled up before putting the car into motion. "I wonder how many other sick people are at the diner." Vernon stated as Kevin shrugged his shoulders again, not really having any response to that statement.

Soon, they pulled up to the diner and Kevin did not even manage to turn off the engine, making Vernon turn towards him and raise his brow. "You're not going to leave me here, Kevin. Turn the engine off and come on." Kevin groaned at Vernon's words and turned the engine off and took the key out of the ignition as they both unbuckled their seat belts and got out of the Mustang, making their way inside of the diner.

Upon their entrance, Vernon managed to walk by someone that had two bowls of chicken noodle soup and the brief aroma he smelled made him feel a little bit better already. 'Achoo!' Vernon sneezed loudly as Kevin shook his head at him as they sat down at a nearby table, the infamous Miss Dule came up towards them and stared at Vernon. "Let me guess, something hot and chicken noodle soup?" She questioned towards Vernon, who looked up at the female waitress with nod of his head but Kevin shook his hand towards Miss Dule, who leaned in and whispered. "Let me at least bring you a cup for water or something." She smiled sweetly towards Kevin then walked away, not even giving Kevin a chance to respond.

As Vernon waited for his order and Kevin for his complimentary cup of water, Kevin pulled something out of his pants pocket and handed it over towards Vernon. "Oh, this came for you in the mail today, by the way." Kevin muttered as Vernon grabbed the envelope and examined it with a raised brow. He knew that it wasn't from his parents because the envelope wasn't the usual one that they usually sent their letters in. Vernon opened the envelope and pulled the letter out, completely forgetting that he just received it from Kevin's pocket. "What does it say?" Kevin asked of Vernon, who read it then looked up at Kevin in a confused state.

"I've been invited to the town's anniversary party but if I feel like this on that day, or whenever it is, I may not go. Despite the prize." Vernon commented as Miss Dule brought out Vernon's order and Kevin's water. "If you guys need anything else, just holler." Miss Dule mentioned towards the duo sweetly before telling Vernon to enjoy and walking away. "Wait, what prize?" Keven asked as he took a small sip from his cup of water as Vernon picked up the letter again, reading it. "Some computer." Vernon answered with a shrug as he started to eat his chicken noodle soup, closing his eyes and savoring the hot, delicious flavor for the moment. "This is so good." Vernon complimented basically to himself as he thought more and more about the mysterious and rather suspicious letter that laid out before him.

[Elle Santiago]

Interacting with: @Ambra

Silent relief flooded within Caitlyn upon hearing Wren's amicable reply and seeing her widening smile. There was always a chance that she'd be turned away or glared at upon intruding on someone else's personal space. She and Benjamin shared such tendency, anyways, and Benjamin just had the higher chance of being welcomed courtesy of being an adorable and fluffy dog. "Did you hear that? Wren says you're cute and you made her laugh." Caitlyn gave him an exaggerated thumbs up. "Good boy!" Benjamin barked excitedly on the other side of the window in reply, sitting on the pavement with his tail still wagging in the air.

Upon noticing her own weirdness, Caitlyn cleared her throat before digging in her own soup. Yum. Delicious. When Wren mentioned her sickness, a worried frown marred Caitlyn's face. "You too? I had it--" Caitlyn jerked up in her seat upon hearing a loud sneeze, her face flushing in embarrassing red at her own jumpiness. She turned around and narrowed her eyes at the man who she thought was responsible for a loud sound before turning back towards Wren. She cleared her throat again. "I had one, too. My roommate got sick too when he took care of me. I don't know where it came from, though. I didn't get into contact with someone sick before that all happened."