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Kristen Applebees watches Buddy Dawn die and for a moment sees herself - throat slit, blood oozing across the dusty bricks. She wonders if that could have been her.
(I desperately want to know what went through Kristen's mind in this moment so I wrote it myself.)
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On an impulse, she reached out and grabbed Vi’s hand, flushing at the sound of surprise the gesture caused. Caitlyn bowed her head over it so that her blush would go unseen, tracing over the scars and the lines of her palm. She stroked her fingers over Vi’s knuckles, feeling the ridges where skin had split, healed, split again, and the quiet part of her wished that she could kiss them.
“How are your hands so pretty when you’re supposed to be an enforcer?” Vi murmured, lacing their fingers together.
Pretty? “Pretty?”
Vi laughed softly. “Don’t say it like you’re surprised. Still, they’re nothing compared to the rest of you.”
Caitlyn choked on her spit and very intelligently said, “What.”
Smirking, Vi yanked her forwards by their linked hands and tilted her face up, eyes half-lidded and lips so incredibly close.
“I wasn’t kidding when I said you were hot, cupcake.”
(Alternatively, I like their dynamic a lot and enjoy being inside composed characters' heads.)
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“I’m sorry that you cared so much,” he said evenly.
“You were dead to me from the moment you got Alana killed,” Daniel replied quickly.
“Mr Jacobi, I think we both know that that’s not quite true.”
(Also, Daniel Jacobi needed closure so I'm giving it to him via ghost Kepler.)
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“Francis?”
And there he was. Red hair dark and plastered to his forehead, white shirt sticking to his skin and the same black coat hanging heavy from his shoulders.
“Hi. Richard.”
“W-what are you doing here?”
“The wedding’s off.”
“Off? How come?”
“I believe your exact words were ‘Don’t do this, Francis.’?” He cocked his head to the side, and the dim hallway light danced off the rain coursing down his face.
(a.k.a. Francis shows up at Richard's house out of the blue and things get as gay as they should have in the book.)
