“god, Took You Long Enough! Wait... What Are You Supposed To Be?” They Take A Moment To Do A Quick

@mclodrma

“obsession?” she can’t help but laugh as that, though it lacks humor. "that is so dramatic, ricardo. i was just asking you a question." the silence that now envelopes them is not as comfortable. there's no solidarity no mutual understanding of how to navigate a story. what little patience they had for ricardo's antics is quickly depleting the more he speaks. "jesus, we get it. you're in a different tax bracket! do you really have to remind everyone of that every chance you get?" they are suddenly regretting the decision to accept the blazer. if he is intent on treating them like a child about it then they would rather freeze to death. kennedy meets ricardo's gaze as he scoffs at their plan, brows twitching into a frown. then they sigh, as if truly disappointed. “i must have mistaken you for someone with initiative,” they respond, fixing her gaze ahead of them once more, a newfound determination finding it's way to their bones. “fine — don’t help me gather intel. ill do it myself.” they don’t need him. they don’t need anybody. it was foolish of her to think the common goal or whipping up some notoriety was enough for them to work together. kennedy does remember him vaguely saying something like that to them and at the time, they bit their tongue. figured it was just him adding some good old corporate fear to the work culture. besides, what the hell could they possibly uncover in red creek? but now, their journalistic instinct tells them that there might just be a story to be told tonight and they aren’t interested in letting anyone’s ego get in the way of that.

they pick up their pace slightly, enough to step in front of him and put both of their strides to a pause. “i’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding between us, sir.” their voice shifts into a more professional tone but make no mistake — there is a definite bite in there. “i am sorry if i gave you the impression that i'm some lackey who's value rests on writing fluff stories for the piece of shit station you decided to burrow yourself into." it’s clear he doesn't know anything about them. the articles they’ve written, the stories they’ve uncovered, the damn book they wrote. and it's even clearer now that he simply doesn't care . "so let's re-evaluate each other's professional expectations, should we? how about you stop acting like i'm some inconvenience to have at your side and i'll stop mistaking your interest in the news as a willingness to help?" as per my last email, fuck you. 

HE SCOWLS AT THE LINE OF QUESTIONING . what may be harmless to others , royally pisses ricardo off . he doesn't like small talk . he doesn't like incessant questioning . this is the worst thing that reporters do and something he now only has HIMSELF to thank for picking the register to buy . inadvertently he's surrounded himself with nosy freaks . " what's the obsession with whether i watch movies or not ? are you planning an exposé on ricardo garcia's watching habits ? " it's not a snap , but it's close . his eyebrows set and his expression shutters off . he allows silence to wash over them as they continue walking , but he notes the way kennedy hugs the blazer slightly closer to their body . " don't spill anything on that . it's worth more than a year of your pay check . " he can't help add .

he silently agrees that the killer may be one for dramatics . a part of him wants to drive deeper and ask kennedy about their thoughts on what it means . why halloween . why that street . why that time . did they know people would be out ? was it accidental or planned ? but ricardo doesn't quite enjoy inciting conversation and a stronger part of him is worried that kennedy will take it as an invite to pester him with more questions in return . instead, he hums in agreement at their sentiment . ricardo glances at kennedy , with a scoff . " divide and conquer ? no thanks . i'm not your coworker . you ought to remember that . " he shakes his head . " i don't divide and conquer and i definitely don't take orders from my own staff . " he lifts a hand up , waving it . " what did i say on my first day here again ? something about ' you get me something interesting and you get to keep your jobs , otherwise , don't bother me ? ' tonight's hardly a call for us to sing kumbaya and collaborate . " ricardo feels restless then . itchy . he remembers why he doesn't like talking to people and especially shouldn't talk to his own workers . he doesn't need friends . he doesn't need anyone . he is uncomfortable because he knows , deep down , that's exactly what he needs . but a man raised a wolf will always only bare his teeth . it is in his nature . " no . " ricardo says flatly . " go find some sad loser to drink with you . " he's sure there's more than plenty still wandering around .

“if they do let me back there, don’t expect me to be able to pour anything other than a straight liquor. id be a shit bartender.” kennedy was very aware her strengths and bartending was simply not one of them. she follows the other with amusement awed by how yasmine walks through the room like they own the place. it was her idea to get a drink but they are more than happy to let yasmine take charge. with their encouragement, kennedy squeezes herself into an opening. she raises a hand to get the bartender's attention, then stops, and turns back to yasmine. "wait — what are you having?"

they nodded their head solemnly and hummed in agreement. "they might even let you behind the bar. it's doubtful they would care about the legalities of it tonight." they continued walking and shoving their way through the crowd, hardly acknowledging how many shoulders they bumped or toes they stomped. "time to test your theory," yasmine said as they pulled their hand kennedy and pointed toward the bar.

 impatience oozes off him like expensive cologne. patchouli, sandalwood, and financial privilege all wrapped up in a smug, pearly-white grin. they’ve only known each other for a handful of months but kennedy deduces this might be where their professional differences lie. ricardo is a master at gliding his vibe meter between ball busting and indifference,. they got the impression that to him, results matter more than details ( or means? ) . kennedy on the other hand? is meticulous, incessant in their need to look at every angle, to leaving no stone unturned in pursuit for a good story the truth.  but they can play the game. have been around enough white collar honchos to learn the fine art of capitalizing. they lean in, lowering their voice to what could almost be a whisper but it's too sharp to fully make the cut. “it makes sense, doesn’t it? with her disappearance still fresh on everyone’s mind, it’s only natural for people to wonder if she has finally been found.” kennedy won’t confirm nor deny if they had a part in planting or spreading that seed but know if they had — they would have covered their tracks. “i say we throw that on there if the body isn’t identified by the time the paper hits.”  it doesn’t have to be right. they can word it so it sounds like they’re simply reporting on what the masses are fearing. if anything, it’ll add to the mystery of daniela’s disappearance if the body isn’t hers. a grim thought, freshly picked from a dark corner of kennedy's psyche that always seems to gnaw at them in times like this. the part best kept in the confines of her own subconscious.

 the silence that surrounds them is heavy, two pairs of eyes linked to each other in momentary… understanding? who knows. whatever it is, it breaks the moment he speaks up again and kennedy has to resist the urge to roll their eyes when he asks if they’ve collected statements. instead, settle on a sugary smile, picture perfect as the good little reporter they are. “yes, sir.” feed into the hysteria — now there is something the two can agree with. “unless you’re an incel dressing up as a rich asshole in a suit.” kennedy replies with a shrug of her shoulder, making a point to leave the ‘unbelievably hot’ portion of his get up out. they know better than to confirm or deny such an egocentric statement. besides, if he’s gonna make his employees walk alone in their fake blood-soaked prom dress on the night a body was literally discovered then it doesn’t matter how attractive he is — kennedy will label him a woman hater regardless. so they start walking, ultimately giving him the option to follow or not, though fully expecting him to. “well, boss. you have to expand your movie taste if you don’t know who i am dressed as.” or is it that he really doesn’t care? “what’s your favorite film?” they're expecting him either to list some raunchy film directed by a weird indie director or the wolf of wall street. 

he moves his index finger as kennedy talks , signalling she get to the point quicker . he's hearing a lot of BUMPS in the road and ricardo doesn't care for them . he doesn't care HOW they get the story , he just needs to know that they WILL . and in true fashion , they finally deliver those magical words . something on your desk by five . ricardo's face ghosts with an almost genuinely pleased smile . while it's clear that kennedy doesn't care for ricardo , and ricardo is like brutus in that he cares for nobody in return . . . he's appreciative that he can come close to TRUSTING them to always deliver . at the mention of the estrada's , ricardo feels himself do a double - take . for some reason , he hadn't even considered that . " is that what they're saying ? " his voice is harsh . " that it's daniela estrada ? " ricardo feels a sharpness overcome him , something akin to a lightning strike before a storm . he allows silence to wash over them . a RARITY , before he continues . " have you gotten statements from people who were around ? the more hysteric , the better . " he doesn't need to tell them how to do their job , but a change in topic is welcome . HE ROLLS HIS EYES . " please . an incel could never dress this nice . " he flattens his hands , smoothing them over his dolce , tailor fit blazer . " i'm dressed as a rich , yet unbelievably hot , asshole in a suit . " ricardo replies , voice flat yet smooth as always . his eyes graze past kennedy . " i'd ask what you are but i don't care and i'm sure it breaches some workplace relation with me being your boss . "

Miller's Girl (2024)

location : santiago's apartment

time : sometime after 3:00am.

for : santiago @atonehart

“it’s borderline fascinating…” they had been going on a while now, from the moment they walked through the door. “...how you can’t seem to listen to save your life! i said go home and what do you do? you go to the fucking bar! seriously santi, it’s like you— no, leave the peas on for a couple minutes more. it’ll help with the swelling.” kennedy shouldn’t even be here. they should be out there. gathering intel,  securing interviews, writing that damn story for the register. tending to the wounds of the prodigal ‘brother’ should be at the bottom of their priorities right now. yet there they were, walking over with a glass of water, a dose of painkillers, and an awfully sour expression. there's a pause the transaction ensues and after a beat, they finally ask, "are you okay?"

best thing about going to the club? the girls, gays, and theys baby! it starts with the dj finally playing a pop song, then eye contact with someone near by, the words  'i love this song!' proclaimed at the top of their lungs. the room shifts, and suddenly one finds themselves a couple songs in dancing with a total stranger. “they’ve definitely upped the budget since the last one i went to!” she doesn’t remember having this much fun last time but as the stranger answers to her twirl with one of their own, kennedy thinks that maybe parties have always been like this – it’s just the company that’s changed. she leads them to the bar, refusing to let go of their hand until they settle up in a cozy little corner away from the crowd of clubbers . “oh like the little shots? good idea, those are so cute! yeah, hold on.” she turns away from minnie to flag the waiter and make the order. once that’s done, they turn back to them with a curious smile.   "okay. so who are you and why the hell have i not met you before?"

"oh, my god. you were so in my brain just then. this has gotta be one of the best dance floors i've ever seen." listen: they don't have that many to go on, but the fact of the matter was that it was the best. leaving her hand entwined with kennedy, already breaking out into a feverish smile, lifting her arm so that she could twirl her around in return. "you want one of those, like, skull-glowing things or whatever?" being in all-black didn't make her stand out here, but oh-the-fuck-well.

MARIA 2024 | Dir. Pablo Larraín

redcreek was a small town, which meant running into him was practically inevitable, she just didn’t expect it to happen like this. inside the grim little police station, with elliot wearing a uniform they never once envisioned him in. "sorry." they dip their head with a small laugh, realizing they were hovering by the door for a moment too long, "i didn't expect to see you here. wow. deputy mayers, huh? you always were...full of surprises." the words spill out before they could stop them, a poor attempt to defuse the tension, to break the awkwardness that had already started building.

fuck, they knew they should have prepared for this. done their due diligence of unblocking him on social media to check up on his life the moment they made it back to town. now they're they were, blindsided by the sight of him. stuck between two worlds— getting down to business or slipping into memory lane. their gaze flickers to his left hand, instinctively searching for the answer to their most pressing question... had he found someone to give him what kennedy couldn't? he isn't wearing a ring, but that's not enough to give a solid answer. they quickly shift to his badge, needing something professional to anchor themselves to.

kennedy finally sits down, their back straight, a practiced composure taking over as they pull the journal from their bag. "right. alaina price." they pause. the room felt smaller now. they want to think ahead, to push past the unease in the room, but their thoughts keep drifting back to the past. to elliot. "look," kennedy sighs, allowing themselves the momentary lapse in focus. "i’m not here for… anything personal. i just need information on alaina." they aren't sure why they're even telling him this. "i know you can’t share everything right now, but anything would help. the town’s already asking questions, elliot. starting rumors. they need something to hold them over." her words hung in the air, heavy and pointed, as she searched his face for any crack that might offer a clue, a sign of what he was willing—or able—to say. it wasn’t just about the case anymore. she knew that. but right now, it had to be.

IT'S REALLY NO SURPRISE that the moment elliot comes back from his coffee break, he's nearly accosted by the office secretary barreling through his door. there's someone from the press here, and the sheriff is out, she tells him. can i bring her in ? elliot figured they both knew that demetrius probably didn't want anyone in the office speaking to press without him—least of all elliot—but he's been on the job long enough to know the answer to give : no comment at this time. " fine, " he sighs. he's sipping his coffee when there's a knock at his opened door, eyes glancing over the coffee cup as he finishes his sip—and chokes on his drink. " kennedy. " oh, fuck. he'd been doing so well not running into her, and now here she is, looking like this is the last place she expected him. at least right now, the feeling is mutual.

coffee on the table, he finds himself standing out of his chair, a jolt of adrenaline hitting him harder than the caffeine so far has. " um, take a seat, " he motions to the chair in front of his desk, suddenly unsure what to do with his hands. fuck, his uniform has never felt two sizes too big until now—not even when demetrius is giving him one of his deep sighs. " what can i do for you ? " he asks once she's sat, hesitantly sitting back down as well. maybe talking business is the way to get through this moment.