[center][img]http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjY2Ljg1NDM5My5RV0pwWjJGcGJDQklZWEpzYjNjLC4w/autumn-in-november.regular.png[/img]
[color=662d91][b]Location:[/b][/color] Home, Main Street
[color=662d91][b]Interacting With:[/b][/color] [@mskennedy615][@The Spectre][/center]
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Abigail wasn’t really listening to the weather anymore, she was too busy devouring cocoa puffs at a breakneck pace, to the point where she burnt her tongue from the hot milk. The only thing that brought her out of her feeding frenzy was her phone vibrating with Ashton’s reply. Abigail gave it a cursory glance, then looked back at her food, then back to the phone, and then back at her food.

With a grunt, Abigail dropped her spoon with a clatter and grabbed the bowl with both hands, chugging down the remnants of her breakfast. She wiped her mouth on her knuckles and then snatched up her phone just as it went off again with Veronica’s response. Luckily, Abigail knew precisely how to reply and it took her two seconds, one for each text.

To: V
[quote][color=662d91]K[/color][/quote]

To: Ash
[quote][color=662d91]K[/color][/quote]

Whilst Abigail speculated over what might’ve gone on in Main Street, she didn’t get her hopes up. Nothing ever happened in Verona, which annoyed her to no end. Ashton’s definition of ‘a mess’ may be nothing more than a busted water pipe from the ice; Veronica’s excitement piqued Abigail’s curiosity enough to get off the couch and start washing up her dishes.

Years of extremely limited bathroom time and a constant queue of pissed off teenagers meant that Abigail’s morning routine was lightning fast. The moment she tossed the dishtowel haphazardly on top of the nearest work surface, she felt the last vestiges of drowsiness ebb away, replaced with her default - a fuckton of energy. Rolling her shoulders, Abigail took the steps two at a time. She brushed her teeth in the shower, dried her hair on the toilet. Two quick brush strokes of mascara and a few flailing movements with a comb later, Abigail winked at herself in the foggy glass of the mirror and skipped down the corridor to her bedroom.

Several minutes later, Abigail was stuffing her keys into the pocket of her jacket and triple-checking the lock on the front door. She frowned at the empty driveway as her boots skidded dangerously on the icy path down to the street, and her breath came out in misty clouds. It was a painfully bright Sunday afternoon in Verona, and it was just as empty and clean in her neighbourhood as it has always been. Abigail was just happy to get out of the house after being bed-bound for several days...she heard that whatever it was that took her out had also affected Ashton and Veronica, which gave Abigail a sense of grim satisfaction. Her feet took her across the gritted roads and past the suburbs and gas stations until she knew she was approaching Main Street, and then she saw the cop car.

Abigail’s face dropped into a grumpy scowl. She wanted nothing to do with the Sheriff this morning, but she had to walk right past him and the deputy to get to her friends. She focused on keeping her head down, her shoulders pushed inwards a little - anything to get past without being noticed. After all, she had plenty of experience doing the ‘don’t-approach-me-i’m-pissed’ walk back home and it certainly had its benefits in Verona, where everyone knew everyone and wouldn’t leave anyone alone.

Today it failed spectacularly when Abigail was immediately struck with a very weird sensation. It was as if she dunked her head underwater whilst the whole world shifted a few steps to the left, making her pause. She could feel the blood pulsing in her ears, and there was a weird pressure on her temples. Abigail took a couple of breaths and kept walking, deliberately avoiding Brooks’ gaze and pretending nothing weird just happened. In fact, she was so good at her ‘leave-me-alone’ walk that some of the townsfolk, like the little old lady who seemed determined to convince Abigail to go to Church, also completely ignored her. Everyone just kept on sweeping, and Abigail dodged and wove through the crowds until a lanky latino boy questioning one of the shop owners slipped into view.

Abigail’s face lit up, and she felt her weird headache subside almost instantaneously as she made her way across the street towards Ashton. Several heads whipped around to her direction with a look of surprise; unbeknownst to Abigail herself, she seemingly popped out of nowhere with a snarky grin and mischievous intentions. She climbed through the window frame, twisting to avoid the window display on her way in.

“You shouldn’t be here y’know,” Abigail remarked slyly, “Mixed race kid wearing poor-people clothes in the middle of Verona’s biggest vandalism case? Might as well climb into the Sheriff’s car. Nah, nah, I’m kidding. Whole fuckin’ town knows you’re too much of a nerd to do something like this…” Abigail was either unaware she interrupted something or she just didn’t care. Based on the way she sat down on the counter of the shop, it was probably the latter. “...Who works on a Sunday anyway?”

Abigail glanced over at her friend and rolled her hand dismissively, shutting up long enough for Ashton to finish his interview. She pulled out her flip-phone from her pocket and worked her way through a longer text message as she waited.

To: V
[quote][color=662d91]FOUND ASH. TACKY SOUVENIR SHOP MAIN ST. HELP ME ANNOY HIM.[/color][/quote]

Abigail snapped her phone shut again and grinned at Ashton. She took a look around at the shards of glass whilst her lip curled up into a sneer. “Man, either Verona’s got a team of exceptionally dumb, angry kids or one incredibly determined psychopath.” She held her hands up innocently, smiling. “I couldn’t manage this much chaos on my own, so that’s me out of the suspect list. Where we going next, mister Journalist?”