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[color=808080][color=315b70][b]#315b70[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://i.pinimg.com/736x/60/5b/f6/605bf6540c39bd13712942069937bf04.jpg][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [color=fcb9c1][b]#fcb9c1[/b][/color] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c].....[/color] [url=https://imgur.com/bxaOSvN][color=808080][b]outfit[/b][/color][/url] [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]their homes > municipal building[/b][/color]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/9qIY4OK.jpeg[/img][/sup][/center]

[indent][indent][indent][indent][justify][color=808080]Sutton didn’t notice she had overslept until she rolled over in bed and the sunlight that poured between the blinds shined bright and golden into her eyes. She groaned and squinted, dragging her hand across her heavy eyelids to block out the light. For a second, she selfishly let herself think it was her day off, that she had stayed up too late or drifted off while watching a movie. But then the haze of reality crept in at the corners of her mind until she looked over at her nightstand where her phone illuminated showing her lock screen bursting with notifications. She gasped and sat bolt upright. Her hand shot out toward the small side table, knocking her phone, chapstick, and a handful of other things to the floor. She scrambled to the edge of her bed, leaning over the side of her mattress, half falling off, before scooping up her phone. 

She didn’t bother moving, her lower half still on the bed while her left hand propped herself up. A knotted nest of blonde hair fell around her face, as she quickly unlocked her phone. Her thumb hastily navigated to her messages where several texts from Mayor Holt flooded her screen. 

[indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][indent][color=315b70][i][b]Mayor Holt[/b][/i][/color] [color=808080][b]. . .[/b][/color]
[color=2e2c2c].[/color][indent][indent]
[table=bordered][row][cell][color=315b70]Good morning. I would like a cappuccino today.[/color]
[right][sub][color=d6d6d6][i]7:10 am[/i][/color][/sub][/right][/cell][/row][/table]
[table=bordered][row][cell][color=315b70]You did decent on the posters. You should also get yourself a coffee.[/color]
[right][sub][color=d6d6d6][i]7:15 am[/i][/color][/sub][/right][/cell][/row][/table]
[table=bordered][row][cell][color=315b70]My vehicle needs an oil change. You need to take it to the garage before the festival. I don’t want anyone but Warren working on it.[/color]
[right][sub][color=d6d6d6][i]7:25 am[/i][/color][/sub][/right][/cell][/row][/table]
[table=bordered][row][cell][color=315b70]Hello?[/color]
[right][sub][color=d6d6d6][i]7:35 am[/i][/color][/sub][/right][/cell][/row][/table]
[table=bordered][row][cell][color=fcb9c1]Hi. Hello. Will do. Be there ASAP.[/color]
[right][sub][color=d6d6d6][i]8:07 am[/i][/color][/sub][/right][/cell][/row][/table]
[table=bordered][row][cell][color=fcb9c1]...Sorry.[/color]
[right][sub][color=d6d6d6][i]8:08 am[/i][/color][/sub][/right][/cell][/row][/table]
[/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]

It wasn’t until she hit send on her response that she noticed her notifications were silenced, which explained… Well everything. [color=fcb9c1]"[i]Damn it,[/i]"[/color] Sutton cursed under her breath as she threw her comforter aside and jumped out of bed. 

She moved through her apartment like a whirlwind, popping in and out of the shower in record time. Having no time to spare, she opted to leave her hair damp along her shoulders. Unfortunately that meant it’d be wild with frizz and curls by the time it dried, but it would have wasted an additional half an hour blowing it dry… and well, she didn’t want to see how angry the Mayor would be. Sutton scurried, hopped, and stumbled her way through gathering her things and getting dressed, stubbing her toes on more than one occasion. Surprisingly, she was gaining time, until she got to her damn tights. No amount of jumping or wiggling helped get them up any faster, and how she managed to accomplish it without getting a run, she’ll never know. 

With her purse and satchel hanging off her left shoulder, and her heels dangling from her right hand, Sutton hurried out the door and down the stairs. She paused just long enough to slip on her shoes before bursting out the door along the side of Well’s Market. She couldn’t run in heels, or at least not well, which was probably for the best. Instead she charged down the sidewalk in a brisk walk, adjusting her bags every few steps, while constantly checking to make sure she had everything. There wasn’t [i]really[/i] enough time to warrant slipping into the diner, but she needed coffee, and Mr. Perkins had come to expect it since it was a daily routine at this point. 

The quiet bell dinged as the door swung open, followed by the sharp click of heels on old linoleum. Thankfully there was no line and Hazel had quickly learned to have her coffees hot and ready to go. Sutton shoved her phone into her purse, nearly missing the pocket twice, then scooped up the cardboard carrier in her right hand. [color=fcb9c1]"Morning, Hazel,"[/color] she called to the girl with a warm smile. [color=fcb9c1]"Can you charge me double tomorrow? I overslept and Mayor Holt will kill me if I don’t get to his office like… Twenty minutes ago,"[/color] she asked with an exhausted laugh and a desperate plea behind her eyes. 

Hazel didn’t even hesitate. [color=a04535]"Go,"[/color] she said, waving her off before the other had finished the sentence. [color=a04535]"We'll sort it tomorrow."[/color] 

[color=fcb9c1]"Thank you! You’re an angel,"[/color] Sutton called back to the waitress as she shuffled backwards, wiggling her shoulder to keep her bags from slipping down her arm. As she went to throw her hips back into the door, it swung open. The lack of resistance caught her off guard, but before she could tip over from her frantic hurry, Harlan Boone’s arm stretched out, hand splayed against the plane of her back to steady her. 

[color=737e62]"Easy there,"[/color] he offered her patiently while hooking his foot around the door to keep it open. His hand remained firm against her back until she found her footing and took a second to catch her breath, nodding her head and blinking slowly. [color=737e62]"If you’re already late, no point in hurting yourself to get there a little faster,"[/color] he offered with a gentle pat to the shoulder. 

She nodded her head slowly, finding reluctant wisdom in his words. But Harlan also didn’t know the Mayor, not like she did, and two minutes made a difference… to him anyway. The man took it upon himself to lift the straps of her bags up and over her head so they stopped threatening to slip off. She sighed at the small gesture of kindness, sparing a glance up toward him, guilt and exhaustion already tugging at her features when the day had hardly begun. [color=fcb9c1]"Thanks,"[/color] she whispered, flashing him a tired, lopsided smile before she started back down the street. 

It had only taken her a couple more minutes to reach the Municipal Building, but by the time she pushed through the entrance she was already over an hour late. Sutton stopped just past the threshold to catch her breath, blisters already forming along her feet where her heels rubbed, and wild blonde curls framing her face, frizzy and still half damp. From behind the Town Clerk’s desk, Jerry Perkins leaned forward, bald spot haloed by wiry white hair caught in the fluorescents. His smile came easily and warm, wrinkled and creased from decades of a life lived. He could have retired years ago, but he enjoyed his job far too much to stop now. His kindness was one of the few things that made coming to work every day worth it. 

[color=d6d6d6]"Mornin’, Ms. Lockwood,"[/color] he beamed brightly, waving an arthritic hand toward her in greeting. [color=d6d6d6]"You gave the Mayor and I a bit of a fright this morning."[/color]

Sutton’s head lulled to the side as she gave the older man a warm and apologetic smile. [color=fcb9c1]"I overslept,"[/color] she explained as she crossed the quiet lobby, shoes thudding softly against the worn high traffic carpet. The building was old, one of the few structures that wasn’t swallowed by the mountain back in the eighties. It was freezing in the winter and sweltering in the summer, relying on fans and old radiators to help circulate air. The smell of mothballs, fresh xeroxed papers, and old books hung in the air, masked by the various autumn scented candles Mr. Perkins burned. That day seemed to be an apple pie kind of day. 

Warped floorboards beneath the carpet creaked and moaned beneath every step as Sutton approached his desk. She set the drink carrier against the raised edge surrounding Mr. Perkin’s work area and started wiggling loose one of the coffees. [color=fcb9c1]"But don’t worry, I still have your coffee, just the way you like it."[/color] She smiled, holding out the cardboard cup toward him. [i]Black, two sugars, and a splash of caramel.[/i]

The older man took the cup in both hands with a wide smile. [color=d6d6d6]"Sweet girl, you didn’t have to—"[/color] he tried to argue like he did every morning for nearly four years. 

[color=fcb9c1]"Nonsense."[/color] She waved him off like she always did, smiling bright and unguarded as she took the carrier, and two remaining drinks, and headed toward the double doors opposite the entrance. [color=fcb9c1]"I always look after my work bestie, you know that,"[/color] Sutton mused with a palpable effervescence. 

She pushed open the large oak door with a smile, but the moment it latched shut behind her the corners of her mouth fell and whatever light that had lived behind her eyes vanished. The room was fairly gloomy with only two windows framed in sheer curtains that never saw proper sunlight. The walls were lined with tall wooden bookshelves and filing cabinets that shifted and creaked whenever she crossed the room. Then off to the side was a single desk that stood out like a sore thumb in the bleak dreariness of the Municipal Building. Everything on top of it was organized just the way she liked it. Her desktop calendar was covered in curly, practiced scribblings in various colorful inks denoting every meeting, engagement, and deadline. There were three pen cups holding an assortment of writing implements, a stack of pastel post-it notes, a crocheted daisy coaster, a water cooler in the corner decorated with garland like vines, a worn cardigan draped over the back of her chair, and a small space heater tucked beneath her desk. And everything, down to the empty clipboard that awaited the print out of her daily schedule, had pink on it… [i]somewhere.[/i]

Sutton took a quick sip of her coffee before setting it down on the flower coaster. She pulled her bags from over her head and hung them from the dedicated hook on the wall behind her. She retrieved her phone and crossed the room to the water cooler. One hand began filling the cup while the other swiped furiously along the touch screen. Before the water had stopped flowing, the small printer beside her desk was already stirring to life, printing the day’s schedule which was over three pages long. She took the warm, freshly printed pages and pinned them to her clipboard, along with slipping a pen in the small space beneath the metal clip. Then her fingers curled beneath the handle to the top drawer of her desk. She pulled it open revealing a collection of personal items: a picture of her family hiking in the Black Hills when she was in grade school, a pink beanie baby Mr. Perkins gave her on her first day, lotion, chapstick… and an orange prescription bottle. 

She exhaled deeply before picking up the bottle and popping the cap. The last two capsules of the iron supplement tumbled into her hand. Sutton looked down at them, rolling them around in her palm for a second, then tossed the empty orange container into the trash. Thoughts threatened to creep out from the recesses of her mind, dark and unwanted, but before they could take hold, she quickly tossed the pills into her mouth and swallowed them back with the water. The thoughts and pills vanished somewhere deep inside her, out of sight, out of mind. A problem for a different day… or lifetime. 

Then, with no more time to waste, Sutton scooped up her phone and clipboard. She held them close to her chest with her left arm, while her right hand pickd up the Mayor’s steaming cappuccino—which she never really understood why he wanted it, but it was better to concede to his request rather than ask questions. She crossed the room toward a second, more ornate set of double doors, then paused. She drew in one last deep breath, before raising her hand that held the cup and rapped her knuckles against the wood.

Samuel Holt left his house every morning at precisely six o’clock. Not six-oh-one, not five-fifty-eight. Six. Routine had a rhythm to it, and he had spent more than two centuries learning that the world behaved better when people and places were pushed carefully into predictable patterns. The town still slept beneath a pale wash of morning blue as he drove through Pine Ridge, headlights sliding across old storefronts and dark windows while fog sat low between the trees at the edges of town. Porch lights glowed warmly against weathered houses, and in the distance he could already see old Mrs. Weller beginning her daily ritual of watering flowers she somehow kept alive even with the mountains steadily stealing sunlight from half her yard.

The recreation center sat quietly near the edge of town, looking more like an afterthought than an actual public building. The brick exterior had faded unevenly over the years while old white paint peeled around the window frames, and the sign out front still carried a hairline crack through the word Community from a baseball incident nearly eight years ago. Inside, the place was small enough that Samuel could take in the entire gym at a glance every morning. Two treadmills sat beside one another beneath mounted televisions perpetually tuned to local news channels nobody watched. A modest rack of weights lined one wall beside an aging bench press, while the stair climber in the corner remained little more than decorative furniture eleven months out of the year. 

Beyond the back windows and glass doors sat the pool Samuel had paid for himself years ago, enclosed by chain-link fencing and newly poured concrete. It was little more than a large backyard pool by city standards, rectangular and simple with classic blue paint beneath the waterline, but for Pine Ridge it had become something treasured. During summer weekends children and teenagers packed the place until sunset while exhausted parents sat in plastic chairs beneath umbrellas and thanked Samuel for his generosity as if he’d personally parted the sea.

Howard sat behind the front desk exactly where he always sat, newspaper spread open before him with thick reading glasses balanced low on his nose. The old man looked up over the paper as Samuel stepped through the doors and immediately smiled. Deep lines folded around his eyes, warm and familiar with years of repetition. [color=315b70]"Morning, Howard,"[/color] Samuel greeted smoothly, already reaching into the inside pocket of his coat before the other man could speak. The folded fifty-dollar bill landed quietly inside the donation jar sitting beside the register with the same effortless motion Samuel had repeated every morning for years. Howard gave the same response he always did too, grumbling under his breath that Samuel would put him out of work, spoiling the place so much. Samuel smiled politely at the joke, because Howard liked it when he did.


Thirty-five minutes in the pool. Exactly thirty-five. Morning fog still curled lazily over the water when Samuel stepped through the glass doors leading outside, carrying the same quiet rhythm he carried through every part of his life. The concrete around the pool still held the chill of the night, dampness gathering in darker patches where dew had settled beneath wrought iron chairs and faded umbrellas. Pine trees stretched beyond the chain-link fence, their tops disappearing into drifting ribbons of mountain fog while the first hints of sunlight filtered weakly through the clouds overhead. The entire place sat suspended in that strange stillness before a town fully woke, caught somewhere between sleep and routine.

Samuel crossed toward one of the chairs nearest the pool and set to stripping for his swim. Movements smooth enough to seem absent-minded, though there was intention buried beneath every action. First came the charcoal gray sweatpants, folded neatly along the seams and laid carefully across the chair. Then his black t-shirt followed, sleeves tucked inward, smoothed once flat beneath his hand before being placed atop the others. Last came the lightweight windbreaker, dark navy with the Pine Ridge logo embroidered over the chest. He folded it twice and rested it on top of the pile, straightening one sleeve that had shifted slightly out of place. Even here, with nobody watching, order found its way into his hands.

Only once everything sat exactly where he wanted it did Samuel step toward the edge of the water. Cool air brushed against his skin while the surface of the pool reflected pale morning light in fractured ribbons beneath drifting fog. He rolled his shoulders once and stretched his neck slowly before leaning forward. Then he dove. The movement cut through the silence cleanly, smooth as a blade slipping beneath fabric. Water folded around him without resistance, cool pressure rolling across his skin while the world above vanished into muted sounds and shifting blue light.

Water rolled softly against the pool walls with every lap while birds slowly began filling the quiet with songs from the trees overhead. Samuel’s thoughts moved elsewhere while he swam; town budgets, council meetings, road repairs, names that needed remembering, faces that needed convincing. Afterward came the shower and then Sutton. Same time every morning. Same message structure. The same small exchange threaded quietly into the routine like clockwork beneath skin. Predictability had comfort buried deep inside it if one looked hard enough. Samuel would never admit that aloud.


By the time he stepped back outside, Pine Ridge had begun stretching itself awake around him. Main Street carried the slow movement of morning life now; Harv Sterling stood outside the diner, unlocking the doors while two teenagers laughed beside bicycles in the parking lot. Lucy Hale waved as she walked to the small book store to open up for the day, her son trailing behind her like a baby duckling, and somewhere down the street a little girl nearly tripped over her own feet trying to chase after a dog dressed in a ridiculous pumpkin costume. Samuel smiled and lifted his hand toward each greeting as he passed, every expression measured carefully enough to feel effortless. People smiled back warmly. Some called him the town's champion. Others swore Pine Ridge had never been better than it was beneath Samuel Holt. Morons, every last one of them. Still, they looked happy, and he supposed there were worse things people could be.

After returning home, Samuel moved through the rest of his morning with the same quiet precision that shaped every hour of his day. The shower ran hot enough to fill the bathroom with steam that curled against dark marble and mirrors. By the time he stepped back into his bedroom, he was already mentally sorting through the day ahead. Council reports. Budget approvals. Festival preparations. Missing persons concerns that had begun surfacing more frequently than he cared for. He dressed without hesitation, movements smooth and practiced after decades of repetition. Charcoal trousers, black button-down, tailored jacket. Sharp lines, clean fabric, polished shoes. The sort of outfit that suggested authority without ever appearing like it had tried too hard to achieve it.

He made a brief stop in town before heading toward the Municipal Building, stepping out a few minutes later with a basket of fresh muffins balanced easily beneath one arm. Pumpkin spice, cinnamon apple, blueberry, and chocolate chip. Margaret’s bakery was a small hole in the wall, but the woman insisted that holidays called for [color=d6d6d6]"Good moods and sugar!"[/color] and Samuel had long since learned it was easier to smile and indulge her than argue. Besides, people liked small gestures. People remembered them. His black Mercedes-Benz rolled quietly down Main Street afterward while Pine Ridge moved steadily into the morning around him, storefronts opening beneath hanging autumn decorations and paper ghosts swaying softly from lamp posts.

The Municipal Building sat near the center of town overlooking the square, old brick giving it more grandeur than Pine Ridge realistically needed. Samuel stepped through the front doors and exchanged greetings with Jerry Perkins as he passed.

His office sat at the far end of the upper floor, dark wood doors opening into a room that looked more suited for old money than local government. Rich mahogany paneling climbed the walls from floor to ceiling, broken only by built-in bookshelves lined with leather-bound volumes and carefully chosen pieces gathered over a lifetime most people would never comprehend. A chandelier hung overhead, scattering warm amber light across patterned rugs and black leather chairs positioned near a low table by the fireplace. Behind his desk, tall arched windows framed the distant mountains and forest while dark curtains pooled heavily at either side like shadows gathering along the walls. The entire room carried the smell of old books, cedar, and faint traces of expensive bourbon soaked into polished wood over time.

Samuel set the basket of muffins along one corner of the desk and lowered himself into the chair behind it with a quiet exhale. Papers disappeared beneath his hands as the morning settled into work, signatures sliding neatly along documents while his laptop cast a soft glow across dark wood. Time moved easily there. Predictably. He had almost finished reading through a report concerning the mine and new required permits when a timid knock tapped softly against the door. Samuel glanced briefly toward the clock sitting near the corner of his desk and found himself unsurprised. Sutton had overslept. He considered the fact for exactly two seconds before deciding to let it go. It [i]was[/i] a holiday.

[color=315b70]"Come in."[/color]

Sutton struggled to juggle everything she held, just for a second as she turned the handle. She regained her practiced hold of coffee in her right hand, clipboard and phone in her left as she stepped into the Mayor’s office and slowly closed the door behind her with a gentle bump of her hip. [color=fcb9c1]"I’m so sorry for my tardiness, sir,"[/color] she apologized like she always did whenever she messed up, which was far more often than she’d like. She never met his gaze, keeping her eyes fixed somewhere always just below his line of sight. The quiet office was filled with the soft thud of her steps as she crossed the room toward his desk and set the cappuccino down on the same coaster he always had her place his drinks, drinking spout turned toward him just so. 

Once it was settled, she took three steps back and brought her clipboard out before her, giving her something to focus on that wasn’t his harsh, scrutinizing gaze. [color=fcb9c1]"I slept through my alarms. I got here as fast as I could. It won’t happen again."[/color] As she spoke, Sutton’s hands curled tighter around the light pink clipboard until her knuckles went white, like she was bracing for reprimand, shouting, or whatever sort of punishment awaited her. 

Samuel said nothing immediately. He simply reached for the coffee sitting neatly atop its coaster, fingers curling around the warm paper cup while his eyes remained on the paperwork spread before him. Steam rose in delicate ribbons between them, carrying cinnamon and espresso through the office as he lifted it closer and breathed in slowly. His shoulders eased by the smallest fraction, and a quiet sigh escaped him, soft enough it nearly disappeared beneath the distant hum of the building outside. He set the cup back down carefully without taking a drink, adjusting it half an inch until it sat precisely where he wanted it.

[color=315b70]"That's fine,"[/color] he said at last, voice smooth and brisk as his eyes lifted toward her. They lingered there for a moment, drifting over her posture and the clipboard clutched tightly against her chest before catching on the turtleneck wrapped around her throat. His mouth shifted faintly at one corner, barely enough movement to qualify as a frown before it vanished again. Good that the weather had finally begun turning colder. Summer had always complicated things more than he liked. People dressed differently when temperatures climbed, and inconvenience had a habit of becoming suspicion if one allowed it enough room to breathe.

Samuel leaned back slightly in his chair, one hand lifting in a dismissive motion through the space between them as if brushing the matter aside entirely. Work settled easier into his hands than sentiment ever had. People were simple when given roles, schedules, expectations. [color=315b70]"Let's go over the agenda for the day."[/color] He folded his hands neatly together atop the desk and glanced toward her clipboard, expression settling back into its usual composed shape. Whatever thoughts had briefly crossed his mind disappeared beneath routine, filed away behind order and structure where they belonged.

Sutton nodded her head, and lifted the hand that still clutched her phone to sweep blonde waves back behind her ears that had started to coil a bit wild and untamed after air drying. She wet her lips and proceeded to list off his schedule like she did every morning. [color=fcb9c1]"Your next appointment is at…"[/color]

[indent][indent][indent][indent][table][row][cell][color=2e2c2c].....................................[/color]
[color=d6d6d6][b]9:45 am – 10:45 am[/b]
[color=2e2c2c].[/color]
[hr][/color][/cell][cell][color=2e2c2c].[/color]
Safety walkthrough of the haunted house, mine tours, and ghost town tours
[hr][/cell][/row][row][cell][color=d6d6d6][b]11:00 am – 12:00 pm[/b][/color]
[hr][/cell][cell]Check in with festival vendors and confirm booth locations
[hr][/cell][/row][row][cell][color=d6d6d6][b]12:15 pm – 1:15 pm[/b]
[hr][/color][/cell][cell]Halloween lunch at the middle school
[hr][/cell][/row][row][cell][color=d6d6d6][b]1:45 pm – 2:00 pm[/b][/color]
[color=2e2c2c].[/color]
[hr][/cell][cell]Phone-in radio interview with PINE Radio, reminding residents about the Main Street closures and parking restrictions
[hr][/cell][/row][row][cell][color=d6d6d6][b]2:30 pm – 3:00 pm[/b][/color]
[hr][/cell][cell]Annual spooky story reading at the elementary school
[hr][/cell][/row][row][cell][color=d6d6d6][b]3:15 pm – 4:00 pm[/b][/color]
[hr][/cell][cell]Confirm contest categories and prizes
[hr][/cell][/row][row][cell][color=d6d6d6][b]4:00 pm – 6:30 pm[/b][/color]
[hr][/cell][cell]Two and a half hour buffer for any last minute hiccups
[hr][/cell][/row][row][cell][color=d6d6d6][b]6:30 pm[/b][/color]
[hr][/cell][cell]Meet at the Municipal Building and prepare for your entrance
[hr][/cell][/row][row][cell][color=d6d6d6][b]6:55 pm[/b][/color]
[hr][/cell][cell]Procession into the festival
[hr][/cell][/row][row][cell][color=d6d6d6][b]7:00 pm[/b][/color]
[hr][/cell][cell]Speech and ribbon cutting
[hr][/cell][/row][row][cell][color=d6d6d6][b]8:50 pm[/b][/color]
[hr][/cell][cell]Announce children's costume contest winner
[hr][/cell][/row][row][cell][color=d6d6d6][b]9:00 pm[/b][/color]
[hr][/cell][cell]End of family friendly portion of the festival
[hr][/cell][/row][row][cell][color=d6d6d6][b]11:50 pm[/b][/color]
[hr][/cell][cell]Announce pumpkin pie and adult costume contest winners
[hr][/cell][/row][row][cell][color=d6d6d6][b]12:00 am[/b][/color]
[hr][/cell][cell]End of the night firework show
[hr][/cell][/row][/table][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]

[color=fcb9c1]"... After the fireworks the festival will conclude, and clean up will begin tomorrow morning."[/color] She flipped the last page clipped to her pink board to make sure she didn’t miss anything before clutching it against her chest. [color=fcb9c1]"As for your car,"[/color] Sutton continued, trying to wiggle in the one last complication he dropped on her like he did most mornings. [color=fcb9c1]"I can drop you off at the mines for the safety walkthrough and it will [i]hopefully[/i] be finished in time to get it back to you before your lunch at the middle school, or you can borrow my car—"[/color] The idea of Mayor Holt driving around in a pink Fiat was a funny image that she had to do her best not to think about too long before she accidentally laughed and made things far worse. [color=fcb9c1]"—You have the keys and it’s parked out back."[/color]

Sutton chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment as she tried to think of any other options that were less humiliating or didn’t hinge on her nagging Warren Boone to rush an oil change on a [i]very[/i] expensive car. [color=fcb9c1]"The weather is supposed to be fairly nice today, so you could also walk, or I can call around and find someone able to escort you around town."[/color] She lightly tapped her fingers against the side of the clipboard. [color=fcb9c1]"Mr. Perkins might also have a car you can borrow,"[/color] she added, motioning back over her shoulder with a small jab of her thumb.

Samuel listened in silence while Sutton moved through the remainder of the schedule, fingers steepled neatly beneath his chin as the reality of the day settled heavier and heavier across his patience. Fireworks. Public appearances. Safety walkthroughs. A lunch at the middle school that would inevitably involve sticky fingers and children asking deeply unfortunate questions with complete sincerity. Next year he would simply cancel classes altogether and call it community morale. The schools could survive one free day in October, and more importantly, so could he. His mouth tightened faintly at the thought of another hour spent reading [i]The Legend of Sleepy Hollow[/i] aloud to an audience of aggressively energetic four-year-olds.

Then Sutton offered him the Fiat.

Samuel’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly before smoothing itself back into place, though the response came perhaps a touch too quickly to qualify as casual. [color=315b70]"Oh,"[/color] he said briskly, already dismissing the possibility from his mind with the urgency of a man narrowly avoiding social execution. Clint would smell blood in the water instantly if he ever caught sight of Samuel climbing out of a pink Fiat in broad daylight. The humiliation would outlive civilizations. [color=315b70]"That won’t be necessary. I can call a cab or—yes, Mr. Perkins."[/color] His agreement came unusually easy now, smooth enough that even Sutton might notice the suspicious enthusiasm behind it if she looked closely enough. Samuel leaned back slightly in his chair and lifted one hand in a vague gesture toward her clipboard, quickly trying to change the topic. [color=315b70]"Make a note. Next year I'd like to give the schools a free day. Less..."[/color] He paused, visibly displeased by the concept alone. [color=315b70]"Reading."[/color]

The word sat in the air with quiet disdain while Samuel pushed himself smoothly to his feet. His jacket shifted neatly into place as he rounded the desk, movements measured and controlled with the same effortless authority that made people instinctively straighten when he entered a room. Then his attention settled fully onto Sutton again. Not the clipboard this time. Not the schedule. [i]Her.[/i] His eyes lingered along the faint shadows beneath her eyes, the tension she carried in her posture, the way her fingers still curled too tightly around the clipboard despite the conversation softening. Samuel tilted his head slightly, expression unreadable beneath the weight of his attention.

[color=315b70]"Have you been sleeping enough?"[/color] he asked finally. The question came quieter than most things he said, though somehow that only made it more intense. [color=315b70]"Taking your vitamins? A well balanced diet?"[/color] There was concern there, buried beneath the sharpness, though it surfaced in the same way everything did with Samuel; controlled too tightly, wrapped beneath scrutiny until kindness became something almost intimidating to receive.

Sutton nodded her head, blonde curls grazing her cheek as she pulled the pen from where it was clipped to the board and made a note the moment he mentioned it. Without looking up while her pen made an extra curl around the lowercase ‘g’, her head tilted slightly to the side. [color=fcb9c1]"Should I cancel the Christmas Eve [i]‘Twas the Night Before Christmas’[/i] reading—"[/color] She paused when she heard the familiar creak of his leather office chair shifting to adjust to the absence of his weight. It was a sound that made her spine go rigid while the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. It was an omen that rarely meant anything good, often followed by the lowering of her collar and the familiar pierce of fangs into her flesh. But she didn’t move, didn’t back down, holding her ground through the subtle tremors and the blanching of her knuckles. 

His question pulled the air from her lungs in a startled gasp, and for the first time in days, if not weeks, her light brown eyes lifted to meet his gaze. [color=fcb9c1]"I—I…"[/color] Sutton stammered, not knowing what to make of his concern, even if it was delivered in what felt like more of an accusation rather than concern. She didn’t know how to answer because, truthfully, she hadn’t slept well since the first time he fed from her. Sleep eluded her and if it came, it was usually plagued with nightmares. Rather than answering, she skipped to his next question as seamlessly as she could manage. [color=fcb9c1]"I missed breakfast today, but I try to have three square meals, and I took my last iron supplements when I arrived this morning. I need to visit Dr. Hyde for a refill."[/color]

Samuel's frown deepened as she spoke. Not dramatically, just enough to pull faint lines into his brow while he watched her carefully over the edge of the clipboard. Missing breakfast was exactly the sort of answer he expected from her, which irritated him more than it should have. The startled look in her eyes lingered unpleasantly in the back of his mind as well. Sutton always looked like she was waiting for something bad to happen whenever he stepped too close. The realization settled heavily somewhere beneath his ribs, unwelcome and familiar all at once.

Without a word, he reached forward and tapped the edge of her clipboard with one finger. The motion was firm enough to redirect her attention without being aggressive, though there was still something undeniably commanding about it. [color=315b70]"Stop and get something to eat when you take my car for the oil change,"[/color] he instructed. [color=315b70]"Something substantial. Not a granola bar. Not coffee."[/color] His gaze narrowed slightly as though daring her to argue the point. [color=315b70]"You can eat while they're working on it."[/color]

Samuel let his hand fall away and straightened, attention drifting briefly toward the windows overlooking town before returning to her again. [color=315b70]"I already have an appointment scheduled for you with Dr. Hyde, it was about time for you to run out, you should schedule appointments in advance in the future."[/color] The words came matter-of-factly, delivered with the quiet certainty of someone who had never considered asking permission first. He had simply handled it. That was easier. More efficient. People often complicated their own lives by insisting on choice.

Then his eyes slipped downward, catching on the high collar of the turtleneck wrapped around her throat. Something unpleasant twisted low in his stomach. Guilt was not an emotion Samuel entertained often, but every now and then it surfaced in small sharp fragments that refused to stay buried. He looked away first. A harsh breath left him through his nose before he turned and began making his way back toward the desk, jacket shifting softly with the movement. [color=315b70]"Until then..."[/color] He paused briefly, jaw tightening. [color=315b70]"I'll abstain."[/color] The words landed tersely, almost irritated with themselves. By the time he sat back down behind the desk, his attention had already returned to paperwork waiting in neat stacks before him, though the tension lingering around his shoulders suggested the conversation had settled somewhere deeper than either of them would likely acknowledge.

Sutton’s gaze fell automatically to her clipboard, and more specifically the Mayor’s finger as it tapped against the edge of the pink plastic in that silent and disarmingly soft way he demanded her attention. It was almost like gentle parenting, but there was no need to reinforce his words because she knew what he was capable of. She never attempted to defy him because her fear kept her obedient and complacent. Her blonde waves bounced softly as she nodded her head. [color=fcb9c1]"Yes sir, of course. That’s smart,"[/color] she agreed, resorting to compliments whenever she was corrected or felt like she had misstepped because it was safe, because flattery was the only shield she had. [color=fcb9c1]"I might not have another chance to eat before the festival, and that’s unwise given my… [i]condition.[/i]"[/color]  Pale, rose tinted lips pulled faintly at the corners in the closest thing that could be considered a smile in the oppressive presence of the Mayor. 

There was a beat of silence, then her eyes widened, shocked that he had thought to make her an appointment or that he even bothered to be aware of her prescription schedule. For a fleeting moment, Sutton might have almost mistaken it for compassion or concern, but then the startling truth came crashing back down on her. She was more than his assistant… She was his only source of sustenance, as far as she was aware. It wasn’t about her well-being, but [i]his.[/i] [color=fcb9c1]"Right, of course. Thank you, sir. I’ll schedule my next appointment when I’m in her office to avoid this in the future."[/color] She nodded her head again, blinking rapidly as she made a mental note.

Warm brown eyes tracked him as he circled back around his desk. His words landed heavy like a stone thrown in a still pond. She inhaled a soft, startled breath, watching him with evident disbelief furrowing her brows. [color=fcb9c1]"I—uh… Sir, are you sure?"[/color] The prospect of not feeling the sharp prick of his fangs in her neck or having to hide behind bandaids, turtlenecks, and scarves was a godsend, but Sutton also feared what hunger would do to him, or more importantly, his temper.

Samuel dismissed the concern with a small wave of his hand, as though the entire subject had already been decided and no longer required discussion. The gesture was casual. Final. His eyes drifted briefly toward the windows overlooking the town, sunlight filtering through old glass and spilling across the polished wood of his desk in pale rectangles. Hunger had never been particularly difficult to manage. Two centuries taught a man patience whether he wanted to learn it or not. [color=315b70]"I'll be fine."[/color]

The words settled between them simply enough, though something heavier lingered beneath them. More often than not, Samuel regretted turning Sutton into his thrall. At the time it had been logical. Necessary. The sort of decision that fit neatly into columns of risk and reward. Yet the time afterward had complicated the mathematics. She remained stubbornly good despite everything, kind in ways that felt increasingly foreign to him, and every small act of thoughtfulness landed like an accusation he never asked for. He knew the arrangement was unfair. He knew she deserved better. Yet firing her felt impossible, and letting her go felt worse. So they remained trapped together inside a pattern neither seemed capable of breaking.

The guilt stirred briefly in the pit of his stomach before he shoved it aside with practiced efficiency. Samuel shifted back in his chair, posture straightening automatically as work reclaimed its place at the forefront of his thoughts. Order was easier than reflection. Paperwork was easier than conscience.

[color=315b70]"I think you can be dismissed for now,"[/color] he said, reaching for one of the waiting folders. [color=315b70]"Handle whatever work needs doing, then take my car and get something to eat. Proper food, Sutton."[/color] His gaze lifted toward her pointedly over the edge of the file. [color=315b70]"I'll see you later this afternoon."[/color]

He opened the folder and immediately frowned. A missing persons report stared back at him from the first page. Clare Ann. Twenty years old. The photograph clipped neatly inside showed a bright smile frozen permanently in time, the sort of picture families always chose because it felt hopeful. Samuel's eyes lingered there for a moment before shifting across the details beneath it. The muscles in his jaw tightened faintly. This wasn’t someone he’d orchestrated having gone missing like so many others. Then, almost as an afterthought, he glanced back up at Sutton. For a brief second his expression softened, something quieter passing behind his eyes before the familiar mask settled back into place.

Sutton blinked once and nodded her head. [color=fcb9c1]"Yes, sir. Of course."[/color] While holding her clipboard tight to her chest, she drifted across his office toward the far wall where he usually hung his coat. Her right hand dipped into the front pocket, retrieving his car keys like she had done countless times before. Muffled thuds followed her as she crossed the room toward the door. Her hand curled around the handle, turning it until she heard the latch click, then she paused. Her head lifted slowly, looking back over her shoulder toward him one last time. [color=fcb9c1]"Don’t forget a costume for the festival,"[/color] she added quietly before exiting his office, vanishing out of sight, followed by the soft click of the door closing behind her. [/color][/justify][/indent][/indent][/indent][/indent]

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[color=808080][b]interactions[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] hazel & harlan [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]mentions[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] clint [color=2e2c2c]...............[/color] [b]collabs[/b] [color=2e2c2c]....[/color]|[color=2e2c2c]....[/color] [@Sleepy Tani][/color]
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