#〔 𝖭𝖠𝖳𝖧𝖠𝖭 𝖳𝖠𝖫𝖡𝖮𝖳 〕 ft. charlotte talbot
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there's no easy way to put it: nathan is fucking terrified. he was naive to think the nightmare ended when jacob thorne took his own life. he refused to see daniela estrada's disappearance as anything but a coincidence. and now, twenty-five years after heather visser's murder, another body hits the ground. he has to face it — there are no coincidences here. it's hard to think when it feels like someone's taken an jackhammer to his skull, the thrumming in his head feeling louder than his own thoughts. “ . . . thanks, ” he utters quietly, taking a tentative sip before placing the mug down on the coffee table and shaking his head. it's surreal to think that half his lifetime ago, he'd been in the same exact situation feeling the same exact fear ( there are no coincidences. ) “ have you heard from the kids? the party was shut down a few hours ago, so who knows where they ran off to. ”
closed starter with: charlotte and nathan (@enternights) setting: 1:15am, the talbot home
It was impossible to ignore the knot in her chest- the way it took on a life of its own, ceaselessly twisting and tightening. Making her way from the kitchen to the living room, she carried two full mugs, hands surprisingly steady despite her frayed nerves. “Need a pick-me-up?” Charlotte offered one of the mugs to Nathan, hoping he’d see it as the olive branch she’d intended it to be. They’d have time to be cold to each other another day- for now, she could use all the warmth she could get. “I put a little Bailey’s in it. Not too much, in case you need to stay sharp. Just enough to make this all feel a little less fucking horrifying,” she rambled, sitting on the couch, tucking her legs underneath her, and pulling a blanket over her lap. Bear, who had stationed himself firmly at her side at the first sign of distress, laid his head in her lap, and she mindlessly stroked his the top of his head. “They won’t need you down at the station, will they?”
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