gcllantt

[gcllantt]

Luke finds his way in with his pal @sunshincwitch. He’s not here for a party, he’s on a mission. Since the release of the paper, he’s been trying to figure out where Eleanor is. With the help of his witchy pal, they’ve located her with the Reardon. With a haunting suspicion, they have a feeling Eleanor will be in attendance tonight.

[gcllantt]

★ charles (if this counts?)

Send me ★ + a name of another muse / character in my muse's canon and they'll talk about their relationship with them

Faintly, Luke smiles at the mention of his late childhood friend. "When I was growing up, I always had friends. There was a lot of community in Mesquite Falls, especially within the church." Luke sighs.“Regardless it felt like I didn't have a real friend until I met Charles. He felt like somebody who was supposed to be in my life, as if we were meant to be friends. Not because of circumstance, friends only because we were in the same class or went to the same school. Friends because there are certain people who come into your life for a purpose, even if you can't see what the purpose is at the time."

"He got me in trouble a lot," Luke continued with a playful grin. "My parents liked Charles, in the same way everyone liked Charles, but they often worried about his salvation. Especially, after he died." Luke coughs and shakes his head. "He was atheist and wasn't afraid to share that fact."

“Back then, I remember thinking, would God send Charles to hell? Charles wasn't bad. He was a punk kid but not bad. Not evil. He didn’t deserve to go to hell. He was good and he was decent. Just because his life got cut too short by some random act of brutal violence, he is the one who has to spend an eternity in hell? That made me feel like he died twice.”

Luke sighs.

"I have dreams about Charles. Every once in a while. In them, he's still sixteen, with a joint in his mouth, and not a care in the world. He tells me I was right, there is a God. Of course, in typical Charles’ fashion, God made an exception and let him into Heaven. He says I repented enough for the both of us.”

[gcllantt]

are they openly flirtatious/sexual, or are they quite private?

It depends on the situation. Before he was married, he was never super flirtatious with strangers. If he did, it was complimentary but always respectful.

With his wife, Eleanor (and the other past romantic partners), his flirting is being very sweet. Again, Luke is super complimentary and uses lots of words of affirmations.

Sexually-wise, Luke is one the reserved side. He likes and enjoys sex but is rather private about it and can get shy even talking about it, even in front of his own wife.

[gcllantt]

✝ : Is your muse religious?

Yes, but his relationship with religion is complicated. Christianity was an entity that hung over the his childhood home because his father was a preacher. Right from birth, Luke was indoctrinated with typical southern baptist ideology. As a child, his faith was a big part of his identity. There was an unspoken rule in the Monroe to maintain decency and play the part of The Good Christian family at all times

That was easy for Luke because he wanted to be good. He wanted to be like the figures he read in his Sunday School classes. Like Abraham, Moses, King David, Peter and Paul the apostle.

When he was around eleven was when he first introduced to the secular world in the way most middle schoolers are. Through their heathen, degenerate friends. Charles Whitby was the first one who challenged Luke's own beliefs about God. They'd have conversational debates in the way pubescent boys do, awkwardly direct and casually disrespectful. It was the first time he was confronted with the idea that there are people out there who think differently than the church.

Charles' death was especially confusing towards his belief. Did God really smite him down because of his lack of faith? Was he the heathen like they claimed his mother was? Charles was good, did he deserve to go to hell based on the fact he didn't believe?

Regardless, Luke continued to be of the Christian faith, however the older he got, the less and less devout he became. Life jaded him in the way it does to everyone. Yet, he went to church some Sundays and prayed every once in a while.

When Eleanor first disappeared, Luke began to truly doubt the existence of a God. Cause what God would allow that to happen to her?

His faith comes in and out. It's habitual for him to pray, but he truly wonders if anyone hears him, when he does.

[gcllantt]

⊗

Send me ⊗ for 3+ headcanons about your muse and mine.

Eleanor and Luke have been having "healthy" debates as long as they've known each other. Way before they were dating or romantically involved. Being from a small town in Texas, Luke was a really close minded teenager. Not hateful, but ignorant. She introduced him to other ways of thinking. Definitely opened his eyes and made him realize things. She continued to do so until her disappearance.

A really big sore spot in their relationship is talking about God. He only asks her to go to church once a year. Either Christmas or Easter (and she can choose which one).

Luke's parents came to accept Eleanor over the years but the night before he proposed, his father begged him not to go through with it. His parents wanted Luke to marry someone who was in the church. Luke, in the most polite way, told them both to fuck off and went through with the proposal. Luke never mentioned it to Eleanor.

[gcllantt]

Luke, Smash or Pass: Gael.

     𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃   "  𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐇   𝐎𝐑   𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐒  “   𝐅𝐎𝐑   𝐌𝐘   𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄   𝐓𝐎   𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑   𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐘   𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓   𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒.   𝐍𝐎   𝐋𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆   𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐃  .

"Huh?" Luke blinks in confusion. "Who is that?"

@ofreardcns

[gcllantt]

Why don't you just give up? For all you know she already did

SEND “⚡️” AND A QUESTION AND MY MUSE WILL BE FORCED TO ANSWER HONESTLY

"Come back and talk to me when your best friend, the love of your life, your wife goes missing. Let me know how soon you quit." His words are harsh. "I'll never give up on Eleanor."

@dearestdarkling

[gcllantt]

⚡️ Whats the worst thing you've ever done?

SEND “⚡️” AND A QUESTION AND MY MUSE WILL BE FORCED TO ANSWER HONESTLY

"When Elle first disappeared, it was the darkest time of my life," Luke begins. "I wasn't myself. Candidly speaking, I still don't think I'm myself, but," Luke shakes his head, "That's besides the point."

"I went to work after a three month sabbatical. No matter how absolutely terrible life was at the time, the bills don't stop coming. It was my first day back on duty. Night shift. Got a call to a bar when things got too rowdy. Breaking up the fight wasn't that big of a deal. When people see the lights, they usually start to clean up their act. Of course, we still had to take a statement."

A shaky breath exits his lips, like he's nervous what he has to say next.

"I'm talking to the bartender, finding out what happened, and in the background, I hear this drunk kid... couldn't been much older than twenty one... talking to his friend. Isn't that the guy who killed his wife? He said that."

Luke shakes his head.

"I'm from a small town. People like to talk and talk. They make up stories. They made up things about Eleanor and her family the entire time they lived there. Why wouldn't they make up things about her when she disappeared? I should've pretended like I didn't hear it. I should've let it go."

Humorlessly, Luke snickers.

"I didn't. I beat the shit out of that kid." Luke rubs his face. "I was never a fighter. Maybe, a few scuffles here and there, cause what teenage boy doesn't? I would never describe myself as violent." Another shaky breath. "I could've killed that kid in that moment. I wanted to kill him."

Luke sighs.

"I have to live with that for the rest of my life. Knowing I hurt a dumb drunk kid. Knowing I wanted to kill someone. Knowing I could have."

[gcllantt]

⚡️What keeps you moving forwards, in the face of it all?

SEND “⚡️” AND A QUESTION AND MY MUSE WILL BE FORCED TO ANSWER HONESTLY

"Cause what else am I supposed to do?" Luke laughs bitterly.. "Sometimes, my life feels like I'm constantly preparing for a funeral. The sadness is there, but there's so much to do, there's no time to grieve, to mourn, much less, wallow. I have to find answers." He sighs. " I have my moments. I'm human, after all , not a robot. But I have to compartmentalize I can't get caught up in the emotions when I have them. Nothing would get done. I'd still be in Texas bawling on my couch, if I felt every emotion I had."

[gcllantt]

Luke nods his head along and says something to keep the conversation going, "I hear you."

He wishes he could exist on the surface with Cham, but he doesn't come into Brewed Awakening today only for burn bagels and mochas. Since the night of the Khaos party, since he saw Eleanor, Luke has been doing some digging. It's so easy to chalk up his findings to rumours, to folklore, to bullshit, but when a familiar names comes up in his research, how can you tell what is lie and what is truth?

He's not proud of the snooping he's done on his friend, Cham, but Luke is willing to cross boundaries of friends in order to find his wife. Breaking ethical codes is worth it, when it comes to Eleanor.

"How about we chat outside?" The question is shot calmly, as collect as Luke can be. Here's the thing, he's a terrible liar, so much so, he can't show his face at a poker game.

The other thing is, he doesn't want to push Cham away, His friendship with the barista, as brief as it is, is important to Luke. Not many people in Port Leiry know his name, let alone, save any reservation of kindness towards him.

Regardless of his concerns, he's willing to pull out a blowtorch and set aflame his potential friendship with Cham if it got him even an inch closer to finding out what happened to his Eleanor.

The key when moving to an entirely new city is finding a good coffee shop, it’s a quick way to establish familiarity in a foreign place. Even though he’s a cop, Officer Monroe isn’t one for doughnuts. Too sweet. It’s always been small, mom and pop coffee shops, that get Luke out of bed in the morning.

When Cham has his burnt bagel and mocha in hand, Luke lips widened in a smile. He’s grateful for her kindness. Some of the guys on the force have come to expect things for free from the locals around town, they put their palms open, free coffees and pastries would just fall into them. Just for wearing a uniform. It disgusts Luke. Lots of things about the force does.

“Thanks Cham,” he says, reaching his hand out to his crispy bagel, “You’re the best.” Now, he wouldn’t admit to the other employees at the Brewed Awakening, but Cham is his favorite barista in the shop. Maybe because, some how, he earned this pleasantry between them. When he first started coming around the shop, Luke’s kind and friendly nature was met with dismissiveness. He must’ve caught on her a bad day. Then it seemed to be, everyday was a bad day for Cham. When down and saw the uniform he was wearing, he began to put the pieces together.

Luke, as good as he tries to be, is not naive. Not everyone’s favorite public servants are police officers and for good reason. He’s seen the news. Witnessed the ACAB graffiti on the abandoned buildings amongst the city. If there could ever be such thing as a good cop, Luke wanted to be that. To be fair and just. Kind and helpful. Act with reason and care. To be someone this community could rely on. Even if it’s as small as helping a stranger change a tire.

Over the past month Luke’s been coming to this spot, his earnest nature must’ve shined through, because Cham’s coldness began to melt away. So much so, she’s saving bagels for him now.

“You guys ran out fast today,” Luke says to her. Just making friendly small talk. He takes a sip of his mocha. It’s damn good. “Must’ve been a busy morning, huh?”

[gcllantt]

Familiar fingertips make their way through her golden locks, gentle movements, but they know their way around. "Hey, hey, hey," Luke's voice is as soft as the look in his eyes. He looks at her like she's the only thing in the world, as if she's the only thing that matters. It's true. In this moment, it's just Eleanor and the little life inside of her. Nothing else matters. Nothing else will matter ever again. "Slow down. We can do this." There's no hesitation in his voice. "You and me," he continues, "We got this."

"Yeah, okay, so Kinsley bit you, but you know she's a brat. Our baby...." It's weird for him to say that "...Our baby will love you." How could they not?

"You're going to be a great mom. We're a great team, you know that. We've never been more ready for this." Luke's never been a good bullshitter. He's a hopeless liar, the truth shines through him, like light through the sun. What he tells her is what he believes. He tells her what he knows is true.

Luke cannot help but chuckle at her concerns. He's not laughing at her, but the way her mind catastrophizes... his mind doesn't work like that. Perhaps, with the hand life has dealt her, Eleanor has earned the right to see only the worst case of any scenario. Luke does not only accept this about her, but loves her for it.

One must be the head and the other must be the heart.

He scoops up her face in his hands once more. "You can't get stuck on the what ifs, baby. Focus on the what is," he continues. "Like that I love you. You love me. We got a house big enough for a baby. Maybe three...." He winks at his bride. "My parents are going to freak out, but it's going to be a good freak out. Our baby is going to have a bunch of cousins... they're going to have aunts and uncles, grandparents that love them to death..."

At his next thought, there's a twinkle of sadness in his eyes, with a smile on his lips. "They're going to have Grandma Amara and Uncle Charles looking down on them everyday, making sure that they're not getting into any trouble...." He laughs then. "Well, knowing Charles, he'd probably lead them into trouble.... but... I'm sure he'd be looking out for them..."

"Our baby is going to be so loved. They're going to have a good life. We're gonna have a good life." Where did these happy tears come from? They're welling up in his eyes.

Luke releases her and goes to wipe away the salty water streaming down his cheeks. "Guess we're gonna have to start thinking about some names, huh?" he says, with a happy sigh.

She lets herself get caught up in the moment. Laughing, Eleanor spins along to the swell of excitement that Luke inspires so effortlessly, even as the sudden motion threatens to bring about another wave of nausea. She doesn't care; his happiness is infectious. There's a wonderful kind of delirium in this lightheadedness, the type she's come to associate with Luke, and with each passing spin, she's transported back to a series of memories: to nights spent dancing in his living room, crossfaded and singing along clumsily to one of his corny country records; to dates at the county fair, trying to destroy each other at go-karts and stumbling off rollercoasters together, hands entwined; to the first time he ever kissed her on that warm summer night before she left for college -- sweet and hesitant and exhilarating all at once.

Then her feet touch the ground and reality takes another swing at her. This time it connects. The laughter peters off and she half covers her mouth in a self conscious impulse before he's drawing her closer again, kissing her ecstatically. A baby.

"Babe," she says softly, gently, like she's trying to bring him back down to earth, coax him into seeing reason. "Are we even ready for this? I mean, it's a lot, right, it's -- we didn't even plan for it!" And that's half the problem; she's a planner, a pragmatist. When things don't align in the way she's carefully telegraphed in her head, it leaves room for the doubt to creep in, and already that obstinate voice in the back of her mind is rearing its ugly head, drawing up a list of her deficiencies and conjuring worst case scenarios with grim satisfaction.

"Weren't we going to travel, take our time with it? And -- w-what am I supposed to do with a baby? Babies don't even like me! Remember when your niece fucking bit me? I don't have whatever you have. You're the good one, you're -- what about your job? You're a cop! I mean what if some crack head jumps you -- I'm sorry, I know we're not supposed to call them that -- but what if a crack head jumps you and kills you -- and -- and now you're dead, and I'm alone, and the baby doesn't have a father --"

She hears the uncharacteristic note of hysteria in her voice and squeezes her eyes shut, pressing her forehead against Luke's, like it might bring peace. There's a pervasive thought there behind it all, silent but insidious. This was never supposed to be yours.

[gcllantt]

The key when moving to an entirely new city is finding a good coffee shop, it’s a quick way to establish familiarity in a foreign place. Even though he’s a cop, Officer Monroe isn’t one for doughnuts. Too sweet. It’s always been small, mom and pop coffee shops, that get Luke out of bed in the morning.

When Cham has his burnt bagel and mocha in hand, Luke lips widened in a smile. He’s grateful for her kindness. Some of the guys on the force have come to expect things for free from the locals around town, they put their palms open, free coffees and pastries would just fall into them. Just for wearing a uniform. It disgusts Luke. Lots of things about the force does.

“Thanks Cham,” he says, reaching his hand out to his crispy bagel, “You’re the best.” Now, he wouldn’t admit to the other employees at the Brewed Awakening, but Cham is his favorite barista in the shop. Maybe because, some how, he earned this pleasantry between them. When he first started coming around the shop, Luke’s kind and friendly nature was met with dismissiveness. He must’ve caught on her a bad day. Then it seemed to be, everyday was a bad day for Cham. When down and saw the uniform he was wearing, he began to put the pieces together.

Luke, as good as he tries to be, is not naive. Not everyone’s favorite public servants are police officers and for good reason. He’s seen the news. Witnessed the ACAB graffiti on the abandoned buildings amongst the city. If there could ever be such thing as a good cop, Luke wanted to be that. To be fair and just. Kind and helpful. Act with reason and care. To be someone this community could rely on. Even if it’s as small as helping a stranger change a tire.

Over the past month Luke’s been coming to this spot, his earnest nature must’ve shined through, because Cham’s coldness began to melt away. So much so, she’s saving bagels for him now.

“You guys ran out fast today,” Luke says to her. Just making friendly small talk. He takes a sip of his mocha. It’s damn good. “Must’ve been a busy morning, huh?”

Closed starter for @gcllantt

Luke had quickly become one of Chamomile’s regulars at Brewed Awakening. She had been wary at first, and was not particularly pleased at the prospect of a cop making the cafe part of his routine. His easy smiles, cheerful conversation, and a simple order that she could make with her eyes closed even in the middle of a rush (the double toasted bagel was diabolical though. How do you wish someone has burnt bagels to ruin their day just a little if that is how they like it) made it hard to hate a guy. The true change though was when she was returning home from the university one night, a true Oregon coast stormy evening with rain pouring down in sheets of water so thick you could barely see your hand 3 feet in front of you. And there on the side of the road was officer Monroe kneeling in the flooding shoulder with flares out and his patrol vehicle in a defensive position behind a car with a blown tire. Crouched in the rain he dutifully worked to change tire while a young mother comforted her crying infant in the front seat, shielded from the downpour. He seemed to really take the serve part of his oath seriously, so maybe he wasn't a total bastard, or at least a bastard with a good heart even if he worked in a broken system. It had been a busy morning, and Cham found herself spitefully telling the man in front of her they were out of everything bagels when she saw Luke coming through the door, the stranger in front of her was an ass anyway, always dropping dimes in the tip jar and acting like that was a gift. “boring mocha and your burned bagel, same as always Luke?” she asked, half teasing, as he stepped up to the counter, the bagel already toasting and the milk steaming. “That ass tried to take your bagel, hope you know there aren’t many regulars I would go to that trouble for”

[gcllantt]

[gcllantt]

If they did, did they regret it?

His arms curl up on his chest. His blue eyes narrow some at the woman. Luke isn’t naive. The truth is ugly and he knows it. You know what else is ugly? This reality he’s stuck in. Caught in the chokehold of limbo. Since he doesn't have the answers, his mind does this sick thing and it makes up its own. He went to dark places. Twisted, vile wonders of what really happened to his Eleanor. Nightmare fuel. Whatever the truth is of what came of Eleanor could not possibly be worse than what his imagination ran with.

The most messed up part of this is, he longs for the call. We found her, Luke. Come down to the station. He'd jump in his car so fast. Speed straight down to the morgue. Run to that ice cold room, just so he could see her one last time. He'd do his duty, he'd identify his wife's lifeless body and there would be some sickening comfort in his chest, to finally know where she was. To know she wasn't in pain, or that someone wasn't keeping her away from him or hurting her, or worse. Eleanor would be in peace forever. No one could ever hurt her again.

The mystery would be solved, the story would close. Luke, finally, could properly mourn the loss of his beautiful wife and their precious unborn. He'd give them the funeral they deserved. Gravestones he could leave flowers on. Would he move on? No, but Luke wouldn't have to wonder. That's good enough for him.

“I’d want to know the truth, no matter how ugly.” His voice stands strong, but there’s a certain kind of solemnness he can’t shake. Luke doesn't try to. "I hear they say ignorance is bliss, but that's not true. Ignorance is torture." A bitter laugh falls from his tongue. "At least when you know the truth, you can begin to pick up the pieces. Ignorance just leaves you pacing around, letting those pieces crack more and more beneath your feet, leaving you more to pick up in the end."

Luke takes a deep breath, looks at the young woman. Could he trust her? He doesn't know, doesn't really care. Sometimes, the best confidant is a complete stranger. "My wife went missing a year ago," he tells her after a heavy breath, finally showing her his cards. "Not too far away from here." He thinks of his mother in law's research, filled with bizarre writings. The paranormal. The supernatural. The occult. Things of the devil, his father would've said. Are these the same devils that caught up with Amara all those years ago? Who took Charles too. Did they come back for Eleanor?

"I've heard crazy things about Port Leiry...." his voice trails off. "Investigators back home won't bother to look into it.. and if I didn't do some looking myself, I'd spend my whole life wondering."

Luke, with desperate pleading eyes, look into hers. Can she give him some answers? Does she have any truths to tell him? "Do you know....do you know the rumors about this town?"

I don’t know what I’m looking for. Annalise could sense a lie. Those that didn’t grow up here came because they wanted answers, or they were chasing someone or something. They may not know it yet, may not even realise, but Port Leiry drew them in for a reason, and that reason often comes requiring blood sacrifice along the way, yikes. If the stranger couldn’t even admit to himself that he was here for a reason, there was likely no getting through to him. If he’d lie to himself, lie to her when she’s offering advice, he was already in too deep whether he’d been here hours or months. Some people couldn’t be helped; Annalise had had to learn that the hard way. 

Ah, a little sliver of honesty. Promising, at least. Maybe he’s not completely done for. “You should ask around, see how many people came here for answers. Better yet, ask them a follow up question of whether they ever found them and if they did, do they regret it?” His next words earned him a devastating glare from the huntress, who shook her head at him. If you don’t want to at least consider my warnings because I’m young, that’s on you buddy. But prepare to take it back when you bite off more than you can chew finding those answers.” 

The huntress wasn’t stupid enough to introduce him to hte seedy underbelly of Port Leiry before he was dragged into it kicking and screaming; it would be good if he could avoid that for as long as possible and telling him about it. . . well, she had a feeling it wouldn’t lead to him leaving. “It’s better for you if I’m not, honestly. If you’re staying, just make sure you trust the right people. Trust your gut.”

[gcllantt]

Small town bars, Luke feels at home at. Family get togethers and lone shooting ranges too. This place? This fancy soirée, being stuck in some buttoned down monkey suit , Luke feels out of place. Talks of elegant keys and secret rooms. Kissing masks? What the hell is that about?

Luke got an invitation from a friend. Friend is used loosely. A buddy from the precinct was supposed to go with his girlfriend and after rediscovering he was a serial cheater earlier in the week, she didn’t feel up for it tonight. The guy asked him, begged him really, how could Luke say no? Southern hospitality seeps through his veins. When someone invites you somewhere, it’s awfully rude to decline.

His buddy ditched him early on and Luke half expected that to happen. He’s been slamming down drinks left and right at the bar, just to feel somewhat normal. It’s not helping. If anything, the alcohol is keeping him in his head. It’s fuel for his anxiety.

He people watches from the bar. Now, Luke does his best not to be judgmental. He hears his preacher man father saying, we’re all God’s children, whenever he has a particularly nasty thought. Even so, Luke’s good at getting reads on people. You pay attention enough, people show you who they are. Those in attendance tonight are weird. Not only strange and uppity in the way that most wealthy people are, but there’s something deeper going on. The way they speak with one another, the way they look at one another. Like they’ve got secrets they’re keeping close, but not close enough.

He’s made eye contact with a few of these peculiar people. When they look at him, they smile, but they are not friendly. They look at him like they want to eat him. Swallow him whole. Absolutely devour.

It gives him the heebie jeebies.

While he scans the room, watching everyone enjoy this environment much more than himself, Luke considers leaving. Pack it up and call it a night. He gives the crowd one last lingering look. A particular blonde stands out to him, blondes have a tendency to raise the hair on his neck these days. He sees her. Eleanor. It’s not rare for him to see her, she haunts his days and his night. When he blinks, she’ll disappear, and her face will be replaced with a stranger’s. Just like it always does.

Luke blinks. Eleanor stays. He blinks again, to be sure. She remains. This has never happened before.

She looks back at him.

Without hesitation, Luke jumps into the sea of people, weaving his way through the crowd. It was her! It was her! There’s no way in hell his eyes were playing tricks on him. There’s no way in hell it’s his imagination. Luke saw Eleanor. He fucking blinked and she stayed.

Luke lands at the spot where he saw Eleanor, turns his head around to spot her once again, then turns his head the other when he can’t place her. His heart sinks into his chest. But.... he saw her..... Apparently, he didn't, because Eleanor did what she always does these days. She disappears.

closed starter for: @gcllantt location: khaos grand opening

The drugs had been too strong and she'd done far too much of them. This alone she's certain of. Everything else feels entirely out of reason's reach as Eleanor stumbles her way through the crowd of party goers, feeling like the room is tilted on its axis. She'd burned through the short-lived euphoria quickly; there were certain substances that had no business mixing together and between Jameson's flourishes to his stock and whatever the fresh hell was in those drinks at the bar, she couldn't even be sure anymore what was giving her such vivid hallucinations.

A sea of faces swarm her vision, everyone clumped together in a parade of sweat and gyration, drinks and pills exchanging hands like clockwork as the music beats down on them all, engulfing them in a cacophony of electric colors. The faces begin to blend together; some look runny, melting like candle wax all around her as she tries cutting a path towards the exit. Not real, not real.

Eleanor braces herself, half ready to begin putting heads through walls when she lands on a face that shouldn't be here - that couldn't possibly be here - and something jolts inside of her. --- Luke?

[gcllantt]

For a moment, Luke is not sure if he’s heard Eleanor right. There’s a rapid fire of who, what, when, where, why that circles through his mind in a moments notice. Ultimately, one repeats more than the others. What?! The possibility of a positive pregnancy test hadn’t even crossed his mind. A pregnancy didn't even cross his mind. Luke was no saint and never claimed to be one, the possibility of this happening was always shuffled in the cards somewhere. Even when the signs were right in front of him, Luke didn't see it. That's the privilege of being male. When symptoms reveal themselves, one thinks car sickness and not the possibility of new life. Of a new family.

Eleanor's two steps ahead. As usual. Why didn't she fill him in on this? That this thought had even crept into her mind? He wonders, but Luke already knows. Eleanor is the carrier of burdens. No matter how many times he would tell her, he would beg her, let me help you with that, she holds the problem tighter. Yet, this, this right here isn't a problem. It's an answer.

Whatever disappointment he has about her keeping the possibility a secret from him is washed away at the realization. Luke and Eleanor were going to be parents. They are going to be a family.

Shock dissipates and the biggest smile on Luke’s face replaces it. “Baby!” he beams at Eleanor. His voice is boylike and genuine. A side of himself he saves for her; he'd never let his buddies or the guys at the precinct catch this side of him. Luke scoops Eleanor in his arms, feeling a desperate need to hold her close. Spins her around a few times. When Luke finally gets the good sense to put her down, hello the woman is with child, he gently lowers her to the grounds then places kisses all over her face, cheeks, then lips. Never was Luke afraid to show his love to his beautiful wife. Wife. How he adored that word.

Luke holds her face in his hands, lightly rubbing his thumb on her cheeks. “Holy shit, Eleanor,” he says to her, “We’re going to be parents.” He smiles wider. "We're gonna be a family."

Denial had never tasted quite so disgusting.

She had to have thrown up almost half a dozen times today, to say nothing of the nausea that plagued her whenever she wasn't chin deep in a plastic bag. Ordinarily, she would have rifled through her purse for a stray joint, but somewhere deep down, Eleanor knew better -- even if she wasn't quite ready to admit it to herself yet.

She'd gone back into the gas station, told Luke she needed to use the bathroom again, and returned to the car minutes later with two newly bought pregnancy tests stashed in her purse. It'd been six weeks since her last period. Sometime in between the wedding planning, dealing with her in-laws, and packing up for their honeymoon, she'd simply decided to... ignore it. It was a fluke borne out of stress. Nothing to worry about. Her body had done her the kindness of playing along with this delusion until after the wedding. Now here she was, a week into their honeymoon, holed up in a hotel bathroom and waiting on the results of not one, but two pregnancy tests (because she's nothing if not obsessively committed to the scientific method).

There -- time's up. Eleanor peers over at where both tests are smirking up at her and her heart skips a beat: four pink lines stare back at her. FuckingfuckfuckfuckFUCK--

The knock at the door startles her. Eleanor sucks in a calming breath, tries to steady herself. Think of something funny. John Mulaney before the cheating. Billy Pilgrim has a tremendous wang. The time Charles finished a quart of rum and serenaded the Monroes with Goo Goo Muck during Sunday Service. The Monroes. Her Christian in-laws were at a shotgun wedding. Ha.

She opens the bathroom door slightly and when she sees Luke on the other side, worried and gentle, she finds a resolve that wasn't there before. That's how it always goes, doesn't it? He tethers her to his warmth, won't let her disappear into her own head with all its brambles and winding roads. Everything about him feels like coming home again. "Yeah, I just... " She presses her lips together, considers lying; she flicks away the thought, fully opens the door, then lets the light in. "I was taking... taking some pregnancy tests. They both came out positive."

[gcllantt]

He raises a brow at the young woman’s remark. She's blunt and so confident in what she says, like its absolution. She's so sure. Port Leiry had its shadows, the police officer could tell even though he's been on the city’s force for a short time. Here’s the thing, every city has its shadow. It’s darkness. It’s demons. Even little Mesquite Falls, the small texan town Luke was from. It’s the last place one would expect a double homicide with absolutely no leads to happen. And yet.

Luke shrugs. “I don’t know what I’m looking for.” He does though. Luke knows exactly what he is looking for. Who he is looking for. But he knows how absolutely ludicrous it is to think he could possibly find in Port Leiry. How he uprooted his life and moved to a whole new city, to a new whole new state, based on a hunch. A silly little thought. As if God told him he’d find what he was looking for here and Luke’s not sure he even believes in God anymore.

“Answers, maybe.” He doesn’t know where the honesty comes from. The liquor in the flask. The bluntness of the stranger rubbing off on him. “I don’t know why but I feel like they’re around here somewhere.”

He gives the girl a look, similar to one he’d give his little sisters if they ran their mouths a little too long. “You’re awfully young to be so bitter,” Luke says. “And so cryptic.” Luke leans back. “Can you be more specific?”

he doesn't just move, he starts a conversation, though hearing his words, annalise can see why. "that depends. did you come here to find something, find yourself?" that was what got most people into trouble in this town, the blonde thought. they went looking for answers and stumbled into the horrors that port leiry had to offer, dragged in too deep never to escape again. "my advice? get out. whatever answers you're looking for, i can promise you they're not worth it. you won't find them, and if you do, it'll come at a price."

it's honesty, perhaps more honest than she should be but she wasn't in the mood to tiptoe around it. "this town, it sucks you in. once it does that, has it's claws so deep in you that you can't move, you'll never get out. if you do, you won't be the same." all the people she had lost, one way or another, were proof of that and she was just one person. look at the castillo-fiores', loss, the halstead's loss, and that was just two families. it was around every corner for port leiry citizens, and tourists often disappeared. "take it from someone who has lived here their whole life. . . don't stay here, move on."