hector-sayinggoodbye

[hector-sayinggoodbye]

“Law & Order: Dead Victims Unit || Herry

perry-flynn​:

The thing with being a detective was that you got very good at analysing people without ever looking like you were. Perry had done a few unde cover operations in his time, you learned to keep a very neutral expression. Better than letting any disgust or anger at the things you were witnessing shine through, of course. Perry knew a suspect when he saw one- most of the time- and this guy didn’t give him that vibe. Uncertain and anxious, certainly, but there were cases Perry had followed without having immediate access to every piece of information. It wasn’t easy to share your entire life with a stranger.

His eyebrows quirked up when Ernesto got to the meat of the situation. Murder. Something Perry had seen plenty of while on the force obviously, but not really the sort of case that came across his desk as a private detective. He was no fool, he knew that their judicial system had flaws and so did the people working to uphold the law. Sometimes they made mistakes, things got overlooked, or they were too single minded in their accusations. He didn’t have any contacts in Mexico himself, but he had buddies still on the force back home that he could ask to to try and dig up official case files for him.

Without a court case there would be no official public record, save for whatever might have been in the papers at the time. Perry could find that much for himself. He nodded and scribbled down the details of the situation, writing research ideas in the margin before looking back up at Ernesto. “Your friend, what was his name? Do you remember if there was anything in the paper at the time about the incident? Did they have anyone- friends, colleagues, family members- that you recall finding suspicious, or hearing them talk about?” 

So many questions in such a short space of time; Héctor's head spun a little, and he squinted, trying to remember each one of them so he could answer them accordingly. His English was pretty good (he had learned young, knowing that all the pop stars and rock stars made their fame in America, where only English would do), so that wasn't the issue, it was just...

He had spent pretty much his entire time, since it had happened, actively not thinking about his death. He had done his best to forget, put it as far out of his memory as he possibly could despite it being, y'know, the most significant thing to happen to him thus far, because it was painful. Surprise surprise, your own death was kind of a bummer to think about. It was less about the death part, though, and more about the rest; the life he was never going to get to lead. Things had finally been looking up, too. He was going to sign a record deal, he was going to be a star, he had Imelda, they were going to be happy together, a life and a career all at once, and then, all of a sudden. Gone.

Not thinking about it meant that he could pretend. He could act like it was all still going to happen, like it was just a bump in the road, and he'd get back on track. But he couldn't do that forever, and he knew it, too. So he took a deep breath, and tried to answer as many questions as he could.

"His name is— was Héctor Rivera." He answered. That one was easy, at least, he knew his own name. But it was kind of weird to talk about himself in the first person... Never mind. Moving on. "There was an article in the paper, I think, but... I'm not sure which one. It was in a, uh, a bad part of town, so things like that weren't exactly front page, but it got an article. I— he was a musician from out of town, so it was a little more exciting than the usual, I guess." He raised a hand to scratch his head, more of a distraction than anything else. "But, no— No one suspicious. He got into trouble a bit, but nothing awful, y'know?"

[hector-sayinggoodbye]

Bonnie & Clyde || Hemelda

riveraofstorms​:

Imelda normally didn’t trust a Mundus. Even if most in her hometown were accepting and even relied on the Rivera’s magic, she found herself wary of them still. Then again, she didn’t trust many other Magicks as well. Only her family had such a sacred thing.

But in this moment, she trusted this one. Only a little. Maybe not the wisest decision that might bite her in the ass later, but he hadn’t run when she’d caused the fire. Normally, most men would. She supposed here he’d give her some cheesy line about how he is ‘not most men.’ Her mind’s eye rolled as they descended the stairs at that thought.

As they entered the alleyway, the warm air of the night enveloped them, making her dress feel a lot tighter than it actually was. She could only grimace about it for so long though before security came running towards them. And then - Hector hit one of them. 

She blinked, honestly surprised. But then again, she shouldn’t be. They were now on the run after all.

Thankfully, they were dazed, and they kept moving. Though she did move the wind to blow back into their faces in the alley, kicking up trash and dirt to keep slowing them down. She smirked, then looked ahead as they ran into the street.

Oh that was such a fucking bad idea — his hand was throbbing, and he had probably fucked up his knuckles, and what if he couldn't play? How was he going to make money? What if he missed his big break 'cause he'd punched a security guard in an attempt to escape a stupid bar (and maybe an attempt to impress a very hot, kinda scary woman, but he wasn't admitting to that just yet)? He would have to just hope that everything was fine. They weren't out of the woods yet, not at all.

Héctor knew the way out onto the street, so he began to head towards it, hoping that they could lose their pursuers in the crowds of other people out enjoying the night life. He looked back, wanting to know if the guards were close or not, but all he could see was the wind, throwing things in their faces, slowing them down. His eyes narrowed, glancing at Imelda. Did she look smug? Had she done that?

Just who was this woman? Héctor wasn't a liar, most of the time, so he'd admit that he'd met a lot of very cool, very hot women in his time, but she was really taking the cake here. She'd called herself a bruja, but he'd never seen a witch who could do things like that. Then again, he'd never really seen many witches up close and personal, so...

They broke out onto the street, and into the groups of people. Héctor looked around, but he couldn't see any of the guards, so he finally looked to Imelda. He was panting a little from the run, and his hand was still in hers, but he didn't move it. Y'know. Just in case they needed to run again...

"Did you do that?" He asked her, glancing back towards the alley. "The wind thing? What else can you do?"

[hector-sayinggoodbye]

“Law & Order: Dead Victims Unit || Herry

perry-flynn​:

He looked like a fairly normal bloke, just on appearance. A little nervous but that was pretty standard for people coming to see a detective. Perry was happy to give him the time he might need to get himself callm, he always kept plenty of space between bookings for the very reaason that you couldn’t be entirely sure how long the process would take.

When Hector did move into the office Perry followed after and shut the door behind them, taking a seat behind his desk where he already had a notebook set out and his laptop open, ready to take notes or do any quick bits of research their discussion might warrant. 

Did he just like music? Even so it seemed strange to go to the length of having someone else book your appointment and make such a specific request. That was another thing- why hadn’t he made the appointment himself? Anxious, perhaps, and Perry knew some people actually found it easier to focus with a low level of background noise.

He preferred silence himself for the most part but in this situation he was happy to accomodate. To listen to jazz and dicuss a mystery was not exactly a hardship for him. “Well, to start with you tell me what it is that brought you here today, from there I’ll probably have some questions about the specifics of the case, and then we can start to discuss what exactly I can do to help you, and what sort of resolution you’re hoping for out of the whole thing.”

Perry picked up his pen, “so. Whats the problem that brought you to my office today?”

Héctor nodded, but he missed half of what the detective said. He was over thinking, just a little. Okay a lot. He was wondering how many cases the detective had, how many he’d solved — was he allowed to ask that? Was it rude? He was also wondering if he looked suspicious. He was just... nervous. That was all. The anxiety gripped him, and Héctor knew it wouldn’t let him go until this whole thing was over. He tried not to think about his own death too much, and he’d been doing pretty good at that til right now, but he’d known this day would come. He’d have to think about it eventually — more than that. He’d have to solve it.

Héctor wasn’t especially religious, but he’d been raised in a good christian household by a pious mother, so he definitly had a preconceived notion of heaven, hell, and the afterlife in general. Just look at him: he was proof that there was something after death, a middle ground. Was it so far fetched to think that there might be something else? There had to be somewhere for the souls to go, until they were called back to their ofrendas every year, didn’t there? Some of the other ghosts he’d spoken to seemed to think so. Héctor didn’t really make a habit of talking to other ghosts, too depressing, but a lot of the ones he had spoken to thought there was something else. That you were waiting for something, to go omewhere. Some assumed they would be stuck as ghosts forever, but... Well, Héctor had no idea. He just thought that maybe, if there was some other place to go to, he might have to finish his unfinished business in order to get there. 

Which, obviously, was where Perry came in.

“Well, uh...” Héctor rubbed his palms against his thighs, a nervous habit. It wasn’t like his palms could really get sweaty anymore, but... well. He was fidgety. He shifted a little in his seat.

“I need to solve my — my friend’s murder.” He stuttered, hoping he had covered the fumble up well. Couldn’t really come out and say that it was his murder, could he? That would make this whole thing very awkward indeed. He wasn’t here about himself, no. He was here about Héctor Rivera. Because he was Ernesto de la Cruz. Obviously. “It was in Mexico, about five years ago, now. The police chalked it up to a mugging gone wrong, I think, but... it never seemed right to me.”

[hector-sayinggoodbye]

What are you the most proud of when it comes to “The Umbrella Academy” and your career as a whole? That I have been given an opportunity to tell stories that can resonate with people and I am not taking that for granted anymore.

David Castañeda for DA MAN Magazine (October/November 2020)

[hector-sayinggoodbye]

Kids. Love. Beer. (via Instagram, 2019)

[A nifty gifty for @oddree13 on their birthday. Courtesy and with love, from David Castañeda and baby.] [Gif Masterpost]

[hector-sayinggoodbye]

Bonnie & Clyde || Hemelda

riveraofstorms​:

hector-sayinggoodbye​:

Read More Now!

Things had gone from nought to sixty here pretty damn quickly, but that was fine with Héctor. A life on the road, constantly moving, constantly trying new things. Chatting up a girl and then having her create this kind of a scene was definitely something new, though, to be honest, fleeing a bar was not something new at all. Héctor had a lot of unpaid tabs in a lot of different cities...

And it wasn't exactly his first time chasing a beautiful woman out of a bar either, but that woman had never been a witch before. Well, as far as he knew. It was exciting. And a little scary? Probably more scary than he realised, 'cause he was still sorta caught up in the beautiful woman part of things — something which wasn't at all helped by her hand gripping his.

Still, it brought him back into the moment, and with a charming smile for her brothers, Héctor gave a nod. "This way, vámonos!"

They weaved their way through what was left of the crowd, out of the bar and down the corridor to a door marked SOLO EMPLEADOS. Héctor didn’t know why, seeing as it only led to the back alley, but he did know it wasn't locked; he'd disappeared down here a few times for a smoke or a break between sets, and every single time he'd found the door open. He pushed it with his shoulder, leading her down the stairs and out a fire door. There was usually no one here, and with everything going on inside Héctor was hardly expecting anyone to still be out by the garbage cans, but as he barrelled out of the door, Imelda close behind, he clocked security on their left.

And he could only describe what he did next as a knee-jerk reaction: he punched him. Or he tried to, anyway. Héctor hadn't thrown very many punches in his life, so when his fist did manage to connect with the guy's jaw, he felt pain shoot up to his wrist. "Ow, chingada madre! Christ—" He looked back to Imelda (thank you to her brothers for dropping her name, too), grimacing, and then tugged her towards the street at the end of the alleyway. "It's this way!"

[hector-sayinggoodbye]

Law & Order: Dead Victims Unit || Herry

perry-flynn​:

With his time on the force as a detective and the few years he had under his belt working independantly in Swynlake, Perry had handled a lot of different cases. Despite whatever bells and whistles might be attatched a lot of them boiled down to the same basic elements, though that didn’t mean he was any less determined to help those involved and see the thing solved.

Every now and then though something came across the desk- or over the phone- that felt different. Bigger, stranger.

He hadn’t been given a lot to go on so it was entirely probably that Perry was getting ahead of himself, but even something as small as the odd request to be playing music through-out the meeting with the client sparked his intregue. Paranoid about being overheard, perhaps? Perry had assured the woman on the phone that his office had top of the line security equiptment and sound proofing, but she’d been very insistent on the music. So he’d set up his vinyl player and stuck on some jazz, going about making himself a coffee and getting his desk set up until he heard the knock.

Straightening his jacket, Perry headed out into the reception area and opened the door, “Mr de la Cruz.” He offered his hand out to shake, “Perry Flynn. Please, come on in.” Perry stepped to the side and gestured towards the door at the other end of the reception room, “my office is just through there. Can I get you anything to drink?”

Can I get you anything to drink, he asked, and Héctor held his breath. Not that it made any difference to him, whether he did or didn't hold his breath, but he had never quite gotten out of the habit of breathing. If he was actually breathing at all. Maybe he was just moving his shoulders and chest in a way that felt like breathing—

Right. He was getting distracted because he was nervous, and he didn't actually want to think about the reason why he was here.

"No, gracias," He said with a shake of his head. He looked down the hall towards the door the detective pointed out; he could hear the music filtering out of it. Jazz, a good choice. Héctor strained to hear it, to pick out the artist — Miles Davis, he thought. Maybe Sketches of Spain. He could be wrong, sure, but there weren't many jazz albums that had the banda undercurrent that Héctor had grown up with. Either way, he approved; he warmed to the detective just a little, though they hadn't said much to each other yet.

He was glad that the door was open already. The music was there, loud enough and close enough to grab onto, the personal tint to it making it even easier to grasp, but it wasn't like Miles was in the room with his big band playing for them personally. He wasn't going to be able to interact with things as if he was really in the room, but he could give the appearance of it, for now.

He made his way into the office and took one of the chairs, glancing around. It certainly seemed very professional. Héctor hadn't been sure what to expect, not wanting to think it would be too much like the movies, but. Well. It sort of was.

"How do we do this?" He asked after a moment, fiddling with his hands just for something to do.

[hector-sayinggoodbye]

Bonnie & Clyde || Hemelda

riveraofstorms​:

Imelda quietly took a drag as well before releasing it back into the air of the already smoky room. She watched it vanish and join the mass of smoke as she waited for him to speak. Nothing but the next act’s music and chatter filling the silence between them.

When he spoke, her eyes went to the stage as she pulled the cigarette from her mouth once more. “Hmmm…it was a good set,” She finally settled on as she looked back at him. “You’ve been doing this a long time, yes?”

He played like he had. His heart fully in the music. She knew not just from its sound, but also his reagents. He was giving it his all. Because he loved it, not just for the money. Not that the money probably didn’t help but - that was how you knew a real musician from the frauds in these places. 

“Is this your first time playing here?” She found herself asking next, shifting her body more to face him as she took another drag before releasing the smoke. Before it flew in his face though, she lifted her hand and twirled her index finger, causing it to swirl instead harmlessly up towards the ceiling. 

A habit that seemed to be a mistake.

“Hey, what the hell was that? Didn’t you see the sign outside?” The man behind the bar snapped harshly at the two. “No Magicks in here! Hey, hombre, keep your bruja in check or I’ll toss you both out. You’re lucky you played such a good set…”

Imelda’s face scrunched up at that, her eyes narrowing at the man. “I’m not anyone’s bruja,” She hissed, her shoulders tensing as the end of her cigarette started to light up brighter, burning hotter. 

“Your kind has a lot of nerve to talk back,” The man said.

Her brow twitched. Still, she took another drag, before looking at Hector. “I hope you already got your money.”

“Hey! Bruja! I’m talking - “

Read More Now!

Héctor watched the smoke twirl up into the air, obviously impressed. Listen, he knew what kind of a joint this was, he knew what kind of a town this was, but that didn't mean that he agreed. In fact, he thought that her whole magic deal wasn't only a very cool party trick, but it was most definitely hot.

"Third night in a row," He began, his eyes finding their way back to her face. "I'll be here all—"

He didn't get very far in inviting her to come back and see him the next night, though ('cause that was exactly where he was going with this, thanks). He was so rudely interrupted, turning to the bartender, who he'd definitely thought was cooler than this before he'd opened his mouth.

"Relax, mano, she's not hurting anybody," Héctor said to the barman, dropping his cigarette into the ash tray. "Why don't you just—"

Nope, interrupted again, but this time by the woman. Maybe he'd manage to get a full sentence out at some point but honestly, right now? He didn't mind one bit. He watched her, once again impressed, a smile curling his lips.

"Sí," He nodded, patting his top pocket — Héctor always made sure he got paid the very second he stopped playing because, well. He quite often got himself into trouble, just like he was right now.

The bar burst into flames so quickly, with such heat, that Héctor staggered backwards, blinking at it, and then the witch, in surprise. Oh, she was good. She was really good. "Never have before!" He remarked, following her through the crowd, hoping they could slip away unnoticed.

"I know a way out," He told her, trailing her through the people rushing to try and put out the fire. "Side door, a little quieter, unless you're planning another display?"

[hector-sayinggoodbye]

Law & Order: Dead Victims Unit || Herry

@perry-flynn​

Héctor was on his way to see a detective.

And honest to god, real-I-am private detective. He’d needed a little help from Sally to set up the meeting of course (he’d had to ask her to call ahead and ask for the detective to be playing music, any kind of music at all when he got there — without it, Héctor wouldn’t be able to talk to him), and he would be needing further help from her to arrange paying the fee, but they had done it. He had a time to be there for, and that was a start.

He was there too early, eager as he was to get started. He figured that this was going to be the thing that got him to move on to... well, whatever came after. And maybe he wasn’t in such a rush to go, after finding Imelda again, but he still knew it was something that had to happen eventually. As much as he wanted to see her, and even if living with Sally was pretty nice, he knew he couldn’t live the way he was forever. At some point he would have to move on. 

And he had tried to figure out himself what had happened, but... well, by the time he’d got his wits about him it had already been a good couple of years, old news, and by then he was just one in a sea of hundreds. Murders happened all the time in big cities, didn’t they? He became a statistic, and he didn’t have the right resources or know-how to be able to fix that. 

So: the detective. He waited outside until he heard the music begin to play, muted through the door, and then, once he was solid enough to do so, he knocked.

“Hola— uh, hi. I have an appointment at 3? Ernesto de la Cruz?”

No, he hadn’t given his own name. Maybe that was weird, but he was in it now. 

[hector-sayinggoodbye]

quick doodle which killed instantly 

[hector-sayinggoodbye]

Bonnie & Clyde || Hemelda

riveraofstorms​:

Imelda’s eyes lazily drifted back over to look at Hector as she pulled out her cigarettes and lighter. “Careful what you’re implying, músico. I’d hate for you to lose your tongue,” She warned, though there was a bit of a twinkle in her eye.

One of mischief and a bit of excitement. She wasn’t blind. This man was handsome. Scruffy, but she kind of liked that. Clean cut was nice to bring home to Mama, but they hardly were interesting enough for her. Not to mention this man was one of music. Of talent. And men like those had a lot more going on than they let on.

And that’s where the trouble came from. She’d been warned of that. But the thing was that people tended to forget Imelda attracted trouble - and could take care of it on her own, thank you very much. What was a little more?

“A woman can’t just enjoy a night out without being accused of using men?” A beat. “I was in town, and had nothing to do until I heard there was live music here tonight. Figured I’d see if you were as good as the posters said.” She lit her cigarette before holding the box out to him. “Want one?”

Oh, so she was a tough one. A little feisty, a little fiery. Héctor absolutely did not mind that one bit; in fact, he liked that in a woman. He liked it a  lot.

Not that he was assuming this was going to go anywhere. Héctor didn't like to count his chickens or his eggs or whatever it was called — he wasn't going to make assumptions, basically.

But she was still talking to him, and that playful look in her eye betrayed a lot. It was an invitation, he thought, not to be too put off. Some men could be intimidated by a strong woman, but not Héctor. He had yet to meet one he didn't like.

"Gracias," He nodded, leaning closer until he could grab a cigarette, hovering for the time it took her to light it before he leaned back again, taking a drag. He considered her for a moment, smiling a little as he held the smoke in his lungs, letting it go when he had decided just what he wanted to say.

"First of all, I don't think accepting free drinks from struggling musicians is using men — I think it's getting what you're owed." And he would never, ever turn down a free drink, thank you very much. "But more importantly," He took another drag from the cigarette, giving her a cheeky sort of grin. "What did you think?" He nodded his head back towards the stage he had just come from. "Posters talk me up too much?"

[hector-sayinggoodbye]

I don’t have paranormal experiences, I AM a paranormal experience.

[hector-sayinggoodbye]

“A ghost can be a lot of things. A memory, a daydream, a secret. Grief, anger, guilt. But, in my experience, most times they’re just what we want to see. Most times, a ghost is a wish.” 

― The Haunting of Hill House (2018) dir. Mike Flanagan 

“There are things that tie them to a place, very much like they do us. Some remain tethered to a patch of land. A time and date. The spilling of blood. A terrible crime. But there are others. Others that hold onto an emotion. A drive. Loss. Revenge. Or love. Those, they never go away.” 

― Crimson Peak (2015) dir. Guillermo del Toro

“There are such things as ghosts. People everywhere have always known that. And we believe in them every bit as much as Homer did. Only now, we call them by different names. Memory. The unconscious.”

― Donna Tartt, The Secret History

“What is a ghost, after all, but a repressed memory, the past demanding to be heard in the present?” 

― Alfred Mac Adam, Introduction of Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey

“If that staid old house near the Green at Richmond should ever come to be haunted when I am dead, it will be haunted, surely, by my ghost. O the many, many nights and days through which the unquiet spirit within me haunted that house when Estella lived there! Let my body be where it would, my spirit was always wandering, wandering, wandering, about that house.” 

― Charles Dickens, Great Expectations 

“May you not rest, as long as I am living! You said I killed you — haunt me, then! The murdered do haunt their murderers. I believe — I know that ghosts have wandered on earth. Be with me always — take any form — drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! it is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!”

― Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights 

“Come back! Even as a shadow, even as a dream”

― Euripides, Herakles 

“In one aspect, yes, I believe in ghosts, but we create them. We haunt ourselves.”

― Laurie Halse Anderson, Wintergirls 

“They were nothing more than living ghosts, haunting each other with what could be. What can’t be.”

― Libba Bray, A Great and Terrible Beauty

“And how odd it is to be haunted by someone who is still alive.”

― I Guess the Old You is a Ghost (#589: June 25, 2014)

“You’ll always be my favourite ghost”

― Big God, Florence + the Machine

“I’m begging you to keep on hunting me” 

― Haunting, Halsey

“I’ll come back to haunt you”

― Haunt, Bastille 

[hector-sayinggoodbye]

I get by with a little help from… strangers || Treble

remember-miguel​:

.

Yeah, yeah. Some woman. Miguel didn’t really care, honestly. Though, maybe it would be a good song. A ghost getting flowers for his lover. A bit of a play on the trope of laying flowers on a grave. There could be some good imagery there…he could hear a melody too. Flutes and violins. Something drawn out and haunting…but melancholy too.

Except, this ghost wasn’t melancholy. He was practically skipping next to Miguel. Many ghosts Miguel had met since the start of this thing weren’t really melancholy. Most of them were jerks–they were bored and had already eroded so much of what made them human. 

Which only made it more sad, really.

He tilted his head, as if he was considering the offer. Even though he already knew what his answer was.

“Si, deal,” he agreed with a nod. “I’ll by your flowers for your señora. I’m Miguel, by the way. I think there are more mediums than just me in town so–don’t let the other ghosts lead you somewhere else.” 

Héctor visibly brightened when the kid said they had a deal — getting his own way was absolutely Héctor's favourite thing to do, especially when, in this instance, it meant maybe beginning to patch things up with Imelda. Probably not; he'd probably find the flowers all cut up into tiny chunks and thrown into the garbage, but the intention was there.

He wondered if he should talk to Sally about next steps. Maybe she had helped a ghost to fix up their love life before? He could ask the kid, but... well, he looked like he hadn't even graduated, let alone help any ghost do anything.

Although, maybe Héctor should be focusing on figuring out his death. That was probably pretty important, too.

"Héctor," He said, holding his hand out for Miguel to shake, and then frowning down at it, shaking his head. It was hard to remember how things worked, sometimes, especially when you were being directly spoken to. "I'm staying with a medium, actually — she'll keep me right. And besides, the other ghosts can be uh... strange. But I guess you know that, ey?"

[hector-sayinggoodbye]

DAVID CASTAÑEDA Shows Us His Best Dance Moves - Bustle

[hector-sayinggoodbye]

I get by with a little help from… strangers || Treble

remember-miguel​:

“Uh, who’s the medium here?” Miguel scoffed, though, the ghost did have a point. Except, he also didn’t. The ghost had already admitted that the flowers weren’t part of his passing on. That’s why Miguel had asked. Because now it meant, if he did this for the ghost–

The ghost would owe him one.

And that sounded like a good deal to Miguel. The most insane thing he’d learned since coming into his powers were that ghosts were assholes. They gave him headaches, never shut up, and imposed a running commentary on his life. 

So, yeah–

Having one in his debt was a nice turn of power dynamics.

“You don’t seem very wayward and, besides, getting flowers for some chica or something isn’t really part of the whole deal. So–what’s in it for me?” 

.

Had he been, y'know, alive, Héctor might've been getting kinda tired of this kid. There was a lot of sass in that little body, and he mustn't talk to very many people, because he was taking it all out on Héctor.

Though, maybe Héctor would be like that too, if he was being bothered by ghosts all the time. Funnily enough, as a ghost himself, he didn't really interact with other ghosts much. Maybe it was because they knew there was no way they could help each other, or maybe it was because the ghosts he had ran into just weren't very talkative... He couldn't be sure, he supposed.

Héctor stopped walking, wagging a finger at him. "She's not a chica, she's a woman, have some respect." He scolded, before carrying on as he had before. "And I suppose, what's in it for you as that I owe you one." Not that he was sure what he, a ghost, could do for anyone living, but... still. "Always good to have someone in you debt, ey chamaco?"

[hector-sayinggoodbye]

Bonnie & Clyde || Hemelda

riveraofstorms​:

There was no place like this in Santa Cecilia. Imelda had known that the moment she stepped in. Hell, this was no place you’d normally find her. Normally, she was busy, working away on either helping with shoes or spells or her own training these days.

She didn’t have time or really gravitate towards places like this. But she was in town for a few days helping her twin brothers with a delivery. An expedition that earned them a lecture from Enrique right before about being on their best behavior. 

Clearly, he still saw them as little kids.

And maybe his concern was valid, seeing as the trio soon found out about this club, and her brothers just couldn’t help themselves. Ultimately, dragging Imelda along. Who, really, didn’t need much convincing if it possibly meant some fun with them.

Surprisingly having a good time and enjoying the music especially, she was looking to continue having a fun night and getting herself a refill at the bar. Running into the músico that was just on stage, but another little treat. Especially since he was treating her. 

She turned her head, raising a brow, then looked to the man behind the counter. “Same as him,” She supplied, then slid into a seat, opening her purse in her lap and beginning to rummage through the small thing. “Looking to spend your whole payment that fast?”

Héctor laughed in a way that he hoped was charming. It wouldn't be the first time he had spent an entire pay cheque on drinks and/or people at a bar, as it happened, but tonight he wouldn't be spending any money at all, would he? Of course, for a woman as beautiful as she, he'd spend his entire payment and more (he was very generous, okay?) just to get her to look at him twice, but still. Even better to know that he wasn't spending any more at all.

Though to be honest, he'd be very surprised if this type of woman was going to look twice at him. This place was swanky, really up market, and if she was the kind of person who came to drink here? Oh, yeah, she was fancy. A real lady to his tramp, an uptown girl to his Billy Joel. And sure, Héctor was dressed to look the part tonight (he'd had to buy this suit with the last few pesos in his pocket), but he had a feeling that he had an aura of scruffiness that not even a black tie could hide.

Still, she hadn't told him where to go yet. Though neither would Héctor, if he was getting a free drink... He nodded his thanks to the bartender as he slid their drinks across the bar, and he knocked the tequila back in one.

"Ah, well, I'm very generous," He informed her. "A real filántropo, you know? And besides—" He leaned in a little as if it was a secret, tapping the side of his nose. "—staff drink free."

He straightened again, considering her for a moment before he asked, "But what brings you here tonight, anyway? Is it the promise of free drinks from struggling musicians?"