ironlvngs

[ironlvngs]

link huffed a quiet laugh, eyes dragging back to the page like he needed something else to look at. "addicted's one word for it," he said, voice low. "there's something about it, yeah. watching someone walk out with part of you stuck to them. or the other way around."

link let out a short breath that almost passed for a laugh, eyes flicking from the page back to her as he sketched mindlessly. "first one wasn't even mine. older kid in the neighbourhood stuck me with a needle and some ink when i was, what, thirteen? fourteen? mom didn't notice, of course." his mouth twisted into something between a grin and a grimace. "got infected, obviously. looked like shit. but i was obsessed anyway." he leans back and sets the sketchpad down, tugging up the edge of his sleeve to show her a faint, crooked mess of lines, faded but still visible if you looked close enough. "did a bunch of these on myself after. stick-and-pokes that looked like they belonged in a psych ward. still carrying them around."

he dropped the sleeve and shrugged. "kids in the neighbourhood started paying me to fuck up their skin, too. couple bucks here, a twenty there. saved up enough to buy a real kit, and once i had that, i kept going. and by the time i got to ogden, i was good enough someone actually gave me a legit chair in a shop." his grin tugged wider then, crooked and easy.

"minimalist tragedy-and-romance chic," parker immediately echoed, the sound backed by amused laughter. well, if ever there was a concise descriptor of herself, she'd have to say it was something along those lines. so, a win was a win.

jovialness simmered into something softer, more genuine, and parker redirected its accompanying grin from the page back to link. "yeah," she then spoke decidedly, offering a nod, "set on it. you know, i can see how people get addicted to these things. the, like, artistic gratification." parker shifted where she sat. "have i ever asked you about how you got started?"

[ironlvngs]

"name tattoos are a classic," he said, tone flat but with that faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "terrible idea, obviously. but i'm not one to talk." a pause, just long enough to make the implication land. right now, he could practically feel where ollie's initials were on his arm, burning into his skin. he slipped his hands into his pockets as they fell into step. "ten thousand steps feels made up, anyway. like some guy in the seventies threw out a number and everyone just ran with it. five's plenty, especially if you're not trying to train for the olympics." big words for a chain smoker. his eyes cut toward her, quick, softening a fraction. "so yeah. i'll walk. saves me from another afternoon arguing with people about lions and crowns."

"at least no one got someone's name tattooed today, right?" she had no way of knowing whether this was true, other than a deeply held belief that people seldom were dim enough to commit that particular brand of mistake. "well, i needed to excercise, and high jump wasn't exactly calling my name." she nods, shifting her grip on the bag slightly. "i could do with the company. and the steps. i heard we're supposed to be getting ten thousand a day, but i feel like i'm never anywhere near that."

[ironlvngs]

link watched him get tangled in his own words, panic spilling into resignation, and didn't bother cutting in. he just let it play out until ollie's shrug landed somewhere between defiance and defeat. "initiative, huh," link muttered, almost to himself. his shoulder hit the wall as he leaned back, eyes on the floor. "yeah. maybe. sitting around sure as shit hasn't gotten us anywhere." he rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling slow. "walking away sounds great in theory. graduate, disappear, never look back." a beat. that's he's fucking wanted this past year or so, yet he keeps getting sucked back into this shitshow. link supposes this was the karma he gets for how he had played with his fellow college students since he arrived to ogden.

his gaze cut back to ollie then, stady. "but maybe we stop waiting for g to drop the next thing. maybe we should just move first." he let it hang for a moment before pushing off the wall, brushing past him with a flick of his hand. "i'll call you this week." the words felt strange leaving his mouth, too casual and easy after the shitstorm of their last fallout. after ollie essentially dumping him and link crashing out, swearing they'll never be friends. maybe this was just necessity, the situation dragging them back together whether they liked it or not. and the worst part was that link liked it, even under fucked up circumstances like this... at least he got to be around ollie. and that feeling, that reasoning is probably why they were so bad for each other in the first place. it was like an addiction. and he'd never say it out loud, but link had been looking for an excuse all along. some way to circle back without bruising his pride.

The corner of Ollie's mouth quirked up, not able to help the small laugh of amusement that came from him. Of course that was how Link would put it. "I'd say it sounds professional," he said, teasing just a little bit. Same thing, he supposed, especially to Link probably. He was right though. Ollie briefly wondered if this letter came first, and that was where things started off. But Penny had been class president for a while, hadn't she? So, that didn't make sense. There were ways it could, but … then how much was he trying to make things fit? He was so lost on what to make of all of this. What was the Penny/Greer relationship here? When did this all happen? Did it just accidentally happen one day? Did they just realize they had similar problems or something? Did Penny accidentally find out? Were they one late night like 'you know what we should do?'

It probably didn't matter, and knowing any of that would probably not help. But… He couldn't help but wonder.

He took his phone back from Link, turning it off and putting it back in his pocket with a sigh. Like 'yeah it's crazy what do we do?' But then Link was looking at him and asking what they should do, and Ollie looked back at them, blinking a few times. "Huh?" he said. "Me? I don't know what the move is," He said, his voice pitching slightly higher in panic. then he took a deep breath, and shook his head, repeating himself. "I don't know what the move is. I just do things." He rarely ever (never) did things with some kind of plan or motive in mind. He just did them. That was where he and Link differed. Though he thought about it for a moment, and shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe we need to take initiative. Do something that isn't waiting for G to tell us what to do. You know? We can't be puppets forever. That, or we just … wait for another two months, graduate, and get as far away from here as we can."

[ironlvngs]

link's grin widened, slow and knowing. "trade secret," he said, leaning in just enough that his voice stayed low, like he was about to hand over state intel. "mostly, it's about looking like you belong wherever you are — even if you don't. confidence, fake or not, does half the work for you." he straightened, accepting the bartender's glance like it was his due, then tipped his head over to her. "the other half is making people feel like they're late and left out to... whatever the fuck it is. no one wants to be left out."

his eyes flicked over her deliberately, a smirk tugging at his mouth. "you could pull it off easy. you've got the face for it. just gotta stop acting like you're waiting for permission."

"I am so not angry," Lola counters, though, truthfully, Link is onto something. There is something bubbling underneath the surface. Not anger, perhaps - at least not yet, but one of its more subdued cousins. Impatience. Annoyance. Frustration. "Could I have a margarita, please?" She asks the bartender then, voice betraying none of the frustration she had felt mere moments ago.

"How do you do that?" She whispers to him then. "Like, get people to notice you."

[ironlvngs]

link's pen stilled mid-line, head tilting just enough for one eyebrow to lift. "a duck," he echoed, like he was making sure he'd heard her right. a grin crept in almost instantly. "bold. not exactly the first animal people immortalize in ink, but hey, points for originality."

he leaned back in the chair, flipping through the sketchpad to a blank page. "well, whatever the reason is, you don't have to sell me on the why. half my tattoos are inside jokes no one gets anymore or just things i did when i was bored." his pen started moving again, loose, easy strokes shaping a tiny bird with a tilted head. "you want a duck, you get a duck."

he glanced up at her, grin sharpening. "i am gonna make it the best fucking duck anyone's ever seen. otherwise, people might just think you lost a bet."

There was still time, she heard that little voice in the back of her mind pipe up, to run for the hills. Nothing had yet been etched into the fabric of reality. If she left, Link might think a little less of her, but that she could stomach. Still, she trails after him. Kitten heels clicking against the linoleum floor.

Heni thinks, face screwed up in concentration for longer than she thought it might, wondering what she might not regret having on her body. "Okay. Don't laugh. I thought about it, like way back, and if were ever to get anything, it'd be a duck. A small one, obviously."

[ironlvngs]

they'd been in there long enough for the mirrored walls to stop feeling so impressive and start feeling like the inside of a strange bubble. whatever chatter drifted between them had nothing to do with the carnival, or the mirrors, or where they were not supposed to be. it was the kind of conversation that was done in lowered voices and little grins, meant only for them — back and forth with the usual prodding, half-dares, and digs that kept them circling the same point without ever really touching it. typical.

then the beam of light cut through it, and link's eyes snapped toward it... and then to eddie behind it. his expression was caught somewhere between irritation and a slow-spreading grin. "jesus, you're like a horror movie jump scare," he said, his voice low with laced amusement. "couple more seconds and i would have started charging admission." he shifted his weight, glancing around the army of reflections until his own face stared back at him in eight different angles. "god, this place suits you, morrison. it screams your brand of narcissism." he responds, instead of answering the original question — am i interrupting something? any conversation with sassa was something. but then again, so was every conversation with eddie.

@sassa-fiske

✍︎ @sassa-fiske ; @ironlvngs

Edward, hundredfold, strode in infinite directions in the dark. A view that never got tiring. His reflection. Elevated to the nth power, reproduced endlessly inside the House of Mirrors.

There was, undoubtedly, an element of self-obsession to his wonderment–an unwavering appreciation of his own image that was characteristic of mythological characters that would drown or blind themselves after trying to kiss their own reflection. But there was also the psychedelic thrill about getting lost in a maze of glass, surrounded by so many nonexistent versions of one, that you couldn’t even point out who was object and who was image.

Not that any of those things were particular motivators to his volunteering to work at the House of Mirrors. Those were just the things he liked in something he wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about, which was working the closing shift at the carnival. Instead, what had led him there was the promise of extra credits he so desperately needed thanks to his horrendous performance in some computer science courses he was about to bomb (which would, ultimately, lead to his parents finding out that he– well, never mind).

Regardless of the reasons that had brought him there or of how much he enjoyed being able to stare at himself for hours on end, there was work to be done. And so, he walked down the sinuous corridors of the maze, flashlight in hand, to check if there were any stragglers and to collect garbage that might have been left behind. At a turn, however, Eddie spotted something that made him stop. Two figures standing in the dark. Well, to be perfectly honest, about 16 figures. Standing close to one another. Talking.

At first, he imagined it might have been just two teenagers thinking they could get away with staying in the carnival past closing time. Hiding somewhere they thought no one would bother to check. But as he got closer, the shapes started to become more defined. The thin, jagged frame, the brown, curly hair, the cashmere of her sweater, and the faded vintage rock band t-shirt… And suddenly he was surrounded by Sassa and Link. 8 of each. He hadn’t seen them come in. Or maybe he had, but was too distracted with his reading that his brain didn’t compute. Still, this felt like being lured towards a fire–a sense of curiosity walking in tandem with trepidation in his mind. But it didn't hinder his stride.  

He cleared his throat loudly, stealing their attention, using his flashlight to distinguish the mimics from the flesh-and-bone pair – the ones whose eyes closed instinctively when confronted with light. “Am I interrupting something?”

[ironlvngs]

link glanced down at the page, head tilting just slightly. the rough sketch wasn't much, but the weight behind it was obvious. his fingers lingered near the notebook for a second, like he was tempted to trace the lines, before leaning back and letting his eyes flick between the drawing and parker. "hm," he murmurs, the sound stretched out like he was buying himself a second to think. "so we've moved from full renaissance fair sleeve to minimalist tragedy-and-romance chic." his grin tugged slow at the corner of his mouth, "not bad. lot of weight in something simple. says more without screaming for attention."

he gave her a once-over before looking back down at the bow and arrow. "you sure you're not just trying to trick me into writing sonnets on your skin?" he asked, tone dry, though there was something softer in the words. then he nodded at the notebook, tapping the corner of the page with his finger. "i can make this into something you won't hate in a week. something that actually looks like you, instead of... i don't know, a ren fair prop gone wrong?" he says with a small laugh. he then lifts his eyes back to her, expression sharpening. "you're set on it?"

knave. parker laughed, again, a loud and relentless noise. link's quick wit often had that effect on her. it was good, then, that he would ultimately be the one to take an inky needle to her skin. no one else would be able to zap the nerves away just the same. even as the sarcasm and bubbling laughter—and parker's not-so-subtle mention of the rapidly approaching future—waned, that same reliable comfort settled back between them.

at their nudging, she returned the explanation with a lengthy stare. scrutinizing in the fondest way. then, finally, "fine." parker released a dramatic sigh. "no dragons or dice. if i'm being honest, i want something a... little simpler. just a little." prompted by an yet-to-be-voiced thought, she reached up towards her bedside table and pulled a black notebook from its surface. "i was actually sort of thinking..." eyes downcast, she opened it and flipped to one of the latter pages. on it was a simple, neat, but also very crude drawing of a bow and arrow, parallel to one another. "with a little more detail, obviously," she shrugged, tilting the book towards link, "but it's kind of everything. my archery, fantasy, symbol of love. you know, in shakespeare's midsummer there's a line about flying swifter than an arrow from the tartar's bow." figuring she'd rambled enough, parker looked back up at link to gauge a reaction.

[ironlvngs]

"it's cold," he said finally, voice flat. "like she was stripped out of it. no names, no.. anything. just rules, dates, delivery. like she didn't want the words to mean anything except exactly what they say." he rubbed a hand over his jaw, exhaling. "that's not her. not the way she used to write, anyway." his gaze flicked up to ollie, then back down to the phone, fingers tightening just a little on the edges before he gave it back. "and penny being the one to carry them? makes sense. she'd do it, and she'd probably even think she was protecting greer by keeping it clean and professional. but that also means she was right in the middle of it, too."

there was a pause, longer this time. link's mouth pressed into a line, then curved into something like a scoff. "funny thing is, if greer was being this precise, timing it all like clockwork, then she chose who got what for a reason. she didn't leave shit to chance." his jaw worked once. he let the silence stretch, then finally dragged his gaze back to ollie. "so what do we do with this? sit on it and hope diego turns up more? or push it? because if she wanted these sent on those exact days, maybe she was trying to signal something. maybe there's a pattern we're not seeing yet." he let out a bitter laugh under his breath. his shoulders lifted, then dropped, a feigned casualness he didn't really feel. "what's the move?" looking to ollie as if he was the one to trust — and lately, he was the only person link seemed to hold most of his trust in.

Ollie nodded his head. "The other option is she was trying to get close to the Dean for her own answers. That maybe Penny and Greer were working together." Maybe they had come up with some sort of plan, clearly they had if Penny had been delivering the letters. And now look at them both… "It's so fucked either way." Penny was dead, Greer was still missing, and maybe dead herself, as much as Ollie didn't like to think that. "You can never trust an old white man with money, and power." No one had money and power because they were a good person. He hoped that the police didn't fuck this up. That something really was found on the Dean and he had to deal with it. But Ollie didn't have much faith in that happening either.

HIs mouth quirked in appreciation of Link's acknowledgement, becuase it was true. He was trying to understand. He'd been trying to do that the entire time. Why was this happening? Why are you doing this? Why do you want me to do this? Why? Why? Why? Ollie had always been like that though. He used to drive his parents and teachers insane … If only it was all so innocent anymore. "I have it," he said, shrugging his shoulders, "what Diego found. If you want to see it. He sent it to me. Well, I sent it to me but he said I could." Obviously Link could still go talk to him if he wanted to know more. But Ollie was pulling out his phone and heading to the encrypted folder he'd created to save this onto, and handing his phone over to Link. "Besides the contents it really hadn't rung any alarm bells to me, you know? I wish we knew which letter came first. Or when they were written… Yours seems more personal so maybe this one was first. What if the Dean … tried to get closer to Penny because she knew this information. And he was trying to see what she knew about Greer or something." He shook his head a little bit, once again ending with an uncertain sigh and stating, "I don't know."

[ironlvngs]

link's laugh came fast and unfiltered, the kind that cracked open his chest. adrenaline buzzed under his skin like static, his heart hammering. he didn't expect jesse to pull something like this — though, maybe he should have. after all, this is what bored rich kids did, right? it threw him just a little, and made him wonder what other recklessness he would be able to drag out of jesse. "okay," he said, breath still a little uneven with sharp eyes. "didn't really believe you when you said you wanted to have a little joy ride, but damn that was fun."

jesse's look toward the wheel was all invitation, and link did not hesitate. he stepped out with an energy he didn't bother to tone down. "for the record," he added, sliding into the driver's seat, "i'm not exactly seasoned. never had a car, but i have taken a few for a spin." some borrowed, some very borrowed. he gripped the wheel, adjusting like he was settling into a challenge more than a seat, looking over at jesse. "i hope you're prepared to pay for any damages. both car and body." and with that, the car lurches forward almost immediately. the second the car responded to his touch, he pushed. he didn't drive like he was trying to prove something, but like someone who was trying to keep up the high. the tires bit into the road as he took the first turn harder than necessary, clearly not at the same level of expertise that was just shown to him. he wasn't smooth at all — a sharp jer of the wheel here, a sudden acceleration there. it was messy, but deliberate, much like someone who never learned the rules but knew which to break. one hand dropped to the gearshift, steady and fast, and other resting too casually on the wheel.

the car finally slowed, tires spitting gravel as link brought it to a halt with a sharp tug of the wheel. his chest rose once, then stilled, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel like the adrenaline hadn't quite worn off. "god, i need to get my own car." he says, more to himself than anything.

The county road boasted no streetlights, the headlights barely illuminating more than a few feet in front of them. Jesse pulled to a stop and surveyed their playground, the hammering of his heart drowned out by the roaring of the car as he revved the engine.

He'd been out here before; it was a prime spot for drag racing. Quiet and tucked away from the bustling parts of the city, it felt almost a world away. A slow, lazy grin spread across his face as he rolled his head toward Link— the only warning he gave before the car shot forward.

They flew down the street and the world outside whizzed by in a blur. Despite the anxiety, exhilaration heated his blood, taking its place as he hit sixty, then seventy, then eighty. Nearing one hundred, he hit the brakes, fishtailing into a, expertly done one-eighty with smoking and squealing tires. A loud laugh and a whoop ripped itself from his lungs as he turned back to Link, nodding to the steering wheel and back again. "Think you can do better?"

[ironlvngs]

link gasps, hand over his heart like nate had just mortally wounded him. "wow. praying for my disappearance in times like these? that's dark, even for you, nathaniel." he leaned in a little, just enough to be annoying, chin tilted with a shit-eating grin. "and the way you said no just now? that's classic season one denial. fast forward six episodes and you'll be giving a tear monologue about how you always knew something was wrong." after a beat of silence that was oh so familiar with nate, link goes on. "come on, i'm seriously just trying to make sure everything's good with you. i know i make a lot of jokes, but this shit has been pretty fucked up recently, no? you haven't been getting any ominous and dark threats?" he questions, switching his expression to a more serious, thoughtful one — though his intentions were far from it.

Nate rolled his eyes, turning away from Link, as if he could just pretend he wasn't there and that would make this conversation stop. It was worth a try - had worked on people before, after all. "I'll be crossing my fingers the next time I don't see you for two days then," he muttered underneath his breath, resisting the urge to roll his eyes again. Or hit Link. "No," he answered shortly, though it was more that he literally didn't even want to think about that possibility than that was his actual answer.

[ironlvngs]

link huffed out a laugh that was more joyless than anything. "that's rich coming from you," he muttered, eyes flicking up to meet hers with the same sharpness. he watched the way she lounged, all poise and performance, like she hadn't just barged into interrogate him.

he leaned back against his headboard, arms crossing like he needed to physically brace for her. "valentine," he repeated, tone flat but with amusement. "you make it sound like i got chocolates and a love note." he pauses, and then: "yeah, i got something." his jaw clenched for just a second — barely noticeable unless you were watching him too closely... which was always the case with sassa. "cute little threat. very on-brand." he looked at her again, studied her face the way he always did when trying to gauge what she already knew. "you jealous?" he says playfully, unable to resist. "or just making sure g's playing fair?"

“And yet you’re still anything but honest,” Sassa said with a roll of her eyes - like the exact same couldn’t be said about her - as she crossed one leg over the other, lounging in the spot she had chosen to claim in his dorm. Her gaze on him was sharp, appraising, cunning as she considered him in silence. "Did you get a valentine?" she asked finally, her tone cool - clearly, she didn't mean any regular valentine. It went without saying who she was talking about.

[ironlvngs]

link's mouth twitches, not quite a smile; more like the ghost of one pulled tight with something close to disdain. "what, you want receipts or just out for blood?" he says, unfolding his arms just to shove his hands into his pockets. his gaze doesn't waver. "and obviously," he echoes, his voice dry, "because you needed money, you'd go to someone who has it. which, tragically, isn't me." a beat. "you came to me because you know i listen when i shouldn't and remember things people forget to be careful about." he shifts his weight again, subtle. "so yeah, i've got maybe something useful for you. you got a name in mind or are you just looking to fuck up anyone's life with some blackmail? however you get off." he scoffs.

"What do you mean, 'obviously'?" They ask, eyebrow raised ever-so-slightly. Was it a dig at her? Was it a denigrating comment about himself? Was it both? There was just something about that word - obviously - that always set her on edge. The presenting of something as fact. As undeniable. Unquestionable.

The issue with being sent on a wild goose chase by someone else, was that you didn't always know where to go with it. It is a relief, then, that Link not only nudges her towards the idea - he speaks it into existence. "Only if it's actually decent. None of this 'this person failed their chemistry test' bullshit."

[ironlvngs]

"work," he repeats, tone dry, like the word itself is a joke. a half-smile tugs at his mouth, faint and crooked. "spent the morning arguing with a guy who wanted a lion tattoo but couldn't decide if he meant like, astrological or 'king of the jungle.'" he pauses, lifts an eyebrow. "spoiler: he went with a crown. naturally." he exhales through his nose, a low huff of a laugh. "so, yeah, just another day of permanence for people who can't pick a sandwich without spiraling."

his gaze flicks back to her, and something softer settles into place — familiar and easy. "you always did pick the worst ways to torture yourself," he nods toward her gym bag with a small grin. "so. you heading back? i can walk with you."

The late spring breeze, once gentle and reassuring, all of a sudden feels like a biting chill. Would it ever feel normal, to exist in the same space as him? Would she ever walk away from an interaction without that burning sense of ... grief? loss? disappointment? There was no single word that truly encompassed it completely. It was about the loss of the relationship, sure, but in a wider sense, it was about the fact that she'd allowed the wool to be pulled over her eyes. Again. "I think we've done pretty well. You know, considering we practically live on top of each other and all that."

"Well, in your defence, this was me walking into you." In a betrayal of herself, her cheeks decide that this is an opportune moment to flush. Compliments always did that to her. No matter how much she fished for them, it still always caught her completely off-guard when one finally came her way. "It was awful. In a good way. I feel like I've worked out muscles I didn't know I had. How was ... work?" Nice save, pretending like you didn't know exactly where he'd been.

[ironlvngs]

"work," he repeats, tone dry, like the word itself is a joke. a half-smile tugs at his mouth, faint and crooked. "spent the morning arguing with a guy who wanted a lion tattoo but couldn't decide if he meant like, astrological or 'king of the jungle.'" he pauses, lifts an eyebrow. "spoiler: he went with a crown. naturally." he exhales through his nose, a low huff of a laugh. "so, yeah, just another day of permanence for people who can't pick a sandwich without spiraling."

his gaze flicks back to her, and something softer settles into place — familiar and easy. "you always did pick the worst ways to torture yourself," he nods toward her gym bag with a small grin. "so. you heading back? i can walk with you."

link takes the hit, just a shoulder bump... but enough to pull him out of his own head. he glances up, ready with a sharp comment, until he sees who it is. for a second, he just stares — of course it would be her. he lets out a short breath, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh, and straightens. "guess ogden's smaller than either of us hoped," he says, tone dry but not hostile. there's a flicker of something else behind his eyes.. maybe surprise, or just the weird ache of seeing her up close again that he's been getting lately.

her apology hung in the air, and he waves it off with a slight shake of his head. "no harm. i've walked into worse today." he glances at her, then away. then back. "you look good." then, catching himself, he adds quickly, "sweaty, yeah, but... good." he says with a small scoff. "anyway, how's, uh —" he glances at the bag and what she was wearing, "i want to say pilates?"

[ironlvngs]

link turned at the tap, eyes flicking over her with barely masked amusement. "well, shit," he drawled, lips turning into a grin. "i thought i was just hallucinating the angry little ghost at my side, but turns out she's real and craving vodka." he leans an elbow on the bar, and obnoxiously grabs the attention of the bartender that was horrible at doing his job. once the bartender drifted over, he glanced down at lola with mock concern. "so, what will it be, poltergeist?"

with: @ironlvngs where: the spring fling, early in the evening

Lola knew she was short. Delusional she may be, but blind she was not. But she had never been under the impression that she was see-through. Until now. Five minutes down, and every single attempt to make eye-contact with the bartender has gone down the drain. It's like she doesn't even exist (she's being dramatic). Frustrated, sober, and not capable of thinking before speaking, she taps Link on the shoulder. "You can see me, right?"

[ironlvngs]

link listened — really listened. the way he only ever did when the noise in his own head matched the one spilling out of someone else's. his arms dropped from their folded stance, fingers flexing restlessly at his sides as ollie spoke. each new detail chipped away at some wall in him, something long-held and half-denied. because it wasn't just theory anymore, it was something breathing between them. something real.

"fuck," link muttered, quiet an half to himself. "those letters..." his mind flicked back, sharp and fast. he remembered the letters, like they were some sacred assignment. like delivering them meant something. and if penny had been the one actually doing the delivering... "if she was playing both sides," link said slowly, as if he was trying to hear it at the same time he said it, "then she knew too much. way too much. and if she went to the dean about the letters —" he cut off, jaw tightening again. "maybe she thought she was protecting herself. or maybe she was using it to bargain for something. leverage, like you said. and either way," his gaze shifted back to ollie, voice gaining weight. "people who bargain with the wrong people tend to end up.. you know."

a long silence passed between them, and link's mouth opened like he was about to say something else, but then it shut again. he pressed the heel of his palm to his temple, exhaling slow. he ran a hand through his hair then, laughing bitterly. "we're through the fucking looking glass now, huh?" but then he looked at ollie again. "you're not being too kind," he said. "you're doing what none of them ever did, you're trying to understand." and that mattered, even if it didn't fix anything. then, softer, almost like an afterthought: "we need to talk to diego asap. if he's got something solid."

.

"You should listen to me more often," Ollie said. Though he didn't really feel like gloating about this. Because if they had killed Penny, even accidentally, because of this… They were trying to hide something, and maybe it wasn't just that the Dean was sleeping with Penny. There were a lot of texts between Greer and Penny, and talking about being angry about things, and knowing what was going on. Clearly it was something both him and Link were thinking but couldn't manage to get out. What if it wasn't just Penny, but what if it had also been Greer. But it wasn't just them that were dead or gone either. What about Ida? And what if Sam had seen something she shouldn't have? He could really only be thankful she wasn't dead too, at this point.

He didn't like to think of G in any sort of ... positive way, though positive wasn't really a good term for what he was thinking. Empathetic? Understanding? He kept thinking about the 'this happened because I wanted it'. What if they had gotten Sam put in jail to get her out of the school because it was better than dying? Like that was really fucked up, but... what if? And, yes, this was exposing that they knew about all of this, but if potentially all of these people had died for this reason maybe they didn't want to say anything themselves because they would be putting their life on the line too. Not everyone was so brave or selfless, but they shouldn't have to be. Was that too much of a stretch? Too much of a conspiracy inside the conspiracy? Was he just being too kind because it was easier to think that then someone really was just fucking with them all, and found this out or something?

Ollie pressed a hand against his eyes holding it there for a moment before dragging it down his face and taking a deep breath. "Diego found something too," he said, looking over at Link with a shrug. "Apparently whatever he was sent he got right as well, and G also sent him on a little hunt to find something about Greer, and he found a letter from Penny as well. It was like… about those letters, remember? From last year that some people got letters from Greer? Apparently Greer had given those to Penny to deliver to other people. Penny had written the Dean about it." He shook his head, eyebrows furrowing as his mind worked over why this could even be. What was the point? "What if she was helping the Dean keep tabs on Greer or something?" He was trying to line that up with all the texts they'd seen between Greer and Penny. Was she … acting like a double agent to one or the other? "I don't know…"

[ironlvngs]

link lets out a low whistle, impressed but not surprised. "discipline and punish references while threatening my livelihood? god, you really do know how to talk dirty." he flicks the cigarette away, watching it arc into the gutter before turning fully to her. the grin on his face is all teeth now: mischief, approval, the faintest hint of challenge.

"don't worry," he says as he pushes the door to the shop open for her, "i'd never give you anything less than my best work. especially not now that i know you're capable of philosophical retaliation." he steps inside, the familiar hum of machines and faint antiseptic smell settling around them. "go on, then. pick your poison," he adds, already pulling out a sketchpad and pen. "but just know, whatever you choose? you're stuck with it. memory sealed in skin. no edits, no takebacks. kind of like that threat you just made."

Would she come to regret this? Maybe. "That, and I presume you understand I would make your life a living hell." Socially, academically, legally. In any way she could conceavably think of. The botched inkwork could be corrected, that much was true, but it was worth having an insurance policy nonetheless. Wasn't that the core argument of the first half of Discipline and Punish? That people were less likely to commit transgressions, if they were under the belief that they were being watched? So what if the second half went on to contradict that narrative.

"Fuck it. Let's do it. If there was ever a time to get a tattoo on impulse, it's now, right?"