Gotta go for that full angst run.
Welcome to The Pit. We have fun breaking hearts here.
That’s a pretty good summation of one possible outcome!
You’re doing fine, don’t worry!
She’d definitely be very jealous, and probably have to go and take a walk to cool off but…
Normally why I’d say she’d fight. The situation with the MC and the Ex is… delicate.
Let’s just say that Lucy doesn’t take losing very well. And what happened with the MC… She wouldn’t give up on them but she’d definitely be very… conflicted, when it comes to the idea of romancing them once more. So with all that and the fact that they’ve moved on she would tell the MC directly that she’s still in love with them, but she wouldn’t be as aggressive as she usual is if they chose to move on to someone else.
Sadly no. The update focuses mainly on the last two paths of Yolanda’s party that we haven’t gotten through with, and then deals with the… er… “afterparty”.
My other super-secret notes! Noooooo!
Well, I’ll have to see if one comes up, then!
Ricky and V?
… Oh dear lord.
Now that’s an alternate universe I’m not sure I want to live in. Sounds dangerous.
I noticed that there’s no shoulder-angel here. I can’t help but wonder what he’s doing- if it’s silently screaming or nodding along, haha?
I swore I wouldn’t do another short- I swore it. But all the talk about Trixie and Raf made me remember a scene in my head for a future case.
… Fine. But it’s a short one.
And I apparently have an addiction to writing these things.
The camera weighs heavily around your neck. There’s puddles that reflect what little lights poke out of windows like square yellow patches against an otherwise pitch-black canvas. You carefully avoid them, skirting to the side to avoid making any splashing noise.
Even you breath, or what little can be heard as you carefully exhale through your nose, sounds like a bomb going off in your ears. You have no idea where she is but… according to the Informant she has to be somewhere around her.
And cueing her into your presence could be… fatal.
Which is why even when the quietest chime, almost somewhere between a chirp and a meow reaches your ear, you jump. Whirling around with a hand on the gun in your back pocket only to come face to face with-
“A cat?” You speak, and then immediately press your lips together with eyes darting towards dangerous shadows.
That soft noise again- and you recognize it now as a meow, as it comes through clear from that tense focused veil of attention located elsewhere. Bright, slitted eyes stare at you from the dark. Another meow, soft and light-sounding… and much too loud.
“Shh…” You gesture with your hands down, trying to quiet the stray cat. “Be quiet.” Even the whisper seems like a yell.
And the meow sounds like a scream. The cat pads out of the darkness, tail flickering this way and that, as it strides confidently across the thin chain-link fence next to you, unperturbed by the fact that even its small paws curve dangerously over the edge. You blink once, twice, when the cat emerges from the darkness, then you rub your eyes as if trying to clear away the confusion. It just couldn’t be…
But she purrs and bops her head against your hand when it slowly lowers to your side, rubbing her cheek against your thumb in a very familiar gesture of affection, with a very familiar purr rumbling through her throat.
“Trixie?” As if responding to her name Trixie pulls back and stares at you with those large eyes, letting out another soft meow. “What are you-?”
The click of a light turning on three floors above you makes your head snap up to this new yellow patch. When you look down, the ghost of your past in the shape of a cat has disappeared somewhere into the darkness. You hear a window creaking open, and catch a brief glimpse of a tail disappearing around a corner into an alley. Not thinking, you follow in a quick dash, feet splashing against the puddles you’d so carefully avoided before. Trixie seems to pause and glance back at you before hopping off the alleyway’s high wall and onto the other side.
You slow down when a voice rises up- a distinctly not-feline, very-human voice. Saying, very simply, “Trixie. I thought you’d run off here again.”
You press your back to the high wooden fence- feeling more than a little unnerved by the fact that someone- some stranger, has very clearly caught your cat here before and apparently knows her.
Wait- no- not your cat. Not anymore.
You shake your head, holding back a sigh as you peel your back from the wall. What are you doing? Following a cat into an alley? Why was she even here?
… And who’s with her?
“What is it about this place that you like so much, huh?” A sinking feeling fills your chest as you swallow whatever spit remains in your dry mouth. There’s a hole in the fence, no bigger than the peephole in your door. Your hands seem to shake as your finger press against the splintering wood, you close one eye and press the other as close as you dare. You can just barely see through the small gap, you spot brown boots, a grey sweater-
The final boss is Trixie.