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powell leaned against a tree and pulled out his lighter from his pocket, drawing out a flame from it and holding it against the butt of the cigarette in his mouth. he inhaled sharply, observing the people, the food, the festivities around him, scanning his surroundings with a skeptical eye. he glanced over the faces of each person as if they were all suspects in his case. people dancing around the bonfire, the smell of marshmallows roasting, the laughter and conversations, none of it seemed to pique his interest.
because to him, the festivities were nothing but a cover for the chilling and sinister secrets this camp contained. a thin cloth over the dead body locked in the basement. he was only here to note down some observations he made, or gather any information he happened to find. nothing more, nothing less. a busy investigator had better things to do than dance around a bonfire.
he exhaled, a small wisp of smoke escaping his mouth. just like this moment, he passed the time during social events by losing himself in his thoughts, not caring enough about others’ attempts to make small talk or the hushed gossip that happened among the large groups of people. honestly, the only thing he even remotely cared about was the food. that was how he earned himself the title of the cold, dismissive investigator who likely had no friends or family to go home to.
and who was he to say they were wrong, especially about the latter? he should’ve been married by now, but he firmly refused his parents when they offered to find someone for him. he didn’t want to get to know a woman simply to marry her and become acquainted enough to let her carry his children. unlike many of the other people, he didn’t have a particular drive towards… anything of the romantic or suggestive nature, and he certainly didn’t want to become involved in those things simply to seem like a participating member of society. he was already doing his part to eliminate crime; what more could society want from him?
a young woman in a flowy white dress with pink wildflowers stuck in between strands of her curly brown hair approached the table beside him, pulling him out of his thoughts. she took a raspberry jelly biscuit from the platter and lifted it to her mouth, savouring the taste of it. as she swallowed, she gently wiped the crumbs from her mouth.
she seemed like the exact kind of person he should scoff at and walk away from, like the kind of woman who would gossip about him and tease him for being ‘too quiet’.
and tease she did. “you look like you were paid to be here,” she said, laughing after she made eye contact with him.
he sighed, shutting his eyelids for a second before opening them again. “can i help you with anything?” he asked, unamused.
“you should help yourself if you feel this bad about being at a social gathering,” she responded as a grin spread across her face. “you know, go home, take some rest, do the things you actually want to do.”
it was clear she knew nothing about why he was here. “well,” he finally began, after taking another puff of his cigarette, “i’m here on some official business. can’t say no to that, can i?”
“it’s your choice to determine what you can say no to.” at the very least, she seemed to slightly stand out from the blandness of the people that surrounded her.
“when duty calls,” he looked out at the bonfire, its flames rising gradually, “one is obligated to answer.”
she hummed in response. “what’s your name anyway?”
“walter.” there was no way he was going to tell this unknown woman his first name.
“you look like a bill,” she suddenly blurted, eliciting an unexpected laugh from him as he almost choked on the smoke from his cigarette.
“what makes you think that?” he asked, curious about her reasoning.
“bills are serious, like you.”
all he could say was… she was indeed a rather unique person. somehow, she had made him laugh; she had made the stone-cold detective powell walter laugh within the first conversation they had. and for uncertain reasons, he felt compelled to know just a little bit more about her. “what’s your name?”
“renee,” she replied, an eager smile spread across her face, “renee briggs.” she glanced back at the bonfire and the circle of people that crowded around it, singing and clapping their hands to the beat of the song. “well, i’ll get going, walter.”
his gaze followed her as she walked back to the fire with a skip in her step. renee. she had given him her first and last name. and strangely, he felt this sense of regret for hiding behind his last name and refusing to even mention his first name. because there was no one else who had made him wish for another conversation, another accidental encounter. no one in his life so far had intrigued him the way she did, with the flowers in her hair and her outgoing nature. it didn’t help much either that she looked a little bit like a fairy with the adornments in her hair and her dress.
wait… why was he thinking this way? why was the detective powell walter, hardened towards his emotions, so interested in a single person?
shit.
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