𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 ━ five hargreeves

12│ALL IN(N)

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❛ ᴡᴀsᴛᴇʟᴀɴᴅs ᴏғ ᴛɪᴍᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ᴀʟʟ ɪɴ(ɴ) ꒱


❝ I'VE ALREADY KILLED
ONCE TODAY. WHY NOT
GO FOR ANOTHER? ❞

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Warning: (more than usual) descriptive mentions of blood/death

1982

As the couple walked towards the Lonely Lodger Inn, Dolores could practically feel the nervous jitters coming from the boy next to her. Five did a very good job of hiding them but for someone who knew him as well as she did, it was easy to tell. Her hand tightened in his as a quiet reassurance. Double checking the place and year, Five acted as if he hadn't felt anything but she knew that there were other things currently occupying his mind.

They approached the building and the girl tugged the boy out of the way of an opening car door before she steered him through the entrance to the lobby. Looking around, the pair's eyes land on a woman half-bent over a table wearing period-style clothing. Dolores nodded to her. "Think she works here?"

Without answering, the boy pulled her over to the employee. "Excuse me?"

The woman jumped and turned to face them. "Uff da! You snuck up on me there. If you're looking for the cookies, we don't put 'em out 'till three."

Five gave her a polite smile. "We can hardly wait." He cleared his throat. "Uh, do you happen to know where the Midwest Soybean Society is meeting?"

"Sure do. Muskellunge Banquet room," she responded, and pointed in the general direction. "You two looking for your moms? Are they in the convention?"

"Definitely," the brunette said confidently. "They're having a killer time."

The boy gave her an unimpressed look as she tried to lighten the mood. Seeing movement in the distance, his eyes caught the vending machine that was standing in a nearby hallway. "Hey, could I get some change?" he asked as he handed her a dollar bill.

"Oh, sure, I'll just look in my purse," she replied. She took the bill before she opened her fanny pack to dig through it. "Only a nickel and a couple of dimes. . . oh! You. . . are. . . in. . . luck, mister." She handed him the right amount of change.

Five double-checked the coins before he looked back up. "You know, some say the best luck is to die at the right time."

Dolores gave the woman a large (forced) grin as she looped an arm around the boy's shoulders. "He's certainly a favorite at funerals, don't you know? We'll be going now. Thanks for the change!" She guided him away from the woman. "Way to not be suspicious," she commented sarcastically.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I guess I'm just on edge."

"I know," the brunette acknowledged in a gentler tone. "We just have to get through this then we can get home."

He gave her a grateful look, glad that she didn't waste time on useless platitudes like 'everything will be okay' or 'relax, you'll do great.' He shook the change in his hand. "I'm running low on energy," he said by way of explanation. "I need sugar."

"It's a good thing vending machines aren't known for being healthy then, huh?"

Dolores stood back as Five inserted the coins into the slot and he punched in the numbers. The spirals holding the requested item started to unwind before they stopped. Narrowing his eyes at the machine, the boy hit the coin release button but to no avail. Putting in the code again didn't work either and he grew increasingly irritated. His fist made contact with the glass in attempt to loosen the spiral before he began shaking the machine. "Come on!"