Your Thoughts Are Mine

Oh Wyn, Where Have You Gone?

As the children passed through the loop, they were immediately on high alert. Though the village was more modernized with the times, it was still quite run down, for they didn't even get cable out here and cell service was sparse. This also made it the perfect place for wights to blend in and hunt for peculiars.

"We just need to find Bronwyn and get back home, understood?" Olivia briefed. They were risking any one of their scents being picked up while venturing outside.

"Does anyone know where she might be?" Jake asked. He was on even higher alert as he looked for his father that he had been ditching since he left that first day.

"I think I might know." Fiona had her eyes fixed on the the pub window, where they spotted the small girl's curly hair sitting at one of the tables.

"And they just let her walk in?" Jake inquired.

"Bronwyn can be... persuasive." Emma trailed off. She wasn't wrong, Bronwyn was very persuasive while she held grown men over her head, threatening to throw them.

"Olive, be ready to dash. Jake, be on alert for hollows, they never stray far from wights. Fiona and Emma, be ready to help me out if things take a terrible turn."

Olivia turned to head in, but then she remembered who she forgot.

"Oh yeah.. and Millard.. get your naked ass over here. Let's go scare some old drunks."

"How did you know I was here?" He whined, hoping out of the back of the cart.

"You were really excited. No one's that excited to leave a loop but the invisible boy who craves mischief." (Olivia smirked at where she could only assume he was.)

As she opened the pub door, she held it open a bit longer to make sure Millard made it in before closing it behind her. It was dark and the alcohol smell was strong. Everyone stared at her as she entered, but she knew how to own a room.

Making her way over the the bar, keeping Bronwyn in her eyesight, she approached the bartender.

"One Budweiser," her words were demanding and clear but the bartender was looking to pick a fight.

"You look a little young to be demanding anything. When were you born." His Irish accent was strong.

She turned her whole body, looking him dead in the eye.

"January 26, 1930 at 7:34 am,"

The room burst out into laughter.

"Is that so?" The bartender was playing into it.

No, I can't use it here. Someone could be watching.

She was forced to resort to her wits

"I can give you my plastic surgeons card if you need. Though from the looks of it, you look older than I."

This got a reaction from the men around her.

The bartender scowled, reaching under the the bar to retrieve her request.

"Now.. get out.." he began to grip the counter hard, trying to scare her with his masculinity.

She responded to this by breaking off the cap on the table, taking a swig of the alcoholic beverage. Man it had been a long time since they had played 'Raid the Village'.

Everyone in the bar watched as she turned back to the man.

"Cute.. but it would have taken a lot more to scare me out than your pathetic excuse at flexing."

A large wave of 'ooo's erupted from the bar.

"Lucky for you however, I must be going. C'mon Wyn."