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episode ii, stranger danger.
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SOMETHING DOESN'T SIT RIGHT WITH ANNE PENLEY. The wind pricks at the skin of her forearms, as her knocks echo into the hushed night. The parking lot is eerily still, unheard of for the diner. Benny's was a town favorite, a staple of Hawkins' finest. People flocked into the restaurant at times like these, ready to drown their sorrows in soggy, spilling all-you-can-eat burgers and numbingly sweet milkshakes that had enough sugar to kill someone.
She knocks again, hard enough for her knuckles to throb. The biting freeze becomes almost unbearable, as Anne runs her hands over her shoulders, the marriage band on her finger lightly pressing into her skin. A muffled voice carries out behind the closed door, gruff and hoarse. The door creaks open, enough for an inkling of fluorescent light to stream through the small opening. Anne's feet tap impatiently against the ground, the detached rubber soles of her boots flapping against the cracked cobblestone pavement, tape hanging off the sides of her heels. The door opens wider, and a tall figure looms over Anne. The man's large frame covers the doorway, almost intentionally, his features molded into confusion, mirroring Anne's.
"I miss one goddamn shift and the entire place falls into pieces, doesn't it?" Anne jokes, trying to clear the thick air, but Benny just stares, his eyes darting around for something Anne can't quite piece together. She can't really blame him though, her tone usually tends to be on the drier side of the spectrum.
"Yeah, I guess. I closed early today," he shrugs. "You know how our Mondays are. Aren't you supposed to be taking the day off?" Benny asks, his bolstering voice a fragment of its usual volume, which she finds kind of odd. Benny wasn't the kind of guy who did quiet. He wasn't the most rational guy, but he would do any kind of obnoxious thing to make someone laugh. Still, Anne carries on without questions, because she isn't sure she can handle trying to find the answers.
