𝗽𝗵𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗼𝗺 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗮 ➪ 𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗻𝘆 𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗸𝘄𝗼𝗼𝗱

𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻. 𝗳𝘂𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗹𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗯𝘂𝗿𝘀𝘁𝘀

THE FUNERAL OF SAMARAN PANDEY WAS GRIM.
the grey sky was a participant in the emotion.

a couple of people stood by the boy's casket, others stood farther away; like Lockwood & Co.
Agnes never felt truly comfortable in funerals— the way that cold, dead,  decaying bodies were a few feet below her was terrifying, especially since she dealt with ghosts. but still, she kept a composed face, a mask hiding reality as of always. it was emotionless, apathetic as she heard the celebrant speak a rehearsed speech she'd heard a few times; like on Ciani's funeral before she was kicked out by the attendees.
the events from the past few months replayed in her mind. the way she got there, the motive, her life and the way her heart seemed to beat louder every time  Lockwood gave her a boyish grin, or the smallest of heartfelt glances. no, this romance doesn't exist- you're just extremely lonely.

it was best to steer away from love, after all in the end it brought pain.

the ceremony had ended. so Lockwood & Co. had no business being there for any longer. Agnes looked down to the pebbles on the path as she walked, Lockwood was by her right; and her heart was loud as it hammered on her chest, too loud as she remembered the events of two nights ago.
"excuse me?" a woman called out, foot steps becoming quicker as she approached the silent group.
"excuse me!" they glanced behind them, seeing Penelope Fittes walking up the them.

"hi. uh, my name's Penelope Fittes." the woman stated the obvious with a smile. everyone, knew who Penelope Fittes was.
"we know who you are." George stated in an emotionless but surprised manner.
"and you...are Lockwood & Co." the woman looked at the four teenagers.

"at your service." Lockwood chuckled, he was having a conversation with Penelope Fittes, the very own. the boy was dumbfounded. Agnes bit the insides of her cheeks in jealousy.
"you're not here to...see us, are you?" he hesitated, his confident voice suddenly shaken.
"it's nice to see you, but no, no. um, my mother led that first attempt on Combe Carey Hall. she was the only survivor, which I think she always felt awful about because, um... well, Sam was like a little brother to her. so just thank you for finding him." Agnes nodded subtly, not enjoying this conversation as she wished to go somewhere else that was not a cemetery, not really having good memories with them.

"you must be Lucy Carlyle." Penelope stared at Lucy for a second, who was also incredibly impressed.
"you know my name?"

"yep." the woman smiled, passing her eyes to the blonde.
"and you...you're Agnes Berkshire, read all about you in the papers; numerous of them. I've been following your work for some time now, since the Woodbrow agency— such a shame what happened to that girl." Agnes breaths left quickly, her chest pounded in grief and regret from that night.

"I agree, she was my girlf— my best friend." Agnes chuckled slightly, holding a small smile on her face.
her friends looked at her with questioning faces, they had never heard of a Ciani. Lockwood himself who'd always have a newspaper in his hands like a grandfather had never heard of the name displayed in the news.
"do you know my name?" George was practically dying to ask the question now.

"well, yes, of course I do, Mr.Karim. I'm glad to see you're doing well. wish you were still at my agency. I fired the fool that let you go." the woman gave him a gentle, tight lipped smile.

"that's a shame. she was a fool, but she really fitted in there, actually." Lockwood glanced at Agnes with a smile, she noticed but quickly averted from his prying eyes. Lockwood subtly but not subtly hit George's shoulders in a serious manner.

"I could see how you might be more comfortable where you are." Fittes laughed, looking back at the people who were leaving. "thank you again. really. bye." she left in a smile. George, Anthony and Lucy looking as she went.

"why'd you say that? she was nice!" Lucy whispered to George.
"guys, this is no time to fight. Penelope Fittes knows who we are!" Lockwood tapped the boy in glasses shoulder's. Agnes scoffed in annoyance.
"I don't see that type of excitement whenever we talk."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

"this letter from DEPRAC is unbelievable." Lockwood arrived with George, Agnes and Lucy were sat at the table. Agnes scribbled rude comments and  horrible silly drawings of her friends, Lucy snickering as she read and saw each of them

"it's better than it could be." neither girls looked up to acknowledge the boys, but they did stop laughing and Agnes had set her red pen down.
"they're covering everything up. saying Fairfax died of natural causes." he laid the letter down for both girls to read.

"well, they're trying to protect his name, but why?" George questioned, Agnes let out a small snicker.
"out of all questions you could ask, you ask the most stupidest of the pile, George. you, such a bright soul! how many rich people have covered their mistakes by handing a few pounds to a couple people here and there? hell, even I was one of those people."

"the answer is money, power, relationships. these people have an obvious bond with Fairfax, if his secrets are revealed to the public then at least 3 large companies will go down. mark my words." Agnes raised her eyebrows, drinking a large quantity of her tea.
"well yeah...but what he was up to, killing Annabel Ward was clearly the tip of the Iceberg." Lockwood and Agnes exchanged glances, she choked on her tea.
"still, at least we're getting paid." George concluded.

"the whole sixty grand?" Lucy smiled, her prayers had been answered after all.
"who cares! we can't talk about it. Combe Carey Hall should be putting our name on the front of The Times. and now, it's like it never even happened." Lockwood sat.
"your name, you mean. Lockwood, this is great. the oversight's been lifted. we're debt-free!" George smiled. "we're client-free, we're reputation-free, and by the way, we've got a lot more debts than just that sixty grand fine." Lockwood listed.

"I didn't really wanna say anything but why are so obsessed with fame, recognition—whatever?" Agnes furrowed her brows, it was all she tried to run from when she was kid.
"well... I don't think you'd understand Agnes, I mean you were born in a "wealthy social group" you're privileged. so... I don't know how to—" Agnes had her mouth agape in shock, in fact: Lucy and George had too, eyes widened at Lockwood's words.

she let out a surreal laugh, standing up from her chair in indignation. "you don't know me to say what I am, Lockwood." he stood up now.
"well, I know you're famous enough; and if you happened to go back home any time soon your name would be headlights of the news." Agnes chuckled. had the question bothered him that much to hurt his little ego?

"I'd do whatever was possible to trade my life for any of yours. because you know what? I'm jealous, I'm profoundly jealous of the way you experience things, of the way you're gullible enough to almost piss your pants when a famous person gets near you. I'm jealous of the way you don't need to be constantly paranoid that your parents won't someday, someway knock on that door and strip  you away out of a life you learned to love just to get back on that stupid manor and wish DEATH ON YOURSELF EVERYDAY!" Agnes spit the words out, blood boiling in rage as everyone watched in shock.
she sighed, putting her hands to her temple.
she wanted a cigarette, but if she pulled one out now; she'd have to deal with the cleaning freak by her left.

"I'll be back in what? 20 minutes. I need some air, I'm a little under the weather today." she gave a fake smile to her two friends, ignoring Lockwood's remorseful eyes.