𝗽𝗵𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗼𝗺 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗮 ➪ 𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗻𝘆 𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗸𝘄𝗼𝗼𝗱

𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘁𝘆 𝘀𝗶𝘅. 𝗮 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘄𝗲𝗶𝗿𝗱𝗼 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮 𝘀𝗺𝗼𝗸𝘆 𝗸𝗶𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗻

SMOKE BLEW OFF FROM AGNES'S MOUTH IN THE KITCHEN.
her and Lockwood had a silent dinner, although semi-awkward the two were able to live through it.
the smoke inside the house only meant one thing: George still hadn't arrived from his previous side quest.
there was only Anthony and Agnes, Lucy was upstairs, sleep indulged in her system as she had already started dreaming of her past life with her late friend.

"I was right about that Dulac book, wasn't I? it's mostly nonsense. lots of babble about forbidden knowledge and the mysteries of creation." Lockwood said, walking away from Agnes to put the dishes away as she took a sip of her coffee, the fag in her glass ashtray.
"but didn't you see this part about Bickerstaff? look,"
Lockwood sat down the table, scooting it closer to Agnes to the point it evaded her personal space; though she didn't seem to mind, she enjoyed it actually. his shoulders brushing against hers and she could hear the air leaving his nostrils, she could tell he was nervous and she wanted to question why but it slipped her mind.

he was nervous because of his heart, it hammered loudly in his chest and he was anxious that she could hear it. it was because of Agnes after all, the cause of his pounding heart that hollered her name.

"yes, I killed him. shot him with my father's pistol sealed him with iron, buried him deep. yet, I still see him when I close my eyes; swathed in his velvet cloak, performing his rituals." Agnes quoted the woman's confession in the book, looking at her partner for a second he was staring at her but he quickly turned his head towards the book.

Lockwood cleared his throat, "Mary Dulac killed Bickerstaff? why?" he questioned in between creased eyebrows.
Agnes brought the cigarette up to her lips, taking a drag and not letting go off the smoke making it's way inside her. a few seconds passed by and she let out a smoker's cough, her eyes watery as the gray addicting substance left her nostrils and mouth.

Lockwood didn't seem to mind the odor of it, not if she was there by his side. of course, he had asked her to stop it, begged her even. but addiction was a timeless thing in which couldn't depend on others but the addict.
and Agnes had promised him she would stop shortly after they finished their dinner. but had it been an empty promise?

Agnes licked her bottom lip as her eyes moved up towards Lockwood, was this a staring contest? or was it that the two teenagers found themselves so mesmerizing they couldn't bear to look away from each other?
"hmm..." she said, breaking the eye contact to look at the book.
"right," Lockwood cleared his throat, his gaze following hers momentarily before he looked at her bruised neck.

"you didn't tell me what happened to your neck." the question banged on Agnes's mind loudly, she didn't want him to notice.
Agnes closed her eyes, thinking of what to say.
"uhm, yeah, it was at the auction with the crazy guy." she lied but he saw right through it. she could tell, he knew her too well to know that this was a bad formulated lie