Louis Frye: A Lackadaisy Oc Story

Pilot Insert

A/N: Most of this is just what he's was doing at the time if the Pilot. He will be at the end part though with Mitzi and them though. Anyway.

A month has passed since that emotional day, and Mitzi is gradually beginning to heal. In the meantime, I've been assisting Rocky, Freckle, and Ivy in preparing the car for their booze run. Once they depart, I decide it's time to have a conversation with Viktor. I need to understand whether his apparent resentment towards me is genuine or if there's something else at play.

Louis: Hey Viktor, may I ask you a question?

Viktor turns towards me, his hand resting on the bar, and raises an eyebrow, signaling for me to go ahead and ask.

Louis: Do you hate me?

Viktor: No. Why?

Louis: Every time I'm near Ivy, you seem to get angrier.

Viktor: Ah, I see.

With that cryptic response, Viktor turns away, leaving me puzzled. Deciding to leave the matter be for now, I rise from my seat and make my way to Mitzi's office. I hand her a newspaper from the mail and check in on her well-being.

Mitzi: I'm fine, honey.

Louis: If you need me, let me know.

I offer my support before leaving her office. Restless and with little to do, I decide to take a nap beneath the piano.

After an hour of quiet, I felt a gentle poke on my back.

J.J.: You okay down there?

Louis: I'm good, J.J.

I extricate myself from beneath the piano and return to the bar area. Zib is likely dozing off, while Wick is calmly sipping on a drink.

(Spoilers for the pilot of Lackadaisy from this point)

(Mitzi's POV)

Mitzi: And though scrutinized and scandalized and troubled in the end by depleted finances.

I sit on the edge of the desk, perusing the newspaper.

Mitzi: Hm. Familiar story. Miss Duncan leaves behind, moreover, a legacy of consummate artistry and bold innovation.

Flipping to the next page, my fingers instinctively graze my necklace.

Mitzi: Done in by a scarf.

My hand rests on my own piece of jewelry.

Mitzi: The comic end that makes the tragedy, doesn't it?

I turn my gaze to the portrait of Atlas.

Mitzi: Speaking of tragedy, we got an old supplier back, the funeral home. Still, it's not the same.

I rise from the desk.

Mitzi: Without you.

Walking over to the window, I open it and lean out.

Mitzi: And that feeling that all of this was ours.

A sigh escapes me as I think of the past.

Mitzi: Used to be we could drive a whole convoy of trucks in.

Noticing our car approaching down the street, my expression shifts.

Mitzi: Now we're just digging for scraps.

I close the window.

Mitzi: Well, however unbecoming, Atlas, that's my cue. Meet you downstairs.

Heading to the hidden door in the shelf, I take a deep breath before descending the stairs.