Below The Surface - A Lackadaisy Fanfiction

Complicated Conversations

"...this really isn't a good time, honey...there's been another murder."

Rocky's usual smile dropped at Mitzi's words, his eyes wide with concern. Ivy gripped onto Freckle's hand for support and her ever growing anxiety. Freckle's eyes were dulled, as he prayed silently, over and over...and Mitzi was right: there was yet another unfortunate soul killed in the darkest corner of Lackadaisy. They all sat at the bar, discussing the unfortunate events.

"...another?" Rocky broke the uncomfortable silence.

"Wh–when? When did this..." Freckle trailed off.

"It happened sometime when we were asleep, I guess." Ivy chimed in. Her ears flattened, and she glanced in between the other patrons.

"These aren't the...best circumstances that have befallen us." Wick gripped his cup of rum. He blinked once, twice, then fully turned towards Zib, as the other squeezed his shoulder as a sign of comfort. Though his yellow eyes showed uncertainty, even worry.

"Who would even do something like this?" Ivy hid the urge to grimace, so she pursed her lips tightly.

"I have good idea who vanted this to happen..." Viktor growled out, slowly cleaning a shot glass, his grip being rough. Anger showed in his eyes, and eventually he broke the glass, a shattering ringing throughout everyone's ears.

"Viktor...I warned you about handling glass." Mitzi bit back a groan.

"Isn't he implying that the ones behind the murder are Marigold?" Zib pulled out the cigarette from his mouth. "Specifically..." He waved his hand a bit in a gesturing motion.

"Mordecai?" Ivy caught on. She flinched at the sudden growling of Viktor, and another shot glass shattering and cracking. She stared at him, wide–eyed, shrinking back.

"Viktor!" Mitzi exclaimed.

"It could be...but the last time we really saw him was, well...the run–in, and the dynamite." Freckle brought up.

"Which you, for a matter of fact, still need to explain what happened," Wick cut in.

"We'd rather not..." Freckle's ears flicked back.

"There's gonna need to be an explanation for all of this later, though." Zib pinched the bridge of his nose. Mitzi frowned, rubbing her temples now...she left the others to discuss the dynamite incident, known as the last run–in they had with the Marigold Trio. She really needed some alone time...so she left to go to her husband's office, and looked at the painting of Atlas, still hung on the wall, looking good as new. She gripped her necklace gently, taking in a breath and closing her eyes, going deep into thought...that was until the ringing phone snapped her out of her thoughts. She slowly turned and walked towards it, fluffing up her boa as she sighed answering it...she hadn't known he would be calling...

****

"Mitzi...we have a problem."

Mitzi blinked: Mr. Sweet's voice caught her completely off guard. Her ear flicked, and she gripped the phone.

"It's happening to you too?" She fiddled with her necklace, twisting it gently, nervously. The words came out of her mouth before she could properly register it. "All the murders?" She lowered her voice.

Mr Sweet chewed on his bottom lip, looking towards the Marigold Trio. Mordecai looked deep in thought, Serafine was rambling on in concern and confusion about everything, and Nico was replying to her comments, still rather confused on what's happening. The siblings noticed Mordecai's ears flick up, after hearing Mitzi's name. Mr. Sweet continued,

"Yes...and we don't know who is responsible...but it knocked the wind out of Mordecai and the Savoys."

Mordecai growled, ears flattening on his head: he didn't get the 'wind knocked out of him', nor did he want Mitzi of all people to hear that...he was just squeamish in certain aspects, and that murder...he was getting out of his head when he felt a squeeze on his shoulder, and he begrudgingly eased.