[COMPLETED UNTIL SEASON 5]
Ana Thompson always seems to wind up in the strangest predicaments...
A perpetual victim of Murphy's Law, Ana finds herself arriving in Hawkins, Indiana just prior to the events of November 6th, 1983.
And, just prior to f...
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"YOU'RE A BIT of a slut, aren't you?" The treacherous statement spewed from Ana's mouth like a noxious gas before she could swallow it back. She'd later blame it on the alcohol swimming through her veins. Though, her incendiary nature was probably more so at fault.
The question, or rather accusation, slowly washed over Hopper in a confused daze. Clearly, it wasn't directed at his person, right? Taking a chance glance around the vicinity, he quickly realized there was no other clientele within earshot aside from him and the woman whom the inquiry had originated from.
"Excuse me?" He uttered almost resentfully once removing the still-burning cigarette from between his lips, his face read a mixture of irritation and bemusement.
"I'm fairly certain you heard me," Ana confidently replied with a tilt of the head, making eye contact with the man for the first time. What an introduction she'd managed to make for herself.
Hopper, rightly so, looked offended, and yet, the shit-eating grin illuminating Ana's face showed the question was intended to be a jest more than anything. She was proud of momentarily stunning him.
"You're the new Hawkins Middle teacher, right?" He countered after taking another puff of his cigarette, avoiding the original question altogether. The smoke expelling from his lips hung in the air around their heads.
"That's right, and the only single woman in this town you haven't bedded," she shot back. The grin never fading from her full lips when she added, "or so it seems." The implication of 'not yet, at least,' was apparent, but Ana hadn't yet decided if it was all together intended.
Taking another swig from his glass, Jim bid his time while appraising the woman beside him.
She was attractive, unarguably so, with her flowing brunette locks, long eyelashes that rested upon her cheeks with each bat, and full grinning lips. She was young, too, but not young enough to still be intrinsically naive towards the way of the world. She was, most importantly, new. New enough to potentially offer a momentary solitude from his demons, one which his usual haunts had long since failed to provide.
"Is that an offer?" Jim smirked in return, finally joining in on the intended banter.
"No," Ana shrugged noncommittally, before taking another sip of her drink. "Just an observation."
It wasn't her finding Hopper unattractive that made Ana initially rebuke his insinuated proposition. Jim was undeniably appealing to her. Tall, brunette men with blatant trauma had always been her preferred type, and ultimately her downfall.
It wasn't the age difference that deterred her either. Hopper was at least ten years her senior by the looks of it; but, Ana had always lived in a manner that was more evolved than her earthly years could account for, and so that didn't give pause.
Hell, she couldn't even fault him for openly sleeping around. God knows she had done her fair share of bed-hopping after arriving at the conclusion that long-term relationships just weren't her thing.
Instead, it was Ana's unyielding desire to be contrary that put a damper on any progression of their relationship, acquaintanceship, really.
As a child, Ana's father frequently told her that she would cut off her own nose just to spite her face. He wasn't wrong in this sense; Ana had built her whole adult life around doing the exact opposite of what was expected of her. Regardless of whether it was something she, herself, wanted as well.
"Alright then," was the staunch reply that came from Hopper before he inserted the significantly shortened cigarette between his lips, grabbed his nearly empty drink, and ventured away from her in search of that night's conquest.
Ana was certain she had really put her foot in it this time. Her sarcastic nature didn't always go over well upon first meeting, though it was rarely intended to cause conflict. An acquired taste, that's what people frequently called her.
However, when her two glasses had been drained, and the time came for her departure from the dingy establishment, Ana chanced one last glance back at the chief. He now sat with his arm casually draped over the local librarian. Marissa was her name, right? When their eyes reached one another across the hazy bar, Ana provided a nod in recognition, while Hopper tilted his tumbler to her in response.
And Ana went home alone that night, wondering if pride wasn't the deadliest sin of all.
