[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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THE NEXT TIME Ana made an appearance at Benny's Burgers, she hadn't had enough time to get situated at her regular table before being unjustly accosted by the owner himself.
"Heard you had a run-in with the chief," Benny grunted out in lieu of a proper greeting, slinging a dirtied wash rag over his left shoulder while approaching her with lumbering steps.
The accusation elicited an indignant huff from the young woman. "You make it sound like I was arrested," she replied, plopping down in the seat and digging around in her oversized purse for the copy of The Color Purple she was intent on reading that evening. "Who'd you even hear that from anyway?" She questioned after locating the book and carefully setting its tattered pages on the surface in front of her.
By then, Benny was leaning forward with both hands resting at the head of the table, causing Ana to crane back in the chair and tilt her head upwards to get a good look at his face, his face which held more than an amusing smirk.
"Hopper," he nodded. "Came in here just the other day ranting about a woman with long black hair being mouthy as hell. Just assumed he was talking about you." His guess what spot on. She almost felt ashamed for her abrasive introduction to the chief. Almost.
"Guilty as charged," she chuckled simply.
Finding her response lacking, Benny crossed his arms and appraised her contemplatively. "Did you really call him a whore?"
"Of course not," she scoffed with an eye roll. "Whores get paid. I called him a slut." The distinction didn't matter, not really, but the calcification was coupled with that familiar Cheshire grin which indicated she knew exactly how to push other's buttons without going too far.
"You're playing with fire there, girl," Benny gruffly warned while heading back towards the kitchen. "Number 5, no tomatoes?" He questioned without throwing so much as a backward glance at her.
"Yes, please!" She shouted back to his retreating figure, lightly laughing as her head shook. Hawkins was every bit as cliché as one would imagine.
When Benny returned with her food sometime later, the matter of the police chief wasn't mentioned again. Instead, the two shot the shit, talking about one thing or another. Benny explained how he and his girlfriend had recently separated because she was interested in marriage and he decidedly wasn't. His ex had egged his house as recompense for her wasted time, which he deemed a real 'bitch to wash off.'
Ana, in turn, told him about a chance encounter with the first of her future coworkers, Scott Clarke, who taught Earth and Biology at Hawkins Middle School. That meeting went decidedly better than the one she'd had with Hopper days earlier.
After running into one another at the hardware store, Mr. Clarke had been quick to insist Ana come to dinner with himself and his partner, Jen. Figuring it never hurt to show up to a new job already knowing someone, she had agreed to come to theirs the next evening.
Jen and Scott were exceptionally kind and welcoming people toward Ana. He was astoundingly nerdy, almost to the point of stereotype, but his passion for science was palpable and obviously what made him such a successful teacher. And Jen was phenomenally out of his league. Yet, they worked well together, contradicting the popular theory that nice guys always finish last.
Once her meal was finished, with plate pushed back and belly full, Benny and Ana had parted ways after a quick hug and a short, 'see you soon.' She'd then headed down the road to get a drink, as was customary on these evenings.
Life was simple on days such as this. The stars in the sky shone brighter without all the light pollution she'd grown used to living in the city, allowing her to identify the few constellations she'd actually learned the names of. Not a soul bothered her as she walked alone down the street lost in her thoughts.
But, nothing simple ever lasts, and Ana should have known better than to believe it could.
When the bar door flung open before her, the backdraft caused the smoke to momentarily part, allowing an unobstructed view of the establishment. And there, sitting alone at the counter, too close to her regular seat to be accidental, was the man of the hour. Ana briefly wondered if Hopper's ears had previously been burning, sat there with a half-drank beer in his hand.
Without a second thought, she slid onto the seat next to him and asked, "having a light evening?" Gesturing to indicate the absence of amber liquor in front of him. Beer wasn't his usual, it was hers, and she doubted the change was unintentional.
Almost as though he were awaiting her arrival, Hopper replied, "didn't want to be caught with my pants down in case an out-of-towner decided to harass me again." His taunt was delved out without so much as even a glance in her direction.
"I'm an in-towner now," Ana countered before gesturing to the bartender to order her own beer.
"So I've heard," he replied casually, finally turning in his stool to face her with an analytical slant to his hooded eyes. "From Houston, right?"
She let out an exaggerated sigh at this because there was only one person who would have offered him such information willingly. Unless Hopper had done a background check on her, which Ana very much doubted he'd apply the effort necessary to do so. "Benny is such a town gossip," she said, settling on the former with an eye roll.
Hopper wasn't budging though. Wasn't rising to her tease, and, instead stayed silent decidedly silent while awaiting a legitimate response.
When his assessing stare didn't waver, Ana finally broke. "Yes, Chief," she answered, propping her right elbow up on the bar to rest her chin in her hand. "I moved here from Houston."
"Why Hawkins?" He questioned immediately after the admission passed her lips.
Just like a cop, straight to the inquiry without any fanfare, she thought. "Needed a change of scenery," was the only answer she offered with a slight shrug, before taking a long swig from her beer. It was soothing, and a distraction from his intense gaze, that familiar taste, and feeling of the alcohol sliding down her throat.
"There are plenty of other towns with scenery," he continued probing, committed to getting a substantial answer out of the woman who continued to be an utter enigma to the town's occupants.
"Alright, detective," she mocked, turning her whole body towards Hopper as to indicate he had her undivided attention. The action caused their knees to press against one another, a move neither acknowledged outwardly nor made an adjustment to remedy.
"Last summer I took a road trip all over the country by myself," she started. "You know, just trying to get a feel for different cities, see if any struck me as a better place to be than the one I was currently in. When I got to Hawkins, it felt strangely...right. If that makes any sense? It just felt like this was where I was supposed to be." A lame validation, probably, but it was true. She couldn't explain it any better because the notion still made no sense to her either.
Hopper watched her intently while she explained her reasoning for moving to a place he, at best, despised on most days. Once she was finished, he gave her a terse nod. "Alright then," Hopper said, implying her answer was sufficient enough to quell further questioning. After, he returned to facing forward in his stool and she followed suit, both strangely sensitive to the loss of contact their knees joining had previously provided.
What followed was a stifling lull in conversation, both of them sipping their beers quietly in contemplation. But, Ana ultimately interrupted the stilted silence with, "so, one of your officers asked me out the other night."
Hopper's head and eyes snapped to her upon hearing the statement said so blasély.
