REESE

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          Of all of the times to have a power outage, did it have to be during their monthly horror binge? <Oh,> In a fit of rage, Reese chucked the TV remote onto the coffee table. <come on!> A storm had descended upon Woodsboro that afternoon, complete with an ungodly amount of rain, lightning, and what could go on record to be the loudest thunder that Reese had heard in her life!

Why!?

The living room was essentially, essentially pitch-black, the only light to be found in it the soft, soft glow of an array of candles scattered about and the occasional, occasional flash of lightning. Billy pulled Reese onto his lap, rested his chin atop her head, and wrapped his arms around her waist, partly because he wanted to hold her in general, partly because he wanted to keep her from throwing something else.

Why!?

On the opposite end of the couch, Reese's half-brother and Billy's brother-in-law, Roman Bridger, thumbed through a manila folder, deep, deep in thought. The three had -- emphasis on HAD -- been in the middle of binging A Nightmare on Elm Street when the storm decided to knock-out the power and took to lying in wait for It to come back so they could continue with the binge. Three minutes. Four minutes. Five minutes.

Billy waved over to Roman, "What is that?"

Roman sighed, "Mom's old portfolio."

"I wanna see it."

The couch dipped ever, ever so slightly as Roman scooted over, over to Billy, the folder in one hand and a candle in the other. <Don't drop the candle.> Roman repeated on a loop in his mind, his grip on the candle unwavering for fear of dropping it and ultimately, ultimately setting the house ablaze. <Don't drop the candle.> Once situated, Roman placed the folder on the coffee table and opened it up before placing the candle ever, ever so carefully beside it, the light from the candle revealing a headshot of a young, living Maureen Prescott!

The name 'Rena Reynolds' accompanied the various, various shots, but it was obvious it was Maureen Prescott; Reese couldn't stand how much she looked like her mother. Almost as if he was a teacher reading to a group of students, Roman slowly, but studiously went through the contents of the folder, stopping every so often to go deeper, deeper into detail, to answer any questions that Billy had in mind, to tell the stories associated with each shot, and, most importantly, to take a break and join Billy in assuring Reese that, just because she inherited her mother's looks doesn't necessarily mean she inherited her mother's habits and stuff like that. Reese begrudgingly, begrudgingly agreed.

"Weary is the man," Roman mumbled to himself, removing his glasses to rub his eyes. "but I don't appreciate him involving Reese -- I don't know what I would do if he hurt her."

Reese hissed, "I can hold my ground, thank you very much."

"I'm your big brother -- I have a right to worry."

"Still."

"Still."

"Sti -- wait, am I seeing things... or did the TV just do a thing?"