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¡ 𝒓𝒖𝒏 𝒃𝒐𝒚 𝒓𝒖𝒏 !
𝐗𝐈𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 Reginald Hargreeves in the slightest. In fact, when the news came through the television that he had died she grinned her sneaky little grin and danced with her wife, Salma, who rolled her eyes but a mirthful smile never left either of their lips.
Salma could remember when Reginald came rapping on their door. The two waited with bated breath as his knocks got more and more vicious. He was a devious little megalomanic. Xiomara, who had pushed out a baby several days ago, held little Dolores close to her chest. The two prayed that the man would stop.
Fate had different plans as little Dolores let out a wail. Why? Who knows? All the two women knew was that he was knocking even harsher before. It was Salma who finally opened the door.
"Hello?" Salma greeted looking at the eccentric man who pushed past her without another word and moved to the baby who had been crying.
Reginald peered curiously at Xiomara who shot him a wary glare. "That's interesting," he mused stroking his ridiculously ugly facial hair. At Xiomara's bewildered expression he shot her a grin. "How much do you want for it?"
Xiomara laughed in his face. However, it stopped as soon as she saw the deathly serious expression on his face. "Oh, you- you're serious?"
Reginald nodded. "I need this child. It'll be for the greater good," he dismissed the absolutely furious mother.
"The greater good," she repeated with a dangerous edge in her tone and Salma was sure that Xiomara's patience was wearing thin.
The man smiled and nodded, completely oblivious to the fact that Xiomara would not be giving him her miracle baby. "Precisely!" He exclaimed happily. "I mean how fit are you both for parenthood."
Xiomara narrowed her eyes at him and held Dolores closer. "No. Have a nice day, Mr. Hargreeves. Salma, can you please show him to the door."
"No?"
The other woman in the room gave her a pleased smile before leading the gobsmacked man out of the house. "Goodbye, Wallet," Salma quipped quietly before slamming the door in his face.
☆
𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐖 that following that psychopath out of Griddy's was a bad idea. She would just tell the cops that if she didn't go he would kill her. She was an-uh... kidnap victim? Yeah, kidnapped. He 'napped her. Does kidnapping still work if she was born 30 years ago but looked 14? Probably? ...Maybe? Or what if the perpetrator was like 14 too?
"Why do you need my help?" Dolores asked as she finally wrapped her brain around the boy being a mass murderer. It really shouldn't have been surprising given his short temper and odd (usually rude and/or know it all) demeanor.
