❛ IT'S FOR THEM, I FIGHT. ❜ | On October 2nd, 1989, a baby was born to a very confused family. It was a normal, if not long birth in every right aside from the very interesting fact that the mother had not been pregnant since the very same day she...
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❛ the folly of finding your ex-boyfriend in the paper. ❜
SEPTEMBER 3rd, 1963.
ELODIE HUMMED UNDER HER BREATH AS SHE PREPARED THE breakfast plates. She broke in half mumbled lyrics whenever she remembered them, which wasn't often and made for a rather poorly performed song, hardly doing The Shirelles justice. But regardless, she continued, much to the delight of the others near her.
"Love on your mind?" taunted Rudy, Livingston's chef. He poked the spatula in hand her way, "or are you just seekin' to find a new career? Cause, hate to say it — singing ain't your thing."
Elodie faked a glare, though it was hard to hold in her giggles, quickly joining in on the older man's wind-chimes for a laugh. "Don't be jealous of my talent, just 'cause you ain't got any!"
"Talent? I've heard cows giving birth that sounded more appealing than your groans!"
"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled, pulling away with the breakfast trays. "Jealousy, I'm telling you."
Rudy's wheezing laugh followed her out of the great swinging doors and into the breakfast room, where already a small party was gathered. No one looked up when she arrived, but that was expected, and Elodie didn't care for their eyes anyways. She slipped around the table, dropping plates for Livingston, Aimee, and Ellis, pausing to kiss the boy's head at the last.
She didn't miss how he shrugged her off. But that could be for a later argument.
"I'll be back with coffee," she promised, leaving the silent trio to their newspaper and meals alike. And, true to her word she was; within two minutes, Elodie was pulling back into the dining room with steaming coffee clutched tight.
Only that time, it wasn't silent.
"—lunatics," Livingston roared, waggling his papers with a gusto she rarely saw out of him at nine in the morning. "Raving lunatics! I'm glad they caught him, but who knows who else is behind his madness!"
Aimee sighed from across the table. She smiled gently as Elodie poured her a cup, but said nothing to it. "It's just one stupid man. Dallas is full'a folks like him."
"But this stupid guy was raving about killing the president! Or a plot about the president. I just," Livingston sighed, dropping a corner of the papers to pinch at his nose. "I cannot believe this city is so far gone that we allow men like this to run about willy-nilly, throwing knives and ranting about murder plots. This city was once the greatest in this country, you know. Now look what it is — Miss Cruise, are you alright?"
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