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@hearthero      wow.   ‘the absolute worst person,’   huh?    rude.   i’m not mom——and i’m definitely not steve,   i’m not gonna freak out or dump stupid advice neither of us want to hear.   so——tell me what’s going on.

@buryhimgone      an eidetic memory..   that explains a lot.     [she doesn’t hide the impressed tone,   but she also doesn’t linger on it.  nancy rarely lets admiration get in the way of analysis]    miracle or curse——depending on who’s using it.   [a small,   knowing shrug.   when he adds the invitation,   she lets out a quiet breath——almost a laugh,   but not quite.   she looks at him more directly now,   eyes narrowing just a touch——but with curiosity,   not suspicion]     a good interviewer.   that’s a polite way to say i don’t let people dodge my questions.    and as flattering as your..   recruitment pitch is,   i’m not sure i’m the ‘join a secret division’ type.   i like knowing what i’m walking into——still,   thanks.

@sharpshots       ⌣⌣      well,  an eidetic memory does wonders.  you could call it a miracle,  or a curse,  but i was asked to join.  you could be too,  you're a good interviewer,  ms.  wheeler.

@buryhimgone        twenty two,    you say?    how did someone so  /young/   land a detective job so early on?

@sparkleinsunlight      yeah,   seriously.   [the words come out clipped,   cleaner than the mess of adrenaline still twisting in her stomach.   upon the mention of jason,   nancy’s head snaps toward him.   her expression doesn’t change much,   but something cold flickers through her eyes——a warning more than anything]     and having ‘a screw loose’ doesn’t make what happened any less dangerous.    but i’m fine,   thanks for asking.   just——stay away from jason,   okay?   he’s not in a good place. and i don’t want anyone else getting hurt.

@sharpshots      ⌣⌣      [  it isn't meant to be offensive.  barlowe is far from someone who would intentionally tear someone down,  but he is blunt.  the idea of somebody attempting to take over the world,  or the one where there’s a   *MAN  —  EATING*  beast out there,  he didn't know which one he'd rather believe.  the thing was,  he already started to believe two months ago.  except no calculation,  no amount of his eidetic memory could help prove that maybe finally he had gone crazy.  the brunette swallows thickly,  like there's some lump just scraping the back of his throat while he thought.  he thought,  he thought,  until there was nothing left to even venture off thinking about.  ]    i never thought about it as a teenage crusade.  miss wheeler,  as hard as it might be to believe,  i'm trying my best to help you.    [  a small exhale,  then a deeper inhale,  ]     and so    —these demogorgons    ..they're from this,  alternate space called the " upside down? "

@buryhimgone     [nancy goes still.   not frozen——coiled. like someone pulled a wire too tight inside her chest]    a personal agenda?   [she repeats it back to him,   quiet,   incredulous.   her eyes flick down to the file he’s tapping,   the half-organized stack of papers he’s pretending is order in a situation that has none.   she lifts her chin,   her voice doesn’t rise,   but it sharpens——precise enough to cut]     i sought you out because you’re supposed to care about the truth.  at least more than the people who just want this case  /closed/  so they can sleep at night.    these aren’t just ‘facts to me.’   they’re what happened.   they’re what i saw. they’re what nobody else is willing to look at because it’s easier to blame the freak on the run than admit there’s something else out there.    eddie didn’t do this.   you know it.   or you wouldn’t be standing here looking at me like you’re two seconds from believing me and two seconds from getting fired for it.   i’m not asking you to make me the hero witness. i’m asking you to stop pretending this is some teenage crusade——i was there.   i survived it. that should be enough to make you listen.   if you want this case to actually sail,    then stop looking for the easiest answer and start looking for the right one.

@sharpshots     ⌣⌣     it is a personal mission,  agenda,  you sought me out for this.    [  technically,  technically sought out after.  the agent might have seemed dismissive,  but the way barlowe's mouth dries,  and brows furrow suggests otherwise.  ]    facts,  facts,  right    —to you.  not to me,  not to them.  nobody has seen this,  and right now what they think is that eddie munson was behind all these horrific murders.    [  a pen taps against the folded file,  paper upon paper seeming to just be seconds from falling.  ]     ms.  wheeler,  i'm trying my best to help you,  but just being a witness won't have this case sailing.

@demogorges      mike?    no——i haven’t seen him since this morning.    why,   what happened?

@sharpshots    *   grips u   … it’s yrue

@sparkleinsunlight     *   nuh uh… not true  :((

@sharpshots    *    okay so you hate me ig

@DAD0FTHEYEAR     [when he says her name like that—quiet,   almost careful—something in her chest breaks open a little.  not in a dramatic way.  more like a seam finally giving out after being pulled too tight.   she doesn’t flinch when he steps in.   she just watches him,   eyes glassy from everything she’s been holding back. the sight of him—alive,   steady,   here—hurts in a strange kind of relief]    steve..   [it’s barely a whisper,   not quite permission but not stopping him either. her lips press together,   trembling a little as she nods,   small,   instinctive.   when his arms start to wrap around her,  she lets out a breath she didn’t even realize she’d been holding. she moves into him like gravity made the decision for her——shoulders sinking,  forehead tipping toward his collarbone.   her fingers curl into the fabric at his side,   holding on. not tightly—just enough]    i’m sorry,    i just——everything’s been——    [she murmurs against him,   voice small,   frayed at the edges.  but the words fail,   sliding off into silence.   her body softens more,   not collapsing,   just finally allowing herself a moment to not be the one holding everyone together]     thank you,   for coming.      don’t——don’t let go yet,    please?

@sharpshots yeah—i know. [he’d completely leave out the fact that he and her (current) boyfriend had argued over this very thing. and clearly, it was harrington that one that match.  all macho—war aside; the one sided thing steve had no idea he was a part of … he was afraid.  it was his fear that brought him here.   nothing else.    a fear that made a habit out of reminding him just how quick it can make itself a reality]  nance,   [he knows exactly what to do here.  he was only waiting for her call—her permission.  he’ll stand there,  just close enough.   a pull on his heart that he has to fight against—sword and shield, to keep himself rooted.   but steve harrington had a skill he didn’t get much credit for.   he saw things; the hidden things that weren’t that good at staying hidden.    so, he’d reach,   slowly—and pull her in for a hug]     

@DAD0FTHEYEAR      you—— [the word catches in her throat the moment she sees him in the doorway. her eyes are red around the edges,   not from crying but from trying not to. she stands up from her occupied chair in the waiting room,   hands clasped so tightly in her lap her knuckles have gone pale]  ——you didn’t have to come.    [she says it small,   not pushing him away—more like she can’t believe he showed up.   her gaze flicks to her pink sweater,   which had now been dyed a rusty crimson color.   her mother’s blood,   after her brutal run in with the demogorgon.   her body goes rigid remembering it;   karen’s flesh torn from its claws]    i keep thinking— if i’d been faster,   or if i’d grabbed the gun sooner..   maybe—   [her voice trembles,   but she forces herself upright,   shoulders hitching with the effort of holding the panic down.  she cuts herself off,   jaw locking tight like she’s biting back the guilt before it swallows her whole.   then,   she swallows hard]   —sorry.    you said we don’t have to talk.

@DAD0FTHEYEAR     and then——we don’t die,   that’s step one.   [she glances at him——quick,   sideways——like she’s checking for cracks in his confidence before she looks away again.   arms fold tightly over her chest as she shifts her weight,   jaw ticking once.  the tension’s there——she feels it too——but she pushes through it the way she always has:  by focusing on the next move]    we find one,   trap one,   and then we figure out how to contain it.   study it.   whatever gets us one step ahead instead of ten steps behind.   as always.    just——don’t improvise.   not this time.   we can’t afford it.

@sharpshots  see?  and to think everyone thought i was crazy.. [he’s smiling. sheepish. apologetic.  awkward when he remembers the uncomfortable place their dynamic currently lies. harrington clears his throat.  rocking back on his heels]    cool ..  cool .    so—demogorgon.  we… find one— / possibly / trap one and then… ?. 

@DAD0FTHEYEAR     a peanut butter bopper,   really?   [she huffs out a tiny laugh,   shaking her head. the tension drains from her shoulders just a bit as she takes one anyway,   eyes flicking up to his with that fond,   exasperated look she can’t quite hide.   not from him,  anyways]    at least now i can ignore the tension,    these are actually—    pretty good.   no wonder you’ve stocked up on them.

@DAD0FTHEYEAR      steve.   [she says his name in that way that makes him stop rambling——not annoyed,   not scolding,   just seeing him. she shifts a little closer,   enough that her knee brushes his]    you’re doing that thing again.   the jokes.   the henderson excuses.   [her tone is gentle,   but it lands.   she tilts her head,   studying him the way she used to when they were together——like she’s reading a language he never meant to speak out loud.   her hand reaches out,   fingers brushing the back of his wrist,   grounding him without making a big show of it]     you don’t have to cover it up with all that,   y’know.    i know you’re breathing. that’s not what i’m worried about.    i’m worried about you pretending you’re okay when you’re not.    [she gives a small,   sad smile——the kind that flickers and dies quickly.  a beat passes,   thick,   full of everything he won’t say and everything she already knows as a thumb presses lightly against his wrist bone]   you can tell me you’re scared,    it doesn’t make you weak.   and it doesn’t make me run.   i’m right here.   you don’t have to joke your way around that.

@sharpshots  i / know / that, nance but—[it eats him raw and spits him out. the way he has to run around what he’s really trying to say—he hates it.   he hates where they are now, hates that his true feelings laid out in the open was not exactly an option anymore.  there were a lot of things he hated—and this had to have been at least fifty percent of them  (…)  his head falls into a nod,  quick in expressing words he couldn’t make out.  a yes that really meant no.  an okay that was really: —but it’s not]    yeah, yeah— i’m breathing.  haven’t stopped breathing.  kind of hard to stop breathing.   actually—henderson probably made me stop breathing .. a couple of times but when had he ever not done that, right?

@DAD0FTHEYEAR       steve,   stop.   i’m not disappearing—     or going anywhere.   [instinctively,   nancy steps in closer,   eyes sharp but soft around the edges.   she presses her lips together,   searching his face,   her voice tightening with conviction]    i’ve made it out of every horrible thing we’ve been through.   you know that.   and i’m going to keep making it out.   i’m not some ghost you’re going to lose in the dark.     [her hand curls into the sleeve of his jacket——a gesture out of comfort]    i’m here. i choose to be here.   so just—   breathe. with me,   okay?