Lucas Quietly Snorts.

Adrien instinctually checks his pockets, though he knows he doesn't have matches or a lighter. He does have his mini-tool kit, though.

"Uh, hold on, actually." He pulls out the kit and grabs a couple of things from it. Then, he picks up a streamer that had fallen to the ground and rips a piece off. With some creativity, he manages to light the piece and then holds it up to the joint to light for the guy.

"There we go," he says proudly. "Mind if I take a hit too?"

He'd smoked at a couple of parties. It wasn't something he needed, but he likes the experience sometimes.

to: open event starter! (0/4)

“Got a light?” The words came out rougher than intended, the night pressing its familiar weight on him. Events like these typically followed the same routine: dress up, show up, drift through the crowd with vague nods to faces he was sure he’d seen before, toss back a healthy amount of shots, and then dive into conversations that inevitably twisted into something painfully awkward. This was a loop he coped with by fading into the background and finding some dark corner to lose himself in, if only to spare others from the cloud of smoke he’d bring along.

Tonight, though, he felt the strangeness more acutely. Maybe it was the ridiculous outfit his friends had convinced him to wear. Icarus—because apparently, that’s who he was. Light D’Angelo, the fallen star, tumbling back to earth after drifting too close to fame’s burning heat. A halo of golden twigs sat precariously on his head, while makeshift wings drooped from his shoulders, and golden leaves circled his bicep like some half-hearted tribute to mythology. The costume was more a collection of scavenged scraps than an actual outfit—an oversized white shirt knotted around his waist to resemble a toga, doing little to keep out the night chill. Still, the alcohol coursing through his veins dulled the cold.

He twirled the small blunt between his fingers, lingering against the doorframe as he finally turned to the stranger nearby. The words came out low, almost conspiratorial as he raised the blunt.

“We’ll keep it our little secret for the night.”

Lucas snorts. "With you? I don't think he ever is."

He let's Adam pour him another drink, listening to the nihilistic but strangely comforting speech.

"We drink," Lucas echoes, watching him struggle to light the cigarette.

"I just can't stop imagining that I hear screams coming from out there. Which is crazy because the rain is so loud I wouldn't hear anything anyway."

"When's Jim ever happy?" up until now Adam didn't even consider the real consequences this day would have on everyone who stays alive. He was more concerned with the amount of digging he'll be forced to do first thing in the morning. Not to mention seeing dead bodies, all fucked up, did not get easier with time. In many ways, he was hoping this would never end. "New day, new rules -- this place is letting us know who's really in control. Ain't nothin' we can do about that. Except drink, so....we drink..." he pours him another, and then another one for himself and lights the poorly dried cigarette. "Day will come, 'til then we're better off in here than we would be out there..."

Rafael Silva

Photography by Jake Weary

Susan Sontag, from “Reborn: Journals and Notebooks, 1947-1963″

He briefly considers putting her into a headlock just to show how easy it would be to catch her, but he's honestly too tired to put in the effort. And she's right about the rationing. He's probably just using it as an excuse to avoid his personal problems rattling in his head right now.

"By that logic, we all worry too much," he replies. "It's our jobs to worry too much. So the people who can't do our jobs don't have to."

He sees and even feels the edge in her smile.

"This was an unexpected event. By all accounts, they broke the rules we thought were in place."

He leans against a table, crossing his arms to show he's in serious mode now. Not ready for the emotional talk quite yet. At least not until Ana is.

Anastasia lets out a quiet huff, the corners of her mouth twitching into a smirk. "A nap sounds nice, but you’d have to catch me first." She rolls her neck, feeling the tension stretch and settle, then flicks her gaze to the horizon as if sleep is a luxury meant for someone else.

"I’ll sleep when things stop breaking." She exhales through her nose, the humor slipping just slightly. "Besides, if you lock me up, who’s gonna keep you from rationing those supplies into oblivion?"

Her smile softens, but there’s an edge to it—one Lucas would recognize instantly. "I’m fine, Lu. You worry too much." But they both know that’s not exactly true. Not anymore.

Lucas sighs and rubs his face.

"Yeah, it's freaking us all out. But trust me, all the signs point to it being the monsters. Somehow, Em just got caught outside too late, and there's very little we can do now besides grieve her and put her to rest."

He leans forward as if he's going to rest a hand on her knee or arm but doesn't.

"You don't need to worry too much. Just follow the rules, and we'll all be safe."

a flicker of a smile , like that of a flashing bulb , graced her porcelain features as she sank into the chair he had invited her to occupy . jo pressed the lip of the beer bottle to her own , rolling it so the amber glass clicked against her teeth . the smell of the ale infiltrated her nostrils , hoppy and aromatic , and she wrinkled her nose in response . she then nodded as he found her answer agreeable , wondering if she'd be invited to take her leave. . . until he was producing another question , her cheeks rouging as she dragged canines along the lower pillow of her lips .

" not really , " she exhaled , lowering the bottom from her mouth to rest its cool glass against the warmth bleeding from her face down her neck. her gaze found the bend of her knees , the hand not cradling the beverage picking at one of the tears in her jeans , twisting the frayed denim around the pad until it puckered from the pressure. not wanting to talk about herself , knowing there wouldn't be much of interest there , jo found something else to bring up instead . " sad what happened to that emerson girl , " josephine offered quietly , frowning . " i know death is commonplace in. . . this place , but , something about hers felt — " she lifted her eyes to the ceiling , as if the word she wanted would be imprinted upon it .

" odd . "

"Not stupid. Just an unfortunate honest answer."

He looks down at the ankle in question. It's still aching, though not terribly.

"It's fine. Becca wishes I'd stay off it for a bit longer, but I've got a job to do."

He nods in sympathy. After helping Rae on the morgue side, Lucas can only imagine how bad the infirmary is hurting.

"I know Ana is trying to figure out what we can do. Hopefully, we can keep the inventories steady for a bit."

"stupid question, hm?" she asked, a wry smile on her lips before glancing down at his foot. "how's the ankle?" she asks in turn before a long sigh makes it way from her lips, wincing just so at the reminder of how many they'd lost. "yeah, we're alright. took a few hits to the supplies from the storm but i think we'll manage."

Lucas nods, then stops the tape recorder.

"That was good," he says gently, patting the arm of her chair instead of her actual arm. "Thank you, really, Elm. I appreciate it."

He stands and cleans up his stuff.

"Is there anything I can do to help you?" he asks, now out of sheriff mode and in community mode. "Bring your meals to you? Give you escorts anywhere?"

ELM SHAKES THEIR HEAD THEN . " no ." there's a beat before they shift in their seat and shrug . the lace is wrapped tight around their finger again . " that's all i remember. when i woke up the tree was gone and i was laying in the forest ." their brows twitch together a bit . " it took me a while to get back ."