Repose

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[Weekends at the nameless bar meant business: liquor flowed, bills fanned, and sometimes got a bit rough around the edges. But nothing unusual for a strip joint, right? As the rumors started by several witnesses describe it: the other night, one of the patrons just started howling bloody murder at a passing dancer before launching himself at her, arms swinging. No warning, no nothing. The doormen had been too far away to react, since the bartender on shift that night--the kinda scary woman with all the tattoos? yeah, that one--had already dragged the guy off the dancer by the time backup arrived. A brief scuffle between the patron and the bartender ensued--then it was all over as quickly as it began when the guy took a solid left hook to the jaw.

A little hot action usually meant good for business at a dive, but the tips dried up pretty fast once the local law enforcement showed to clean up. The dancer went home badly bruised and shaken, but otherwise intact. The patron left in cuffs, deep in the ravings of a (slightly concussed) madman about how he didn't know, he didn't know the girl, he just swore he'd seen his ex-wife there instead. Like that would have been an acceptable excuse.

Turns out said ex was a year gone, having died in the arms of her new boyfriend in an exceedingly suspicious house fire. Maybe his conscience wasn't so clean after all, and the alcohol was to blame. Or maybe it was just the weather.]

[Locked to known Pack Members.]

If you got stuck in the fog, just ride it out, it'll fade.

You need help just head toward the woods.

And for godssake tell me if you feel like you're growing fur.

[The day of the mist, early morning finds the bakery open as usual, but unattended. Luckily, there is nothing in the ovens, but the door is unlocked with no one responding to the bell that rings over it whenever anyone enters. Behind the register, in a pile on the floor, are a floury apron, a pair of equally floury shoes, a pair of socks, a hair tie, and the type of flannel shirt Iris often wears over a camisole as she's working. They're all left askew, as if they were very quickly removed and dropped. The bakery is habitually incredibly clean, but the very observant might notice half of a flour-lined footprint (relatively small, narrow) on the floor near the back storage room.]