Imre - POV E3 (car)

Note: slight spoilers read at your own discretion.

He saw them disappear into that decrepit house. How can anyone live there? His father once told him that before Imre was born, Croun Manor used to be quite a sight to behold. He can't imagine what it would look like in a better state. Perfect home for creepy individuals.

He could feel Lorcan staring at him. He had leaned away from him as much as the car would allow. For someone who prided himself on his reputation for delinquency it amused Imre to see how much of a... coward Lorcan is.

Imre turns the signal as the car reaches the end of the dirt path and into the main road.

"So?"

Imre felt his lips quirk, "the fight was little too much I would say."

Lorcan huffs, "Crowny didn't think so. Nia didn't either and she's the suspicious bitchy one."

"Hey," Imre side eyes Lorcan, "don't speak that way about her."

Lorcan rolls his eyes and rolls down the window. "Anyway I did good and I was the one who got my ass beat."

Imre assents, "you didn't do as horribly as I thought you would. But there is a fine line between anger and ridiculousness, my friend. Our odd peer isn't stupid."

Lorcan lights a cigarette. "You totally thought they would be huh?" Lorcan mumbles.

Imre cocks his head, "I never thought they were as glazed-eyed as everyone else in this town but they do have a keen eye. They see the smaller things, it makes for a great detective."

"But a shitty thing for us," Lorcan adds.

Imre taps the steering wheel.

"What are we trying to do anyway? Convince them to accept? No one in their fucking mind would be so crazy even that psycho," Lorcan says.

Lorcan looks at Imre through the smoke.

"It's either to convince them or lead them," Imre replies. "The former is much kinder but I'm not above the latter. It's less chaotic without emotions."

Lorcan blows out smoke from his nostrils, "we don't even know if we're right, Duran. Are we fucking them?"

Imre looks at the boy, "since when do you care about them? Haven't you sworn to end their life because of a perceived slight?"

Lorcan taps the ashes out the window, "it's not a fucking slight and you know that." Lorcan's voice tinges with that edge he gets when his parents are mentioned. Imre had known that Lorcan blamed them for his mother's death but only recently did he get the full story.

He didn't believe that they were at fault. Everyone knew Mr. Stark was a disagreeable man with bouts of anger. He had heard more than once the question by others as to why had Clover married that man? If Imre's information is correct, Cian and Clover were high school sweethearts, everyone had expected them to marry.

When the affair was exposed no one was that surprised but they did start chattering about how long it had gone on for at the time. They died 11 years from 1975, hadn't they?

Imre studies Lorcan's face, the only illumination in the car was coming from the radio. Lorcan looks at him.

"What?" he asks.

"Do you want to drive around a bit more? It's not so late," Imre suggests.

Lorcan sucks on his cigarette. "Can't. Grandma's got me coming home before 12. Says she'll kick my ass if I don't straighten out."

“What will happen to your business activities?

Lorcan shrugs. "I can't sell at school no more. I can't sell after 12. I gotta start doing it in the day."

"Didn't you say the last time you were arrested was at 17?" Imre asks.

"Yep."

"You do realize that if you get arrested now with marijuana or any of the other drugs you sell, that you'll face serious charges and likely be sentenced?"

Lorcan snorts, "gotta raise my street cred."

Imre sighs, "you're being sardonic and childish. I told you that if you needed—"

"Yeah yeah yeah I'm not taking your money," Lorcan interjects.

Imre clicks his tongue. "You people are too prideful."

Lorcan blows out smoke and throws the cigarette onto the street. "It ain't that. I just know it'll wanna pay you back. And I don't wanna owe anyone anything."

"You do understand that that is pride?"

Lorcan yawns in response.

Imre turns into the trailer park. He's been here more times in the past few weeks than in all his life. Usually at a late hour or at the crack of dawn — which is not something Imre is keen to do often since Lorcan's sour mood prevents any meaningful discussions of plans.

Although, even Imre can admit that they do talk about other things. They've become closer. Lorcan was to Imre that deviant kid with a dead mother and murderer father. Sad, pathetic and with much baggage.

Imre volunteered and hosted fundraisers but truthfully he never cared for the causes of the less fortunate and so the plight of the poor in town glided over him like a rock in a stream. He wouldn't say he's a champion for them now but he does find himself feeling... an almost... pity.

Perhaps you can only ever care for things when they affect you. He knew all those activists were liars.

Imre slowly drives the car along the dirt, rocks bounce off the metal of the car. Lorcan's grandmother's house has strong porch lights. Nearly blinding. Likely installed to prevent her grandson from conducting his affairs close to the house.

Imre barely comes to a stop before Lorcan opens the door and steps out into the night. He leans down and says to Imre, "do ya really think it's them?"

Imre replies without hesitation, "I'm almost completely positive."

Lorcan thinks for a moment and then nods. "Hope you're right. They already fucked it up enough cause they were wrong."

"We won't be," Imre promises.

Lorcan looks at him once more, uncertainty in his pale eyes. But, he lightly slaps the hood of the car and shuts the door and walks off.

Imre tries to quiet the little doubtful voice in his head.