𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 ━ five hargreeves

11│AN HONEST CONVERSATION, PT. 2

I, Reginald Hargreeves, request the pleasure of your company for a light supper on the 20th of November 1963 at half-past seven o'clock.

1624 Magnolia Street, Dallas, Texas.

She gave the boy a smug look. "What did I tell you?"

✧✧✧

The pair made their way to Southland Life later that evening at the allotted time. The boy was understandably nervous as they approached the meeting hour, though he did well not to show it. Still, Dolores could sense his. . . anxiety and gave her husband's hand a gentle squeeze as they entered the building. "Hey," she said gently, causing him to look at her. She met his eyes. "I love you. You know that, right?"

Five's expression softened. "I know. I love you too." He paused and added, "I'm glad you're here."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," the brunette promised as they came to stand in front of the elevator. The boy pushed the button to call it to their floor.

Dolores had cleaned up after her painting exercise and her skin now lacked any evidence of her previous frustration. She'd also changed from her blue work dress to a pair of high-waisted, pleated blue pants and blue floral collared shirt.

The doors finally opened and the couple stepped inside, turning to face the front as they begin to close. Before they could fully shut, though, a hand stopped them in their tracks. Diego appeared and he stepped into the elevator. "Wait up."

"Hold it," Allison called out as she caught the ride as well. She looked mildly surprised to see her siblings.

"Hello everyone," Klaus entered with Vanya. The man leaned casually against the back wall with a flask in hand.

"Excuse me," Luther added as he squeezed himself in.

Dolores saw the brief smile that crossed the boy's face before it disappeared and his hand tightened around hers briefly. "Good. We're all here."

The ride was silent as the elevator gained height but the slightly tense atmosphere was interrupted by a disgusting smell. Noises of complaint sounded from the siblings and Dolores, all of whom made an effort to cover their noses.

"Luther!" Klaus complained.

"Oh my god," Vanya gasped.

Dolores clamped her free hand over her mouth and nose, grimacing at the horrible scent. Glancing up, she groaned slightly when the floor counter indicated they had three levels left. Luther only looked mildly abashed. "Sorry, I'm nervous."

As soon as they arrived, everyone burst out of the enclosed space to breathe cleaner air. The brunette was slightly surprised by the Tikki-bar set up; she hadn't expected Reginald Hargreeves to have such. . . tacky taste.

"Alright. When dad gets here, Dolores and I will do the talking, okay?" Five announced as they made their way to the round table in the center of the room.

"I've got a few questions for him myself," Diego disagreed.

"Hey, we don't wanna scare him off, alright? He might be able to help us stop doomsday, get us home."

Dolores counted the seats at the table and her total came to eight, so she moved to sit at one of the separate tables. The action caused the boy to look over at her with a frown. "What are you doing?"

"There's not enough seats," she explained, gesturing to the setup. "I'll sit over here, it's fine. This is a family thing, after all."

"Hey, no," the boy countered. He reached over to grasp his wife's wrist to tug her closer. "We can just get another chair."