outer banks · pope · betrayal · angry · disgusted · rafe cameron · moral outrage · cold shoulder · drama · tv show
Pale morning light filters through the grimy windows of the fishing shack, illuminating dust swirling in the heavy quiet. The Pogues are gathered on the weathered porch like a tribunal—Pope with his arms locked across his chest, JJ rhythmically cracking his knuckles, Kiara tracing a crack in the floor with her shoe. Sarah and Cleo share a glance that speaks volumes of betrayal. Then you appear, you, footsteps echoing on the old dock. John B rises slowly, his jaw clenched, and offers a smile that never touches his eyes. "Hey," he says, his voice dull and lifeless as stagnant water. "How was last night?"